'Reasoning'

27-Aug-2030, 0432R

Connor Stoll, Son of Hermes

Joint Operation with Hunters of Diana, Camp Half-Blood

Bald Mountain State Forest, Angelica, New York, USA

It frankly was just like a game of chess, only significantly more violent. After twenty years of damn near nothing, I had waded into battle and, while acting as a QRF—or whatever the hell Percy called us—faced off against a type of monster that even our resident oldies had never seen before.

But what broke my brain wasn't the crazy hybrid hydra, but the fact that we were led by a man I was so certain to be dead. So much so, I even bet money on it with my brother: Percy Jackson himself.

Speaking of, the legend himself sat before me, jabbering on his radio to the rest of the people in Task Force Socrates (I can't believe I actually started going along with it), requesting "SITREPs" and organizing "CASEVACs," despite having just announced victory moments ago. He worked with the speed and efficiency often associated with soldiers (or sailors, whatever).

As everyone with half a brain could tell, Percy had changed... a lot. He retained a sense of humor and the typical Big Three flair for the dramatic, but it was difficult to recognize him... literally and figuratively.

"Stoll? Stoll!" he barked from his place on the ground, snapping me back to reality. He looked up at me intently, his finger having released its pressure on his radio's push-to-talk button.

"Uh, what?" I dumbly replied, feeling like an idiot for zoning out when there was a situation to be dealt with.

"I said, I'm having all teams egress at this time. You need to handle the wounded here at our pos. Can you do that or not?"

"Yeah, yeah, I can handle it. Uh, you gonna need a hand?"

"Whaddaya think, Stoll?"

"Alright, alright," I assented, holding my hands up in defeat after I sheathed my sword. "Jamie, you and I are gonna carry Percy out. Everyone else, move the wounded back to the vans."

"Got it," the son of Apollo muttered before he finished his checkup on Percy's ankle, our brothers and the Hunters proceeding back to the vehicles around us. "Okay, boss. You're good to go."

"Knight, this is Rook 3," Travis called over the radio.

"Go ahead, 3."

"We've got Blackjack, but the medics are saying that he needs to be taken back to the camp pretty quick."

"Good copy, 3. Torch, you got any sort of CASEVAC option?"

"Knight, this is Queen," Annabeth suddenly interrupted. "Tyson's got a plan to get Blackjack home. He's asking for a minute to do it."

"Roger that, Queen. Torch, belay on that CASEVAC. Can you scan the clearing, see what the hell was up with that hydra? Maybe some forensics magic?" Percy asked.

"I will, but you have bigger problems. It appears the mortals have noticed the flames and explosions," Trivia—Hecate?—warned. "They will arrive in approximately half an hour from the south. You would be wise to escape."

"Good copy, Torch. All stations, salvage all arms and evidence and egress now. Anvil, can you find us a route out of here?"

"One moment, let me check this GPS..." Vulcan muttered (or was it Hephaestus? I had no idea what the hell was going on anymore).

"Check. Make sure to—"

A loud bark reverberated through the evening air as a furry beast the size of a truck barreled out of the darkness directly in front of us. Instinctively, I went for my weapon, but halted upon seeing the smiley face and crossbones on its collar, as well as the cyclops on its back.

Or rather, her back.

"Mrs. O'Leary!" Percy laughed with delight as the giant drool dispenser herself all but tackled the demigod, licking her old friend. "Ah, ah, ah! Okay, okay! Great to see you too, girl! Okay, down! Down, down, down!"

"Down, Mrs. O'Leary!" Tyson ordered from her back, finally getting the hellhound to back away, though she still panted with excitement at the sight and scent of the demigod. "I tried to get her to go to Blackjack, but she wanted to see you first, Percy!"

"Yeah, I figured," Percy chuckled as he wiped the slobber off his face, helmet, and body armor. "You think she can get you, Blackjack, and a few others back to the camp?"

"Of course, brother!"

"Excellent. One sec," he said before getting back on the radio. "All stations, be advised, Tyson is taking the most seriously injured back to camp. Conduct triage at this time and be prepared to move the wounded."

After some acknowledgements came back over the radio, he looked up towards Tyson. "Drop by each group and grab the ones that are most seriously injured. Then, get Blackjack and high-tail it back to CHB so they can get medical attention. Mrs. O'Leary, Tyson, I'm counting on you both."

"Will you need to leave as well?"

"No way, brother. Remember: I'm first in, last out. Get it done."

"Of course. Mrs. O'Leary, let's go!" Tyson bellowed, with the hellhound unleashing a determined bark before darting into the shadows to complete their objective.

"Knight, this is Anvil. I'm transmitting the route to your ATAK at this time," Vulcan reported. "Local fire and police departments are approximately twenty-three minutes away from your position."

"Knight copies all. Out," Percy acknowledged before looking up towards me. "Boys, a hand?"

"Can you lose the machine gun, man? You're heavy as is!" Jamie groaned after we tried and failed to lift him in a four-handed seat.

"Don't shoot, we're friendly!" Chris shouted as he and the rest of his team came walking out through the woods towards our position. He had his arm around Clarisse's hip and hers around his shoulders. A few other pairs in the group walked similarly, while the rest seemed to be barely chugging along, exhausted.

"You guys good?"

"We're good. The most seriously hurt were taken by Tyson. We're movin' on our own steam," my half-brother replied. "Perce, did you break your leg?"

"Tried a PLF, didn't execute it right," Percy replied sardonically as he began fiddling with his machine gun. "Any one of you fellas think you can take on an extra fifteen, twenty pounds?"

"Uh, sure?" Sherman said, being one of the campers not helping someone walk. "You need me to carry your gun?"

"It's cleared and safe. Keep your finger off the trigger and make sure the muzzle ain't pointed towards anyone. And don't worry, the nutsack may be attached, but the belt is outta the chamber."

"... nutsack?"

"Ammo pouch. Get it done, bucko."

"Okay, you got it. Stoll, you think you can lift him now?"

"He's twenty pounds lighter, so yeah," I responded as this time, we successfully lifted him in a four-handed seat, with him placing his arms around our shoulders for extra stability. "Oh, yeah. This is gonna be fun."

"'First in, last out,' huh? Bro, we might end up dying before that," Jamie grunted as we struggled to carry Percy. "Whoo! Sweat, blood, gunpowder... you stink, man."

"Sorry, guys. But hey, lil' bit of PT never killed nobody," Percy snarked.

"Just shut up, please." And with that, we slowly, but surely made our way back to the vans through the brush, switching out with two sons of Ares twice for the equipment they were carrying. Finally, we arrived back to where we stashed the vehicles, with Annabeth and Larry's teams waiting for us, having managed to egress from their area quickly.

"Headcount, guys! Final check!" Percy bellowed once the last of us made it to the rendezvous point. While each team leader began counting up their guys, he detached the cell phone from his body armor and handed it to me. "Stoll, get the drivers together, work out this route. Four minutes until the mortals arrive on site."

"Got it, man. Argus, Travis, Larry!" I called, with the four of us getting together to figure out what to do. After a fifteen-second briefing, we decided that Argus's vehicle would lead out, since he had Morty—my half-brother and a New York native (not from NYC, but somewhere in the general area of Buffalo). Not long after I handed the phone off and explained everything to Morty, Percy called for us to "mount up."

Our departure was disorganized, to say the least, as we scrambled for the vans, not particularly caring about who got in what. As such, I ended up with Percy, Thalia, Clarisse, Chris, Jamie, a few Hunters and sons of Ares, and Lady freaking Diana.

And see, this was another thing that was throwing me off: where in the hell did Diana, the Roman come from? And why was she actually nice? ... okay, maybe not nice, considering I didn't know her all that well, but she didn't seem like she wanted to gut every testicle-bearing person in sight.

Look, I don't want to admit that the Romans do anything better than us, especially not having the better version of the single most irritating goddess on the planet, save for Aphrodite. Hell, the only thing I'll admit they do better is warfare, and even then it's not to anyone's face. Especially in a head-to-head fight, only the Ares Cabin would stand a real chance—provided they faced a similarly-sized group of legionaries. Hermes, Hecate, and a couple others would probably go down fighting, but would eventually get defeated. Everyone else... curb-stomped.

It's a really good thing the Athena Parthenos showed up, otherwise CHB would've been wiped off the planet.

"Rook 1, Knight. Everyone's mounted up," Percy said as he shut the door and fastened his seat belt—last out, true to his word. "Take us out."

"Understood. Everyone, hang on," Argus replied before he began maneuvering his van onto the road, with me following suit. Soon, we were on our egress route, driving north to avoid the mortals.

"Everyone, I just asked Argus. We're looking at a six, seven-hour drive. Once we're safely away, we'll stop somewhere for food," Annabeth reported on the comm.

"Roger, Queen. Anvil, there's a lot of evidence in the AO. What happens if the mortals find it?" Percy asked behind me.

"I already accounted for that, Knight. My scavenger automatons are quite efficient," the blacksmith god replied. "Many of the rounds you expended today are the same ones you used in North Dakota."

"I'll be damned. Thanks for the assist, Anvil. Torch, gimme a SITREP."

"Well... the mortals have already gone to work, and are working quite well on the problem. They've already dispatched a great many firefighters, and the police have cordoned off the area. Anvil's scavengers worked quickly and escaped undetected. However, there was something odd about this horde of monsters," the goddess of magic replied.

"Define 'odd,' Torch."

"Initially, we assumed that it was merely some rogue hellhounds accompanied by a few other beasts, so Bacchus thought that it would be a good idea for the campers to get some combat experience. Considering that it'd be alongside Diana's Hunters, there would also be some theoretical cross-training, or something similar."

"Bacchus thought that deeply into this?" Diana interjected. "Impressive."

"I suppose he's embracing his role as camp director. Anyways, I conducted an analysis of my own. The monsters' shadow-traveling pattern was not as random as I initially thought. They weren't planning an attack or even migrating. They were hunting."

"Torch, confirm: hunting?" Percy asked.

"Yes, hunting. They were tracking someone or something. I'm not entirely sure what, but it must be powerful if that many monsters—including that odd hydra hybrid—went after it."

"... Knight copies all. See what you can do about tracking their target. If it's a friend, we want it. If it's an enemy, we gotta put a bullet in its head," Percy said, with what sounded like the sons of Ares and Chris grunting in assent.

"I'll do what I can. Torch out."

After she signed off, the rest of the ride proceeded silently as we drove back to CHB. Before long, I could hear snores in the back, with my own tiredness taking a toll on me too after a while.

"Urgh," I grumbled, slapping Sherman on his arm to wake him up. "Can you take over, man? I'm freakin' exhausted."

"How long's it been?" he murmured sleepily.

"I dunno, an hour? Two?"

"Mmm, after we eat."

"If I crash and we all die, I'm blaming you."

"M'kay."

Stupid Ares kids. Never give a crap about anything.

"Knight, this is Rook 1," Argus suddenly called on the radio, his van slowing in front of me. "Do you hear me?"

"Go ahead, 1," Percy replied drowsily, having likely been woken from his slumber.

"Torch mentioned that powerful thing... I believe I am beginning to sense it myself."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. We are getting close. It's towards the side of the road, one thousand meters."

"Good copy, 1. All stop, all stop!" Percy commanded, making me slam the brakes and instinctively bring us to the shoulder of the road, with the other vehicles following suit. "All stations, we have a possible tango one klick out. Stand by for further instructions."

"Wait, what the hell's going on?" Jason replied, sounding as confused as I felt.

"The tango that the enemy force was tracking is coming up. Torch, do you have a visual on what Rook 1 was referring to? Any sort of signals?"

"Yes, whatever the shadow-travelers were chasing, it's seven hundred meters, dead ahead," the goddess of magic confirmed. "It appears to be moving away from you."

"Okay, here's the deal. Rook 4, remain back here and stand by to reinforce the assaulters. Rook 1 and 3, dismount and proceed on foot towards the target. I'll be in Rook 2, and we'll drive up with the assaulters to provide fire support," Percy ordered as he opened the right-side door of the van, and raised his machine gun. "Assaulters, when you're one hundred meters from the target, you guys are gonna keep going while we hold our position. When you're twenty meters out, let us know and we'll roll in and block 'em. Speed, surprise, and violence of action."

"Understood, we're moving!" Jason acknowledged from the side as he brought out his sword and began corralling a group of around twenty people.

"Stoll, lights out. Proceed slowly, right ahead of the ground teams."

"You got it," I replied as I turned off the headlights and carefully maneuvered us onto the road. After a few seconds, everyone was in position and we were slowly rolling up the quiet road, with no other cars for miles around.

"Stoll, when I tell you to gun it, you bring us up right alongside the target. Everyone else, stand by to break out from the left side door. We hit 'em from the side while Jason's group hits 'em from the back."

"Thank the gods. I was starting to feel like a sardine in a can," a blonde Hunter—Carly, I think—muttered.

"Starting to smell like it too," another laughed—was that the one named Jess?

"Don't look at me. You were the one rolling around in the mud."

"Shut up, Carly."

"Cut the chatter, people. Everyone good to go?" Chris asked, making everyone focus up. After ensuring that everyone was wide awake and alert, he nodded to Percy, who lowered his night vision goggles and gave us a thumbs-up before readying his machine gun.

It was a maddeningly slow crawl as we kept pace with the ground teams, but several minutes later, Percy signaled for us to stop and let Jason's group keep advancing. We waited with bated breath as the assaulters slowly advanced on... whatever the hell we were trying to ambush.

"Knight, this is Bishop 2. I'm seeing some movement. Two of something," Jason reported.

"Can you ID them?" Percy asked.

"No. They look more human than monster. None of us can really tell."

"Torch, can you ID what we're looking at?"

"I'm sensing that same energy as before. It's powerful... very powerful," Trivia muttered, sending a small shiver down my spine.

"Could you be less vague, perchance?"

"Unfortunately, no. The energy is old... familiar, but I'm not exactly sure how. As for the second figure, I'm having a little difficulty discerning what it is, due to the aura surrounding the first."

"If you're having trouble telling what it is, we might have a problem."

"I shall consult my personal records, but the decision is yours, Knight. In any case, exercise caution."

"Roger that. Bishop, are you set?"

"Assault team is ready and standing by," Jason confirmed.

"Roger that. Let's get 'er done. Three, two, one... gun it!"

"Hang on!" I warned as I hit the gas, launching the van forward as we accelerated faster than I've ever accelerated the van in my life. Grunts and curses came from the back as we rocketed down the dark road and I braced myself for the sudden stop we would have to make.

"All stop, all stop! Go, go, go!" Percy barked, making me slam the brakes and bring us to a screeching halt. Chaos ensued as doors opened, people clambered out, and orders were shouted. "Hands, let me see your hands!"

"Get on the grou—wait, wait, wait!" Sherman yelled, his tone changing from aggressive to hesitant. "Slow it down, slow it down, man!"

"What the hell do you mean?"

"Dude, calm down! It's Chuck!" Chris shouted, my eyes widening at his statement.

"Chuck?!?" Clarisse shrieked from her seat, unable to move due to her own injury. "Jackson, stand the hell down! That's my godson!"

"Woah, woah, woah! What the hell is going on?" Jason shouted in the distance as he ran towards the scene. I set the van in park and dismounted with the keys to try and help resolve the situation. Upon closer inspection, the figures were two boys in dirty clothing that looked no older than ten or eleven years of age.

One was indeed Chuck Hedge—son of Gleeson and Mellie Hedge—dressed in simple clothing hiding his goat features, while the other was unknown. Chris had knelt by the two, likely checking them over for any injuries.

Both looked like they almost pissed their pants in fear. Though, in fairness, we had rolled up on them with several heavily armed demigods, one of which was carrying a machine gun. Around me, the Hunters and their goddess stood by in confusion while a yelling match proceeded between some campers and Percy.

"SHUT UP!" Chris bellowed as he stood, bringing the yelling to a halt as Jason and his group finally arrived at our position. "THEY'RE FRIENDLIES!"

"What in the—Chuck?!? What are you doing here?" Piper exclaimed. "Why are—"

"Shut up, McLean! You, Grace, Chase, Jackson, Sherman, and Connor stay! Everyone else, get back to your vehicles and prepare to move! NOW!" my half-brother snapped, with everyone obeying after a few moments of shock.

Yeah, Clarisse and the Ares boys have rubbed off on Chris quite a bit... maybe Percy did too. Oh, and Chris is also the kid's godfather. Hedge respected him, or something like that (or, as I theorized, Hedge trusted Chris because Clarisse did).

"Okay, how about we start from the beginning?" Annabeth slowly said after the little crowd disbanded, trying to avoid another shouting match. "Percy, you remember Coach Hedge? This is his son, Chuck."

"Chuck..." Percy muttered as he raised his NVGs and turned on the headlamp he kept attached to his armor, getting a better look at the two boys from his seat in the van. "Hedge's boy?"

"Yes, Percy. Chuck here started out earlier than a lot of satyrs, ended up going off into the world at a young age. Last we'd heard from him, he had gone to Carthage."

"Special kids' school, some crap like that? Say no more. Sorry fellas."

"We'll talk about that later, man," Chris replied calmly before kneeling in front of the young satyr again. "Chuck, what are you doing all the way out here? Aren't you supposed to be in Carthage or something like that?"

"Y-yeah. But I found him," the satyr replied, pointing towards the young, brown-haired boy. He looked a little pudgy, a contrast from Chuck's wiry body, but looked like he could play football or rugby quite well with boys of his age.

"Okay, what's your name, bud?"

"Why should I tell you?" the boy replied in a shaky voice. Like I said, I wasn't surprised that he was rattled by what just happened.

"I'm Chris. I'm Chuck's godfather."

"But you don't even look old."

"Good point, kiddo."

"It's okay," Chuck soothed, giving a small thumbs-up.

"I'm... Max. Max Turner."

"Good to meet you, Max. This is Jason, Piper, Annabeth, Connor, Sherman, and Percy," Chris introduced. "Clarisse, Chuck's godmother, is inside the van."

"The same van as the guy with the gun?"

"Relax, Percy's a nice guy," Chris assured. "He's a little jumpy, but that's 'cause he cares about getting his men home safe. I trust him, and you can too."

"Sorry, Max," Percy replied with a small grin.

"Are you Delta Force?" Max asked, his tone switching from fear to curiosity, evidently thanks to Chris's word.

"Nope," Percy chuckled. "They're pretty cool, though. I'm a sailor. Remember: go Navy, beat Army!"

"No, Army!" Max argued. "Dad's a soldier, and he's the best!"

"Your dad's been lying to you for years, kid."

"Okay, the inter-service rivalry aside," Chris interrupted. "Max, what did Chuck tell you?"

"Something about... my mom isn't dead."

"Oh... I see."

"We were at summer camp, on a trip to... Black River Wild Forest... I think. I had to use the bathroom, Chuck came with me for the buddy system. A monster tried to hurt us, but we ran away. Chuck said we couldn't go back, and had to get to something at Long Island. Someone was trying to hurt me, only the thing at Long Island could stop them. Not Dad, Miss Kay, Robbie, the Army, or the police."

"Carthage to forest to here... do you realize that we're just outside of Ithaca? You two walked at least fifty miles! How did nobody stop two unaccompanied minors?!?" I exclaimed.

"Chuck's magic!" Max replied. "He talks to the trees, clouds, and animals! We've been going through the woods, eating food here! No meat, though..."

"... why am I not surprised?"

"Wait, isn't Mellie a cloud nymph or something?" Percy interjected. "And since nature people have connections, well, everywhere, why the hell didn't someone arrange for an extraction?"

"Remember, Perce, satyrs have to go out and find demigods and get them back themselves," Annabeth reminded.

"Bullcrap," the sailor muttered, but he didn't go any further.

"Hold on, that reminds me: if your Dad's around, who exactly is Miss Kay and Robbie?" Jason asked.

"Miss Kay is my... my step-mom. Robbie is my step-bro. He's sixteen years old."

"Are Miss Kay and Robbie good to you?"

"Yeah! Miss Kay's awful nice, and Robbie's cool! He taught me football!" the boy replied, his face lighting up at the mention of his family.

"Nice to hear you had a good experience," Annabeth replied with a small, sad smile. "How many days have you been away from home?"

"... I don't know. I want to go home, but Chuck says some camp is a better option."

"It probably is, considering your background. Max, your mother is still alive. She's a goddess."

"... Jesus's mama?"

"No, he's the son of God, completely different story. His mother was Mary, anyways. That asaide, your mother is a goddess. Have you heard of Hercules, Greeks, or Romans?"

"Well... Greeks fought Trojans...," the boy said, recalling his memories. "There was a horse, a girl named Helen, a Frenchie..."

"'Frenchie?' Oh, you mean Paris," Annabeth realized, making me snicker. "But anyways, there are Greco-Roman gods and goddesses—"

"Sorry professor, but you're gonna have to save the lecture," Percy interrupted. "We're exposed out here. Plus, everyone needs some food."

"Okay," Chris sighed. "C'mon, guys. We'll get you guys to safety."

Max, of course, looked extremely hesitant. Of course, he was probably raised right: to avoid strangers, not get in any strange vans, etcetera. He may have been talking to us for a few minutes, but I wasn't sure if he'd even get in.

"Hey, kid!" Percy called. "You may be an Army boy, but you ain't getting hurt on my watch. And I promise I'll help you settle things with your dad and Miss Kay."

Ironically, the one Max initially feared was the one that convinced him to finally trust us. Once we had everyone secured, we continued our journey, making a stop in Ithaca for some food and a bathroom break before we proceeded on home. As I sat in the shotgun seat on the drive from Ithaca to CHB, I overheard some of the conversation in the back.

Clarisse was mothering (or should I say, smothering) Chuck, checking over the young satyr and scolding him for not being careful. Chris and Percy were helping to keep Max calm while explaining the mythological world the best they could. The Hunters plus Diana remained silent for most of the trip, though Percy occasionally asked the goddess for a few extra details on our crazy world.

Slowly tuning out the background noise, I passed out from exhaustion, remaining that way until we arrived at Camp Half-Blood—just in time for lunch.

"Bro, wake up," Chris said, tapping my shoulder from behind me. "We're home."

"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled, stretching out my neck and adjusting to the light outside. "Alright, nice workin' with you. Imma hit the hay."

"No chance, man. Leadership has to debrief Chiron."

"Who the hell gave that order?"

"I did," Percy answered as he opened the van door. "But if you need to hit the sickbay, go ahead."

"Nah, it's fine. If Chiron doesn't ask me now, he's gonna ask me later."

"Okay, then. Everyone out. Sherman, give Perce a hand," Chris ordered before turning towards the outside of the van. "And someone go wake up Gleeson and Mellie! Tell 'em Chuck's back!"

"Got it!" someone shouted back.

As we groggily exited the vehicles and made our way into the Big House—injured Clarisse and Percy in tow—we got a few stares from some year-rounders that were out and about. I wondered what was more surprising: the little kid, the fact that it looked like we just came from a battle, or the guy in camo with a machine gun.

Definitely the guy in camo with a machine gun. I'm no lawyer, nor am I politically active, but from what I've heard, most New Yorkers only see firearms in the hands of cops, criminals, and soldiers, not regular civilians. Something about New York not caring about the Second Amendment, or something like that.

As per tradition, we had assembled around the Ping-Pong Table of Mass Destruction. Everyone that held a radio, plus Thalia, Piper, Chris, Tyson, and our kid passengers were present. Max's questions—as expected—were unending, ranging from where he was to how to contact his dad.

"Ah, good to see you all made it back... safely..." Chiron exclaimed as he rolled in on his wheelchair, his words slowing when he saw Chuck and Max. "Good to see you, my boy. You came back earlier than I expected. And who's this?"

"Max Turner, sir," Max replied from his seat as he sized up Mr. Brunner. "Are you the camp... direct-tor?"

"Yes, I am. My name is Chiron."

"'Chi-ron?' Is that Greek?"

"Well... yes. Did Chuck bring you here?"

"Yes, but so did they," the boy replied, pointing towards us. "That's Chris and Clarisse, Chuck's god-parents, but they aren't gods. And apparently my mom is a goddess, but my dad said she was gone. I don't know what's happening."

"I see... How old are you, young man?"

"Eleven... almost eleven-and-a-quarter!"

"Hmm... Chuck, please take Max to see the orientation film. I need to have a word with the rest of the group."

Obeying, Chuck took the ever-questioning Max out of the room, while the rest of us sat in awkward silence as we recalled our own experiences of entering the camp (except for Diana, of course).

"Well then... there seems to be a story here."

Percy led us off in the "AAR," as he called it. We went in chronological order, individually recounting the chain of events from our perspective. Having served as the QRF, it was interesting to hear the stories of the mortar team, the assaulters, and our commander in the sky (did I seriously just call him that?). Chiron didn't react beyond the occasional question, at least not until the hydra. His face shifted to one of concern before he locked eyes with Diana, as if sending a silent message. After a brief interrogation on the hydra, we continued, all the way up to our encounter with the kids.

"It seems you had quite the morning," Chiron said at the end of it, eliciting a few humorless laughs. "Nonetheless, I am most impressed with you all. You completed your quest as heroes do."

"Some quest. We broke the rule of three, big time," Travis remarked. "No prophecy either. Just a guy in camo with a machine gun emerging after twenty years."

"Wow, that degree of yours is paying off!" Larry sarcastically commented. As if on cue, the kids came back from the viewing room, with Max looking as if he saw something he wasn't supposed to see (i.e., he was petrified). "Hey, guys! How ya doin'?"

"You're half horse," Max said bluntly, looking at Chiron, who gave a small smile.

"It's a little easier for kids to understand as they come in," he replied gently.

"You have one eye," Max continued, looking at Tyson. Frankly, the kid looked like his brain was short-circuiting as he tried to process the information he received. "Chuck is half goat. And all of you had gods for parents."

"Yes, my boy. How do you feel? Are you—"

"CHUCK!" someone suddenly bellowed as the door slammed open, making us all flinch. It didn't take a genius to guess that it was none other than our resident old goat (half literally) himself: Coach Gleeson Hedge.

"Dad!" Chuck said excitedly, meeting his father in the middle in a hug. The rest of us shared awkward faces as we sat in silence because... family reunions. Chuck was getting pats on the back, excited shouting, and the general fatherly boisterousness that could be expected from Coach.

"Hey, great to have you back! But I thought you'd be gone longer!" Hedge said, bringing his excited ranting to a close and taking stock of the situation. "What's going on?"

"Gleeson, this is Max, a new demigod. Your son just brought him here," Chiron replied calmly, gesturing towards the boy that looked like he was about to faint.

"Hey, welcome to Camp Half-Blood, son! You're in for a good time! And as for the rest of you... was there a battle or something that I missed?"

"Yes, Coach, you missed a big-ass battle," Travis answered, making the satyr's face fall. "Big ol' monster interdiction."

"What?!? Look, I know I've been scalin' things back, but c'mon! You didn't invite me?!?"

"You were a little busy, if I recall correctly, with a certain someone..."

"... no comment," he muttered, with that someone walking in just then: Mellie Hedge the cloud nymph, along with the little bundle that was their second son, Sylvester (I'm sure you can guess who he got that from).

"Chuck! How are you, baby?" she asked as she gave her son a gentle, one-armed hug and kiss on the forehead. "Ohh, it's so good to see you! Have you been eating well? Staying clean? Staying—"

"Mom!" the young satyr groaned, embarrassed by his mother's smothering. "I got enough from Aunt Clarisse already!"

"What do you mean—hi, Clarisse! Hello, Chris!" she greeted as she looked around the room, her calmness fading when her eyes fell on Percy. "And... why is a soldier here?"

"Why are we all considered soldiers?" Percy groaned in his seat between Tyson and Chris. "I'm in the Navy, for cryin' out loud!"

"Oh, sorry. But what's a sailor doing on land?"

"I ask myself that very question sometimes..."

"Okay, but who are you?" Coach Hedge interjected.

"C'mon, Coach. You don't recognize me?" Percy asked, pushing his safety glasses up into his hair, providing a clearer view. He was sweaty, bloody, dirty, and burned. But he still kept a smile on his face, one that the satyr seemed to recognize.

"HOLY SHI—"

"Gleeson!" Mellie scolded, lightly tapping his shoulder. "Language!"

"Sorry, dear. But holy mother... Where have you been, Jackson?!?"

"Long story, Coach," the sailor replied with a grin. "One I'm more than happy to explain. But right now, we've completed our debriefing. We're tired, and we gotta sleep. How does that sound?"

"... okay, Jackson. We'll talk tomorrow. You need to check into sickbay?"

"I'm good. Jamie—if that's who he was—patched me up real good. Just gotta sleep now. Also, we gotta figure out what to do with Max. He's gotta contact his folks."

"I'll handle that," Coach Hedge sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Chuck, you stick here with me, we'll work with Chiron. Okay, Max..."

"The rest of you should rest," Chiron said. "We'll take care of everything else."

"Say less," I said as I stood, stretching as I bid everyone farewell and walked out of the Big House, reflecting on the day I'd been having. Even when collapsing into my bunk, exhausted, the weird situation was still swimming in my head.

"Weird" seemed to be the only word that properly described the chain of events that was Operation Azrael. And yet... the classification felt too mild. Not only had we fought a horde of shadow-traveling monsters—including ones that typically don't shadow-travel and a crazy-ass hydra hybrid—but we fought a horde tracking a kid that wasn't even twelve. A kid that was such a powerful demigod, we had no way of identifying him from afar.

Plus, we didn't even know who Max's mother was, for crying out loud!

I had no idea what was going on, but I supposed I didn't need to know. I wasn't the hero, just a support character. A cog in the machine that ultimately got no recognition or glory, but was, to a degree, an expendable piece of equipment for whoever the hero of whatever prophecy or mission was.

Cynical, I know. But I'm not wrong... am I?

See anyone you recognize?

But yeah, imagine being a secondary or tertiary character while seeing the primary characters do whatever it is they're doing. You're just following orders and trying to survive while chaos erupts around you. Maybe I'm being cynical, but the background characters—no matter how much they matter to the heroes (or how much the heroes say they matter)—will always be naught but cannon fodder.

And to go a step further, what do civilians think of all these conflicts? Doesn't matter who's fighting: clones vs. droids, Rebels vs. Imperials, Jedi vs. Sith... I do wonder sometimes how the civvies feel about the whole thing. Hell, some of them don't even have any idea what's going on!

But I digress. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Make sure to leave your feedback, good and bad. Take care of yourselves and each other. I know this is late, but...

May the 4th be with you... always

- ADF-2