'Discussion'

03-Sep-2030, 0155U

LCDR Percy Jackson, US Navy, Son of Neptune

Joint Operation with Hunters of Diana, Legion XII

North McCullough Wilderness, Nevada, USA

"Okay, that oughta do it," the blonde Huntress said as I finished taping and gauzing the gash on my stomach. "Do you need any more?"

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks, kid," I replied as I pulled my shirt over the bandaged wound. "Caroline, right?"

"Just Carly is fine."

"Uh, that's gonna hold him, right?" another one—Jessica, I think—asked, gesturing towards a bound Nico di Angelo. After some quick adjustments, we tied his cuffed hands above him, tied his legs together, then tied his whole body to the rock in an admittedly cartoonish fashion. The thunder, lighting, and pouring rain didn't subtract from the villainous mood either.

"Definitely. If Jupiter could be bound with this stuff, so could good ol' small, dark, n' crazy here," I snorted. "Plus, if those knots don't hold, I'll be doing a disservice to sailors everywhere."

"Wait, you're a sailor?" Frank exclaimed. "As in, a US Navy sailor?"

"Shout away, Zhang. I don't think they can hear you all the way in Croatia."

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing... yeah, I'm in the US Navy. Life happens. And now, I get to tie the knots I had to learn because my salty chiefs said so... all of whom were sailing fanatics for whatever reason..."

"What?"

"Forget it," I sighed, keeping myself from falling back into any more old memories and jargon. "Just the ramblings of an aging man, that's all. Tyson, maybe we should go sit over there. Don't think we oughta be the first faces di Angelo sees when he wakes up."

"Yes, we did beat him up," Tyson noted as lightning flashed across the sky, looking towards a different collection of rocks. "Perhaps in that spot, brother."

"Yeah, good idea. You guys got it here?"

"We'll watch him. You two just rest," Reyna replied as she sat, keeping her eyes on Nico—or "Autodikos," as his new name apparently designated him as. Tyson and I stepped away from the group and popped a squat by a different set of rocks surrounded by the little plant life that was there, leaning on the ever-faithful Mrs. O'Leary. While I removed my helmet and cleared my head, the Fur Tank dozed off. Tyson's breathing was replaced by snoring as he cradled his grenade launcher with better trigger discipline than most journalists.

"It took you long enough," a female voice uttered from my left—Diana, who sat only a few feet away, looking exhausted as she gazed up at the rainy sky.

"LD," I sighed with a nod as I shifted my shotgun, maintaining control of the weapon while keeping it in a position I could easily rest in.

"'LD?'"

"Yeah, Lady Diana."

"... well, it's better than the nonsense Apollo has called me in the past."

"Yeah, like what?"

"I do not know about you, Perseus, but I value my reputation."

"Fair enough," I reasoned, looking towards her. "Y'know, you're a lot better."

"In comparison to who?" Diana asked, tilting her head to face me.

"Lady Artemis."

"Perseus, do me a favor."

"... sure."

"Never call Artemis 'Lady Artemis.' She's many things, but a lady is not one of them."

I couldn't help but snicker at that. Maybe Miss Crazy Arrow would get back at me later, but it was hilarious to hear her literal other half insulting her without any sort of remorse. Plus, Diana also seemed much more professional and polite than Artemis. Part of me wanted to simply assume it was just the Roman culture, but I suspected there was another factor.

"Just outta curiosity... you ever worked with legionaries?" I queried.

"Ah... the legionaries... yes, on a few different occasions. I remember once we encountered a group of huntsmen... Augustus' Eighth Legion, I believe, in Gaul," she recalled. "They were ambushed by the very monster we were hunting. Our groups worked together to finish it off before some of my Huntresses wiped their memories and sent them back to their camp."

"Really? No killing or anything?"

"'Professionals have standards,' to quote Apollo. Though I will say this: there was one young man who, in retrospect, didn't seem to be fully affected by the amnestic treatment. To this day, I wonder... did he die from combat with other mortals? Did he go on to marry, tell his wife and children about the incident? I do not know..."

It was something I often wondered myself: what did civilians think of us? Not the ones that see us on the TV or send us to war, but the ones that happen to be around the targets we try to hit? What do they think of the heavily armed, foreign men that emerge from the darkness, grab or kill someone that they might just know, then slip away?

One thing that haunted me in particular was a young boy I encountered during my time in SEAL Team 2. While in Iraq in 2015, my platoon had orders to capture or kill a local ISIS leader, but when we got on target, it ended up being the latter. Women and children were screaming and crying, but what stood out was the boy—a teenager, no older than fifteen—who just stared silently. We couldn't really placate him. My LPO—who was generally the morale-booster of the platoon—was silent even after we got back to the FOB.

The sad fact of the matter is that those kids aren't even involved. The sins of the father—and on occasion, the mother—dragged them into it. They didn't choose this life... but we captured and killed their fathers, so it wouldn't be a surprise if they joined the ranks of the jihadists. It's happened throughout other groups—extremist or not.

"So is the way of war," to quote my platoon chief, the ominous thought only amplified by the thunderstorm around us.

"Tell me, Perseus... how much has the way of war changed?" Diana asked, yanking me from my thoughts.

"Well... melee isn't really a thing anymore. Everything you've seen from me covers it... throw in the Army and Marine Corps, and you've got massive operations where everything in a grid square is deleted from existence," I joked.

"... Perseus, you do realize I don't know what any of that means, right?"

"... yeah."

She only sighed and threw up her hands in exasperation while I smirked, sniggering at the situation. Truly, Diana had a long way to go in terms of learning about the modern world. But it would certainly be a humorous experience to witness, if nothing else.

After some time, I fell into a dreamless sleep without realizing it. Though it left as quickly as it came due to some very loud and very angry shouts at around 1200—0900, I realized, given the time difference—and it didn't take a genius to figure out who they were coming from.

"LET ME OUT OF THIS CRAP!"

"Nico, please calm do—"

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS SHI—"

"Oh, shut the hell up, di Angelo!" I groaned as I walked to stand by Hazel, Reyna and Frank, all who were trying and failing to placate him. "The reason we've got you trussed up like this is so that you don't hurt anyone else... like those people in Berkeley, or the cops in Portland, or the firefighters in Vancouver, or hell, the Hunters and us here! You injured all five of us... well, except for Tyson, 'cause he's a freakin' beast."

"Wh—what?! Who are you?!" the son of Hades bellowed, his rage evident thanks to the morning sun shining over the nature preserve.

"Thought you recognized me last night, considerin' you hate my guts, kid."

He looked at me for a few moments before his eyes widened and he somehow got paler.

"What the fu—"

"Save the language, bud," I cut him off as I put on my sunglasses. "Not in front of your sister."

"Wait... wait, what? I—"

"Torch, this is Knight," I sighed into the radio. "Are you there?"

"I'm here," Trivia replied after a moment. "Go ahead."

"Yeah, Rancor's awake and throwin' a hissy fit. Can you detect the anomaly?"

"Hmm... I'm not sensing anything. As it appears, Autodikos is back to his normal gloomy self... not unlike his father."

"Roger. Is it safe to cut 'im loose?"

"It will be fine. After that, however, I would not recommend shadow-traveling for some time. Hold on, someone's here to talk to you," Trivia said before a new voice jumped on the net.

"Knight, this is Sunray, do you copy?" the male voice asked—Apollo.

"Roger, Sunray. Send it," I replied, shaking it off. What was one more god with a radio?

"Given what occurred the night prior, I would not recommend advanced transportation such as shadow-traveling just yet. In that package Torch sent, there is some nectar, ambrosia, and unicorn draught, along with a special potion that should further help... er, what was it you called Autodikos, again?"

"Rancor. And yeah, we kinda used a bit of the first three already."

"Well, he doesn't need much. But considering what he went through, it would be good for him to take a little walk, get some sunshine and fresh air. A little bit of practice with his motor skills and senses, so to speak."

"Understood, Sunray. Also, just gotta ask: could you let Hollywood, Sparky, and Wiseass know that we're out here?"

"Yes, they're all quite confused as to where you are," Apollo laughed. "I'll make sure they're given a heads-up. Is my sister there?"

"Yes, I'm here, I'm here," Diana replied, having gotten up and received the radio from Thalia. "'Sunray?' Really?"

"Yes, of course. And I know what to call you—"

"No, no, no, not here! We'll talk later!"

"Whatever you say, sis. But yeah, just take a walk for a bit, maybe let the Fur Tank do the shadow-traveling when you get to that point. Any questions?"

"Why do you always recommend getting some sunshine and fresh air as part of literally all of your treatments?"

"I don't know what you're referring to, sis!"

"Getting possessed by a spirit, breaking bones, being stabbed—"

"I'm not being vain, it legitimately helps... if not physically, at least psychologically," Apollo cut her off. "Now, any other questions?"

"None at this time, Sunray. Thanks for the help. Knight out," I signed off before turning towards Nico. "Alright, let's get you down."

After some quick untying, uncuffing, and cutting, di Angelo was free as a bird, receiving slobbery kisses from Mrs. O'Leary while he rubbed his wrists and ankles—understandable, considering we tied him up... along with spraying him with OC/CS, shooting him with less-lethal rounds, and setting off flashbangs in his face.

"So is the way of war..."

"Say what now?" Reyna asked me with an intrigued expression.

"Nothing. Tyson, what's your move now?" I asked, turning towards my brother.

"I am not sure, brother... I was thinking of accompanying you and visiting Camp Jupiter," he replied.

"Well, looks like we're all patrollin' out together. What about you, Mrs. O'Leary?"

The Fur Tank simply barked before giving me an affectionate lick. Giving her a pat on the head, I turned towards my three old friends and Nico, beginning to speak before realizing that we had one major problem: the Hunt.

"Wait, so what's your plan, LT?" I asked, looking towards Thalia.

"Er..."

"We're about to begin moving ourselves," Diana answered before her second-in-command could respond. "Our target has moved west into... how do you say it?"

"California," Thalia replied.

"Commiefornia," I coughed, the Huntresses looking at me with a frown.

"I beg your pardon?" Diana asked, sounding as confused as Thalia looked.

"Never mind, just a mortal joke. RA-RA, you think we should stick close or split off?"

"One, don't call me that. Two... I'm not really sure. If that spirit's out of Nico, we have no reason to be by them," Reyna replied after a moment of thought. "But if we can't shadow-travel and we don't exactly have a way out..."

"You sure? I thought we could teleport, or whatever it's called," Frank interjected, turning towards me to explain upon my confused expression. "Okay, so we can teleport like other gods, but there's a catch: we can't really do it outside of anywhere that isn't our realm. We can get to Olympus, to either of the camps, between camps, or between a camp and Olympus."

"But then why not just teleport back to Camp Jupiter?" Tyson asked. "Or is that too similar to shadow-traveling, meaning that Nico will have to still walk and get some air first?"

"Perhaps Autodikos should first walk, then you can evaluate whether or not he's fit for teleportation," Diana suggested.

"I'm fine!" Nico protested.

"Nico, you were literally possessed last night. I think Lady Diana is right," Hazel pointed out. "In any case, we're in an area we're not terribly familiar with. We need a way out."

"We can guide you, but I don't believe our destinations are quite in the same direction," Diana offered.

"We'll work with what we got. Ladies first," I said as formally as I could, holding out my hand in an oh-so-dramatic fashion. Scoffing, Thalia walked off with Diana following her a few moments later, muttering something about "strange mortal ways." "Okay, RA-RA and Goldfinger, you're on point. Rancor, Grizzly, Bigeye, Fur Tank, and myself will be right behind you."

"'Goldfinger?' 'Rancor?' 'Grizzly?'" Nico asked, with me pointing at Hazel, him, and Frank in response. "Ugh, you're worse than Valdez..."

"Percy, what is 'Bigeye?'" Tyson asked as the immortals prepped themselves to move out.

"Double meaning: 'Big Guy' and 'big eye,' 'cause you're a cyclops," I explained the joke, with Tyson sagely nodding in reply.

"Quite accurate, brother. And 'Fur Tank' is undoubtedly true."

"Damn right it is!" I laughed as we began rubbing Mrs. O'Leary's head. "Who's a good girl? Who's a good girl? Yes, yes you are! Yes you are!"

"If you're quite finished, Jackson," Nico grumbled, making me roll my eyes.

"Ease up, Rancor. Just get ready to move. We'll be right behind you." And so we went a few minutes later, the females leading while us males (and Mrs. O'Leary) brought up the rear. Not that I didn't up for being the point-man, but the Hunt was a volatile group with stable leadership—something to be concerned about even if the characteristics were flipped—with my hope being that with Reyna and Hazel as meat shields, they could be the buffer between us (though I was honestly more concerned for Tyson's safety) and the toxic silver estrogen.

I know, I know, war crimes and all that. But hey, Geneva never thought of this when they had a convention.

And so we went through the rocky wilderness, with Mrs. O'Leary leaping and clambering over stones, having a grand old time. The rest of us, though, were beginning to sweat a little as the air heated up around us. For half a minute, it reminded me of Afghanistan—the dry heat, the rocks, the little flora (at least, in certain places), and even the questionable allies.

Actually, especially the questionable allies. I—and many SOF guys—got lucky, usually receiving ANA commandos that were much more skilled than their conventional counterparts. Sometimes we even got Afghan soldiers that were barely mid-level performers, but they still put in the effort to fight the Taliban, so I had no problem working with them. Unfortunately for the conventional guys and anyone carrying out FID/SFA ops (particularly the Green Berets), they got the bottom of the barrel (in skills and effort), which was just about all of the ANA and Afghan police. There's a reason why the Taliban took over so quickly.

But those memories aside, it was otherwise a little nostalgic, especially since I was rucking my way through with Frank, Hazel, and Tyson. We walked mostly in silence, but it reminded me of what went down all those years ago with the Sea of Monsters and Mors (Thanatos) quests. I smiled to myself, thinking about how much easier those ops would've been with better equipment and training. Polyphemus, for instance, probably could've been taken down with a rocket launcher, or at least a .50-cal.

Those who live by the sword get shot by those who live by the gun.

Speaking of the devil, Nico seemed to be getting a little better as we walked through the desert terrain. He stretched himself out and had a bit of pep in his step (at least, as much as he would ever have). The kid even seemed healthier—not even in comparison to last night, but in comparison to when I saw him twenty years ago.

And I know, he's technically older than me, meaning that I can't really be calling him "kid." Here's the thing, though: I had let go of the crap he pulled when I first arrived in Camp Jupiter (i.e., lying to me about whether or not we'd met), but after some time I ended up letting go of the kid almost entirely, simply because I didn't know what to do with him.

I still wanted him to be safe and find some sort of peace, but the simple fact of the matter was that... well, he still hated my guts. Couldn't necessarily blame him, but I couldn't justify his actions either, considering Bianca's actions. Callous as it sounds, she made her call and she faced the consequences—not that it makes things any better, but that's what happened, sad to say.

Nico, despite being an "old man," certainly doesn't act like one, nor did he really mature during the time I knew him. I wasn't sure if he'd even matured in the last two decades. But I wasn't his dad, nor would I try to control him. My life had enough problems without Mister Emo.

Yeah, pretty callous of me. But if you have any better ideas, let me know.

"Nico, how are you feeling?" Hazel asked, turning around to face him.

"I'm fine, Hazel. We can go back to Camp Jupiter," he grumbled. "Seriously, I'm perfectly fine, got my breath of fresh air. We can go now."

"I don't know..."

"Hazel—"

"Stand down. Lemme make a call," I intervened, reaching for my push-to-talk button. "Sunray, Sunray, this is Knight."

"I hear you, Knight. Send it," Apollo replied.

"Rancor says he's cleared for godly travel. Requesting advice on how to proceed, over."

"Stand by, Knight. Hmm... you've been walking for approximately two hours and fifty-four minutes... I'd say he's clean and ready for teleportation. Just keep him out of the shadows for some time. I say again, no shadow-traveling."

"Confirm your last: green light on the teleporting, red light on the shadow-traveling?"

"Affirmative, Knight. Any further questions at this time?"

"Negative, Sunray. Thanks for the info. Knight out," I replied before turning to my friends. "Okay, he's cleared to teleport. Just keep 'im locked down, will ya?"

"We can handle that," Frank replied. "And I do mean that this time. See you back at the camp."

"Fair winds, guys," I murmured as the four disappeared in a flash of light. Taking a breath, Tyson and I mounted up on Mrs. O'Leary, searching for shadows, while Thalia came running back towards us.

"Hey, you're going?" she asked.

"Yeah, gotta visit some people there. Plus, I'm sure the Fur Tank's gonna wanna see her old playmate."

"Ah, yes... Hannibal!" Tyson recalled. "Best of luck to you, Lieutenant!"

"Thanks, big guy. Perce?"

"What's up, LT?"

"... thank you. And you might need this," she said, tossing a radio up to me.

"Eh, just keep it," I replied, tossing it back. "Keep it safe, though. We're gonna want comms up and running the next time I need to save your ass."

"You didn't do shit, Perce."

"Whatever you say, princess. Mrs. O'Leary, Camp Jupiter, if you please!"

Letting out a howl, she charged the side of a mountain as I braced for the nauseating shadow-traveling once more. It reminded me of the time I vomited in Jump School mid-air, earning me the secondary nickname "Vomit Rain." Even during MFF training, Kayak and some other fellow students wouldn't let me forget it, considering it was the only thing weirder than the time I got approached by sharks during BUD/S.

Welcome to the military, where we show affection for one another via annoying and bullying.

When we finally arrived in Commie—sorry, California—I managed to keep my non-existent lunch down. It was unsurprisingly sunny and warm, with the only surprise being us—to the legionaries around us.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" one screamed in shock as he fell backwards. A few others fumbled for their weapons before I quickly dismounted.

"STAND DOWN!!" I barked, knife-handing the one closest to me. "We're friendlies!"

"Who... who are you?"

"Former legionary," I sighed, softening my tone and rolling down my sleeve. I was so jumped up on adrenaline, I forgot that we did just show up out of nowhere, so it's not like I could've blamed them.

"A trident? But Neptune has no demigod children, except for..." the legionary muttered, before gasping and standing at attention. "S-sorry, sir. I-I didn't know—"

"Relax, kid. I have no command in the legion anymore. I'm just a civilian at this point. Those are the baths, aren't they?" I asked, gesturing to the nearby building.

"Y-yeah, yeah they are."

"Okay, then... are guests allowed to take baths?"

"There you are!" someone exclaimed behind us—Frank. "I was wondering where you two would show up!"

"Hey, Grizzly. Are there any guest passes for the baths? Tyson and I are a little bit filthy."

And so we went, enjoying the ancient-yet-effective cleaning solution that was a Roman bath. Neither of us had spare clothes, but Frank had us covered, finding some jeans and T-shirts for us (yes, even for Tyson... somehow). We almost had a tour of the area, but Tyson and I needed to rest more, having pulled an all-nighter and jetlagged (er, hound-lagged).

"Yeah, there should be two spare bunks in Fifth Cohort's leadership barrack. Actually, now that I think about it, the centurion reported a strange footlocker by the spare bunk that he wasn't able to open. That related to you?"

"That would be me indeed," I replied with a nod, with Frank rolling his eyes in reply.

"Why are these things always surrounding you? Just tell the tessarius to talk to me if there are any problems."

"Check."

It took a bit of time—including some confusion with the Sixth Cohort's barracks, but we nonetheless made it to Fifth Cohort's barracks. Though as I laid in the bunk, a multitude of questions ran through my head: what was a tessarius? Why did the cohort have nine barracks instead of four? Where did the Sixth Cohort come from? Why was everything larger? Why were the legionaries older?

What the hell happened here?

I waved them off when exhaustion claimed me. But something told me that tomorrow's conversations would be very informative... probably confusing too.

Screw zodiac signs! Which American special operations force are you?

Navy SEAL: You're tough as nails, love aquatics, and are a bit of a showoff (especially on the diving board), but you'll get the job done, anytime, anyplace

Army Special Forces: You're something of a dad friend, often teaching skills and dispensing advice to others (with the unconscious objective of creating mini-yous)

Army CA: You have a great deal of charisma, with social skills to surpass anyone else in your friend group

Army PSYOP: You love riddles and mind games, and enjoy pranking those around you—even your buddies

Air Force CCT/STO/TACP/TACP-O: Like PSYOP, you're pretty smart, but have an affinity for mathematics and related fields, with friends always coming to you for homework help

Army Ranger: You're the jock—tough and loud, often annoying people around you—but you're always there to support your buddies

Army Nightstalker & Navy SWCC: You're the designated driver of your friend group, giving people rides even in the craziest situations

Air Force PJ/CRO/SOST & Navy SARC: You're the mom friend, particularly when helping out your friends when they're hurt/sick

Air Force SOWT/SR: You're relatively quiet and enjoy the great outdoors, and it's not uncommon to see you just observing the world around you (if you do talk, it's often to tell others about your time outside)

EOD: You're the technical expert of the group, probably with a trade skill or two under your belt, and often receive requests for advice on such matters

Marine Raider: You don't offer anything special to your friend group—due to you being a jack-of-all-trades—but you're respected because you can help out in almost any situation

Thanks for reading! Make sure to drop a comment, positive and negative feedback alive!

Until then,

- ADF-2