'Domination'

28-Nov-2030, 0030U

Annabeth "Sofia" Chase, Hero of Olympus, Daughter of Athena

Joint Operation with Task Force 101 and Legio XII Fulminata

Mojave Desert, California, USA

Californian earthquakes notwithstanding, I've only felt the ground shake like this twice before: the battle with the giants at Athens and the battle with Gaea at Camp Half-Blood. Now, it felt like the whole planet was gripped by tremors of apocalyptic proportions. Fire rained from the sky as "Spooky 1" unleashed the might of its gunnery, "Cobalt 1" through "Cobalt 4" launched precision-guided missiles, and "Longbow 1" and "Longbow 2" struck numerous targets with their long-range armament. Adding to the explosions were the fires from Basher's howitzers, Zulu's crew-served weapons (to include mortars, .50-caliber sniper rifles, machine guns, and even automatic grenade launchers), and X-Ray's TOW missiles as they pounded personnel, vehicles, and structures.

As the "resident math major" and "all-around nerd," in Percy's words, he'd designated me as the "lead forward observer-slash-forward air controller," teaching me in the prior week how to direct air and ground-based support. Before Tyson's second-in-command, Chad, initiated the attack, I had prepared two targets for the Predator UAVs, six targets for the AC-130 gunship, and five targets for the artillery battery. Now, with the assault underway, I was currently calling for "adjust fire" missions, shifting the aim of one of Basher's howitzers to destroy an enemy supply depot and barracks in the western sector of the Mojave Desert.

Upon completing the fire mission, I crouched behind cover alongside Clyde the Torrent Trooper firing his machine gun and two legionaries of the "Sinful Sixteen," namely Exactus "Einstein" and Probatio "Sister," who were assisting the cyclops machine gunner in keeping the enemy away from us. We were waiting on Reyna and the rest of the team to come pick us up.

"Yankee 4-2, this is Yankee 4-1," she called on the radio. "Are you finished with your objective?"

"Yeah, there's nothing left but infantry to be mopped up!" I responded, speaking loudly to hear myself over the gunfire. "Where the fuck are you guys?"

"We're currently trying to neutralize some foot-mobiles. Stand by."

"Great... thanks," I sarcastically replied before getting back to the situation at hand. Since I was carrying a lot of communication and fire control equipment, Percy recommended that I carry a long-barrelled assault rifle known as the MK12 (a "recon rifle" or "recce rifle" or something) for extended range while still being relatively lightweight. Using the infrared laser on my gun and my night-vision goggles, I began taking shots at the enemy personnel as they scattered from the wreckage, either trying to rush our position or dig in.

It was certainly a new experience, shooting the enemy instead of getting up close and personal. But I had to admit, I could certainly see the practicality of it... even why Hazel seemed to like shooting so much. It was definitely a useful tool, and it provided a massive advantage over an enemy using standard ancient armament.

Still... Reyna better get her ass over here soon. The armored force is about to start its west-to-east sweep.

A brief check on my ATAK revealed that armored forces were accumulating in the west end of the Mojave Desert, with more forces establishing blocking positions and slowly sealing off the entire area. And I didn't want to be around when the armor began its thunderous sweep—fratricide, even accidental, was the last thing we needed.

"4-2, this is 4-1," Reyna called. "Extraction in sixty seconds. Get ready to run."

"Okay, copy that!" I acknowledged, before turning to the men beside me. "One minute! Extraction's gonna be here in one minute!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Clyde, Einstein, and Sister shouted back over the fire of their unsilenced (sorry, "unsuppressed") weapons. While the legionaries reloaded, the Torrent Trooper continued to spray lead (er, magical metals) at advancing monsters. I opted for careful precision with my MK12... I certainly preferred it to a standard rifle or machine gun. As we continued to down scattering monsters, I could just make out the roar of an engine behind me.

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT!

Okay, make that two engines and 2,000 rounds per minute as the Polaris DAGOR rolled up behind us and skidded to a stop, with the rest of Yankee 4 aboard. In the shotgun seat, Reyna was monitoring her ATAK and communicating on the radio while the driver, a Torrent Trooper named George, was firing away with his M16. Another Torrent Trooper, Elias, manned the M134 minigun turret, and was delivering suppressive fire on approaching enemy troops, giving us an opening.

Einstein and Sister went first, being helped into the rear seats by their fellow Sinful Sixteen legionaries—Legionarius Hans and Faber Luigi—before Clyde and I jumped into the seats just below the turret. Once we were all aboard, we turned around and began speeding eastward for the next part of the plan: consolidate AFO elements and give the armored forces room to work.

"Reyna!" I shouted over the roars of the UTV and minigun. "Where the fuck are we going?!"

"We're linking up with Frank's team before moving to support X-Ray 1!" she shouted back. "Air and artillery have their hands full with the big guys, so we're going to handle the infantry to the north, then link up with Percy and Leo's teams in the south-central area!"

"Okay, what about X-Ray 2 and 3?"

"They're taking down runners in the east with targeting support from Zulu and Ghost teams!"

"Contact front, contact front!" George shouted, spotting a windowless van driving north—one of the various vehicles the monsters had acquired to move their personnel and material. In the shotgun seat, Reyna readied her rifle while I prepared to fire over her shoulder. But Elias had other plans, training his minigun on the fleeing vehicle and shredding it with a hail of bullets... all while emitting manly giggling that sounded akin to a schoolboy in a candy store.

"Rabbit vehicle is down!" the cyclops turret gunner gleefully responded as we sped past the wreckage.

"Holy shiiiiiiit!" Sister exclaimed, his fellow Romans laughing with him in the back.

Tyson, my dear friend... are all of your Torrent Troopers psychotic, or did they just decide to follow Percy's example? I thought to myself as we kept speeding to the northeast. We were already going at highway speeds, yet George had somehow managed to accelerate the UTV more than he already had. Where the hell did he learn how to drive, NASCAR?

"George, get us to Kelso! Get us to Kelso! Curve right, curve right!" Reyna suddenly ordered before turning around to look at the rest of us. "Listen up! One of the snipers just detected a firebase at a ghost town called Kelso! They've been concealed up until this point! We need to get eyes on it and take it out before we link up with Yankee 2! Clear?"

"CLEAR!" we shouted back, ensuring our weapons were ready.

"Okay, we're three minutes out! Annabeth, get some fire support for us!"

"Understood!" I affirmed before hailing the airborne command post. "Bossman 3, this is Yankee 4-2. Requesting air support on enemy firebase at Kelso, over!"

"Yankee 4-2, Bossman 3," the Deputy Commanding General-Operations of the Torrent Troopers replied. "All air support is already engaged. Cobalt 1 is pushing to your location, but is winchester, so no Hellfires can be provided, over."

"Roger, Bossman 3. Patch me through GCS (ground control station)."

"Copy, 4-2. Stand by."

"Yankee 4-2, Cobalt 1," the UAV operator on the other side greeted. "On station in two mikes, over."

"Copy your last, Cobalt 1. Will notify once in position, out!" I replied before tapping Reyna's shoulder. "Reyna! We've got a Predator, but no Hellfire! They already used them!"

"Better than nothing! George, drop us off at the row of trees on the side of the railroad tracks, then prepare a diversion from the northwest! We'll assault on foot from the southwest!" she ordered.

"Roger that! One minute!" George replied. "Elias, keep your gun towards Kelso!"

"Roger!" the turret gunner replied while the rest of us prepared to jump out. One minute on the dot, we came to a screeching halt at the beginning of the treeline north of the tracks. Reyna, Clyde, Einstein, Sister, Hans, Luigi, and I quickly jumped out and ran for concealment. Hans and Luigi, despite being weighed down by the M3E1 "Goose" recoilless rifle and ammunition, managed to move the fastest and set security. Once the last person was off, the UTV sped away in a cloud of dust.

"Split up for overlapping sectors of fire. Clyde, take the men and move up the right. Annabeth and I will take the left," Reyna whispered.

"Yes ma'am. Men, we'll bound across one by one, understood?" Clyde rumbled.

"Yup," the four Sinful Sixteen members replied.

"I'll go first... bounding."

Once Clyde had dashed across the open area, leaping over the train tracks like a steroid-injected gazelle, we set security as each of the four legionaries bounded across. During this time, Cobalt 1 arrived on station, giving us our eye in the sky. Once everyone was in place, Reyna gave the order to advance, hugging the lines of trees on either side of the tracks for concealment.

On the left, Reyna took point while I covered our flanks. The Korean trainers, Torrent Troopers, and even my Roman friends (plus Leo) had taught us small unit tactics... but I had to admit, while I learned fast, I didn't learn that fast. Thankfully, Reyna seemed to have a much better idea of what she was doing, so I followed her lead. On the right, despite being weighed down by an M60 machine gun, Clyde was taking point, with the four members of the Sinful Sixteen—who had even less training than I—were tactically maneuvering behind the cyclops, remaining spread out and effectively covering their sectors.

Maybe Percy was right... these guys just needed a mission to be excellent.

"Yankee 4-1, this is 4-3. We're ready and standing by for a vehicular assault on Kelso," George called on the team net.

"Roger that. Stand by. You're all doing a phenomenal job," Reyna whispered. "Remember your training. Let's complete our objectives and go home."

"Bossman 3, Yankee 4-2," I called on my more powerful radio. "Are there any assets available for a fire mission, over?"

"Stand by, Yankee 4-2," the DCG-O replied. And after a few moments, he had an answer. "Yankee 4-2, Bossman 3. All fire support assets, air and ground, are engaged. More targets have revealed themselves. Have you been detected?"

"Negative."

"I'll try to get you something, but no guarantees, over."

"Please work on it. Out," I signed off with a frustrated sigh. "Reyna, we're not getting anything. More monsters coming out of the woodwork, and they're the bigger priority."

"Well, it's one firebase... besides, we do have the recoilless rifle," she noted, getting on the team net. "4-9, 4-1. Ready to shoot the Goose?"

"Yes ma'am, we're ready," Luigi replied, his voice brimming with confidence. "Just give us a target."

"Copy that. Move into position. 4-3, are you in position to provide a diversion?"

"Affirmative, 4-1," George replied. "We'll provide suppressive fires with our crew served weapons and keep their attention."

"Once you draw them out, 4-9 will take a shot with the Goose and initiate our assault. We'll trap them between our overlapping sectors of fire."

"Understood. Waiting for your command. Out."

"Yankee 4-2, Cobalt 1," the UAV operator called on the long-range radio. "The firebase is still active and they appear to be willing to stand their ground. Be advised, there are enemy personnel in the Kelso Depot Visitor Center. It's an old house with Spanish Colonial architecture and a red roof, over."

"Ah yes, the standard architectural procedure of California and fucking Stanford University," I grumbled. I liked the style well enough, but it really felt overdone (and yes... I'm ranting about my architectural opinions in the middle of a war zone... make fun of me all you want, UNCULTURED PEASANTS). "Copy that. Keep us posted. Out."

Shortly afterwards, we had reached the end of the treeline, and the firebase was in sight: an oversized onager, once expertly hidden by magic and a tarpaulin, launching what appeared to be incendiary munitions. It was in the lot just southwest of the building, guarded by maybe two dozen monsters—black-armored Laistrygonians—and there were apparently additional enemy personnel inside the visitor center.

"Annabeth, what's your recommendation?" Reyna whispered, not taking her eyes or gun off the target 300 feet directly ahead across Kelbaker Road.

"We can't exactly destroy the building... we'll need to go in and clear it out," I whispered back. "But I'm not really sure how to do that."

"I do," she replied firmly before getting on the team net. "4-3, are you on the same side of Kelbaker as us?"

"No ma'am," George replied.

"Okay, stay parallel to the road and rush them from the northwest. Focus on the infantry, then move to the north side of the visitor center. We'll finish off the artillery then move to clear the buildings."

"Understood. Standing by."

"4-8, prep the Goose with HEDP and target the onager."

"Roger that, stand by..." Hans (the loader) replied, pulling a round from his pack while Luigi (the gunner) knelt to fire the recoilless rifle. Not even 20 seconds later, he was back on the air. "Ready to fire."

"4-3, initiate, initiate, initiate!" Reyna ordered, her voice as calm and level as ever.

Thirty seconds later, the UTV's engine was finally audible, and the Laistrygonians had definitely noticed, with some drawing crossbows. But Elias was faster, having spooled up his minigun and beginning his storm of bullets on the enemy personnel, shredding them into dust.

"4-9, fire, fire, fire!" Reyna commanded. Luigi sent the round hurtling towards the artillery piece, blowing it to oblivion, whilst the rest of us opened fire with our weapons, cutting down any remaining infantry. "Cease fire, cease fire! All targets destroyed!"

"Roger, moving north," George called, hitting the gas and accelerating towards the north side. As for the rest of us, we rushed across the road and desert ground, with Clyde's section hopping over the train tracks and dashing for the double doors on the southwest side of the visitor center. We "stacked up" on the right-hand side of the doors, Reyna at the front, then me, then Clyde, while the four legionaries set security and pointed their rifles down the patio area. Once set, Clyde squeezed my shoulder, and I did the same to Reyna, indicating that we were ready.

"Clyde, kick it in. Annabeth, nine-bang," Reyna ordered, not taking her eyes or gun off the entry point.

"Check," Clyde acknowledged, moving around us to quickly check the double doors for traps before placing a powerful kick right at the center and sending the doors crashing open. I barely had enough time to pull my 9-bang flash grenade from a pouch on my plate carrier, pull the pin, and toss it in. Bright flashes, accompanied by loud bangs consumed the interior, and Reyna made entry, opening fire almost immediately upon several disoriented and confused telekhines—who were wearing black armor similar to that of the Laistrygonians... and the monsters encountered in Mendocino National Forest, according to Reyna.

That's a concerningly high amount of uniformity.

Now, I didn't have the same close-quarters battle training as Reyna or even Clyde, so I struggled to keep up with them. Despite this, we were able to clear out the ground floor within a few minutes, quickly arriving at the northeast side entrances.

"Clyde, secure the outer area. Annabeth, on me," Reyna commanded as we located the staircase and began our upwards assault. Unlike the ground floor assault, Reyna was going much more slowly and more methodically, following the saying of "slow is smooth, smooth is fast." And it definitely helped me, considering that I was less trained and had the bulkier MK12. "Hey, look up, look up."

Obeying her, I pointed my gun straight up, watching for any monsters that would try to attack directly from above. But before long, we'd reached the top floor, finding a hallway with several doors. Taking a breath, the consul thought for a moment before coming up with a plan.

"4-1, be advised, we've got enemy infantry and vehicles from the south. We're going to take care of it," Clyde called on the team net.

"Roger that, 4-5. Good hunting. Out," she acknowledged before whispering to me. "Annabeth, we're going to go to each door. You donkey-kick it open, toss in a nine-bang, and keep your gun pointed down this hallway while I go in and clear the room. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Alright, you take point."

Taking a deep breath to focus and calm myself, I began slowly moving towards the first doorway. Once Reyna was set, she squeezed my shoulder. I then pressed my back against the wall, pulled a flashbang from my belt, and kicked backwards like a donkey, mule, or even a horse with all the strength I could manage, breaking the lock and sending the door flying open. I tossed in the flashbang and raised my gun back up on the hallway, letting Reyna make entry as bright flashes and loud bangs filled the room.

"Clear," she muttered after around 15 seconds of searching and no gunfire. "Next door."

Same procedure: kick, flash (NOT LIKE THAT, PERVERTS), clear.

"Clear. Next."

Kick, bang (NO, NOT LIKE THAT, EITHER), clear.

"Clear. Last one."

This time, when Reyna entered, she was met by some horrendous shrieking, but she quickly put down the threat. But the shrieking—which sounded oddly familiar—distracted me, taking my eyes off the hallway for a moment. But that was all that was necessary for the source of the noise to appear before me in a flash of smoke, fire, and ash, charging me head-on and sending me crashing through the door and onto the tiny balcony. And in my shocked state, the monster was able to rush me again, this time sending us both crashing down onto the paved area below. In the process, my NODs got flipped up, removing the white phosphor lens I'd gotten used to over the past few hours.

"WHERE IS HE, YOU FILTH?! WHERE IS PERSEUS JACKSON?!" the monster screamed, her demonic voice combining with the gunfire from the south side, the gunfire and explosions from the visitor center's second floor, and the continued distant explosions to make my ears ring. Assessing the threat standing above me, I saw pale white skin, fangs, red eyes, flaming hair, a donkey leg, and a bronze leg.

That's a fucking empousa... but it's not Kelli. Percy already killed her back in the wildlife refuge where Grover headbutted him, I thought to myself. So who's this bitch?

"YOUR FRIENDS WON'T SAVE YO-OOOOOW!!" she screamed, her stream of high-decibel nonsense cut off by a swift upward kick to her groin. While she stumbled, I quickly got to my feet and raised my weapon, only for her to jump onto me again and knock my rifle out of my hands, leaving it hanging on its sling. I reached for my pistol, but she began slashing my arms and plate carrier with her claws, tackling me to the ground yet again as she began aiming for my throat and face. Using my left arm as a shield, I finally drew my sidearm, but she began going for my arms again, pointing it away from her center mass.

"Filthy young goddess," the bitch hissed. "Soon, you and your friend Perseus Jackson, and all of the world shall fear my name: TAMMI!"

... huh?

"He took everything from me! And since you are his friend, I shall taste your blood too!"

" ... BITCH, I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO YOU ARE!!" I shouted back, finally overpowering her to the point of squeezing the trigger and shooting her once in the pelvic bowl region, making her scream in pain, but she began focusing both of her hands on my right as a result, pointing my pistol's muzzle away from her. However, in a major tactical blunder, she'd left my left hand open to summon my drakon bone sword and behead her, turning Tammi the empousa to dust.

"4-2, are you okay?" Reyna called on the radio. "Yankee 4-2, respond!"

"I'm good, I'm good... empousa attacked me," I groaned as I sat up, checking myself for damage. I had some cuts on my arms and I could feel some wetness on the left side of my body right under my chest, but it was nothing major. No point in crying over spilled ichor, I supposed. "You okay?"

"Just got ambushed up here. All good. Coming to you."

"4-1, be advised, enemy forces have just been destroyed," George announced. "Rendezvous at 4-2's position."

"Copy that."

Seconds later, I could see the DAGOR rumbling over the train tracks and finally coming to a halt in front of me, with the rest of the team aboard. I jogged around the back and hopped into the right-side seat below the turret. From the left seat, Clyde gave me a concerned look, which I returned with a thumbs-up as I lowered my NODs and reloaded my sidearm. With a nod, he returned to scanning the area for enemy forces. After a few moments, Reyna came out the front door and jumped into the shotgun seat, motioning for George to get us rolling.

"Okay, I saw that empousa too!" Reyna said as she turned around to face me. "I shot her, but she escaped in a flash of fire and got you... then a bunch of telekhines ambushed me from beneath some surprisingly good interior camouflage. Why was she screaming like a crazy person?"

"She wanted to kill Percy!" I answered.

"Who doesn't?"

"I mean, she wanted revenge because she slighted him in some way!"

"Again... who doesn't?"

"... fair enough!"

The rest of our cross-country journey was quieter as we sped towards the Mojave Memorial Cross—officially the White Cross World War I Memorial—which Frank had designated as the rendezvous point. When I checked my ATAK, I could see that friendly forces had established blocking positions and effectively sealed off the entire preserve with armor, concertina wire, spike strips, Claymore mines, sandbagged fighting positions, crew-served weapons, and heavily armed cyclopes, CHB campers, and legionaries.

The main armored force was still on the western end, organizing into a layered formation. The first layer would be mainly Engineer Squad Vehicles to clear the way of obstacles, along with anti-tank guided missile Strykers and Mobile Gun Systems ("assault gun" Strykers) to destroy any vehicles, buildings, fortified positions, or anything the regular Strykers couldn't handle. Next would come the regular Strykers, containing the infantry who would dismount to seize and hold areas as needed, and equipped with MK19s and M2s for self-defense and supporting their infantry. Mortar carriers would then follow for indirect fire support, along with even more regular Strykers. And finally, support vehicles such as the MEDEVAC vehicles would be standing by in the rear echelon, along with a small security element.

Tyson, I sincerely hope your Torrent Troopers know what they're doing... and those legionaries too.

Before long, we'd arrived at the rendezvous point, crossing Cima Road and stopping at the base of the rock pile bearing the Mojave Memorial Cross. Emerging from behind the rocks was none other than the 9-man team known as "Yankee 2," led by Frank, who'd opted to carry a machine gun (the MK48, I think).

"Hey guys, glad you're here," he greeted with a nod. "Okay, the Predator drones and sniper teams have been spotting personnel and vehicles rushing toward this point called Yucca Grove on open-source maps. There's a road they can use to cross the freeway and escape the AO. I've already got air pushing that way for ISR and CAS, and we're going to secure the area until ground support arrives to establish a more permanent blocking position. Then, we're going to assist with Halloran Springs. X-Ray 1 just restocked on TOW missiles, forty-millimeter grenades, and other munitions and is pushing towards Halloran Springs, but Yucca Grove is the priority. Same procedure at the second area: seize, hold, and wait for ground support. After that, we consolidate and move towards Percy and Leo's teams. Understood?"

After a brief moment of silence from the group, I could only chuckle. Frank was nowhere near the same babyfaced bashful bowman I first knew... Poseidon's underpants, he wasn't even the same hard-charging commander Percy and I heard about after escaping the House of Hades. Now, the guy could probably go toe-to-toe (for a limited period of time, at least) with the war gods or my mother in tactical analysis, development, and execution... and his improved confidence certainly helped.

"Frank... you're the man. I'd say you've got control of the situation," I said with a small laugh. "And I guess you're taking your own advice: keep it simple."

"I have nothing to add, Zhang," Reyna added, sounding rather proud of the young god. "You continue to exceed expectations. Take command. We'll follow."

"Appreciate it, guys," he thanked with a smile before putting his game face on. "Okay everyone, check your weapons! Let's roll out!"

The cyclops drivers gunned it and we began moving towards Yucca Grove at the speed of Mach Fuck (to borrow a phrase from Leo, who apparently borrowed it from the "Obese Linesman..." or the "Endomorphic Gaffer..." apparently an Army veteran and tradesman who enjoyed military history). As we got closer and closer to our objective, I checked in with our air support: a flight of two Apache attack helicopters, "Longbow 1" and "Longbow 2," who were flying our way from the FARP (callsign "Texaco") after completing a number of CAS missions across the entire AO.

"Longbow, Longbow, this is Yankee 4-2. Send SITREP, over," I called.

"Yankee 4-2, Longbow 1. We're two mikes from Objective Grove," the pilot called. "Are you in position, over?"

"Longbow, we're thirty seconds out!"

"Roger that. Get into position and we'll let you know when we're on station. Out."

"Get ready to dismount!" George shouted over the engine as we barrelled towards the chokepoint. And on the dot, we arrived at the fork before the stretch of Halloran Summit Road that would allow you to cross I-15. No monsters had crossed it, but we'd have a problem if they did. "Dismount, dismount! Set up fighting positions!"

"Nuts, I forgot about the ramps!" Frank cursed. And he was right: there were on and off ramps connecting the road to the freeway. "Okay, everyone: we set up here on the fork! Enemies could cross or get onto the freeway! If they get onto the freeway, it'll be darn near impossible to give chase without endangering mortals! Don't let them through!"

"Set up on either side of the road and cross your lines of fire, go!" Reyna added. At the two consules' orders, we began searching for cover and concealment: rocks, shrubbery, trees, anything we could find to establish overlapping sectors of fire and effectively turn the road into a deathtrap. And it didn't take long to sight a small convoy approaching us: three pickup trucks that definitely were not ours, loaded with turrets that appeared to be equipped with hwachas. But the noise of rotors had filled the air: we had our Apaches on station.

"Yankee 4-2, Longbow 1. We're ready for tasking. We are loaded for bear with thirty mike-mike, Hydra rockets, and Hellfires. Pick your weapon, pick your target, and we'll hit 'em."

"Longbow 1, Yankee 4-2. Requesting danger close fire mission with thirty-millimeter rounds on enemy convoy of three pickup trucks, five hundred meters and closing southeast of our position, over," I requested.

"Copy. Firing."

Seconds later, both helicopters opened fire, their autocannons thundering as each sent three 10-round bursts towards the convoy, shredding the trucks and stopping them in their tracks almost instantly, with one even exploding in a massive fireball—it appeared to be loaded with Greek Fire.

"Good effect on all targets, they're neutralized," I called.

"Roger that."

"Yankee 4-2, Cobalt 1," the UAV operator called. "Be advised, you have additional vehicles moving towards Objective Grove. Three buses which appear to be modified and carrying additional personnel out of the AO, over."

"Copy, Cobalt 1. Where exactly are they?"

"They're approximately four miles southeast of your position, traveling along the road. Be advised, other elements are reporting encounters with VBIEDs, so don't let them get too close."

"VBIEDs?" Those are... vehicle-borne IEDs. That explains the ridiculously large fireball from that Tacoma the choppers blew up.

"Affirmative, Cobalt 1. Thanks for the info," I replied, getting on my ATAK to see what the drone was seeing before switching over to the Apaches. "Longbow 1, do you see three buses four miles southeast of my position on the road, coming this way?"

"Stand by... affirmative, I have eyes on," Longbow 1 replied.

"Requesting you destroy those targets now. They could be VBIEDS, and I don't want to take any chances."

"Copy that, targeting the front bus now for Hellfire. Longbow 2, do you have the rear bus locked?"

"Stand by... affirmative, I have the rear bus locked," Longbow 2 replied.

"Fire, fire, fire... missiles off the rails."

The missiles streaked across the night sky, with the front bus being the first to explode. The other two buses, caught off-guard, crashed into the lead vehicle, with the last vehicle impacted by the other Hellfire. But while neither bus appeared to be a VBIED, they were still loaded for bear with not only personnel but also munitions, given just how many secondary explosions occurred, consuming the bus trapped between both wrecks.

"Hot damn, like something outta Hollywood," Longbow 1 chuckled. "Middle bus is... yup, there's the secondaries. A whole lot of secondaries. They aren't surviving."

Why does he sound so calm, like he's reading the most mundane news article known to man?

"Yankee 4-2, Longbow 1. All targets destroyed, over."

"Roger, Longbow 1. Thanks for the fires, over."

"Yankee 4-2, Bossman 3. Send SITREP, over," the DCG-O suddenly called on my long-range radio.

"Bossman 3, Yankee 4-2. Longbow's been hard at work. Multiple runners destroyed. What's the status on our ground support, over?" I asked.

"Yankee 4-2, we are sending Kilo 2-1 towards Objective Grove in some uparmored Humvees. They'll be with you in five mikes, over."

"Bossman 3, I'm not sure if one squad is enough to hold this point, over."

"Don't worry, they're good... and they're reinforced. Out."

"Annabeth, where's our ground support?" Reyna whispered from beside me.

"We've got a reinforced squad rolling our way in Humvees. They'll take over and we'll haul ass to Objective Spring."

"... alright then."

"Yankee 4-2, Longbow 1. Be advised, we have to peel off for an emergency CAS mission, but we'll be back soon," Longbow 1 called. "Cobalt 1 will still be giving you ISR, over."

"Roger, Longbow 1. Good hunting. Out," I replied as the sound of rotors began to lessen, growing more distant before finally fading into the background, drowned out by the chorusing explosions courtesy of air and ground-based fire support. It was still hunting season in the Mojave Desert, and the black-armored horde was the big game of the night.

I could make out Spooky 1's 25-mm rotary cannon and 40-mm cannon, serving death from above on a lead platter. I could feel the power of Basher's howitzers as they cratered the earth, turning the desert into the surface of the moon. I could even see, towards the west, Cobra gunships joining the party, unleashing the might of their 20-mm Gatling guns and 2.75-in Hydra rockets as they mowed down those who dared to stand in the way of the armored assault.

Sounds like the sweep's about to start.

But while we'd set up our own ambush alley, it would turn out that we would get ambushed instead.

"Oh fuck, we're surrounded!" Luigi shouted, with gunfire erupting. "They fucking shadow-traveled, watch out!"

"Ambush! Get down!" Reyna yelled, yanking me by my plate carrier onto the ground as she simultaneously fired three shots behind me, killing whatever nearly just hit me with a crossbow bolt. And from my new prone position, I could see a cynocephalus in black armor charging a distracted Hans with a poleaxe. I activated my IR laser and opened fire, rapidly shooting until the monster had been turned to dust.

We were being swarmed from all sides by shadow-traveling cynocephali, armed with a mixture of melee and ranged weapons. And even if we had Longbow on station, they couldn't do much: all targets weren't just inside danger close, they were in the damn kill zone. We were on our own.

The turret gunners aboard the DAGORs couldn't even use their miniguns, with the close-ranged threats forcing them to pull out their rifles. Across the intersection, Frank had transformed into a swarm of what appeared to be Asian giant hornets, otherwise known as "murder hornets," after expending all rounds in his machine gun. Piper dropped a trio of bad guys with her rifle before switching to her pistol—it was faster than reloading—and killing two more before she got tackled from behind by another dog-headed man. After a little wrestling, she summoned her signature dagger, Katoptris, and stabbed the monster right in the jugular, turning him to dust.

Not bad, McLean... not bad at all.

The Torrent Troopers were probably the best fighters in terms of technique, lethality, and aggression. Having beaten back the closest threats, our turret gunners had trained their M134s on some attackers that shadow-traveled in from the north, shredding them with a hail of 7.62-mm rounds. Clyde had body-slammed a cynocephalus, drawing his pistol and killing it before shooting two more that were rushing him. One of the cyclopes under Frank's command, Tony, had even picked up one cynocephalus and started using the monster as a club, bashing enemies with his left hand and shooting his M16 with his right... like we were in a movie or a stupidly cliche storybook.

But the award for fiercest fighter was divided equally amongst the eight members of the Sinful Sixteen present at Objective Grove. Their technique was sloppy, but their utter audacity was off the charts. They had effectively gone berserk in the best way possible. They weren't just standing their ground, they were counterattacking with their M16 rifles, M9 pistols, M67 fragmentation grenades, and even their M7 bayonets, which were either held in the hand or attached to the ends of their rifles.

Suddenly, a new noise joined the cacophony: diesel engines, their vehicles thundering in from the northeast. I glanced that way, peering through my NODs to see an uparmored Humvee in the distance, with four more following close behind: it was Kilo 2-1, our replacements.

"Yankee 4-2, Kilo 2-1. You guys still alive?" a brash voice called on my long-range net, belonging to a woman I once despised before eventually ending up only mildly annoyed by... and now somewhere between friend and frenemy.

"About time you showed up, 2-1," I scoffed back as I put a bullet in another cynocephalus. "What'd you do, stop at the nail salon?"

"You know that's not my jam, jackass."

"Hey, you've changed significantly in the past twenty-two-plus years."

"... you're still a nerd."

"Backup's here!" George shouted as he stabbed the last cynocephalus with his knife, and the five Humvees rolled up on the fork, coming to a halt on either side. The cyclops turret gunners swiveled their M2s and MK19s to cover all the angles as the rest of the reinforced squad dismounted. A joint team of CHB campers and legionaries began setting up concertina wire, spike strips, and Claymore mines while some Torrent Troopers held security. One of the friendlies jogged up towards me: the squad leader, being none other than my old frenemy-slash-friend, Clarisse La Rue, now Rodriguez, dressed like a modern-day soldier and toting an M4, with her electric spear "Maimer" slung on her back.

"Gods-damn, you guys look like shit!" she said, clapping me on the shoulder and giving Reyna a nod. "Good to see you too, Ramirez. We'll take care of business here.

"Thanks. So, where's your better half?" I asked.

"I thought the wife was the better half."

"In your case, considering that Chris is the sane one between you two, I'm granting him the title."

"Well, he's heading up Kilo 1-2. He might get dispatched to assist you."

"Alrighty then. Frank?"

"Let's mount up and move out!" the consul ordered, having reverted back to his human form. "We're moving to Objective Spring!"

"Move out, move out! Let's go!" Einstein shouted, helping one of his fellow legionaries—Probatio Compton, I think, one of Frank's men—to his feet. We jogged for our UTVs, checking our weapons as the drivers hit the gas and began speeding westward towards Objective Spring. Clarisse's squad had Objective Grove covered.

"Bossman 3, Yankee 4-2," I called. "Kilo 2-1 has secured Objective Grove. We are moving to Objective Spring at this time. What's the status on our ground support?"

"4-2, we have Kilo 1-2 rolling that way now. Be advised, X-Ray 1 has troops in contact: they were ambushed by shadow-traveling infantry," the DCG-O replied. "Watch your fires, over."

"Solid copy. Out."

"X-Ray 1, this is Yankee 4-1. Send SITREP, over," Reyna called on the AFO net.

"Yankee 4-1, we are engaged at this time," the Torrent Trooper on the other end replied. "But we're in no danger. However, we would appreciate you speeding up, over."

"Roger that. We've got the pedal to the metal. Just hold your position. Out."

"Yankee 4-2, Cobalt 1," the UAV operator called. "We have five enemy vehicles moving along Halloran Springs Road towards Objective Spring. They should be coming up on your left. Try to accelerate and intercept them before they reach, over."

"Gunners, enemy convoy moving along the road left side!" I warned as I spotted the vehicles myself. "Take them out, take them out!"

"I see 'em! Accelerate!" Elias shouted as he trained his minigun on the moving convoy, activating his IR laser. "Tracking... firing!"

BRRRRRRRRRRT!

Our gunners opened up, slinging a swarm of bullets at the convoy and quickly destroying the rear vehicle. The drivers gunned it, pushing the DAGORs to their limits, and the gunners continued to fire, shredding the fourth vehicle. Soon, we were perfectly parallel with the enemy convoy and only 1,000 yards from Objective Spring: we had to stop them now.

"Everyone, shoot them!" Frank ordered, seemingly realizing just how close we were to our destination. Not only did our turret gunners fire, so did everyone else that could get the three remaining vehicles in their sights. I began taking shots right past Clyde's shoulder while he peppered the vehicles with 7.62-mm rounds. From the rear seating area, Sister took one of his fragmentation grenades, pulled the pin, and hurled it like a fastball at the window of the lead pickup truck. Smoke and shrapnel filled the cab before the whole thing went up in flames, while the two following vans were turned into Swiss cheese after being riddled with bullets.

"Convoy neutralized, Cobalt 1," I called as we left the smoldering wreckage in the dust.

"Excellent work, Yankee 4-2. And it looks like X-Ray 1 just resolved their situation. Good luck. Out," the UAV operator replied.

It didn't take long for us to arrive at Objective Spring, where a pair of Light Strike Vehicles—heavily armed dune buggies—and five Torrent Troopers were guarding a fork in the road, leading towards the on and off-ramps connecting to I-15 and the bridge going over the freeway and out of the Mojave National Preserve. One LSV was equipped with a MK19 for the bottom passenger, a front-facing M2 and rear-facing M60 for the top passenger, and a pair of AT4 rocket launchers strapped to the rollover cage bars. The other LSV was equipped with a MK19 for the bottom passenger while a TOW missile launcher sat atop the vehicle in lieu of a top passenger and rollover cage. Three Torrent Troopers were reloading their vehicle-mounted weapons while the other two were dismounted with an M240 and M16.

"Who's in command here?" Frank asked as he dismounted from his UTV, with the rest of us following suit and setting up a defensive perimeter.

"That would be me, Lord Trajan," the dismounted cyclops toting an M16 rifle with an underslung M203 grenade launcher said. "My name is Simon, sir."

"Simon. Please, call me Frank. What's the situation here?"

"We had a dump truck rushing our position, so we eliminated it with a TOW missile. After that, all was quiet until we were ambushed by shadow-traveling cynocephali. We are waiting on Kilo 1-2 to arrive and replace us, so that we may assist Prince Perseus and his team with the main encampment."

"Sir, there's something moving beneath the ground, one hundred yards south!" the machine gunner called, making us point every gun we had in that direction. Peering through my NODs, I could make out a bulge in the desert earth, like a tunneling animal in a cartoon... and it was coming closer.

"Defensive positions!" I shouted, right as the ground burst open and out crawled a scorpion the size of an SUV. But this scorpion was wearing black armor—just like the enemy infantry—and it had an additional trick, as indicated by its glowing stinger. "Oh, fu—"

The stinger lashed forward, launching a fireball directly at us as we dove for cover, opening fire on the armored arachnid. But it used its armored stingers to protect itself, as if it was a boxer guarding his face from a punch, and it began advancing on us, even under continuous fire from all of our weapons... that is, all but one.

"Fire the TOW, fire the TOW!" Simon barked as he fired a 40-mm grenade from his M16's underslung M203, the grenade sailing in an arc over the pincers and colliding with one of the legs, detonating on impact.

"Stand by!" one Torrent Trooper shouted as he jumped from the TOW-carrying LSV's shotgun seat, abandoning his MK19 to reload the missile launcher single-handedly. "Don't let it get too close! Arming distance is sixty-five meters!"

"Fuck it! George, drive out to its right!" I ordered as I jumped into my team's UTV. It was time to take a page out of Percy's Book of Audacity and Stupidity (to quote Grover). "Elias, light that thing up! Let us know when to clear out!"

"Yes ma'am!" the cyclopes responded simultaneously. George gunned it while Elias and I focused on putting as many bullets in the armored monster as possible. Our DAGOR charged towards the scorpion head-on before veering left so that we could shoot at its right side. Elias kept spraying rounds while I reloaded, before electing to flip my MK12's "giggle" switch to fully automatic and spray a 30-round burst at the back of the scorpion's head. We gave it a wide berth as it tried to launch fireballs and defend itself against enemies on two fronts, staying out of pincers' reach while giving the rest of our teammates enough room to shoot without worrying about hitting us. And all the while, it didn't get any closer to the missile launcher.

Just like small unit tactics: we're the maneuver element, they're the base of fire... right? Percy, you bastard.

"TOW is set and ready to fire, 4-3! Clear out, now!" Reyna called on the team net.

"Moving left, moving left!" George advised as he made a sharp left turn, trying to get as far away from the giant scorpion as possible. Elias, of course, continued to shoot the beast even as we drove away.

"Firing, firing, firing!" Reyna warned. We heard a "bang," a "whoosh," and finally, an explosion that threw dirt, sand, dust, and rocks everywhere. When I looked backwards, there was only a big cloud of mess, and no sign of the monstrous scorpion. "Direct hit. Target destroyed. Good thinking, Yankee 4-2."

"Well... that was surprisingly anticlimactic," Elias remarked. "I mean, that was good fun, but... somehow, not all that stressing... though the armor was interesting."

"If they're armoring the big ones, we may have a problem," George replied as he steered us back to the makeshift blocking position. "But we'd better disseminate that information."

"Bossman 3, Yankee 4-2," I called on the long-range net. "Send out this message: watch out for giant scorpions with armor. Say again, there are large monsters with armor, over."

"Bossman 3 copies all. Out," the DCG-O replied.

"Okay, where the fuck is Kilo 1-2?" Luigi asked, sounding annoyed. "We gotta haul ass to the main camp, right?"

"Focus on holding security, Luigi," Hans replied, getting his fellow legionary to be quiet and handle the current task. "We get there when we get there."

"Ain't that the truth, hoss," a Texan-sounding Roman laughed—Venator Cowboy, I believe, one of Frank's men.

"Yo, Assblast! Remember: no methane!" Compton joked as he poked fun at the probatio that was apparently known for... well, flatulence.

"Shut your stupid ass up, Compton," Probatio Assblast (another of Frank's men) muttered.

"It's your ass that needs to be sewn up, fool."

"Knock it off, you two idiots," the bald, bespectacled exactus known as Egghead (for obvious reasons) hissed, seeming to be the most level-headed Sinful Sixteen member within Frank's team. "Seriously, show some fuckin' maturity!"

"Calm down, Egghead," Sister soothed in his soft-spoken voice. "We'll be outta this mess in no time. Everyone, focus on the task at hand."

"Yankee 4-2, Kilo 1-2," a new voice called on the radio—which belonged to a level-headed, fun-loving man I'd come to call a friend in the many years I've known him, even after his return from the dark side... so to speak. And from the west came what appeared to be another reinforced squad in five uparmored Humvees. "We have Objective Spring in sight. Hold your fire to the west, over."

"Solid copy, Kilo 1-2," I replied. "Good to see you."

And just 90 seconds later, the Humvees screeched to a halt on either side of the fork in the road. The turret gunners swiveled their heavy weapons into position while a mixture of Torrent Troopers, legionaries, and CHB campers jumped out and began setting up the blocking position. And the squad leader that ran up to me was, of course, none other than Clarisse's better half: Chris Rodriguez. And like his wife, he was also dressed like a modern soldier (okay, more like Desert Storm era), complete with an M16 with ACOG.

"Annabeth! Good to see you!" he greeted, shaking my hand. "You in charge here?"

"That would be Frank!" I replied as I returned the handshake, pointing towards the big consul as he walked up to meet the leader of the reinforced squad.

"Kilo 1-2?" he asked as he shook Chris's hand. "Wait, I think I've heard of you. Belated congratulations on your marriage."

"Thanks bro! We've got it from here. Go do what you need to do!"

"You know, I believe your wife was the squad leader who relieved us back at Objective Grove."

"That sounds like Clar. But great work. You guys gotta get rolling."

"Alright, everyone. You heard the man! Mount up, and let's go help our friends in the main camp!"

While Chris's reinforced squad secured Objective Spring, the rest of us mounted up in our LSVs and UTVs, reloaded our weapons, and began hauling ass towards the central camp. The dune buggies led the way through the increasingly treacherous terrain as we took a winding path between the New York and Providence Mountains, which would take us past the Hole-in-the-Wall Campground to attack the encampment from the north, as per Percy's orders. And as we drove through the rugged landscape, Bossman 3 made another announcement across all frequencies.

"All stations, this is Bossman 3," the DCG-O announced from his airborne command center. "Sweep, sweep, sweep. I say again: sweep, sweep, sweep. Good luck. Out."

"Sweep, sweep, sweep" was the code phrase that initiated the armored assault by the Strykers—assisted by death-dealing SuperCobra gunships above and the M777 howitzer battery—and they would begin their sweep across the Mojave Desert from west to east. But that didn't mean we could exfiltrate just yet: we had to keep the enemy out of the mountains (which the Ghost and Zulu sniper/mortar/gun teams were already taking care of) and hit them as long as we had ammunition. While the armor now had priority for artillery strikes, the AFO still held priority for the Apaches and AC-130, along with indirect fires from Zulu's mortar teams (namely their 81-mm and 120-mm mortars).

"George! What's our ETA?!" I shouted over the noise of the DAGOR's engine.

"Ten mikes, ma'am!" the cyclops driver shouted back.

"Yankee 3-1, Yankee 4-1. Send SITREP, over," Reyna called on the AFO net.

"4-1, good to hear you!" Leo cheerfully responded. "Yeah, we're chillin' at the moment. Hit-and-run attacks, mostly with CAS and our Goose teams. Can't wait for you to join the party!"

"Roger that, 3-1. We're ten mikes out. Stay safe. 4-1 out."

"Yankee 4-2, this is Cobalt 3," a UAV operator suddenly called. "We're picking up unidentified heat signatures in Grass Canyon, approximately six miles northeast of your destination. Snipers are trying to reposition, but you can get eyes on in five mikes, over."

"Roger that: unidentified heat signatures in Grass Canyon, six miles northeast of our destination," I acknowledged, relaying the info to Reyna and George, who in turn disseminated the info throughout the rest of our group. "Uh, Cobalt 3, need you to transmit your feed to my ATAK, over."

"Stand by, we're having a slight malfunction."

"Why don't we have ISR?" Reyna asked, turning around in the shotgun seat to face me.

"Yeah, they're having a comms issue," I explained.

"Fuck it. Call for some CAS."

"Bossman 3, this is Yankee 4-2," I called. "Requesting emergency CAS."

"Yankee 4-2, Bossman 3. Stand by."

"Yankee 4-2, Cobalt 3. Feed should be up now," the UAV operator called. Sure enough, we could see his feed on our ATAKs: a team of monsters guarding... two boxes?

"Uh... what is on Cobalt 3's feed?" Frank asked on the AFO net.

"Yankee 2-1, Yankee 1-1. Those boxes are coffins, say again, coffins," Percy quickly responded. "And by the looks of it, they either survived the demo charges and airstrikes or just escaped it entirely... they're being guarded by hellhounds, cynocephali, and... dracanae?"

"Wait a fuck—we saw those during Operation Azrael!" I realized, recalling the crazy mission in the Bald Mountain State Forest back in late August, when we interdicted a horde of monsters that were hunting down Max Turner, the young demigod whose extraordinarily powerful immortal mother was unknown. And the hybrid hydra aside, the most shocking thing about the horde was the fact that all of them had shadow-traveling capabilities... which didn't seem possible. "They must've managed to shadow-travel the coffins out of the kill zone."

"Wait, check out the ground... there's more movement... what the fuck are those blobs, 4-2?"

I looked at Cobalt 3's feed, trying to figure out what that extra movement was. A more careful examination, accompanied by a magnified picture from the Predator drone, revealed that the blobs were hulking, six-armed beasts.

"Oh, shit. Gegeines," Piper answered before I could. "These guys are no joke. Earthborn, strong as hell, and can basically conjure rock weapons."

"2-2, can these guys just... hide under a mountain?" Percy asked.

"Uh..."

"In theory, I'd say so," I responded. "They are geokinetic."

"Fuck. Then the coffins Spooky 1 hit were decoys. The real ones were masked underneath the mountain. Yankee 2-1, forget about us. Destroy those coffins, now!" Percy ordered. "Get all available fire support, and inform Bossman 3 that the targets are Priority Red. Yankee 1-1 out."

While planning the mission and briefing personnel, we'd come up with a system to indicate the severity of a situation, which could move us up the waitlist for fire support. Priority Green: no rush, the target wasn't going anywhere. Priority Yellow: we need fire support to take down this target, and time is of the essence. Priority Red: unless someone else's life is in danger, focus all fire support assets on this target.

We also had an additional radio call that Percy added: "Broken Arrow," which was apparently code for "clear the air, cancel all fire missions, we're about to be overrun, send everything." According to conventional US military doctrine, it's a code phrase used to indicate an incident involving nuclear weapons that wouldn't trigger nuclear war. However, it had also been used in the event that troops were about to be overrun... and Percy told us the phrase, just in case we needed it.

"Bossman 3, Yankee 4-2. Requesting fire support on targets in Grass Canyon, Priority Red. I say again, targets in Grass Canyon, Priority Red," I called.

"Copy, targets in Grass Canyon, Priority Red," Bossman 3 acknowledged. "Stand by, acquiring assets."

"Two mikes out, two mikes out!" Simon warned on the radio from his LSV.

"Yankee 4-2, be advised, Spooky 1 just shifted its orbit and is ready for tasking. Patching you through now," Bossman 3 said after a speedy search for support.

"Yankee 4-2, Spooky 1," the AC-130U weapon systems officer called in a calm, bass voice. "We're on station and at your service. Call the shot, over."

"Spooky 1, emergency fire mission. My position, marked by IR strobes. Target position, location 'Grass Canyon.' Group of two coffins, eighteen troops in the open. Cobalt 3, requesting you mark the target," I said, recalling what Percy told me about calling for fire on targets visible through drone footage.

"Roger that. Spooky 1, Cobalt 3. We're lazing the target now, over," the UAV operator replied, using its laser designator to mark the target from above.

"Copy, Cobalt 3. Tally targets: two coffins, eighteen enemy foot-mobiles in the open, over," the WSO said.

"Use one-oh-five and forty-mike, over."

"Roger, prepping one-oh-five and forty-mike... ready to engage."

"All stop, all stop! X-Ray 1-2, ready the TOW," Simon ordered as we came to a halt: not completely exposed, as we were right next to the foot of a hill, maybe 2,000 feet southeast of the Hole-in-the-Wall Information Center and 1 mile northwest of Grass Canyon. Not only could I see some of the fighting in the widespread main encampment 4+ miles directly south of my position, I had eyes on our Priority Red targets.

"Yankee 4-2, Spooky 1. We've got your strobes just over 1.5 klicks northwest of the target. Requesting permission to engage, over," the WSO called.

"Spooky 1, you are cleared hot! I say again, cleared hot!" I replied.

"Roger, Yankee 4-2. Firing, firing, firing."

Spooky 1 fired its 105-mm howitzer first, the airborne artillery gun sounding like a thunderclap as it hurtled its massive round at the enemy position. An explosion consumed the enemy as the gunship began firing its 40-mm cannon, continuing to hammer the enemy position.

"Spooky 1, Yankee 4-2. Rounds are on target. Fire for effect!" I ordered after confirming the initial strikes hit the group of monsters.

"Spooky 1 copies. Firing for effect. Enjoy the show," the WSO replied, sounding as cheerful as Elias when he opened up with the minigun. True to his word, the AC-130U fired for effect, rapidly sending 105-mm and 40-mm rounds at the enemy position. By my calculations, the cannon was firing rounds at 120 rounds per minute, while the howitzer was firing at 10 rounds per minute. The barrage was relentless: the literal definition of death from above.

Thirty seconds passed before the gunship had to cease fire. But the damage was done: a large hole in the ground, accompanied by a number of small craters and a great deal of ash, was all that remained of the monsters and their mysterious coffins.

"Yankee 4-2, Spooky 1. All targets destroyed. We are winchester and bingo at this time. We'll be back in twenty mikes. Good luck, over," the WSO called.

"Solid copy, Spooky 1. Thanks for the assist. Out," I replied as the gunship banked left and began flying northward towards... wherever it launched from. I think I heard one of Tyson's staff officers mention a temporary airbase in Nevada, but I can't say for certain. Whatever the case, it's not like it could've landed at Texaco: that FARP was designed for our helicopters, not our planes.

"Okay... convoy, let's roll up and check it out," Frank ordered. "Weapons at the ready... we could have a problem."

The dune buggies led the way as we sped towards the point of impact: Grass Canyon. Upon arrival, Frank, Reyna, Piper, and I went to conduct a bomb damage assessment while the rest of the group set security. And sure enough, almost nothing remained.

"Bossman 3, Yankee 2-1. BDA to follow on strikes on Priority Red targets... all targets destroyed... affirmative, all targets destroyed... okay, thank you. 2-1 out," Frank conversed with the DCG-O before turning towards us. "Okay, I think we're good here. Annabeth, any idea what could've been in those coffins?"

"I don't know, but I have a feeling it isn't over," I replied, grimly recalling the memory of the sarcophagus in which Kronos took over Luke's body: the sarcophagus from which the Titan returned. "The AC-130 blew those coffins to hell just now, but we should be prepared for the possibility that whatever was inside... they're not done yet."

"Or they're already out," Piper suggested. "In which case this was a trick too... only upside is that we took eighteen enemies off the board. Earthborn are nasty business."

"We'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it. Now, we should link up with the other Yankee teams," Reyna decided, with Frank nodding assent.

"Yankee 1-1, Yankee 4-2," I called on the net as we mounted up. "We're coming your way. What's the situation in the main camp?"

"4-2, our Goose teams are winchester and we're currently engaged in rolling gunfights with enemy vehicles," Percy replied calmly, unperturbed by the sheer amount of gunfire and explosions in the background. "You guys are missing the party!"

"Hold on, we're coming in from the north. 4-2 out."

Once again, the drivers gunned it and we began hauling ass towards the main encampment, and it didn't take long for us to reach the outskirts, which were smoldering ruins: courtesy of the initial strikes from the air and ground. We encountered no resistance as we continued to push deeper into the encampment, though the sound of gunfire was getting louder and louder.

"1-1, hold fire to the north. We're coming in," I warned.

"Holding fire to the north," Percy responded. "We're rolling eastward now. Meet us in the middle."

"Contact front, contact right!" Simon warned, with the crew-served weapons gunners firing accordingly. And seconds later, those threats were eliminated by our miniguns, a .50-cal, and automatic grenade launchers. As we continued to penetrate the central camp, the gunners handled the shooting while the rest of us just steeled ourselves, waiting for when we'd have to dismount and start running and gunning. That moment came as we came to a stop just fifty yards north of the center of the camp, at Simon's command. "All stop, all stop!"

"Get out, now!" Frank ordered. "Vehicles, establish a perimeter!"

"Yankee 1-1, we're dismounting and advancing on foot to the camp center. Vehicles will focus on establishing a perimeter, over," I said. "Where are you?"

"We have eyes on you now. Moving towards the center. But you gotta have some of your guys holding security too," Percy replied.

"Sinful Sixteen, you heard the man: set up a perimeter, go!" a new voice ordered on the AFO net—I believe it was the loudmouth probatio known as "Joker." "1-1, we've got you covered."

"Roger that, 1-6."

While the vehicle crews and Sinful Sixteen watched our backs and began taking down advancing monsters, the rest of us pushed towards the center of the camp: the site of a smoldering crater, courtesy of what I assumed to be one of the initial strikes. Before long, we met in the middle with Percy, Jason, Leo, Hazel, and two Torrent Troopers (Nestor and Raymond, I think).

"Welcome to the party, pals!" Leo greeted us as we linked up just outside of the cratered area.

"Okay, what the fuck is happening?" Piper asked, getting to the point. "I mean... what's so special about this middle area? What was blown up here?"

"This pit was covered by a tarp... we're gonna investigate and see what's what," Percy explained as he carefully entered the crater, his weapon at the ready. "Fuck, that's a lot of dirt. And my senses ain't worth beans. Frank?"

"I got it," Frank said as he jumped in, transforming into a German Shepherd. GSD Frank began sniffing the pile of rubble of dirt in a few different spots before beginning to dig, at which point Percy knelt and began helping out the best he could.

"Zippo, you got an E-tool in that belt?" he asked.

"Yup," Leo replied, reaching for his tool belt—which he'd removed the apron from before attaching tactical gear such as his holstered sidearm—and pulling out a collapsible shovel, tossing it to Percy. Leo continued to pull out collapsible shovels until all of us were digging around GSD Frank, trying to find... whatever he was trying to find. After a couple of minutes, Frank had reverted to his human form.

"Got something."

"Coming," Jason replied, joining Frank to shift a giant piece of fractured stone as Percy raised his NODs and shined his white light on it, the rest of us following suit. We found several clay shards underneath, some of which were stained green. And there was a very odd smell coming from this debris.

"Okay... I'm lost," Leo said. "The hell is this?"

"Annabeth, any ideas?" Jason queried, looking up at me.

"Oh no," Hazel muttered to my left, looking at me the same time I looked at her. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach, and the chilly Californian night air seemed to get colder as we both came to the same realization: the power we could sense was great for a reason. In fact, it suddenly clicked why Percy was so insistent that we destroyed those seemingly random coffins, even to the point of designating them as Priority Red targets. Moreover, after Hades, the Furies, Thanatos, Charon, Nico, and gods of similar stature, Hazel was the most knowledgeable person on the Underworld, death, and resurrection.

"But... it's been twenty years," I said.

"That's enough time. More than enough."

"The conditions don't make sense."

"She isn't coming back for eons, but they don't need her to make it work."

"... oh, shit," I cursed, turning towards my confused colleagues. "Guys—"

"Any Yankee, any Yankee, this Cobalt 3! We're detecting a major thermal spike at your position!" Cobalt 3 suddenly called, the Predator operator's normal calmness replaced by a frantic tone. "Get back, now!"

"Fuck, move!" Percy yelled. He didn't need to tell us twice, as we booked it, trying to get as far away from the crater. But we didn't get very far before we were knocked to the ground by a deafening explosion that was so bright, it actually casted shadows, like something out of Hollywood (minus all of us going flying, of course). I face-planted into the ground, a particularly jagged rock hitting me square in the jaw. While it didn't break anything, I could feel a small trickle of ichor down my chin.

And then came the roar: a roar of a creature that reminded me of a biological, evil subway train... almost like a more regal, more majestic, and significantly scarier version of Jeff the alien worm from Men in Black II. I'd seen it in only my worst nightmares and the actual place from which those nightmares originated: Tartarus, the deepest, darkest, most vile area of the Underworld.

"It's the Maeonian Drakon!" Nestor shouted, confirming my fears. And based on the sounds behind me, it was thundering northward. Shots rang out as the Torrent Troopers opened fire, trying to stop the monstrous creature, but to no avail.

"Yankee 1-1, this is Bossman 3. A pair of coffins emerged from the ground at the Garden of Bacchus and opened. India 6 reports two Gigantes," Bossman 3 called on the AFO net, with every X-Ray, Yankee, and Zulu trooper going silent at the DCG-O's grim words. "I say again, two Gigantes in the Garden of Bacchus, and they're summoning armored Gegeines, over."

"Percy? Percy, get up, damn it!" Reyna shouted, receiving only a quiet groan in reply—by the sounds of it, Percy may have taken a hard fall, and hadn't yet regained his senses. "Jackson, respond to Bossman!"

"Argh... say again, Bossman 3?" Percy grumbled back on the AFO net.

"Yankee 1-1, Bossman 3. The valley is compromised. I say again, the valley is compromised," the DCG-O grimly stated: Camp Jupiter and New Rome were under attack. "Wait a minute... stand by, receiving transmission from India 6... the Gigantes in the valley have been confirmed to be the banes of Bacchus, over."

Hold on a minute... "banes of Bacchus?" Shit. If what I remember is true, the defenders are in for the fight of their lives.

"Oh, fuck! Percy!" Jason frantically shouted, running towards him while I slowly got to my feet, trying to overcome the ringing in my head. "It's the fucking twins! Otis and Ephialtes!"

"Oh, not those assholes!" Percy grimaced as Jason helped him to his feet. "Goddammit, how the—wait a minute... the coffins. They were in the fuckin' coffins. But... hold on, they must've gotten out before we put CAS on 'em."

"We didn't destroy the right ones! Those were just diversions!

"Incorrect, son of Zeus," a familiar, menacing voice boomed, making me freeze. "Foolish young god. You forget: we Gigantes are geokinetic. And your weaponry did little to scratch those coffins: they merely returned to the earth from which they came until they were ready to open themselves."

It... it can't be.

"Take him down!" Frank ordered, but before anyone could shoot, everyone was knocked down again by another shockwave, coming directly from the ground itself with the intensity of a 6.5 earthquake. But this time, I'd flipped over to my back, allowing me to directly face the source of the shockwave. Confirming my fears, it was none other than the peaceful giant, the reluctant warrior that fought his father to save the lives of Percy.

"D-Damasen?" I stuttered in shock, staring up at the massive, scarred, red-skinned, hairy bane of Ares. But gone were the flora that once decorated his hair and the sheep hide-leather shirt I remembered him having. He wore a black helmet and breastplate like the rest of the monsters we'd encountered, with gold and silver markings along with a purple plume on his helmet that, if I wasn't mistaken, designated him as a commander. He carried a shield in one hand, a sword in another, a knife on his belt, and a spear on his back: all made from drakon bone. To top it off, his eyes were pure black, with not even a speck of white visible: not how I remembered it, even in the darkness of Tartarus.

I wondered if he was possessed by the same sort of spirit that once managed to take over Nico and make him wreak havoc. The symptoms did match. But I had no time to think. Whatever the case was, this was not the Damasen that saved my life in the blackest pit of hell.

"I am glad you know who I am, daughter of Athena," Damasen growled as he raised his sword to strike. "Now die."

I hope you all have had a wonderful weekend, and that your Memorial Day is meaningful. Remember the purpose of this day, and never take the freedom we enjoy for granted.

Peace to the fallen.