'Valley'

28-Nov-2030, 0223U

Nico "Autodikos" di Angelo, Hero of Olympus, Son of Hades

Joint Operation with Task Force 101 and Legio XII Fulminata

Oakland Hills, California, USA

"Oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck!"

"Move, move, move!"

"DIE!"

To say things were going badly was an understatement. Not only had enemy forces tunneled into East Oakland and Caldecott Tunnel, but they'd also come up inside the borders of the valley, and were now wreaking havoc at lightning speed. The Garden of Bacchus had been razed, Camp Jupiter's walls had been breached, New Rome was surrounded, and Temple Hill had been completely taken over. It reminded me of the assault on Camp Half-Blood via the Labyrinth all those years ago, except there was no magic tunnel network this time: just a monster army with lots of digging.

I'd summoned a great many undead Roman warriors—with several contubernia or even an entire century augmenting each cohort—but it still wasn't enough against the sheer onslaught of monsters. Our troops were focused on the protection of the entry points, Camp Jupiter, New Rome, and the aqueduct (and the source of the water itself)... which is probably why the monsters took over Temple Hill so quickly. There were a few legionaries from Cohort III there, but they weren't numerous enough to mount an assault, so they just formed a loose perimeter around the hill.

Why were we focused on Temple Hill? You remember those asshole giant twins that kidnapped me and threw me in a jar just over two decades ago? Yeah, Otis and Ephialtes were back, and they were on Temple Hill. So of course, I wanted to find them and kill them, with the rest of my team in tow to watch my back—because while I prefer working alone, I've grown to appreciate a little backup in the right circumstances, such as a heated battle on multiple fronts.

Speaking of my team, it was a small one, consisting of three others: Coach Gleeson Hedge, a random faun named Julian, and a Torrent Trooper named Maximus who was serving as our radioman/grenadier. Julian, of course, was freaking out: he was only here because his old pal (and former fellow freeloader) Don was Gover's adjutant. Hedge was having the time of his life, blasting monsters with his shotgun, throwing grenades, and generally doing an excellent job of keeping us (especially Julian) from getting killed. And Maximus, ever the Torrent Trooper, was effectively communicating with other groups on the battlefield while shooting bullets and grenades at any enemy within a hundred yards of us... and then some. The team was overall effective (barring the cowardly Julian and his cudgel, whom Hedge was basically babysitting), but I knew things had gotten worse at Maximus's concerned expression as he communicated with other radiomen in the valley.

"Maximus!" I shouted, slapping him on the shoulder, making him look my way as we ducked behind cover, just barely avoiding an explosion of Greek Fire. "What's the word on New Rome?"

"The perimeter hasn't been breached, but First Auxiliary Cohort and Tenth Cohort have many wounded! The equites legionis and Green elements have also secured the water supply, but they too are taking casualties! Third Cohort has sent some contubernia to reinforce them!"

"Where are the rest of the Torrent Troopers?"

"India 1 is handling enemy forces ingressing from East Oakland. India 2's detached a squad to lock down the Caldecott Tunnel while the remainder of the platoon and part of the company headquarters are taking back Camp Jupiter, block by block. The rest of the company headquarters is with India 3, working towards locking down the Field of Mars and stopping the influx of enemy forces."

"So... our most effective units are basically everywhere but right here, where the biggest threats are."

"Just about, sir."

"Hah! We can handle those dirtbags!" Hedge declared as he blasted two more dracanae before taking cover and starting to reload his shotgun. "C'mon, I'll be the point-man, you cupcakes keep me covered, then we kill those S.O.Bs up there!"

"How do you propose we kill the giants, Coach? In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a demigod anymore. And if I was, then I still couldn't kill them since I'm not a god!" I sarcastically replied.

"Listen here, emo cupcake! Just get one of these Roman cupcakes to man up and run in with you, and I'll go ahead and remove the giants' pelvises in the meantime!"

"Remove... their pelvises?" Julian spluttered.

"Hell yeah!" Hedge replied with a grin as he finished loading his shotgun. "Slugs to the pelvic bowl, cupcakes! That or just bomb the ever-loving shit out of the hill!"

"I... don't think we can just destroy Temple Hill."

"Got any better ideas, muffin-head?"

"Ambassador, Ambassador!" a man—either an optio or decanus of Cohort III, I couldn't quite tell—shouted as he ran our way before skidding to a halt in the crater we were taking cover inside (almost like an enemy-provided foxhole). "Oh, wait, Lord Auto—what's your name again?"

"What's the problem?" I asked, internally scoffing at the legionary's formality in the current situation.

"We've confirmed the presence of the banes of Bacchus atop Temple Hill, sir! But every attempt at an incursion so far has failed!"

"Yes, I know that! We need to make a move on them! I need demigods, now!"

"Most of my unit are legacies, so I don't know how well that'd work, sir!"

"So find me the fucking demigods!"

"Shit, okay! Cover me!"

Rolling my eyes, I brought my gun up and put a few rounds up Temple Hill alongside Maximus and Hedge, allowing the optio to sprint back to his unit. As much as I wasn't a fan of the rifle, I had to admit, it was growing on me... slightly. There were definitely some benefits to my silenced (suppressed, whatever) Block II M4 when compared to my Stygian Iron sword.

I'm beginning to see why Hazel's taken a shine to these things... it's definitely better than a bow or crossbow.

A mixture of hits and misses later, I ducked back into the crater to reload and work out a plan to kill the two bastards that were now in control of Temple Hill. They were obviously wrecking stuff up there as part of their spectacles—probably trying to set up a new "showstopper" or some crap like that—and if my senses were accurate, their destruction was probably pissing a few deities off.

In fact, they seemed to have disrupted the hill enough that they'd created their own little area of influence in the dirt of Temple Hill. I could sense them manipulating the earth, moving the dirt and rock beneath the prominence in the ground. Unfortunately, it seemed as though those assholes' destruction had allowed them to use their geokinetic abilities atop fucking Temple Hill itself. But we couldn't get to them, since their lackeys had dug in, using the high ground to their advantage with man-portable (er, monster-portable, I guess) artillery pieces that forced responding Romans to dig in: scorpiones, hwachas, and even a... what was that, a polybolos?

Whatever the case, it'd be tricky to break through all of that to reach and kill the giants.

"Sir, I have a one-twenty-mike-mike mortar available for tasking!" Maximus reported as he roughly tapped me on the shoulder. The Torrent Trooper had a smirk on his face as he pointed up towards the entrenched enemy positions. "We can drop precise rounds on target, make them hurt!"

"Uh, isn't bombing Temple Hill a bad idea?" Julian meekly asked, receiving a blank look from the cyclops—though knowing Maximus, it wasn't so much a blank look as it was a masked "are you fucking kidding me, why are you still talking, shut the hell up" look.

I say this as someone who's (apparently) made that face many times.

"Temples mustn't be targeted, but they can always be rebuilt. People, however, cannot be revived. If we hesitate for too long, the Gigantes shall complete their goal of destroying the last major remnants of Rome."

"That's nice and deep, but what the fuck does that have to do with hesitatin' with a hundred n' twenty-millimeter mortar? Call 'em up and start launchin' them spicy footballs, ya one-eyed cupcake!" Hedge barked.

"Well, we're well inside danger close... so we have the mortar stand by until we have the giants in our sight. For now, we rely on the Switchblades."

"On the what?" Julian, Hedge, and I asked at the same time as we began to hear a faint buzzing in the air.

"Just get down," Maximus said before he got back on his radio. "All Switchblades cleared hot on Temple Hill targets. Say again, all Switchblades cleared hot on Temple Hill targets, over."

The buzzing not only intensified, but multiplied as we ducked for cover. Suddenly, the outer perimeter of the top of Temple Hill began exploding: some explosions were grenade-sized while others were on par with the impact of a round from a modern artillery piece. Looking up into the sky through my binocular NODs, I could make out several cylindrical shapes with wings flying at the speed of Mach Fuck (to borrow a phrase from Leo) towards the enemy positions and blowing them to Tartarus.

"Holy shit!" Julian exclaimed, while Hedge was laughing his head off, delighted by the drones' battering of the elevated enemy perimeter.

I had to admit: now that was pretty cool. "Nice trick, Maximus."

"Thank you, sir. But be advised, we have a very limited supply due to acquisitions issues, and we haven't yet begun manufacturing our own due to manpower issues and... other projects. Once the enemy's fighting positions have been eliminated, we shall be out of loitering munitions."

"Man... cool toys left as soon as they came," Hedge sighed, sounding legitimately sad for a moment before he reverberated to his normal, bloodthirsty, chest-pumping self. "Ah, who gives a damn? Soon as it's time, let's bum-rush that bitch, take it, and revoke those dirtbags' free trials of life!"

"... I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree," I sighed, resigned to the fact that every unfortunate fiber of my unlucky being was believing exactly what the crazy, borderline senile, satyr was saying. Luckily, there to distract me from my loathing of life were three legionaries hauling ass towards us. One of them was of average height and chubby, one of them was tall and muscular, and the last one was short and skinny. The first two had swords and shields out while the third one appeared to have lost his shield in battle—either it was severely damaged or something else—but was carrying a crossbow and had enough bolts to turn a giant into a hedgehog with enough time.

The trio leapt (or rather, crashed) into the crater, looking up at me, with the overweight man speaking first. "Legionary Narco, reporting as ordered, sir!"

"Legionary Brickhouse, reporting as ordered, sir!" the meatheaded one said.

"Venator Runt reporting as ordered, sir!" the smallest of them added.

I stared at them for a moment before realizing what was going on. "Wait, that optio sent you?"

"Yessir! We heard you needed three actual demigods and we're here, sir!" Narco confirmed.

"What the fuck kinda names are 'Narco,' 'Brickhouse,' and 'Runt?'"

"Sir, Evocatus Jackson gave us those names and ordered us to use them until he says not to anymore, sir!"

I rolled my eyes. Fucking Percy Jackson, everyone.

"Alright, so we got a chubby cupcake, a creatine cupcake, and a compact cupcake! Big deal with the names! Just bum-rush those sumbitches up there an' kill 'em, di Angelo!" Hedge barked. "I'll take point and clear you all the way to those shitheads!"

"Great... thanks, Coach," I replied sarcastically.

"You're welcome!"

"Welp, Coach is the first man in, I guess. You three, follow me up. Maximus, cover our rear and make sure Julian doesn't die."

"I'm sorry, what?" the faun asked, evidently scared shitless based on the droppings beneath his feet. "You want me to go up there?"

"You wanna stay down here?"

"Enemy perimeter is almost saturated," Maximus interjected. "Stand by to assault upwards."

"My slugs are locked and loaded!" Hedge declared, raising his semiautomatic shotgun (M1014, or the Benelli M4, or something—side note, why the hell did the US military decide to call a rifle and shotgun the same thing?). A few seconds later, the last Switchblade drone impacted, blowing an enemy scorpio to pieces.

"Execute, execute, execute!"

But Hedge was already charging up Temple Hill at full speed, jumping and running like a mountain goat through the cratered terrain—we weren't going up any proper path—and making it generally impossible to keep pace. But by the time I reached the top, Hedge was already going to work, shooting his way through the enemy infantry that dared to stand in his way. When his shotgun ran dry, he drew his pistol and blasted the two dracanae that remained before ducking behind the rubble of the Temple of Mercury.

"Cupcake, where are those dirtbags at?" he asked as the Romans, Maximus, and Julian clambered up the hill.

"Looks like they're near the Temple of Jupiter," I noticed, my own senses corroborated by visual confirmation: they'd wrecked part of the massive temple, and were currently bringing something out of the ground... but what? More troops? Another giant?

Actually, it was arguably a bigger problem.

Right as the rest of my little squad had reached the rubble of Mercury's temple, we began hearing rocket launches: fire streaked through the sky as something—a massive artillery piece that appeared to be a collection of tubes strapped together, made of Celestial Bronze, steel, and concrete (for the base)—at the position of Otis and Ephialties was firing on Camp Jupiter, where a major chunk of the Torrent Troopers' India Company and a hodgepodge of legionaries (including several contubernia from Cohorts I and III) battled with enemy forces for the encampment, block by block. Not only that, but there were at least a hundred wounded troops that were barricaded in various parts of the camp, as it was impossible for them to be transported to the field hospital ("CASH," as Percy called it) set up within the relative safety of New Rome.

"Oh shit," I gasped, realizing their plan. They already had our forces stretched thin by attacking from several points of entry, surrounding New Rome, taking Temple Hill, and digging in within Camp Jupiter. With the defenders of New Rome stuck, basically everyone in the best position to save them in the worst-case scenario was busy within Camp Jupiter... and they were now being targeted by whatever rocket launcher the giants had. "Maximus, please tell me you can get that mortar online."

"Yessir, the mortar squad is waiting for tasking," he said, scooting over to my side and peering around the corner to take a look upwards to Temple Hill's peak. "Damnation... the enemy has a larger, improved MLRS."

"A what?"

"Multiple launch rocket system. Think of it as combining a conventional artillery battery into a single platform, then replacing the guns with rocket launchers. Very effective, quite dangerous."

"Okay, but you've got eyes on it now. Can you destroy it?"

"I pray that I can," he said as he got on his radio. "Sledgehammer 2, this is Rancor-Charlie. Stand by to receive fire mission... Fire for effect, over... Dial into grid Tango-Hotel-Juliet-Oscar, over... Target: troops and artillery in the open. Danger close, say again, danger close, over..."

As the apparent conversation came to a close, there was a pause as Maximus went silent, waiting for the mortar squad to respond. Coincidentally, there was a lull in the firing of the MLRS, which had halted. Peering through my NODs, I could make out some enemy cyclopes and telekhines moving around the base of the launcher, reloading it for another bombardment.

Looking westward, Camp Jupiter was 50% rubble at best, and engulfed in flames. Otis and Ephialtes had not only bombed our troops, they'd bombed their own. I could feel the lives of those trapped in that inferno, slowly slipping. It wasn't instantaneous, but if Maximus couldn't get that mortar to hit the peak of Temple Hill, hundreds would die.

"Maximus, I want that peak gone!" I commanded, low on patience and high on anxiety.

"Fire, fire, fire!" the Torrent Trooper ordered. Joining the background cacophony was a "thump," followed by a whistling, and finally an explosion as the 120-mm round dropped on the peak of Temple Hill. Then a second. Then a third. And so on, silencing the MLRS before it could launch another devastating strike.

The blasts were spectacular, with round after round pounding the enemy position. Sure, Jupiter's temple (and any other shrine even close to it) was effectively pulverized, but these things could be rebuilt... it was a little trickier to bring back the dead, and I knew a thing or two about that.

"Sir, Sledgehammer 2 is running low on HE," Maximus reported.

"What the hell does that mean?!" I shouted back over the deafening "booms."

"It means until they resupply, they have only nineteen shots left, after which they shall have no more high explosive rounds, only Willie Pete!"

"What the hell is 'Willie Pete?'"

"White phosphorus. Ingredient in other things such as tracer and illumination rounds, but a highly effective incendiary chemical munition when deployed standalone."

"... so it burns stuff? Like napalm?"

"Yes, but it's not quite the same. Napalm spreads more, probably due to its properties as a thick—"

"Fuck it," I interrupted, not particularly interested in the chemistry lesson. "Tell 'em to hit the peak with that too."

"Uh... maybe we shouldn't be on Temple Hill... or anywhere near it if we're dropping napalm on it? Why are we dropping napalm?!" Julian exclaimed. And for once, the stupid faun had a point.

"Maximus, make the call... uh, just do one shell of Willie Pete at a time, at your go," I ordered the Torrent Trooper before turning to the rest of my haphazard squad. "Everyone, get off this fucking rock, now!"

We scrambled southward down the hill as the mortar squad "Sledgehammer 2," true to their callsign, continued to hammer the peak on which Otis, Ephialtes, the MLRS, and the enemy artillerymen sat. At the bottom, I told Venator Runt and Julian the faun to go in opposite directions, warning everyone to get the hell away from Temple Hill, then report back.

I fully expected the faun to desert, so I stopped the venator before he left, telling him to just circle the entire base of Temple Hill and tell every last Roman unit, just in case.

Right as the two runners sprinted their set ways, the mortar strikes came to a halt: it was time to see what the Willie Pete could do. "Maximus!"

"Sir?" he asked.

"Send it. Drop three rounds on those assholes."

"Yessir. Sledgehammer 2, this is Rancor-Charlie. Repeat grid, Willie Pete, one round on my command, over... Fire, over."

There was the same "thump" and whistle, but this time, rather than explode on the peak, it exploded midair right above their heads, creating a white smoke cloud and shooting burning... stuff downward. And then, the peak of Temple Hill and the immediate vicinity began to burn.

"Repeat, over," Maximus commanded.

Another Willie Pete round was sent, adding more fire.

"Repeat, over," Maximus commanded.

And again.

The Torrent Trooper looked at me for instruction as the entire peak burned. Jupiter's temple had been totally razed, blown up and burnt probably to near-ashes at this point.

But I wanted Otis and Ephialtes dead. The Willie Pete wouldn't kill them, but it sure would make ending their worthless lives easier.

"Maximus... what was that you said to keep firing until they were out of ammo?"

"'Fire for effect,' sir."

"Do that."

"Roger that. Sledgehammer 2, this is Rancor-Charlie. Repeat fire mission. Break, break. Fire for effect, I say again, fire for effect, over... Affirmative, fire for effect, over."

The barrage began again as the Willie Pete rounds hit their mark, torching the top of Temple Hill and making damn sure that anything that wasn't those twin assholes was getting turned to ash. It was beautiful in its own twisted way: it reminded me of a painting that Hazel once made nearly decade ago (in 2020, maybe)... one of fire, smoke, sand, and ash. She called it "Inferno," representative of something or the other (didn't catch what she was talking about).

"Uh... the fire's spreading," Legionary Brickhouse said, stating his observation right as Venator Run arrived back at our little gathering point. Of course, Julian the faun—deserting little shit—was nowhere to be seen. But hey, that meant if he got himself killed, he wasn't my responsibility.

Breaking from my thoughts back into the real world, sure enough, parts of the remainder of Temple Hill were beginning to burn. And since the entire peak—where Otis and Ephialtes had once been—was taken care of, we could probably cease fire.

"Maximus! Get the mortar to stop shooting!" I commanded.

"Sledgehammer 2, this is Rancor-Charlie! Cease fire, cease fire, cease fire!" Maximus ordered into his long-range radio. And just like that, the airbusts of white phosphorus ceased. The temples and shrines of Jupiter, Bellona, Mars, Mercury, Diana, Neptune, Pluto, Janus, Apollo, and a bunch of others (or whatever was left of them) were burning to various extents. Death permeated throughout Temple Hill.

But meanwhile in Camp Jupiter, it seemed as though Thanatos didn't have to log any Romans yet. Some were cutting it close, but I sensed that it wasn't their time just yet... though I was very certain that some of them were not serving as soldiers ever again after today.

"Looks like all our friendlies at the camp will live to fight another day," I said to nobody in particular before standing up. "Legionaries... let's go kill some giants."

"Sir, yes sir!" the trio replied.

"Lord Autodikos, I'm receiving reports from one of the sniper teams," Maximus reported after getting a message on his long-range radio. "Looks as though the banes of Bacchus crawled and fell down the north side of Temple Hill. They're trying to rendezvous with their forces attacking New Rome, but have been intercepted by some of Third Cohort's men."

"Shit, haul ass, let's go!" And with that, I began sprinting around Temple Hill, with the rest of my team close behind—except for Hedge, he was right there beside me, ready to kill monsters. We ran into a few enemy centaurs and two-headed men (yeah, like the auxiliaries Octavian got his hands on two decades ago), but Hedge was quick to kill them all with his M1014, blasting every bad guy with slugs or whatever the hell "double-aught buck" was.

And finally, there they were: Otis and Ephialtes, in their ugly glory. Their clothes were mostly burnt off, they had enough scar tissue to rival Percy, and they were battered and bruised... far from the somewhat-illustrious "showmen" they'd acted as two decades ago when they kidnapped me. But they were still strong enough to repel the attacks of two dozen well-trained Roman legionaries.

It was time to finish this.

"I got this!" Hedge said, splitting off to charge the giants head-on, blasting them with slugs. Rolling my eyes, I helped to establish overlapping fields of fire, opening fire with my M4. Maximus joined the party with his M16 while Venator Runt began shooting his crossbow as quickly as possible while Legionaries Narco and Brickhouse protected him with their shields.

"Aaaghh! What is this abomination?!" Ephialtes screamed as he got stung by a combination of bullets and crossbow bolts. "Damnation, Otis! Why are you limping and not fighting?!"

"Ouch! That satyr shot my left testicle, Ephie!" Otis wailed.

"WHY WOULD YOU ANNOUNCE THAT TO THE WORLD, YOU IMBECILE?!"

"Oooowwwww, not my leftie too!"

"SHUT UP, OTIS!! THIS SITUATION IS BAD ENOUGH WITHOUT YOUR PRATTLE"

"DIE!!" Hedge bellowed as he started throwing M67 frag grenades at them, the explosions rocking their wounded bodies and nearly throwing them off their feet. Maximus joined in, warning Coach to get back before firing two 40-mm grenades from his underslung M203, successfully bringing both to the ground.

"Fire and advance!" the Torrent Trooper boomed, with us complying as we moved forward, continuing to put rounds in the downed giants. The Cohort III legionaries assisting us—both the three confirmed demigods and the legacies—used whatever missiles they had (mostly slings with a few bows, crossbows, and pila) to try and turn the banes of Bacchus into Swiss cheese.

"Cease fire! Cease fire!" I ordered, with the hail of missiles quickly coming to a halt as I let my M4 hang and summoned my Stygian Iron sword, motioning for Legionaries Narco and Brickhouse stepped forward, their gladii at the ready. I stepped between the downed giants, who were squirming and writhing in pain from getting blown up, burnt by Willie Pete, shot, and stoned.

"You," Ephialtes growled upon looking up at me.

"Tell Tartarus I said 'vaffanculo,'" I said before making an "off-with-their-heads" gesture with my left hand. Narco and Brickhouse proceeded to stab Otis and Ephialties in the neck, respectively, as I slashed across both necks, making the two giants crumble into two piles of dirt that smelled like spoiled wine.

"Well, that was exciting," Venator Runt said, stepping up to observe the remains. "Nice work, Narco... the evocatus can't contest that you helped kill a giant."

"He'll turn it into a roast, trust me," the chubby legionary chuckled, with his muscular and skinny buddies laughing with him, almost like they were thinking of fond memories (or bad memories they laughed at to cope).

"DEFENSIVE POSITIONS!! THERE'S MORE OF THEM!!" the optio from earlier screamed. "AGMEN FORMATE!!"

We couldn't run for the safety of New Rome, and since Temple Hill was now almost fully on fire—looking at it through my NODs, all but blinded me—we couldn't run up there. The few dozen legionaries assembled into a miniature square formation, standing our ground as the enemy approached: Gegeines, centaurs, Laistrygonians, cyclopes, dracaenae, and more, cutting us off from the defenders of the city.

Throughout the valley, it seemed as though everyone was getting hammered, trapped at various points within the sea of monsters that had swarmed in now... with their commanders dead, they resorted to their primal directive: kill everything in their way.

Hedge, Maximus, and I remained outside of the square, each covering a different direction as the enemy charged at us. I emptied a magazine from my rifle to take down three Laistrygonians, before sidestepping a centaur's swinging club and stabbing the half-man-half-horse with my rapidly summoned sword. With no time to reload and a few more monsters not yet in melee range, I drew my pistol and shot three dracaenae before they got too close.

"We have no cover out here and I am low on ammunition!" Maximus reported on our inter-squad comms.

"Kill 'em all!" Hedge shot back.

"Not that simple. Hold on!" I shouted as I reached out with my hands and mind, calling upon every last bit of support I could manage without passing out. I'd already summoned plenty of undead warriors, but most of them had been torn apart in their support of the living.

"Sir, whatever you're gonna do, do it fast, sir!" Legionary Narco shouted from somewhere in the square behind me.

"Akoúste tis entolés mou. Thymitheíte tin písti sas. Yperaspisteíte tous zontanoús," I chanted, feeling the ground rumble beneath my feet. The earth broke—not just here, but near the charred remains of Camp Jupiter, around the besieged New Rome, around the water supply and aqueduct, and around the razed Garden of Bacchus. In the embattled Field of Mars, East Oakland, and Caldecott Tunnel. And most importantly, around myself, my personal squad, and the half of Cohort III that had fought alongside me to destroy the banes of Bacchus.

Hundreds of skeletons and vrykolakai, armed to the teeth, emerged. Not just fallen Romans, but fallen Greeks, Macedonians, Gauls, Carthaginians, Parthians, Celtic Britons, Caledonians, Dacians, Numidians, Persians, and Egyptians. But while they were all enemies in ancient times, today they stood together at my command: no questioning of my orders, no infighting, and no fear, for their allegiance was to me and they had no lives left to lose.

"Katastrépste tous eisvoleís!" I barked. My undead warriors established a perimeter around us, simultaneously going on the offensive and defensive as they absorbed enemy fire and blows while hacking, slashing, stabbing, and bashing anything within their reach.

"Damn, kid! Now that's what you call reinforcements!" Hedge laughed on the inter-squad radio net.

"Yeah, Coach, this isn't going to hold up forever," I panted, gasping for breath—even gods had their limits—as I shakily reached for the canteen of nectar I kept on me. "Rancor-Charlie, this is Rancor-Actual, or whatever the fuck my callsign is."

"Roger, Actual. Send it," Maximus replied.

I thought for a moment, remembering the code phrase that Percy had told me to transmit if we were in serious trouble. Even with hundreds of new reinforcements, we weren't exactly taming the sea of monsters... just holding them at bay. And like he said: there was nothing more important that saving lives here. "Broken Arrow," I said. "I say again, Broken Arrow."

"Roger, Broken Arrow. Sending it out now."

While Maximus sent out the message on his long-range radio, I reloaded my firearms and checked my ammo: two spare magazines for my rifle, no spare magazines for my pistol, and a single frag. I also had a Celestial Bronze knife issued to me by one of Task Force Redeye's logistics specialists, supplementing my standard Stygian Iron sword.

"Hey, how ya doin', kid?" Hedge asked after he seemingly teleported right beside me—seriously, how was this blustering, bloodthirsty satyr so stealthy sometimes?

"Tired, Coach."

"That's 'cause you don't eat right, cupcake. You look like a stick figure with some flesh on it."

"I'm a literal god, Coach."

"Doesn't mean you don't need to get some meat on your bones, do push-ups, go lift. You can be more like your eventual brother-in-law."

"Do... you know something that I don't?"

"No, Zhang hasn't popped the question to Levesque. But knowing those saps, it'll happen eventually... wonder what's makin' 'em take their sweet time, though."

"Honestly... I can't believe I'm agreeing with you again, Coach," I sighed resignedly. What was my life, seriously?

"Well, I'm out of shells. I've got my M9, and that's it."

"Well, do you want my M4?"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah... I think I need more practice in a proper learning environment... even if it's fucking Percy Jackson who's the instructor."

"Well... might as well."

Hedge strapped the shotgun to his back before taking my rifle and the two spare magazines, stuffing them into the "dump pouch" on his belt. I offered my pistol, but he shook his head.

"You might just need that, cupcake," he said, giving me a thumbs-up before returning to his position. And perfect timing too, since the undead defensive line was starting to crack—not collapse, mind you, but there were a few monsters running in—so I summoned my Stygian Iron sword and waited as an enemy centaur barreled towards me.

But suddenly, a new noise filled the air. A distinct rumbling growing louder and louder, echoed by the Oakland and Berkeley Hills. Coming from the west and... the sky?

"REINFORCEMENTS!! THE REINFORCEMENTS HAVE ARRIVED!!" someone cheered as something flew overhead and the valley began exploding. Swaths of monsters were wiped out by the blasts as the ground shook with the force of a minor earthquake. I jerked my head around, trying to see what the hell just flew in.

Six fighter jets with stubby wings and... half-cylinder-looking things on each side of the main body. They'd just performed a precise, yet devastating, bombing run on the whole valley, and they were swooping around to come back for more.

"Harriers, we got Harriers!" Hedge shouted excitedly, sounding like a little boy at an airshow. "Rancor-Charlie, was that you?!"

"It's our CAS, Rancor 1!" Maximus replied on the inter-squad net, his tone level-headed with an underlying sense of utter satisfaction. "Hang on, I need to get back to controlling them. Out."

By the looks of it, Maximus was controlling these six Harrier jets by himself, having them attack different targets all over the valley. Some used bombs, some used rockets, some used... Gatling guns? Whatever the case, I was beginning to see why Tyson had called this guy "the finest one-man air traffic control tower in TF Redeye."

Fates, you better make Tyson and all his boys stumble upon all the peanut butter their goofy hearts desire, I said in my head, really hoping that those hags heard my mental utterance. Those crazy bastards deserve it.

When the Harriers went silent, the troops' moods dampened for all of five seconds before more shadows emerged across the hills: helicopters, only two or three minutes behind their jet-powered cousins. I could see 6 skinny ones loaded with weapons, 12 big ones with two rotors, and 4 short fattish ones with single rotors.

"A beautiful sight, is it not, sir?" Maximus said, having walked over to me during the brief lull in the fighting. "Six SuperCobras, twelve Sea Knights, and four Twin Hueys: they're from the BHR ARG."

"The... what?" I asked.

"Bonhomme Richard Amphibious Ready Group... a little task force of revived and rebuilt ships. I'd only heard a rumor about it, and I certainly didn't think it would be ready in time for this... I've never been so pleased to be proven wrong."

"Do... you need to control those helicopters too?"

"They've been given their orders already. They'll take care of everything, sir."

True to his word, the helicopters went to work. The SuperCobras split off to lay waste to any remaining major enemy conglomerations, clearing a path for the following Sea Knights and Twin Hueys. The transport helicopters spread out throughout the valley, their door gunners shooting at anything hostile while the crewmen inside kicked out thick ropes, with Torrent Troopers sliding down them like a fireman's pole. One of those Sea Knights hovered directly over us, the "downdraft" buffeting down on our heads with the accompanying deafening rotor noise—not to mention the gunners blasting monsters with their machine guns. But it was all worth it for 20 Torrent Troopers to be deployed via "fast-rope," and they got to work with their rifles, machine guns, and grenade launchers, going on the offensive.

The arrival of Tyson's warriors reinvigorated the defending troops, inspiring them to join the counterattack. Hedge being Hedge, he ran up to a Torrent Trooper, got some magazines and grenades, and ran off to join the cyclops gunfighters, Maximus hot on his heels. But me? I just stood back and let them work.

I'd been tasked with defending this valley and preventing our people from dying. The only deaths I sensed were those of the enemy. There would be dozens of our warriors that would never be the same—they'd be crippled, paralyzed, traumatized, or some combination of those—but they were still alive. And the future of the children and descendents of the gods was kept intact. All that remained was mopping up.

I hated to admit it, but Percy was right: I did a pretty good job as the last line of defense.

Camp Jupiter and New Rome have been saved! To quote the Brits:

HUZZAH! *fist-pump* HUZZAH! *fist-pump* HUZZAH! *fist-pump* HUZZAH! *fist-pump* HUZZAH! *fist-pump* HUZZAH! *fist-pump* HUZZAH! *fist-pump* HUZZAH! *fist-pump* (and so on).

https://youtu.be/u02IevrEG9Q

We've still got one more chapter to go to finish off the work of Joint Task Force 12: namely the assault in the Mojave Desert. After that, I hope you like bureaucracy, office politics, and special operations shenanigans, because we'll finally get to see Percy in his element!

But as always, let me know what you think in the comments! Don't worry, I won't try to freeze your bank accounts like the Canadian government—obviously, this is sarcasm and a joke... I clearly don't have the power to do that... I'm a loser that plays too many video games. This statement is as much of a tongue-in-cheek joke as saying that Canada should be the 51st state of the USA... which is honestly a hilarious prospect. Throwing all logic out the window, how in the world would this even work logistically? The main benefit is that Alaskans can finally drive to CONUS without a passport.

Comment your ideas for the "Great State of Canada" if it were to happen in an alternate universe (THIS IS A JOKE, MR. NSA/CSIS/CIA/FBI INTELLIGENCE COLLECTOR WHO IS READING THIS). Best comment wins!

Happy belated Veterans' Day, and Happy belated Birthday to our United States Marines! Remember to stay hydrated, stay safe, and stay frosty.

Until next time,

- ADF-2