ALEX HAD STOLEN PLENTY OF THINGS in his life, but a squeaky dog toy shaped like a dolphin was a new one for him. Had he been alone, he would not have done it. But Connor and Travis brought out the worst in him.

Well, debatable, considering he'd spent three years with Luke battling alongside the armies of darkness. But as Alex hid behind a ten foot high pile of unboxed dog food, he tried to ignore those memories. Focus on the here and now.

The here? Petco. The now? Hiding, alone and weaponless, as a pair of yellowish-green scaled dracaenae slithered through the aisles taunting him in poorly enunciated English.

Go gather medical supplies with Travis and Connor, Will had said. It'll be fine, he had said. As much as Alex respected the genius healer kid from Apollo's cabin, and he did, that was the last time he listened to a word he said.

Alex wished he could say it would be the last time he listened to the Stoll brothers, but he knew that would've been a lie. After the better part of a decade of competition, usually friendly but sometimes not, he had every intention of getting back at them when he got out of the Petco alive, in one piece, and by the gods, carrying the damn dolphin chew toy for Percy's hellhound.

Step one: retrieve his weapon. The celestial bronze sword had snagged amidst the dog leashes in aisle two. Alex glanced around. He didn't see much in reach that would be useful against snake women. If he could get two aisles over, he could maybe throw cans of cat food as a distraction. Did dracaenae like cat food?

Alex kicked himself for not learning more about them when he'd served with them. Maybe if he could move vertically along the store towards the door. The rodents all lived there. If they weren't put to sleep by Hecate and Morpheus then maybe if he set them loose the dracaenae would chase those.

"You can't hide forever, dear. We ssssssmell you."

Alex rolled his eyes. If they could easily smell him, they'd have realized where he was already. The saving grace of being stranded in a Petco with monsters was that the whole place probably smelled like a buffet bar.

He closed his eyes. Both slithering women seemed to be to his right, towards both the dog leashes and the rodents. So no sword just yet. Time to improvise.

Peeking out from behind the stacks of dog food, he counted the number of aisles. Fifteen. On the end of the nearest aisles, some sale dog toys had been stacked and hung. Two aisles over held the cat supplies. Slowing his breathing and his pounding heart, Alex began to sneak as quickly but quietly as he could across the store.

Revised step one: improvise a sword. On the sales rack he found a tennis ball launcher for dogs. It reached about a foot and a half and came in green or blue. As he heard the hiss of the snake like dracaenae closing in on his previous hiding spot, he grabbed the blue.

With a makeshift mace in hand, Alex continue into the cat food aisle. He blocked out the slithering, almost comically stereotypical slurred "s" speech of the dracaenae. If only he had duct tape. But he didn't.

When he got out of Petco, if he lived long enough to make it back to Camp Half-Blood, he couldn't wait to rig an old classic for Travis. Maybe a bucket of water hanging over his bunk, or he could enlist Kitty's help and he could mysteriously lose his footing on the climbing wall.

One thing Alex hadn't counted on when sneaking through the cat toys and then food and litter was that the birds had their section directly after it. And apparently Hecate and Morpheus hadn't thought to put them to bed. The sudden squawks and screeches made his heart jump into his throat as he paused mid-step.

The dracaenae taunts stopped. Alex felt shivers run down his spine. Normally the thought of two dracaenae wouldn't make him break a sweat. But normally he had a celestial bronze weapon to disintegrate them with.

For a brief moment, he considered praying to Hermes. Then the fear turned to anger, coiling his stomach into knots at the mere suggestion he should ask his father for literally anything. No. He would do this without the gods or not at all.

Alex switched the tennis ball launcher to his left and grabbed a can of chicken and beef Purina cat food to throw at the first snake face to turn the corner. It didn't take long.

To his surprise, he recognized her. Priscilla. With a long s of course. The cat food can smashed her in the nose before she could make a sound. After that, Alex lost track of what exactly happened. He threw a lot of cat food cans, deflected some kind of thrown dagger with the plastic blue ball launcher, and then scrambled past the parakeets towards the dog leashes. Priscilla hissed and spat all the while.

A curse in Greek slipped from him as he crashed almost directly into the other dracaena. Marissa. Eyes wide, Alex dropped, rolling forward. He could feel the breeze as a scimitar cut the air where his neck had just been.

"Hello ladies," Alex said. "Missed me?"

"Ssstupid Hermes child," Priscilla spat.

"Yeah, won't argue there."

Alex dodged another swing, jumping backwards. He parried Marissa's sword with the plastic tennis ball launcher. He grabbed indiscriminately with his left hand on the shelves beside him. With a crash, he swung a cat scratcher at the dracaena's face. It connected. Marissa wailed as the harsh fibers of the tall cat scratcher pole raked down her scales.

Alex dashed forward. He ran towards the four small check out lanes. Three sleeping mortals lay on the floor, another crumpled by her register. No time to worry about them. They'd have to slumber blissfully unaware that the Petco was currently being trashed by two half snake women intent on killing a demigod armed with a plastic tennis ball launcher.

He jumped onto the first counter. Sparing a glance back, Marissa, visibly injured down her face, scrambled after him. The mortals were lucky. They didn't know Manhattan had been overrun.

Jumping again, he almost tripped on the magazine rack before touching down on the second checkout lane. They'd been overrun by an army of darkness serving a corpse.

Pain filled Alex's chest. A corpse. Luke. His friend. Dead. Mentor. He couldn't breathe. Luke. Kronos had—

A glass fish tank smashed into his shoulder as he tried to make the next jump. Alex shouted, twisting away from where it had been launched. His side slammed into the blue counter and he crashed to the floor.

The world spun. Two dracaenae. How could he have been so stupid to lose track of Priscilla?

A small puddle of blood stained the tiles where his face had landed as Alex forced himself up. It filled his mouth with a metallic tang.

The small fish tank had shattered on impact. He swallowed his blood. Luke had taught him better. Priscilla stood in front of him. Marissa coming up behind.

He spat another mouthful of blood onto the ground. Raising the plastic ball launcher at Priscilla, he shook his head.

"You know, you really are the worssst," he said, replicating her slithering speech patterns. "All I wanted was a squeaky toy for a puppy."

Marissa's shrill cry responded from his right and a bit behind. "All we want is your death!"

Alex dove into a forward roll across the broken glass. He could feel it rip through an exposed section of his arm but he ignored it. Blood poured from his palm as he grabbed one of the large shards as a dagger. Priscilla didn't even have time to react before she had a glass dagger impaled through her abdomen.

"Uncreative," Alex shouted. "Dream bigger!"

He ran past her. He could see his sword now, a few feet away. Ignoring the pain, he wrenched it free of a pink sparkly dog leash. Marissa's scimitar crashed down on his blade as soon as he'd freed it. They were strong. Strong but single minded. He whacked her across the head with the tennis ball launcher. As she stumbled back, Alex shoved his sword through her gut.

As Marissa disintegrated, Priscilla shrieked. Alex smirked. "Come on. Scared of me now?"

She hissed, which as Alex really thought about it, should've been creepy coming from a monster a foot taller with two snake tails where legs should've been. But as adrenaline flooded his veins, he focused instead on dual wielding a tennis ball launcher stick and a celestial bronze sword.

It took almost no effort to slay the second dracaena. He hadn't reached adulthood as a demigod to be killed in a Petco by two serpent women.

Hands on his knees, Alex caught his breath. The store looked like a tiny tornado had ripped through it: broken cat trees, spilled kibble bags, an entire aisle filled with dented and capsized cans of cat food. He spit the last blood out of his mouth. Without a mirror, he couldn't check the damage. But he assumed at least a split lip and several cuts along the side of his face that had caught the fish tank.

All he wanted was a nap. Alex glanced at the door. He took a step forward. Pausing in the doorway, he threw his head back and released a tight, quiet scream.

Squeaky dolphin toy.

Petco sold a really big one. Probably intended for some sort of mastiff or otherwise massive dog, Alex knew it would be tiny for Mrs. O'Leary but that was the point. He tucked the chew toy under his arm and stepped back into the sunlight. Have the tamed hellhound chew up and eat Poseidon's sacred animal.

Alex couldn't help the smirk as he moved along the sidewalk where he knew Travis and Connor would meet him. They sat on the hood of a slightly smashed car, bags from Duane Reade no doubt stuffed with band-aids, Neosporin, Advil and Tylenol and those automatic ice packs that had been Alex's saving grace for the last decade.

Their eyes widened in unison. He must've looked worse than he'd thought. Before Travis could say anything, Alex pelted the dolphin at his face.

"Get beat up by a guinea pig, Blondie?" Connor said. He smirked at Travis who had been caught off guard, gripping his nose. A dolphin chew toy that size carried some weight. Then he turned back to Alex. "Seriously though, you should have some ambrosia, man."

Travis tossed the dolphin back at him. "Impressed you did it. Consider your dare complete." He passed over a small cube of ambrosia. "This'll be hilarious. Mrs. O'Leary's gonna love it."

Popping the ambrosia, Alex let the warmth of the taste of chocolate covered strawberries from Camp Half-Blood fill his body. Comfort. Home.

Loss.

His stomach dropped. Alex opened his eyes at the battleground of Manhattan. So much had gone wrong. Too much.

By the time they got back to the Plaza Hotel, most anyone not on guard duty was sleeping through the day. Will gladly took their questionably acquired medical supplies before disappearing back amongst the wounded on the penthouse floor. The Stoll brothers checked in on Annabeth.

But Alex found an unoccupied corner of the room and took off his slashed, worn leather armor. Letting his head rest against the wall, he sat up and closed his eyes to listen to the world around him. Most of the wounded were in the other room. This one was sleeping quarters.

A lot like Cabin 11, actually. Not enough beds, too many hurting children. Alex tried to push the anger down. He tried to focus on the here and now. But the here and now reminded him of every reason he'd left Camp the first time. Well every reason but one.

Luke was dead. He'd died the moment that the Hunter of Artemis had kicked him off the cliff. Sure, he'd still been breathing and Kronos hadn't fully taken his mind yet. But that daughter of Zeus had sealed his fate and now the greatest of his brothers housed a Titan who cared nothing for half-bloods.

He could still hear Cabin 11 when he closed his eyes. Sleeping bags on the floor, unclaimed kids crying themselves to sleep surrounded by other unwanted children intent on pretending they couldn't hear the tears.

Hermes welcomed everyone. Hermes wanted them to feel at home. Welcome to the dysfunctional family. Welcome to the cabin where everyone is accepted!

But over stolen strawberries from the nymph's gardens and chocolate fondue, Cabin 11 didn't call themselves the All Accepting Cabin. Alex felt his mind fading. He held the dolphin chew toy closer to his chest. No. In the dark, comforted by their hero, Luke Castellan, the children of Cabin 11 whispered the truth. They were the Reject Cabin.