Hello people. Sorry for taking so long to update. I hadn't originally planned on it, as I was entirely occupied with my other fanfiction "Exiled Prince"

This chapter is under Lindsey's point-of-view, and I daresay, I had quite a bit of fun writing this, though it took months to complete all together.

So sit back and enjoy!

Oh, by the way, just if you're wondering, Kitty is what Lindsey named her journal. Her journal, Kitty, has been her friend in her years of isolation in the country, and found comfort writing out her feelings in her depths.

...

Hey Kitty.

I can't English. I literally can't, my gods-forsaken dyslexia makes sure of that. Have you, dear journal, ever tried to read a news ad and the letters look like some alien script? Either that or the dude who wrote that news ad was drunk as a Dionysus kid. Who knew I was fluent in Greek, huh? I didn't until I found this place, Camp Half Blood.

Camp was a dream come true until Percy left. The jerk. A part of me wants to hate him, while another part supports him. Eheheh, look at that. I have two personalities. Maybe I should call myself Two Face.

That is a terrible idea, I really want to erase that last part. But the eraser is in the next bunk over, under Hanna Boon's pillow. And unlike my bunk mates, I'm no thief.

The Hermes cabin is crowded. Seriously, that God of Thieves should take a break. I never liked sleeping in the same room with two dozen other boys and girls. They're all roughly my age, a few a bit older in their later teens. I barely get any time to write in you, this is the first breather I got since arriving at this camp. It's been awesome, though. Weapons training, crafts and arts, acrobatics, alchemy, and a variety of plenty other activities fill up my day time. At night… I'm just too exhausted to do anything but bury my face in my marshmallow pillow and pass out.

All the games, the contests, the training, and the physical exercises makes my time here simply glorious. I just wish I liked the people just the same. For some deranged reason, most campers see me as an outsider, a dangerous and dark omen. The camp's Oracle keeps on giving me this weirded-out and partly disturbed glance, as though I was singing with my mouth full. Which I wasn't, mind you. Homeschoolers aren't that weird. At least I'm not.

All of this, the looks, the whispers, the faces, they all got worse once Percy left. Words simply can't explain how much I despise the girl that abandoned him. And I don't even know Annabeth Chase. All I know is that she is the reason why the only person that really accepted me into camp left for gods-know-where. And through his absence, life at camp became hard. And sometimes I wish that I was back in my room, in a house in the middle of nowhere, with no social life whatsoever, reading my books and tending to the orchard. With a dad, before he was dragged to hell.

So, up to current events, I won King of the Hill.

Winning doesn't come naturally to me. I was just as shocked as most of the campers were ticked. King of the Hill had been anticipated all summer long, before even I came into the picture. Over the winter and spring, all year-round campers and friendly spirits had helped with the construction of Leo's Folly. And I must say, they've done a fantastic job. The hill is a massive mound of packed dirt and gravel, riddled with pits, traps, and obstacles. The area of the hill itself must be around 2 to 3 acres all together, and it's about two times the height of a proud oak tree. When you think about it, that mound is one spanking huge hill.

But what really captured my definite interest was the scarlet flag that billowed in the wind at the crest of Leo's Folly. That flag crowned me the Queen of the Hill, and finally earned me some grudging, if not reluctant, respect.

Jason Grace, coach of Weapons Training, volunteered as the King of the Hill's referee. The rules were simple: No killing, no maiming, no attacking the referee, and no affiliation with other campers. They should add 'no breaking the rules' to send more of a clear message to the brick heads at this camp. These rules were pasted plainly in sight beside the path that leads to Leo's Folly. Any campers who failed to follow the most serious of rules will be sentenced to a week of dish-washer duty. Which sounds like a blast.

On the day of the long anticipated game, camp was full of rushed activity. All other programs were put on hold, and teenage demigods worked hard in the training grounds. Those who weren't participating assembled bleachers around Leo's Folly, like some outdoor gymnasium. The satyrs were dashing around with their goat legs (I still can't get over that), setting up stands where they'd sell healthy hand food to the enthusiastic viewers. Around fifty demigods assigned themselves as participants for King of the Hill, including myself. This game would be my first real competition. Other teenagers who could fight like professionals. The injuries I'd most likely get would be real. The aggression from other campers would be real. And the hundreds of other demigods watching, cheering, screaming, and cheerleading would be real.

I stood in the middle of the chaotic preparations, eyes on the mound that just might mean my death. Leo's Folly was located in a once secluded spot in the woods, but nicely asked naiads reluctantly obliged to move their trees and rocks for a spot large enough to fit an enormous mound that reached far over the trees. More of the woods gave away to widen the clearing into a massive field, and from there satyrs and demigods alike had toiled to trim the wild grass and to carve a path from the main camp to Leo's Folly. The fawns just loitered, charming their way into getting free donuts or just lounging with the daisies.

But I ignored all of this, all of the activity around me, and kept my eyes on the scarlet flag.

"You okay there, Jones?"

Jason Grace jogged over to my side. He was taller than me, so if I were to face him, I'd get a mouth full of hard-packed pecs any teenage guy would dream for, and any teenage girl would drool over. Thankfully, the Son of Jupiter wore his cobalt camp shirt. The fact that Jason Grace was seriously the son of the king of gods should intimidate me. But Jason really doesn't give off the air of a terrifying and furious prince. He's more of a flying, talking lion. With glasses.

"I'm fine," Uncrossing my arms, I took a step back and offered an easygoing smirk, "Just strategizing, I guess."

"I really can't picture a strategy for this game," Jason looked up at the mound, "The game looks like it might turn into something incredibly crazy."

My response to this was an amused snort. A shout incited me to turn with Jason to see Piper Mclean and Michael Kahale jog over. All I knew about Mclean and Kahale was that they sort of shared the same godly parent, just from slightly different cultures. Makes complete sense. Only gives me half a head ache.

"Pipes?" Jason uncrossed his arms, "What's up?"

"Hose's freaking out." Piper said with a straight face I wouldn't have been able to manage.

Jason blinked, "Excuse me?"

Michael, a towering, Hawaiian, football-majoring Roman prince of some sort pointed across the clearing where two satyrs and a Demeter camper wrestled frantically with a writhing magical hose, spewing from its mouth a pressured spray of water that soaked campers left and right.

Jason sighed, "Where's Percy when you need him…"

Nodding to Michael Kahale, the two demigods dashed for the mayhem. I watched, fascinated, as Michael snatched the head of the hose with viper speed, biceps tensing as he wrestled with the wild tool. I turned my back on the action, only to come face to face (sort of) with Piper Mclean. Why does everybody have to be taller than me? The head of the Aphrodite cabin furrowed her brow, eyes confused and slightly distant.

"Haven't I seen you before?"

Somehow, she managed to sound like she was talking to herself, rather than me. "Um… I live here." I said, trying to moisten the dryness in my attitude, "Lindsey Jones, Daughter of Gods-Know-Who."

"Oh, sorry," Piper offered an apologetic grin, "On both accounts. I just-… I could've sworn…" Absently, her fingertips brushed the hilt of her long, lethal-looking knife strapped to her thigh.

I took a moment to assess Piper Mclean's attire. She wore a cobalt shirt with golden letters inscribed over the chest, saying Iunictio, which means 'Union' in Latin. She had rolled up her khaki shorts a bit, and leather knee paddings and shin guards were strapped there, including elbow guards.

"You in the game?" I looked back up at her.

Piper had her brown hair gathered into two twin braids that fell over her shoulders, stylishly entwining around a few owl feathers. No makeup masked her tan face, and her kaleidoscope eyes were radiant.

"Yep," Piper nodded, still half way to the moon. "Looks fun, and fresh. I can't tell you how many times I've played Capture the Flag. It gets old after a while."

A part of me was elated. For once, somebody other than Percy wasn't treating me like an alien. The other part of me, a whisper in some dark, secluded corner of my mind, was cautious. Wary.

"I've never played Capture the Flag." I said. My eyes returned to the scarlet Crown Flag at the crest of Leo's Folly. "Do you know why the hill's named-,"

"-Leo's Folly?" Piper finished. She sighed. It was wistful and sad, but in a content way, somehow. "I know, not much of a Greek or Roman name, huh?" Piper glanced down at me, "You don't listen much too camp stories, do you?"

I shrugged, "I'm just there for the food."

The Cherokee demigoddess laughed and, after sobering up, adopted a softer mood. "Leo's Folly…" She breathed, "Leo's Folly is named after the stupidity of my moronic, crazy, and…" she faltered, biting her lip, "Leo was our friend."

"Oh," I murmured. I get it, now. It was named after a hero who had passed on.

"He saved us all," Piper drew in a deep, chest-filled breath, and let it out slowly. "I'll see you on the battle hill." She nudged my shoulder in such a friendly, warm way I couldn't help but smile. I almost forgot we'd be enemies on the hill.

Words like "I'm sorry" and "I'm so sorry" really didn't seem to cut it, you know? I know what it's like to lose someone that means the world to you, that you care about unspeakably. And those two typical catch phrases are near meaningless. You hear those words so much that they lose meaning entirely… and you're left guessing that nobody else really knows what you've gone through.

…How did this get so depressing?

The Artemis Hunters, or the Hunters of Artemis, or the Huntresses of Artemis since they're all female came around noon. They were acting all superior, all high and mighty, and I felt a twinge of disdain toward them as their leader turned an unsuspecting male into a ferret. He had been hard at work nailing a sign in the ground that would list King of the Hill's participants. Large slabs bearing all fifty names lay in a wide heap. That guy had a lot of work to do.

So he just stopped, hearing the announcement horn, and paused to glance over at the huntresses. With a scowl, Artemis snapped her fingers and pop. The poor guy was a scampering, saddened ferret.

The word 'Bully' entered my head. I knew as well as anybody that Artemis hated males, but had an unnecessary amount of derision toward them. Sexist. Only some (or most) guys are messed up. I doubt that kid (I didn't recognize his parentage) deserved to be morphed into a ferret just for looking at them.

I set down the Bo staff I was cleaning upon my personal equipment table (every participant had one, encircling the mound) and made my way over to the cowering ferret, ignoring the huntresses.

"Hey, kid – or mammal – ehheh," I chuckled at my own awkwardness and crouched down a ways from the ferret-demigod to get it's – his – attention. God, this was weird. Did he still have a human brain? The ferret regarded me for a moment, checked to see if the huntresses had passed by, and popped back into a human boy.

"I'm fine," he said, rubbing his neck, "She wasn't paying much attention to her spell, lucky me." He smiled, showing prominent incisors that gave him a wolfish look about him.

I looked the boy over. He wore the cobalt blue shirt of the united camps, as few other demigods do, and he was way taller than me, like most average-sized people. His face, his smile, was boyish. I judged he would somewhere around… 15, 16? Not entirely sure. His body certainly hadn't matured just yet, but he carried himself with a maturity most other campers lacked. A decent posture, shortish – yet wild – chestnut hair, pale face, lightly freckled, and large hazel eyes. He didn't stand out from the crowd that much. Maybe the fact that he was smiling at me caught my interest. Not many people did that toward me here.

He shuffled uncomfortable from one foot to the other, and it was then that I realized "Oh God! I'm staring" then "Oh God, whatdoIdo?" to, this time actually aloud, "My name's Lindsey."

The guy rose a brow, glanced over my shoulder, presumably at the huntresses, and bent over to grab a slab of word, about a yard long. He regarded the name for an instant, smirked, then flipped the face of the wooden slab back around so that I could see the name.

"So like this?"

Across the length of the board, written in white, careless strokes of paint, was my name. I nodded wordlessly, scratching the back of my head. There was a hoot of joy in the distance. I turned to see a son of… Hermes? No, Apollo. I saw an Apollo's kid charge the demonic hose, which was being ridden by the massive Michael Kahale like a bucking bull, and sliced it in half with a short sword. The hose immediately froze, falling to the ground with a dying hiss. Water pooled about it like blood as Michael Kahale picked himself back up, clapping the heaving Apollo kid on the shoulder. The kid couldn't have been older than 11 or 12.

I heard the guy next to me snickering. "That was only the beginning, my rival."

I nearly doubled over, "Y'mean you did that?"

"Yep," he held out a hand, "Coalt Markley, by the way," there was a disturbing glint in his eyes, "Son of Magic."

"Riiiight," I noticed the emerald ring on his finger. Huh, I wonder if that was some sort magical whatsit that shot fireballs or something. I've seen Hecate kids fight. They can be a nightmare in battle, making their swords phase through yours, creating illusion doubles of themselves, turning you into pigs. I mean, it never happened to me, but I've seen plenty of Hecate children victims. Luckily, their existence as pigs only lasted a few minutes. They were masters of trickery, bending the Mist in their favor, laughing all the while. I saw that Coalt was no different.

"What do you have against Kahale?"

"It's just a game we're playing," Coalt shrugged. He bent over to retrieve a slab of wood bearing a name and slid it into place across the face of the billboard he just erected. "And the game everybody's waiting for is about to start."

And so it was.

Apparently, a few of the huntresses decided the join without warning. Was it like they had to prove their superiority? I mean, I've never seen them fight, but their achievements were often in the Olympic Eye, the weekly news magazine that announced groundbreaking records in monster slaying and other phenomenal achievements. Not the mention the latest Olympian gossip, which I entirely ignored. I didn't care about model nymphs, or who slapped who. It was like the same crap you see in the line to the cashier in Walmart.

All participants lined up in a massive circle around the foot of the mount, side-by-side. I saw Jason take off into the air with a megaphone in his hands. He spun in the air and held it to his mouth.

"You guys ready for some bruising?" The voice carried over the entire clearing. The following roar of approval was sheer deafening. I had to cover my ears – it was like a wild concert! The bleachers were so full, they had to drag up compact stadium chairs for even more campers to come and watch. There were even nymphs, dryads, and the occasional centaur watching! I wouldn't be surprised if the gods were watching as well.

My heart skipped a bit as the announcer, an upbeat satyr or fawn (honestly, what's the difference other than reputation?) spoke into a mic, the surrounding speakers floating fifty feet in the air. I looked up to inspect these speakers, and found something of greater interest. Speechless, I took a step back to get a better view.

Way above the mount were screens, slightly see-through, like holograms. They rotated around the perimeter of the mound, though way above, and the each screen kept flickering, as though the camera men were testing their equipment.

I had wondered if I would appear on one of those big screens, and my heartbeat evolved into a wild drum solo.

"Focus on other things, Lindsey," I told myself, trying to keep my voice from shuddering.

And I did so, turning to face the girl at my left. She was a huntress of Artemis, paying me no attention, with long auburn hair gathered into a single French braid like the goddess herself. She was average-sized, pretty, with an athletic figure. I found myself paying more heed to her figure than anything other, and I tore my gaze way.

Don't make it gay, Lindsey.

The guy at my left was jumping on one foot to the other and hooting like a maniac. He certainly couldn't wait to get started. He held a battle axe, and he caught me looking at him.

"Like what you see?" He grinned with crooked malice, and I cringed.

"As if." I couldn't help myself. He smelt like… like… rotten eggs? I couldn't quite place it – it was just rottenly fetid.

"Eh? Maybe you don't hafta see yourself," he flexed his massive biceps, twirling his battle axe, and it was then that I recognized him.

Bruno, son of Mars, Roman god of war (I think that was it) had a reputation, and his rep became all he cared for. I've seen him fight in the arena. Sometimes, he would get outta hand and resort to breaking bones. The only guys that could beat him were Percy and Jason, with their superior sword skills. I wondered if Bruno even bothered to blunt his weapon. With a battle axe that size, he could lop heads off with ease… did this guy have to be right next to me?

"Don't pay much attention to him," the voice came to me over the thousands of roaring cheers, and I turned to face the huntress. She smiled sweetly, and I fought the irrational urge to smile back. She truly was beautiful, even with her teeth slightly crooked, and those protruding incisors that reminded me of Coalt. Some strands of auburn hair was lose, and drifted in banana curls around her face. Her eyes were a forest green, her face smoothly pale and freckle-less.

She was saying something. Her pillow-y lips were moving when I hadn't realized it, I was caught with her looking at me expectantly.

"Yuh-huh?" I said intelligently.

She laughed. It was a brief, pure sound, and she repeated herself, "Think too much about a greater enemy and it swiftly becomes your greatest nightmare. Lady Artemis taught me that."

"Yuh," I murmured, "Yuh-huh… *ahem* Yes, sounds great. Thanks."

She nodded and went back to examining the mound. Before I had much time to think about what I just felt, the announcer began the count down in his radio-happy voice.

"10, 9, 8…"

I inhaled shakily, and let the breath leave me calmly, slowly. I held a Bo Staff in my hands, without the bronze studding for monsters. A safe yet effective weapon. The crowd began to count along.

"7, 6, 5…"

Bruno started counting along, and before long everybody in the line was counting. I joined his, my heart a monsoon of beats.

"4, 3, 2…"

"I'm screwed," I very nearly whimpered.

"One!"

I sprawled on the ground just as Bruno's axe hurtled overhead in an attempt to behead me. I scrambled to my feet, and the back of my Bo staff swung around as I ran forward to collide into the back of his knees, forcing the massive guy to topple backwards with the force of my swing. The trek up the mound began.

I spotted other demigods attempting to take the stone steps that allowed an easier passage, but the triggering of pressure plates sounded with a click and hiss. They came rolling back down the hill with arrows in their shoulders and butts. I doubted they were real arrows.

I myself dug my combat boots into the gravel and dirt of Leo's Folly and trudged upward. Maybe Leo's spirit would favor me or something. I stumbled to a halt just as I came upon a pit, empty. It was nothing more than a man-made cooking pot for the sun to roast. I half expected there to be spikes or snakes at the end. A battle cry sounded behind me, and I spun to catch the glimpse of a charging camper with a shield on one arm and a hatchet in the other. With the crazed look in his eyes, I wondered if he was thinking clearly. Probably not. All I did was sidestep his clumsy attack. I didn't even have to trip him. The kid just flew right into the pit head first. I cringed at the following clanking sound of his armor. The whole crowd reeled back with a sympathetic "Oooooh!"

I looked up, and saw that I was on one of the big screens. The screen promptly flickered, showing another kid. Bruno. He was in the current process of smashing two campers' heads together. That guy was brutal.

I continued my trek upwards toward the scarlet flag at the crest. Most other campers were locked in mortal combat. I glimpsed Piper spinning as she faced two other campers, working together to take her down. They were tactically edging her toward a fiery wall. Ouch. Not cool. Wasn't affiliation forbidden?

I wanted to help, but, ehhh, ya see… Affiliation forbidden. Eheheh.

Piper was armed with a long knife in one hand and a wicked, jagged sword that seemed to be made out of ice in the other. Just as I was guessing that it was enchanted, sure enough, she spun to tap one of her assailants on the cheek, and he was promptly frozen in a thin sheet of ice. She kicked the other guy in the groin, and he went rolling down the hill and into a pit. Piper caught my glance and smiled, her face stunning even whilst covered in soot with a cut.

Jason came descending from the heavens like superman or Jesus, and held her chin in his strong fingers to examine her cut. It was bleeding. He murmured something, his face concerned. Piper shrugged, but I could see the blush even through her soot. Jason really was a sweet guy. Leaving a kiss on her forehead before thousands of viewers, he lifted off into the sky and shouted into the megaphone.

"Brandon Cortez disbanded for maiming! Sharp-edged weapons are forbidden!"

The action around the couple hadn't stopped. I realized I was nowhere near the head of the winning effort. I picked up my pace, hamstrings burning, my heartbeat storming in response to all this action. I was wary for any pressure plates or pits, or walls that would pop out of the ground and fall on you. I remember wondering why the environment was allowed to maim you – kill you, even – if other campers couldn't.

I stepped around another pit, pausing to grimace down at the mess at the bottom, and continued my way upwards. In arrow passed by my shoulder, slicing the material of my shirt. I glanced back and spotted a huntress stringing another arrow, eyes on her prey: me.

Oh God.

I proceeded to step backwards, eyes on her and her arrow. The girl pulled back her arrow, and at the last instant I sprung to the side just as the projectile hurtled at me.

"Hah!" I couldn't help myself. Who else would guess I could dodge an arrow?

Before I realized that the arrow had traveled through the air slower than usual, I felt something hard and blunt slam pitilessly against my back. I yelped, toppling forth onto the gravel and dirt, and continued to roll back down the hill. I caught myself, digging my fingers into the dirt.

Ow.

A tracking arrow. Shoulda known.

Smirking, the huntress strung yet another arrow. I briefly saw my life flash before my eyes. This is the end. I squeezed my eyes shut. But the screaming cry of a banshee made me open them again to see two campers sharing a gladiator's net charge the huntress. They were both yelling their mad battle cry, like banshees, and the girl tersely spun to face them and strung another arrow, for all the good that'll do.

The two demigods ensnared the huntress in their net, and she flopped on the ground all entangled, shouting and cursing. A minority of the crowd saw this and laughed at the prospect as the huntress was rolled into a nearby pit. Lady Artemis must've been furious to see this.

I jumped as the two campers looked up and pointed at me, and I saw that they were identical. Most likely brothers. The Stoll Brothers. I began running up the mound with renewed enthusiasm.

What followed was a blur. I can't remember that well. For the next half our, I had around 3 encounters with other demigods, all of which I was saved by either the environment or their own clumsiness.

Before much time has passed, there were roughly fifteen to twenty players left, and I was proud to realize I was amongst them. Half Time was called, and cloud spirits drifted about to pass around glistening water bottles.

I gratefully retrieved one from a smiling spirit, and paused to glance the label. "Trident's Freshness."

Trident, Poseidon's immortal son, was smiling up at me. I rolled my eyes and uncapped the lid, sloshing down the water. I half-expected it to be salty or whatever. Thankfully, it wasn't. I gazed out over the crowd, and then comprehended how bone-shakenly high I was. If I trip or fell now, I'd be tumbling down hundreds of feet to the bottom of Leo's Folly. The crowd was abuzz, and I smiled at the thought of the demigods placing bets.

A small fleet of Apollo campers, master healers riding on the backs of Pegasi, swept down from above to greet us. They went about to check for wounds, and one camper began tending to Piper's nasty gash. She cringed mildly as the blonde Apollo girl dabbed a wet cloth around the wound to wipe away the soot and blood. It was barely a maim, but maybe it was the fact that Brandon Cortez had swung his sword toward Piper's face that could have set her boyfriend the Super Ref off. Attempt to murder.

"Not that bad," she muttered, "Bite." She held a cookie-sized piece of ambrosia to Piper's lips. Piper obediently bit, chewed, and swallowed. The wound gradually began to close.

"The time, Theo?" The Apollo girl called. A boy heading my way answered absently, "Forty past noon. We got a couple."

It's been forty minutes? Huh. Time flies when you're risking your neck.

The boy held my jaw, and I recoiled suddenly, "Hey now, watch it."

The boy rose a brow. He was the usual gorgeous Apollo kid, with his blonde hair and bold, golden eyes. "Fine, not much of a toucher. Take this." He handed me a cloth, and I wiped my own face with it, cringing as I came into contact with a nasty bruise on my forehead.

"This, too." The Apollo boy held out a piece of ambrosia, "You looked good out there, by the way."

I felt my cheeks burn softly. "Thanks," I said. I wasn't used to complimentary comments. Biting a piece of the ambrosia and swallowing, the taste of my aunt's pumpkin pie filled my mouth, and I closed my eyes to savor the taste. All my sore joints, along with the bruise, diminished. With a grateful sigh, I opened my eyes to see that the boy was gone, saddling up on his Pegasus. The other healers did the same, leaving a bunch of rejuvenated participants in their wake.

My eyes caught the huntress I met before the race. She was standing, arms crossed, a ways from the group, eyes gazing up at the flag. She wasn't cut or bruised, and I imagined that she wasn't touched this entire game. Before I was caught staring, I took my gaze from her and down the length of the mound. Here and there, ledges dug into the side of the mound to grant sturdy platforms so that you aren't always trekking on a slant. Winding pathways of stone slabs proved useful steps, albeit perilous.

Huh. I wonder if Leo would be proud.

The ref blew his whistle. I briefly caught a glimpse of Jason Grace orbiting around the mound with a pair of binoculars in his hands. So he's got an eagles-eye-view, I see. Wish I could fly, lucky punk.

"There's been a change of plans!" Jason shouted from his megaphone over the demigods.

Confused rippled through the crowds. Even the participants shuffled their feet.

"Whadduya mean, eh?" Bruno waved his axe at the floating blond superman with bad eyesight.

"At this point, there may be affiliations up to two team members! Players, pick your partners!"

My heart promptly sank. I was the least renowned of all demigods, practically hated among our ranks. Who would-

"Aaaannnd," Jason continued, "We've got an extra player who hasn't yet given up!"

All participants looked up. Anybody who was out was either too exhausted or too hammered to continue. I've never heard such pride in Jason's voice as his figure suddenly banked low and out of sight as he plunged into a distant pit. And exploded out, soaring into the sky, his arms locked around the chest of a furious, scrawny… was that guy even human? Well, as humans demigods get?

The crowd roared their excitement, exploding from the stands and waving their arms, their flags, their shirts… they were so freaking excited, and it made me wonder if this guy might be some mutilated form of Percy. But he wasn't.

The announcing Fawn (It sure was a fawn) spoke. You could tell even by his voice that he was grinning, "Give it up for Nico di Angelo!"

Nico di Angel-who?

The boy was dropped in a dusty heap at my feet, spitting and cursing Jason's guts. And I just stood there with my arms crossed. Nico scrambled to his feet, coughing out some dirt, and – I kid you not – took the bottle from my hand and started chugging it down. The crowd was too excited to notice or care. I wanted to step over and give him a piece of my mind… however, I felt that if I did, I might surely see the end of my days. He was older than me, maybe 16 or 17. He wore the popular cobalt shirt that read Iunictio in fancy golden letters, and he was in black baggy jeans despite the hot summer weather.

"Hey," I said sharply, "Ya mind?"

He must've just realized he'd taken ahold of somebody else's property. His eyes drifted from the bottle to me, then back to the bottle. This continued on for a moment before he wiped his lips and shrugged.

"Sorry."

"Like a 'sorry' might gimme back my water," I rolled my eyes.

A satyr with wings came floating by and bonked the both of us atop our heads with his wooden clubs.

"Automatic team!"

"Hey!" I shouted this time, stomping my way over to the little goat-lagged angel.

"What gives?" Nico rubbed his head.

The flying Satyr gestured over the other participants. "Everybody else chose teams. You two were the remaining couple."

"Couple?" Nico rose a brow. "No thanks."

"I'm gay." We both said in unison, and looked at each other in shock.

The satyr didn't hear. He was gone.

"Frankly speaking," I added stumbling over my words. I couldn't believe I was admitting this a total stranger. "I'm bi."

"Eh, same," Nico shrugged, "And you are?"

He wasn't being friendly. But he wasn't being outright rude, either. An improvement, by my standards.

"Lindsey Jones," I said. I held out my hand.

He observed my hand warily, before he cautiously took it and shook. His grip was stronger than his scrawny fingers let on. "You obviously don't know who I am," he met my gaze, "nobody really cares much for the Ghost King."

The Ghost King… this guy had some sort of an ego floating about his swollen head. Maybe I could pop it. "Everybody else seems to differ."

"Eh," he waved his hand dismissively, "They think I'm some sort of a hero."

"And you don't?"

"Hey, wouldja look at that," he looked beyond my shoulder, "Looks like half in almost over."

It didn't fly by my head that he had obvious discomfort on the subject. Maybe I could use that as a fire poker for future reference.

The game was indeed about to start again. Everybody else had finished adjusting their gear. Bruno was teamed with a little girl, glancing nervously at the towering brute beside her, who seemed ticked he was burdened with a 12 year-old. He probably thought he could do all this on his own. He probably could. Piper was with one of the Stoll's, I didn't know their distinctive names. His other brother must've been taken out. And he looked deeply ticked by the notion, and was dividing a handful of glowing frag grenades with his Aphrodite partner. The huntress girl, the one who had spoken to me at the beginning of the game, was teamed with a terrified son of Hypnos. I recognized him as Max Rudolf, a short, thin boy my age who had been glad to help me with arrow fletching. He seems handy with any crafting, and I wondered (with brinking panic) what he was doing here… and what he hoped to accomplish. He told me he had a heart condition! How could be allowed to play?!

I relayed this to Nico in fierce hisses, and he set his jaw reproachfully. "Ambitious little Max," he grunted, "Idiotic little Max." He added under his breath.

And so we were off.

Nico fought like a savage animal. I was astonished by his demonic efforts, and took a step back as he single-handedly disabled a whole team. He had pounced them just as the game began again. Grabbing one kid by the hair, he kneed another guy in the groin, who had doubled over, wheezing. Then he locked his other victim in a headlock, and it seemed that he might be strangling the poor kid. He pushed fruitlessly at Nico's shockingly strong arms, struggling hopelessly. Just as I was about to intervene to reprimand Nico's violent efforts, the boy slumped his arms. Oh my God… was he… dead?

"What the Hades, Nico?" I stomped over and was just about to swing my Bo staff against his head, but he looked up then stepped backwards, raising both hands shoulder-level.

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa, hold your horses there," he waved his arms. "He's just unconscious."

The other kid was still wheezing. "I think something popped," he gasped.

"Way to play rough," I scowled at Nico.

"I'll get you," the wheezing boy wheezed, "I'll get you and make it look like a bloody accident!"

It was Nico's turn to scowl. Before I knew what was happening, faster than even Percy could move, the wheezing demigod's face was rudely introduced to the end of Nico's black boots. He reeled back, holding his nose. "Shut your trap," Nico snapped.

"Di Angelo," I grabbed his collar and pulled him back from the cowering demigod, "You should be disqualified!"

"We're falling behind, Jones," he slipped from my grasp. His voice was cold.

"First tell me what the Hades was that!"

"I don't need to explain myself to you." Nico fell back. I gasped, eyes widening and leapt ahead to try and catch him, before rational thought kicked in, telling me to let the jerk fall. But he was gone, falling back into his own shadow, vanishing from view.

My opinion of that guy stooped nearly down to Bruno's level. I had never seen somebody fight so predatorily. Shoving those troubling thought deep down somewhere, I trudged further upward. It was only fifty yards up to the crest. I could clearly make out the symbol on the face of the flag, a golden Greek Omega.

As I neared I realized that, with my height, I wouldn't be able to reach the stupid flag. Crap. I'd hafta climb. Fantastic.

And it was then that I beheld the two demigods clashing a furious battle just below the flag. Piper Mclean and the huntress were fighting, an ice sword meeting the knives that the huntress wielded. They seemed to be evenly matched, Piper's practical, practiced stance and tactics similar to Jason's. Of course, he must be training her! The huntress was something else entirely. She boasted superior acrobatics, dodging more than deflecting that terrifying sword.

The little girl had been completely abandoned by Bruno (no surprise there) and was just standing there, shaking with fear as she was entirely surrounded by two other teams. Mercifully, one boy just knocked the sword out of her hand and said something I couldn't hear from here. She girl nodded shakily and rose both her hands.

"Amelia Rose surrenders!" Came the announcer's voice. The was a rush of wind and Jason swooped down, lifting the red-faced girl in his arms and taking her down to the bleachers, where her friends came to greet and congratulate her for getting so far.

The other players were already out of the game. Courtesy to Bruno, the raging bulldozer. Before long, all who were left were me, Bruno, Max, Piper, that Stoll guy, the huntress, and I guess Nico. I haven't seen him since he melted into his own shadow.

Then Bruno was charging little Max. Well crap. Wildly, I waved my arms, shouting "Look out! Max!"

Max turned, and I saw that he had been crying. His drying tears had left clean trails down his dirt-matted face. He was looking at me in a state of confusing. Was he wrong in the head too?! Then he saw Bruno. Yelping, he fumbled for his spear. Bruno didn't stop, he was going to kill that kid! Swinging his battle axe yelled his triumph madly.

Nico sprung from the ground (he been laying there?) and slashed something that looked like a lengthy extension of oily blackness. The head of Bruno's axe bit into the surface of Leo's Folly. I was close enough to hear, my legs hadn't stopped. But I was smiling.

"You aren't fit to fight, what're doing here?" The scorn in Nico's voice was evident, and Max flinched.

"I-I… I thought I could-."

"Well you can't, you nearly got yourself killed, Max."

"Sorry, Nico." He answered, ashamed of himself.

Hold on – did they know each other? Max had never mentioned his – erm, interesting – friend.

"Max," I gasped, out of breath, "Thought you were… thought you were done for…" I heaved for breath, hands on my knees.
"Lindsey?" He stared, "You're alive?"

"I know right," I grinned, rubbing my sooty cheek, "Surprised myself."

"Thank me later," Nico intervened our reunion and pointed with, now that I could see it clearly, an obsidian-black sword.

Stoll was out, and he had taken the huntress with him. He had tackled, from what fans told me later, the huntress, knocking her away. However, knowing that he was no match a warrior for the girl, he detonated the grenade from his hand, arms locked around her, activating an explosive sleeping spell and siabling them both.

This left Piper to reach for the flag.

Wait, where was Bruno?

Two thick, heavily muscled arms encircled my torso and I was wrenched from the ground with frightening strength.

Nico and Max shouted, "Lindsey!" In a confusing mix of fear and rage.

"What?" I had no idea what was going on. All rational thought had gone as I was hurled into the air. And there was suddenly fifty feet below, growing speedily nearer.

The audience screamed.

I distantly recalled a pinpoint moment in my childhood, where I had gazed out of my window all lonely like, and watching the doves coo on the clothes line that was out for drying. One by one they had taken off, giving me no heed. As every other child, I wondered how amazing a feeling it would be if you could fly.

I told myself quite frankly that this wasn't flying. This was falling, and I was going die.

And then I wasn't. I wasn't falling, I was floating. I was slowly rotating in the air as if I was in a pool tube, and the water I was in was churning in circles. I bobbed in the air, the wind whipping at my hair and ruffling my clothes, and I was slowly drifting downwards.

"I got you." I was Jason. MAN, I felt like I could kiss that guy!

I was set back down next to Nico and a very relieved-looking Max. Bruno was at it was Piper, wielding Max's spear, which he had dropped. And it looked like he was going to overcome her. I cringed as the spear pole met her ribs, resounding a cracking sound, and she was sent spinning down the hill.

"Bruno! Stand down! You are disbanded from the game for attempted murder!"

"The fall wouldn't've killed her!" Snarled Bruno, and he reached up for the flag. Nico vanished, only to pop out of the flagpole's shadow and full out tackle Bruno's massive form. They both bit the dust. There was a wild struggle in the dust, and it ended with Nico on top, his lip and nose bleeding, his knee on Bruno's throat. He pressed ruthlessly.

"You're the one who freaking shoved me head first into a pit!" Spittle mingled with blood flew from his snarls as Bruno struggled. Nico pressed harder.

But Bruno was the superior in strength. He threw Nico off of him, stood, and grabbed the scrawny Ghost King by the ankle. He was swung around like a doll and, sickeningly, he head slammed against the flagpole.

Was Bruno insane?!

I got my answer as he turned to face us. His eyes were burning scarlet. The angry, wicked glow reminded me of those ten dollars my dead dad owed me. I shook my head. Why would I care? How could I care? It was then that I knew what this was.

The Gift of Ares.

That's why Nico seemed so livid! He was under the influence of Bruno's magic. As was I, mildly speaking. Bruno was grinning crazily, his teeth jagged and bloody. Di immortales… Nico had gotten him good. I haven't even seen that punch land.

"Back off," he snarled. Blood was dripping down his chin and onto his chin. All four screens way above Leo's Folly showed Bruno as he reached up to take the flag.

The crowd began booing. Their collected voices adjoined in their disdain for the son of Mars, and so the guy waved his arms. "What?!" he challenged, "What's the matter, eh?"

A stone struck his temple.

Everybody slooooooooowly turned to see the caster of the stone. There Max stood, holding in his trembling fist a leather slingshot he must have tucked away in his back pocket.

"Y-…" he swallowed, "Y-… Y-You don't deserve that."

I cursed Max's foolishness. Who cared about the reward? This guy needed to be put down like professionals. I looked for Jason, who might be said professional, but he was nowhere to be seen. Of course! He'd gone to see if Piper was okay. Leaving me and an unconscious Nico, and a Max who was too brave for his own heart.

"Well, well. If it ain't Rudolf, the stuttering w-w-wonder," Bruno cackled his cruelness, spinning Max's spear he had appropriated between his meaty fingers. His eyes glinted in the sun, scarlet and terrifying.

"Leave him alone," I had spoken before even by brain caught up with me to drag me away to the country of reason and rational thinking. Unfortunately for me, I was foreign to such a land, and knew nothing of it.

"And the underdog!" Bruno laughed again, looking me over, "Honestly didn't think you'd make it this far, midget."

Fury outranks reason by far.

"What didja just call me?!" I was charging for him before I knew even to think. Max held me back in my rage. "Say that again, I dare ya!"

"With a temper," Bruno rose both of his near nonexistent brows, "I like a girl with a temper."

He turned, as if he was going for another grab at the flag, but suddenly spun back around, hurling a rock. Just as it struck Max in the head, he charged him.

Ass the spear came down to finish the meek Max, my Bo staff spun and knocked his attack aside. We clashed several times in a furious entanglement of strikes and blows, none meeting their marks, both greeting in a harsh clang as the poles met. We were locked, and the heels of my combat boots dug into the gravel and dirt under foot as I stood my ground against this beastly demigod. I stared up into the scarlet depths of his burning eyes.

"Kill him," I growled from behind clenched teeth, "I dare you."

It was a Bo staff verses a spear. The only difference was that Bruno's spear had a sharp head, knocking off his balance to duel successfully with a Bo staff.

I blocked his blows, backing off as he advanced. My rage was overcome by fear, and my eyes widened in response to his sheer strength! What- does this guy take magic steroids or somethin'?

I ducked under a blow aimed for my head (probably to dislocate it), and stuck out for his knees. But the bottom half of Bruno's spear swung low and deflected my attack. I sidestepped another attack, my training imprinted in my brain from hours of swinging, ducking dodging, determined to learn the defensive tool of a ninja.

I hadn't realized this at the time, but the crowds had been chanting my name as I faced off with the brute.

"Lindsey Jones! Lindsey Jones! Lindsey Jones!"

Bruno overcame me before a minute had passed by, sweeping my legs from under me with startling strength. And without hesitation, he rose his spear to finish me.

The sky darkened. A clast of thunder peeled over the sky and with an earsplitting BANG, both shoes were blown off of Bruno's feet as his smoking form was thrown down the face of Leo's Folly, head over heels, heels over head.

The crowd cheered as I sat up to see Jason standing beside the flagpole, his smoking golden gladius leveled.

"You hurt Piper," he seethed from behind gritted teeth. I don't think Bruno could hear him. "Nobody hurts Piper."

I groaned and flopped back. I knew I was dirty and bloody and bruised. I knew that my finger was probably broken from one of Bruno's many blows. But I was alive. Alive.

I couldn't help it. All the relief, the victory and sheer pride in achieving what I have done all resulted into laughter which bubbled out from my mouth and into the summer air. I was laughing so hard I was holding my aching stomach. Wiping tears from my vision, I pulled myself to my feet, still snickering to myself.

My eyes found a pair a dirty sneakers. I lifted my gaze, and my breath came out of me.

Max held in his hands the scarlet flag. He was smiling, his cheeks flushed with joy. I smiled back.
"Congrats, Max."

"No," he said, and I blinked as he pushed the flag into my hands.

The crowd erupted, putting all previous cheers to utter shame. The ground shook with thousands of adjoined voices as they chanted my name. Thousands of demigods beat the ground under their boots, clapped their hands together, and smiled their widest smiles.

All for the first Queen of the Hill, Lindsey Jones.

I laughed to myself. All this, and I hadn't even been claimed.

…

The rest of the day had been abuzz for the Queen of the Hill.

Max had been given his fair share of claps on the backs as well. Even a huntress of Artemis, albeit grudgingly, had complimented him on his arm. Max beamed shyly. Bruno had been led away buy a few armed demigods, sons of Ares and Mars, and locked him away in the basement of the Big House. The Director was discussing banishment with Chiron and Jason Grace, the last of which had a personal vendetta against the son of Mars. Piper and Nico were both in the infirmary, undergoing sturdy recovery. Nico hadn't like the place. "Too much white," he had complained.

And so here I am, in bed, at the very end of the craziest day of my life.

Kitty, I plan to write in you more often.

I feel that I'll have lots more to write about beyond today.

Love, Lindsey

...

The next chapter we will be with Percy once again!