#because they were so eager to replace jason with percy as a praetor despite not even knowing if jason was alove

[aetsiv]

you're going to make me sob op. this is so true and exactly why i despise camp jupiter. also, the fact that they eagerly replaced him as praetor with percy without a second thought despite hardly even looking for jason, despite the fact that jason trained for years to earn his praetorship and percy was at camp for 2 fucking weeks (not even really at camp since he was on a quest).

Whenever I think of Camp Jupiter.. I just get so.. mad. Knowing that even after 11 years of Jason's sheer service, even after the fact that he dedicated his whole life to Rome at the age of 2, a ripe CHILD, a BABY, nobody even cared to look for him even 6 months after his disappearance..??

Nobody went "I miss Jason!" Like everyone did in Camp half blood for Percy, even the hunters of Artemis went out of their way to look for him. Jason's "friends" Dakota or Gwendolyn never spared a glance at his direction, his friendship with Reyna was fractured because of communication issues, etc.

Camp Jupiter was, realistically NOTHING without Jason (and Reyna duh) yet they have the audacity to neglect him.

And then they cheaply "made up" for it by giving him some grand state funeral. What's the point? His body was wrapped in an expensive silk, but his soul left that world feeling useless and unwanted. An expensive fancy funeral isnt going to change that.

His funeral was dark and empty, because not a single one of his Greek friends could make it.

Jason Grace was doomed to be chained to the clutches of the soulless camp of Rome till the very end. Like Michael Varus said "born a roman, die a roman"

Camp Jupiter was more or less a dystopian society covered up with beautiful architecture. Like shiny fake gold that wears off its glow.

[jflashandclash]

Attrition of Peace

Twelve: Frank

Thank the Gods My Dad is Roman

 Frank was determined to act like everything was normal today. He wanted to pretend he hadn’t spent the first half of yesterday avoiding his girlfriend and the latter half of the day chasing down weasels. No matter what animal he had turned into, he’d discovered weasels were difficult to catch.

Normally, he found his praetor house unbearably lonely. Jason had helped him take all of Jason’s stuff out, and put Frank’s stuff in. Members of the Fifth Cohort had snuck in for sleepovers a few times, but it was huge compared to the barracks. It made him think of his family’s burned mansion in North Vancouver.

At least he hadn’t blown up Camp Jupiter and Reyna could go on her date in peace. Despite all his heroics the past summer, he was still scared of disappointing her.

And he was scared of telling anyone that his stick was missing.

He must have misplaced it. That’s what he kept telling himself, but he kept imagining someone thinking it was a piece of kindling and throwing it in the fire. He’d furtively had the members of the Fifth Cohort go through their guests clothing when they went to the baths last night—just in case. He had known they were going to leave to catch a flight this morning, one earlier than morning inspection, and he didn’t want his stick to do some cross country traveling without him.

But nothing. He’d retraced all of his steps as a bloodhound to see if he could pick up the smell. The scent dead-ended at the Principia, intermixed with the various scents of their new guests. It was like someone had poofed with it. He didn’t know how it could disappear without him knowing. Normally, that thing weighed on him heavier than Sisyphus’s boulder.

This alone time at the praetor house gave him the quiet he needed to panic as he shaved his patchy chin growth and prepared to suit up for the day.

Then a shimmery image of Annabeth appeared in his mirror. Well, not in his mirror. Where the sunlight caught the steam in front of his mirror.

Frank yelped, stumbled backwards, and almost tripped over the toilet.

“Oh gods, it actually got through!” Annabeth cheered. “Frank!”

“Hey Annabeth,” he said, trying to pull his shirt and pants on as quickly and casually as he could. Knowing Annabeth, she wouldn’t even notice, but he could still feel his cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I thought Iris Messaging hasn’t been working.”

“It hasn’t!” Percy’s voice came from somewhere behind her. “And Iris hasn’t been giving me any drachma refunds!”

“Percy!” he cried. Just hearing their voices was calming. Maybe they’d have some ideas on how to find his kindling. “It’s good to hear from you two.”

“Unfortunately, we don’t have time to digress,” Annabeth said. She turned her face towards Percy and Frank could imagine the chastising look she was giving Percy. She looked back towards Frank, having given him—possibly strategically—time to change. “We’re looking for some demigods. They’re lead by a guy called Axel Pax—”

“He’s here. Why?” Frank said. He felt something squishy on his shirt. He reached down and found shaving cream smeared all over his clothing. He sighed, realizing he’d have to get changed again.

Percy snorted, “Because one of the girls with him went a little Poison Ivy and killed a bunch of mortals.”

“Percy! We’re not sure exactly what happened yet!”

Frank stared at Annabeth’s image. “What?”

Her expression was grim. “It’s not pretty. She’s carrying Backbiter, Kronos’s old scythe, though it could be in xiphos form. We don’t know what’s going on, but they have definitely proven to be dangerous.”

Frank was starting to feel nauseous, like he’d eaten some ice cream. “We just sent them your way on an airplane. Well, most of them. One of them is here, Axel Pax. Their escorts reported that one of them went missing on the way to the airport, maybe thirty minutes ago. A kid named Pax.” Reyna was supposed to be interrogating Axel about his brother’s disappearance right now.

“Be careful of that kid,” Percy warned. “The Stolls said there are rumors he can change into other people.”

Frank’s nausea solidified into a knot in his stomach. He thought about how Hazel hadn’t quite acted like herself when he saw her yesterday morning on their walk to the battlegrounds and on their… detour. And how Hazel left to grab something, only to show up moments later from a slightly different direction. She’d made him so flustered, he hadn’t thought twice about it.

And he hadn’t noticed his kindling was gone during the rest of practice because he was so focused on what to say to Hazel, and so upset she was acting like nothing had happened.

Frank balled his fists. His face felt like it was on fire and he couldn’t decide if it was from embarrassment or rage. “He has my stick. He stole it from me,” Frank realized.

“What?!” Annabeth asked, her face going pale.

“How?!” Percy asked. “You watch that thing like it’s your… well, your life force.”

“It went missing yesterday morning,” Frank growled. He was going to find that Pax kid, turn into a grizzly bear, and smack him around until Pax gave him his stick back and an apology. How dare he impersonate Hazel like… like that.

“Oh gods,” Annabeth said. “Frank, we’ll find them and your stick. When do the others land in New York?”

Frank shook his head. With trying to round up the weasels, run the camp, avoid Hazel, and look for his stick, he hadn’t paid as much attention to their guests’ itinerary. “I’m not sure, but I can find out from Reyna—but I’m not sure how to get in contact with you after. Iris Messaging hasn’t been working and every time we’ve tried to call you—”

Annabeth frowned. “My cell phone malfunctioned after I took some pictures of an Egyptian journal that we’re pretty sure was cursed.”

Frank probably should have asked, but his anger was too distracting.

“We’re pretty sure they used to be part of Kronos’ army, so the Pax brothers will be trained and—”

“You knew they were part of Kronos’ army and you let them into your camp?” Frank demanded.

Annabeth sighed, like she’d had this conversation before. “That’s not important right now. Just know that they could be very dangerous—”

“—same with that Ana girl—”

“—Euna,” Annabeth corrected. “And, Frank…” Annabeth’s expression changed. “Leo is—”

The image shuddered. Annabeth’s image disappeared as something moved in front of his window, blocking the sunlight’s path to the steam.

Frank almost hoped it was Pax, so he could throttle the kid. But he would have way rather heard the end of that sentence. Leo is… what?

“Those punks are dangerous,” the person said behind him. “But nothing you can’t handle.”

Frank was pretty sure he recognized that voice, though it sounded much smugger than usual. Frank turned, wishing people would stop crashing his bathroom.

He just wanted to finish shaving.

The man behind him wore a pair of dark cargo pants, a dark camo shirt, and a bulletproof vest lined with grenades. His combat boots were caked with mud, adding some unneeded decorations on Frank’s white floor. He wore red-tinted night vision goggles and a black bandana with a skull symbol. He was huge, and shouldered an enormous assault rifle, like a HKG36 on steroids. He stared past Frank, at the mirror. With his other hand, he shaved some scruff off his neck with a hunting knife.

Frank decided he didn’t want to use his dinky razor while this guy was shaving with a hunting knife. Frank could go get a knife from his room to try the same, but—with his luck—that would end this conversation faster than getting Hannibal the elephant to storm the praetor house.

“Mars?” Frank asked. Normally, his father looked like an honorable soldier. This guy looked more like an eager mercenary.

The guy must have been satisfied with his shave job, stowing away his hunting knife. “Eh, close enough kid. Ares. I don’t usually come here like this, especially with all you Romans expecting my other side, but this is personal. To both me and my stiffer side, I guess. And to Rome. But Roman aspect won’t handle this as tactfully as I will.”

Ares set his assault rifle down so he could crack his knuckles.

Frank didn’t understand why he was getting so mad at Ares for tracking dirt into his bathroom. He guessed it was Ares’ aggressive atmosphere, but he still felt like going for a loving father-son smack down. Were the Greek aspects of gods more… influential than the Roman?

“Is this about my stick?” Frank asked. He was mad at himself for asking. He didn’t want to talk about it, but the words just slipped out.

Ares bellowed out a laugh. “Oh no. That’s your problem. This is about those two punks, though mostly about the one that can turn part monster. I gotta hand it to him. If I didn’t hate him, I’d say he has a lot of spunk. Waltzing around Camp Jupiter—like he hadn’t killed two praetors.”

Frank dropped his razor. It clattered on the ground. “He what?!”

Ares shrugged, like this shouldn’t have been shocking. “The legion had to lose two praetors for Reyna and Jason to come to office. I’m not sure how he took out the first one, the one that Reyna replaced, but that monster killed the second in an ambush during the Second Titan War. He wore their medals on his military cloak as battle trophies.”

Wooziness hit Frank. Yesterday, he’d practiced fighting with Axel. He could envision the seemingly genuine glee Axel exuded when battling Reyna. Frank remembered feeling stupidly excited when Axel patted him on the back, complimenting one of his strikes. Axel gave off the confident cool of a leader, one that needed impressing.

But he had smelled weird. Frank couldn’t describe it, other than not-human.

“He killed two praetors. And you’re saying he can turn into a monster?” Frank asked.

“Something like that. I don’t really get it. The Leonis Caput is one of Hecate’s weird magic-science experiments. I’m not sure how much of it comes from being a savage freak, but he has a helmet that can turn him part monster now. But he doesn’t have it on him, so you should be able to take him pretty easily. I kinda wish he did, it would be a better fight.” Ares seemed disappointed.

“Gee, sorry,” Frank muttered.

The Leonis Caput. Frank had heard older legionnaires talk about that creature, one of Krios’s lieutenants.

“It’s a shame. Now, if I remember properly, you Romans are all about quests, right?” Ares scratched under his chin. “You got a pen on you?”

“Uh, no.”

“Augh, why do I feel like Romans never have pens?”

Frank scowled. “We’re in my bathroom.”

“Whatever,” Ares growled. He withdrew a grenade that morphed into a pen and went to scribble on Frank’s wall. Frank wanted to yell at him to stop. He’d have to clean that and the dirt on his floor. He wasn’t sure what the regulations were on yelling at your godly parent, but he assumed it would result in more than being grounded.

“So, you’re supposed to be a good tactician and whatever. If you were this guy, what do you think you’d be up to?”

Frank’s mind whirled. His jaw dropped. The Pax brothers had his stick. And Axel was currently with—

“Reyna,” Frank gasped. “Do you think he’s trying to collect more praetor medals?”

“I don’t know. I just hate the guy. It’s why I cursed him,” Ares said and stepped back from the wall.

“Why do you—”

Ares vanished, leaving Frank with a quest scribbled on his bathroom wall:

Bring the Leonis Caput before the council of the gods for divine judgment. Or at least kick his ass. Have fun kid.

Frank stared at the message for a second, deciding something for sure: the Greek version of his dad was a jerk.

Then he realized he was staring when he should have been scrambling for his armor and weapons. Reyna should be strong enough to hold off the Leonis Caput, right? Especially if he didn’t have his helm?

Good ol’ Ares.... such a great dad!

Sorry I’m running late on updates! It’s been a crazy week. Regardless, I hope you enjoy! I’m super excited for next week’s chapter: Axel’s Handicap of Emotional Heartache. Ready for this book to earn its title! XD