Trick - JayDickWeek2017 - Day 4: Greek Mythology

Trick - JayDickWeek2017 - Day 4: Greek Myth

A/N The prompt for day 4 was Greek mythology, so I couldn't help doing a crossover with my childhood favorite: Percy Jackson and the Olympians. This was a lot of fun to write, so I hope you all enjoy this! Comment which god or goddess you think would be your parent! Mine would be either Athena or Zeus according to most tests I've taken, though a couple tests have said Poseidon as well.

Jason was in the woods. That was to be expected when playing Capture the Flag. He wished Camp Half Blood held these competitions more often but he had learned to make due.

It was getting hot under his armor, but he didn't dare take any of it off. He knew he didn't need it to win a fight, but he liked to finish them with as few marks as possible – a testament to his skills. He sat in the woods, not even trying to be stealthy. There was very little chance of him succeeding in hiding or using camouflage anyway. He was too big, too obvious – too threatening – to blend in with his environment. He'd always stood out from the crowd, much to his teachers' dismay. Bruce had frequently lamented his lack of a capacity for stealth, though Jason didn't think he had any right to talk, being a centaur and all. Mr. J just rambled on about how unfair it was that he was stuck at the camp instead of off wreaking mass terror, and any break in that stream of words was filled with him loudly broadcasting to every demigod at Camp that he wished they would all die terribly deaths.

Olympus might a very big mistake assigning the Joker to be Camp Director.

Jason was on the Red Team. He was always on the Red Team, and so the Red Team always won. Nobody could stand against the Ares Cabin under normal circumstances, but ever since Jason had taken over as Cabin Counselor, they just couldn't lose. Well, except for that one time that Artemis' Hunters came to visit, but they didn't talk about that... incident.

Jason had seen any of the other members of his team for a while. Jason was guarding the middle, the perfect position for the leader of the team and the Camp's greatest warrior. He could go for the flag if he sensed an opportunity, or he could double back to defend the Red Team's flag if needed. He'd run into a few of the Blue Team's members, and it had been easy to incapacitate them with his sword.

He preferred his gun, custom made from celestial bronze. The bullets were made of the same special metal, and they ripped through monsters like a hot knife through butter. It had been a gift from Ares to his (currently) favorite son, and it was enchanted so that it never ran out of bullets. It was an unfair, yet welcome advantage against monsters of any kind, but it was forbidden in Capture the Flag. Demigods were better than normal mortals at combat, but they still weren't good enough to dodge a bullet, and it took too long to heal from the wounds it would leave behind. So Jason made do with a celestial bronze sword and a couple of backup knives hidden in strategic places on his person.

It was easy to tell the difference between his team and the enemy. Most campers tied a blue or red colored strip of fabric onto their armor or around their bicep. Jason's friend Roy had a red handprint painted on the front of his breastplate. He knew a few of the flashier guys who had Mohawks attached to their helmets in the color of whatever team they were on. It was only a good idea to make the color a permanent fixture if you were always on the same team. Ares was always on the winning team, and they always picked red, so it made sense for Jason to have made the color a permanent part of his battle attire.

He didn't wear a strip of fabric, but he thought the Mohawks looked ridiculous, and he was just a little too flashy for something like Roy's handprint. No, instead Jason had dunked his entire helmet in a can of red paint. Not only did it make it absolutely obvious which team he was on, but it also made him readily identifiable to everyone at Camp, whether on his team or not. He was the only one with such a helmet, and he was the greatest warrior at Camp Half Blood, so seeing his blood-red helmet often struck fear into whoever was dumb enough to approach him, whether to spar or to engage him in Capture the Flag. It had become a symbol. Indeed, some of the campers had even started calling him the Red Hood.