| Chapter 2 || Training Sucks |

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*Dylan_Walts*

| Chapter 2 |

| Training Sucks |

For the first few seconds, I just sat there in shock. My body was stiff as if already prepared for what it knew was coming, but my mind hadn't caught up just yet. It was still processing everything that was happening, trying to make sense of everything that my eyes were seeing.

It was really happening, though.

I was in a camp - an army camp - dressed in all camo. My head had an ache where it had been resting on a rock and my back felt sore from the rocks and twigs that had been digging into it as I slept.

Was this happening? I'm pretty sure it was, but... How? I'd just been on Olympus, hadn't I? In New York? Fighting Kronos and Annabeth was injured and Luke was gone and-

Wait.

What had happened on Olympus?

I wracked my brain, trying to find the answer. Seconds later, a gun being thrown my way broke my concentration. So deep in my thoughts, I barely managed to catch it, my fingers tumbling all over the item before I was able to grip it.

Looking down at the gun in my hands, I gawked. In all my life, I hadn't learned a single thing about guns besides the fact that they were dangerous and they could hurt you, but now, looking down at it, I was amazed to find that information just jumped to mind. With a glance, I named it, as well as all the components, vaguely running through my head how one would take it apart and put it back together.

I knew where the safety release was and where the magazine release was, and of course, I knew how to use it in battle.

How? How could I know everything I needed to know about this weapon? It seemed like the type of power a child of Ares would have, similar to how I named all of the species of fish at the aquarium when my third-grade class went there on a field trip.

Once again, my inner thoughts were interrupted.

"Get up, princess! We're moving out!" It was the same guy that threw the gun at me.

I didn't move right away. Apparently, that wasn't the right reaction because the guy roughly grabbed my arm and heaved me to my feet, then let go as I unceremoniously tried to remain upright. I had just then noticed how heavy all the equipment was. It weighed me down like depression and stank like the boy's locker room during a heatwave. It also didn't help that I was already drenched in mud despite having just arrived, - at least, I thought I'd just arrived.

Standing in line with a bunch of other men my age, I had just enough time to notice that we all sort of looked like clones of each other - lanky, tired, and close-shaved.

"Okay, you wimps, we're gonna whip you into combat-ready shape! Then, we'll ship ya off to the front with all the rest of the boys out there!" barked the drill sergeant.

At least he was blunt.

"You pansies were just brought in from the States yesterday due to the draft, and if y'all aren't ready, we'll never kick those Nazis back to their hidey-holes in Germany, where they belong!"

My eyebrows nearly soared off my face. Draft? Nazis? Germany? What was going on? Was I in World War II or something? Or was this some alternate universe where the war never ended?

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