SLOPPY, percy jackson

ELEVEN

IF the war games had been an actual battle, Valeria Prince would have wound up killing a dozen demigods a couple times over.

The fight was complete mayhem after their group emerged from the trench. Percy caused the nearest water cannon to explode, flattening some of the defenders against the battlements and even sending a few over the wall. It was like a domino effect, one after another the water cannons exploded in a line of blue, green, and white bursts.

Val was the second to grab a hold of the ropes that Frank shot up the wall (she let Frank go first - she didn't totally suck), and she was halfway up before she glanced back at the entire attacking squadron below.

The Fifth Cohort had never looked so dumbfounded, the Fourth Cohort was still standing on the sidelines, and the Third was scattered and confused because what the fuck was this?

She did what she was best at - she yelled. "Everyone attack!"

Attack they did. And it was pure fucking chaos.

Frank was essentially a heavily armored bowling ball, taking down defenders left and right. Hazel was waving around her cavalry sword like it was the only weapon she would ever need. And Percy... well, Val could safely say that she'd never seen anyone fight the way he did.

Had the daughter of Bellona been of a more robust vocabulary, she was sure she would be able to summarize the way that Percy Jackson fought with some eloquent words and astonishing visuals. However, she wasn't. So, for a lack of better words - Percy Jackson fought like an absolute demon.

His style was utterly unorthodox. He rolled under their feet, slashed out with his sword rather than stabbing as the Romans did, and he whacked at campers with the flat of his blade. Plus, he was generally causing mass panic.

It was completely... gods, it was something. Enthralling, impressive, absolutely fucking baffling.

Octavian yelled out on a shrill voice - maybe ordering the First Cohort to stand their ground, maybe trying to sing soprano, Val wasn't one to judge (yes she was) - but the Prince girl put a stop to it. She rushed past the Jackson boy, launching herself over a line of shields, and slammed the butt of one of her sica blades into Octavian's helmet.

He dropped like someone had cut the strings of a marionette puppet. Val smirked as she twirled her twin blades in her hand, timing to face Percy as he appeared in the corner of her eye.

"I was really looking forward to doing that." He almost looked disappointed.

"You snooze you lose, Water Boy."

"That's not fair, I'm new here." Percy jokingly defended, hands raised up and Riptide momentarily hanging limp in his hand.

Val quirked an eyebrow, her face nothing but teasing. "Oh? But I thought you liked capture-the-flag?"

Percy grinned, "So this is capture-the-flag?"

"Jackson, if you can beat me to those banners, you can call it whatever the hell you want."

And then Percy smirked, and the gleam in his eyes was possibly the most mischievous thing that the daughter of Bellona had ever seen. "Sounds like a deal."

Then the two of them charged as one, bobbing and weaving around one another, ducking around each others swinging blades. It was daunting, the two of them in battle together, almost seeming to function as the same machine despite their completely opposite styles. Somehow they seemed to be on the same page, and there wasn't a person in sight who didn't manage to be surprised by it.

Each time the daughter of Bellona took to the battlefield it was like she was coming to life. Her sica's were like extensions of her arms, two imperial gold blades that had never fit anything but naturally in her hands. They were a comfort to her, but a warning sign to all those around her.