Those Strange People (A Mortals Meet Demigods Collection)

Sierra Parks

I slipped the explosive between the car seat and the armrest, and threw myself out of the car. Rolling on the ground, I watched as the battered pick-up truck barreled straight into the base.

You did not just do the car thing again. A voice crackled through my earpiece.

I flicked a tiny switch on the black device in my ear. "What makes you say that, Igloo?"

I heard an explosion. And car noises.

"I thought I told you no listening through!"

Well, you've gotten yourself into many scrapes before. I was betting you'd get into another on this mission.

"Consider yourself lucky to not have to come in and rescue me---"

"Put your hands up where I can see them." A man behind me ordered. I slowly turned around, my hands in the air. 

What was that?

I didn't dare answer Igloo. Instead, I kept my attention on the man holding a gun to my face, which I decided was the least worst of threats against my life at the current moment.

He shot the gun.

I died.

The end.

Just kidding.

But he did shoot the gun....at the empty air where my head was. Then he was knocked unconscious by my flying foot.

Prankster, what happened?

I felt a shooting pain hit me forcefully in my left thigh, and toppled down onto the grass. "Nothing happened. I'm...." I sneezed because of the grass tickling my nose, "fine. No one's shooting at me. No leg wounds from a bullet. Nu-uh. None of that sort." I managed to hop back up and limp painfully towards the bunch of trees where my small jet was hidden.

WHAT?!?! You GOT HIT?!?!

"Nope, I'm good, about to fly out with them on my tail, shooting some really fast and high bullets---OH *BEEP*!!" I ducked as another bullet came flying at me before the cockpit door shut down. Continuing to use language that would have caused my mother to make me drink a bottle of hand soap, I started the little jet, and steered it through the trees and into the sky.

Prankster, I swear, if you seriously got hit, I am going to personally pull out the bullet. And it will be very painful. Igloo crackled through the comm on my dashboard.

"Like you actually know how." I mumbled as I sped through a flock of birds.

What was that?

"Nothing."

Anyways, when you get back, and after we get your leg looked at, Team Epsilon is needed for another mission.

"I thought Team Eppie was done for after that last mishap with the ten-day submarine trip."

Which you caused.

"It was Scholar's and Widget's faults, not mine!"

We all know you 'bumped' the self-destruct button.

"Well, if Scholar didn't put it in such an obvious place, my clumsy self wouldn't have bumped into it!" I spotted the edge of St. Louis, with the Arch glinting in the sun. I shifted my wounded leg to the landing gear pedal, releasing a short grunt of surprise as pain shot up my leg. "I'm gonna be back in about a minute. That enough time to fix my leg and meet with Team Eppie?"