Opposites Attract

Part Two

     Now, considering fire and ice are polar opposites, the Elsa you met in the previous chapter being strict and mature and cold, that means the character you're about to meet is quite different. With great pride I introduce you to the witty, the clever, the bad boy supreme, the super sized McShizzle . . . Leo Valdez.

     Leo Valdez was, where we find him when this story starts, at the forges, determined to build a functioning device to alter the DNA composition of frogs, so that they might evolve the instinct to make tacos for their great overlord. So far all he had come up with was neon orange frogs that had rather alarming flatulence that smelled suspiciously of refried beans.

     "Leo!" A familiar voice called from the doorway. Leo waved her off, not even looking over.

     "Leo, it's dinner time!" Nyssa shoved him once she walked over. Leo mumbled something but turned towards his half sister. Perhaps the Taco Frog Overlord would have to wait. She dragged him to the pavilion.

     After an uneventful dinner, Leo almost returned to the forges, but decided against it. He'd had enough frog farts for one day. So instead he retired to the Hephaestus cabin and flopped on his lovely bed. Gazing up at the ceiling, Leo folded his hands behind his head and realized that something was bothering him. Something he couldn't put his finger on. And no, it wasn't the dirty looks cabin mates were shooting at him for smelling like bad bean farts. Something was wrong, and Leo could sense it.

     He dismissed the thought and hit the button that lowered the bed into the spacious room below the cabin. His Leo-Cave. The past few months he had totally decked it out, installing a floor to wall television, every game system he could get the blueprints to, and, for reasons even Leo himself couldn't figure out, a dance floor complete with a functioning disco ball. It just felt right.

     He rolled off his bed and paced, kicking off his shoes and padded across the carpet in his sock feet. His gaze darted to the screen on the wall and wondered why something felt wrong. His Leo Cave was in order, just how he liked it, that is to say, a complete mess with various colored socks and shirts strewn everywhere, his tools around his work table in disarray, the smooth jazz playing softly from hidden speakers that randomly started playing even when Leo programmed it not to. He decided to remove the speakers altogether, but then grew accustomed to unexpected jazz and kept them.

     He walked over to his main control board, a portable keyboard, a cued up an old arcade game, which slid out from between two doors leading to what he called, for lack of a better word, his prop closet. He brought up a game of Galaga and once again beat his high score. No, that wasn't even bothering him. Jason had managed to get third place on Leo's machine, and ever since, Leo was determined to get him off the score board altogether. Now he had done so, yet he still felt some unease.

     Leo shivered as he felt a draft, and looked around. Then, just because he could, and because loud, chaotic noises helped him think (because he could relate to them) he typed in 'Crazy Train' and blared that from the walls loud enough to drown out his thoughts. The walls of the Leo Cave were sound proof, so he enjoyed music loud enough to burst his ear drums. He flopped back on his bed and subconsciously tapped out in Morse Code 'I love you' on the headboard.

     Everything was normal. What could be going on that was bothering him? He was just getting paranoid. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, the guitar solo calming him. He felt another draft, and pulled his blankets up to his chin.

     Suddenly he sat up and looked around, eyes wide. The Leo Cave is underground. There are no windows or any vents that connect directly outside. Where could a draft be coming from?

     He stood and pressed his hand to the wall, sensing all the mechanics hidden within it. They all seemed to be in working order, including the heater and air conditioner, keeping the room at a comfortable 67 degrees. There were no cracks in the walls, no poor ventilation, no malfunctions. The gears were working flawlessly. So that meant whatever was generating the cold air was inside the Leo Cave.

     And that got Leo angry.

     The Leo Cave was exactly that. The Leo Cave. Not the Whatever-Is-Generating-Random-Drafts-In-An-Airtight-Underground-Room Cave. It was his cave, his room, his home, his sanctuary. And that meant whatever was in his room was trespassing. He felt his hands catch fire as he turned to face the seemingly empty room.

     "Alright." He shouted over the chorus of Crazy Train. "Lets get ready to rumble! Leo style."