XI-- Jason

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Disclaimer: Don’t own PJO or HOO. . . Rick Riordan does. . .

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XI—Jason

In the same moment that Jason realized that the Argo II had stopped rocking, he also realized that Percy had been right about one thing.

He did look like a blond Superman.

Sure, Jason had seen his reflection in mirrors tons of times before, but actually seeing himself in the flesh, right before him, made him notice just how uncannily similar he resembled the superhero from Krypton.

Superhero, Hero of Olympus—they were close enough, after all, both superheroes and Heroes of Olympus had to ultimately save the world.

The only thing that Jason needed to become Superman were the dark hair, laser vision, the super strength, super breath, ability to absorb energy from the Sun, invulnerability, ability to heal, x-ray vision, super senses, and super speed.

Okay, maybe he wasn’t that much like Superman.

But he did have the flying powers, surely that counted for some brownie points.

And now he kind of wished that he didn’t have the ability to fly because now the Jason-clone in front of them had taken flight, and was hurtling straight towards him.

OOF!

Jason grunted as his clone crashed into him, sending him flying across the mess hall.

His body slammed hard into the wall, and the images of Camp Half-Blood on it crackled and flickered.

A lightning bolt of agony shot down his back, as if the pain from his already bruised sides wasn’t enough. He wouldn’t be surprised if he had cracked a rib or two, or permanently misaligned his spine.

“Jason!”

Piper’s voice echoed blearily in the back of Jason’s dazed mind, and he turned to where he thought the sound was coming from.

The Jason-clone thrust out an arm in Piper’s direction, and immediately, Piper’s hands flew to her neck, as if she was trying to pry someone’s invisible hands away from strangling her.

A surge of anger rushed through Jason’s veins, all the way up to the blood in his brain—clearing the fog that floated around in his head.

 He managed to find his voice again.

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