7 Answers pt.1

"Jack?" I leaped, throwing my arms around my friend. It had only been less than an hour since I had seen him, but he was a sight for sore eyes, nevertheless. He winced when I hugged him, but soon wrapped his arms around me, as well.

I had never quite realized just how much taller he was than me, before I burrowed my head into his chest in a hug. I also realized that we had never hugged before - or even had any physical contact, in the entire time we've known each other the past one and a half years (er, I guess it's more than two years since then, now?) . He smelled nice. Not like sweat or musk, like i would usually smell from his cell due to his constant workouts with lack of proper ventilation. But rather, he smelled of earth, tree sap and a strange iron-like smell that i couldnt quite point out.

I suddenly noticed a warm, wet feeling on my cheek, before breaking the hug to examine my friend, simultaneously feeling my cheek.

Jack wore a black hoodie over a red t-shirt, a pair of black gym pants with white lining as pants. His skin was no longer a vampire-pale anymore, but rather a brown, healthy tan, like he had been outdoors all day, every day, for months. His clothing were a bit worn and tattered, but nothing major. The two odd parts of him, though, were the clawmarks on his shirt, as well as the antlers that sat strapped to his arms. His t-shirt - i realized - was not red at all, but rather white. When I brought my hand in front of me, I realized the warm, wet sensation I felt, as well as the red color I saw, was fresh blood. His t-shirt had three, large clawmarks that went from his right ribcage down to his left hip, looking like a Monster energy drink logo.He did not seem to have any injuries, underneath, though. The antlers on his arms were positioned so the horns pointed towards him, acting like some primitive - as well as unaffective - shield. They were both strapped to his arms using two belts on each arm. I admit I blushed a bit when I realized I was staring at the tears in his shirt, that perfectly displayed his chest muscles. I looked away.

"What happened to you?" I asked, gesturing my blood-covered hand at his stomach.

"Well, i um ..." He stammered. "Maybe we should save that story for a bit later?" He looked over at the man and his wife, who looked both unsure of what to say.

"Ah, right. Ok." I muttered.

Jack started walking towards the couple. Out of instinct, i followed. Until i remembered i could not seem to move.

"Hey, how come you can get close to the door, and I just do some weird moonwalk?" I asked, annoyed. The man looked confused at my condition.

"Strange" He mumbled, "It usually does not do that to people ..." Before I could really ask what he meant, and what 'it' he was referring to. But before I could, he spoke up.

"I, Rick Riordan, son of Clio of the muses, give you permission to enter." The building seemed to tremble when he finished, rumbling could be heard outside the building, which i could swear sounded like lightning, even though it was clear out only moments ago.

"I apologize, my magic barrier isn't as perfect as the one at Camp, it's supposed to only ward off monsters-" He stopped. "Forgive me, I'm rambling. Come on in."

Jack had to unstrapp his antlers and take off his shirt before Rick's wife would allow him into the house. Jack seemed to panic at the thought of taking his shirt off in front of people, so she let him at least enter and use the bathroom. I did not really know why he was ashamed of taking his shirt off, it's not like he did not have the body for i-

'No! Bad Nora, bad! 'I scolded myself for imagining Jack without his shirt on.

I was led to the tv room, and told to make myself comfortable, while Rick went into what I assumed to be his office, and his wife went off to make some sandwiches or snacks or whatever she said she was going to do.

I sat down on one end of a sofa, looking around the room. There were a lot more bookcases than I would've pegged a normal household to have, the tv being nearly covered by stacks of books and papers, barely making the screen visible. Another set of bronze, double edged swords sat on the wall opposite of the wall, like the one in Mr. Citon's office.

I sat there, looking around uncomfortably, until, finally, Jack emerged from the hallway. He had his antlers strapped to his back in an 'X' or a weird pair of boney wings, covering his head in its horns. They were strapped to his back with two belts around his torso - also in an 'X'. The other two belts he had used, looped around his biceps. He looked like a steampunk pirate that just got out of the shower, his long, brown hair hung down freely, framing his face, and covering the chest of his closed hoodie. His gym pants and hoodie seemed less caked with mud than it was before, in the corridor outside. I guessed Jack took the liberty to wash them up in the sink or something.

"You did not make a mess in there, did you?" I teased. He clearly looked relaxed,

"Can you blame me? I havent had a shower since prison, and i havent had a hot one in over two years!" He laughed, sitting down next to me.

"So, while we wait, why do not you tell me what happened to you?" I turned to him where he sat. "All I heard was that there was an explosion, and you seemed to have escaped the prison." He leaned back in the expensive-looking sofa with a sigh. He seemed to be wondering the same thing.

"Well, all I know is, one second, I'm watching my friend being executed, and the next, a bright light surrounded everything, and I found myself in a target store, watching our faces in the televisions there like modern Wanted posters . "He chuckled at the memory. "Needless to say, I freaked out. No one seemed to pay me notice when I made my way out of the store, though, so I guess not many cared enough about the news. But it quickly became evident i was the 'Jack the Slasher 'that had escaped. "

"'Jack the Slasher?' I looked at him incredulously. He laughed.

"The nickname I got from the people in the community there, duno why, I never 'slashed' anyone or anything there. Anyways, I was forced to flee into the woods that surrounded the community I had shown up in, and lived in those woods for months. "His smile darkened." Then I met this- "he looked at me skeptically, clearing his voice before continuing, "I met a woman. Said she had been looking for me, and the next thing I knew, I was in an alleyway. I could hear yours "and that guard's voice, you know, Jacksson?" He sat up. "I tried following you at a distance - I do not know why, maybe because I was wary of Jacksson, but I got lost. Thats when-" He stopped, his hand reached for his ribs,

"When you got all bloody? How? Did something attack you?" He emidiately looked uncomfortable.

"Yeah." He rubbed his neck. "Well, you will not ever really believe me, but I believe I was attacked by a" he trailed off, softening his voice to a whisper, "A sphinx". He looked at me when he said that, waiting for my response. I just looked at him.

"A, what?" Weren't sphinxes those big statues in egypt? Or was there something that I did not know?

"I do not know how else to describe it, it was a lion with a womans head on - although, geez, that woman's head could use with a bit less make up, it almost looked porcalain with all that makeup on." he rolled his eyes at the thought.

"Anyways, the lion-sphinx thing managed to get a good hit on me before I could react." He traced three fingers accros his torso. "I managed to run, but it caught up to me easily. It actually spoke! It said something about its 'master will be so glad that she found me'. But before it could grab me again, the guard from before, Jacksson? He came out of nowhere and punched the thing, sending it flying like it was just a common house cat! " He punched his fist in front of him, as though for dramatic effect. Did he do this when we talked in prison as well? The idea made me snicker to myself.

"But you want to know what was probably the most bizarre thing that happened?" He turned to me. "It, disintigrated! As soon as it hit the wall of the alleyway we were at, it seemed to turn to dust right before me, leaving nothing behind! After that, Jacksson pulled out a canister of some weird liquid and poured it on me wounds, and they healed instantly! I do not know what's more weird! It's all like in that bookseries I always talked about in prison, remember? Percy Jacksson? " I knew what he was talking about. He seemed to reference that bookseries every other day. Honestly, you'd think we had nothing better to do. Which we did not, so I guess that's fair. He'd say that he was most bummed out over the fact he could not read anymore books that the author, Rick Riordan published, since we were ' t allowed to read anything from outside the prison library - which distinctly lacked fantasy genre books. I know, because Jack would ask them to check every month.

Wait, Rick Riordan? Wasn't that the name of the salt-pepper guy?

"Wait, isn't Rick Riordan the name of the author of that bookseries?" I asked, interrupting whatever he was still talking about - probably a Percy Jacksson reference. He paused mid sentance, mouth still open, as he thought about this.

"Yeah, how co-" He paused, seeming to have pieced the pieces together like i had. Was our host the author of Jack's favorite bookseries? That would not make sense, why were we - two death row escapee's - meeting him?

Before I could speak my question to Jack, our host appeared from his office, a tall stack of books in his hands, obscuring his vision of the room. He cursed when he his his leg on the coffee table, but managed to not drop the books, but rather gently put them down on the table, before plopping down on a couch, opposite of the sofa we sat on.

"Now, before we continue, I need to know," he placed the books in rows before us. "Which of these, if any, have you two read?"

We both stared at Rick, unsure of what to say, while also incredulous at the possibility that this was a famous author.

Jack looked at the assortment of hard-covers, and his face lit up, pointing at book after book, answering which ones he's read. Surprisingly, he had read more than two thirds of them - the bookworm.

Jack had told me that the main reason he loved Rick's books were because they seemed to be the only books that he could read well, with his dyslexia. I myself hadn't read a single one of them, so I did not know if it mightve worked for me as well - seeing as I had dyslexia myself. I decided to try it out, and picked the first book i saw.

This book read 'Kane Chronicles' on it. I opened it and read the first few sentences. To my surprise, I could read it perfectly! The words did not seem to jumble up or escape my mind when i read it! Rick seemed to read my mind, because before I could ask about it, he spoke.

"All my books are printed with a magically enchanted ink, that allowed people like you to be able to read it's english as though it were ancient greek." He smirked. My head spun at the jumble of words he just threw at me. 'Magical ink'? 'Ancient greek'? 'People like me'?

"Jack - that was your name, right?" Rick turned to my friend. He nodded enthusiastically. "You seem to have the best grasp at the contents in my books, could you tell me why Percy Jacksson did not get to know about his parenting until absolutely necessary?" Jack expression seemed to glow in light of this sudden pop-quiz. He almost looked like a kid, if it were not for the fact he was six foot, five.

"Because it put him in more danger when he knew he was a demigod!" A demi ... What? I started to get a headache, the more these two talked.

"That's right!" Rick said with obious satisfaction. His wife appearing behind him with a tray of snacks and a pitcher of water, which she put down on the table, next to all the books. "My books were published with two goals in mind, one being raising funds for the camp, and the other, being informing demigods about the world around them, while still keeping the 'knowledge' of them 'not' being a demigod, thus not putting them in danger. "

"Seems like it worked like a charm with you." Rick's wife chuckled, as she handed him a fresh t-shirt. "Here, I threw away your old one, you can put it on later." And with that, she sat down.

"Thanks, but Rick, does that mean that all of it is real? Is camp real?" He asked, as though he could not believe his ears. Me? Well, I was just catching on to the fact that there is a 'camp' somewhere, which these two are referring to as though it's existence were common knowledge - meanwhile, I was trying my best to keep up with the conversation.

"All of it" Rick smirked, "Percy, his adventures, the monsters he encountered, the people he met, as well as all of the other characters you read in my books. They are all real, and they are the same as you Two. " He paused.

"You two are demigods."