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CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR game, set...match!
VERONA BLAZE
She thought she had seen the end of the world. She thought she had seen it all, really — every single one of the gods selfish acts, every single thing that could destroy her. But she hadn't. The end of the world didn't start, not really, until Annabeth got a message from Percy in the late morning telling her to gather up the troops and meet them at the Empire State Building. It figured that of all the places they had to defend, it wouldn't be Camp, their home, but the gods home instead. Who cared if their home was destroyed? As long as Olympus remained safe, she supposed. Though destroying Olympus was the end all, for all of them, so it made sense. Annabeth, though nervous and not liking the fact that she knew very little of Percy's plan, had with the head counsellors help rounded up all the campers (which were unfortunately just around forty to fifty, a lot had turned to Luke's side or died) and shove them into vans, on their way to Mount Olympus.
The only exception was Ares cabin.
And it had enraged Verona.
So, in one last feeble and albeit, more angry than pleading attempt, Verona had paid one last visit to the Ares cabin right before she left, weapons and armour strapped on her, feeling colder than she had in a while. She was fighting in heels, funnily enough. For some reason, most of the Aphrodite cabin was. She supposed it empowered them or whatever, but she didn't mind — heels weren't that hard to fight in once you got the hang of it. Besides, towering over the monsters was more fun than shrinking back at the sight of them.
Clarisse was lounging on her bed when Verona barged into the Ares cabin, some of her siblings around and Chris Rodriguez at her side. He had wanted to fight, and had tried to convince Clarisse to do so, but she was adamant not to, so he had stayed at her side. Though he wasn't coming to Manhattan, he had spent all morning whilst Clarisse was angry and in the sword fighting arena, helping Connor and Travis build traps and tricks to set off in Manhattan should the opportunity and need arise. It felt weird how different the three brothers were from each other in demeanour, but then Verona looked around her own cabin and understood exactly why.
"Last chance, Clarisse," She warned. She was angry. Not only had neither Michael nor Clarisse had the decency to not fight in front of Silena right after Beckendorf had been killed, Clarisse in particular had ticked a nerve at her when, in a fight the day following the raid where the chariot was stolen, Verona had decided to play Switzerland for both sides and had in turn been called a lot of words, ranging everything from shallow to self absorbed. The nickname petty princess had come up a few times too, and Verona had to say, she liked it way better when Connor called her princess than when Clarisse did. Connor calling her princess certainly didn't evoke a glimmering rage that Clarisse did.
