It starts with us

A god getting beat up by a 13 year old (*not clickbait*)

Harmony followed his line of sight and scowled. "I can't believe Aphrodite had that asshole for a boyfriend."

There he was, waiting for the,, in his black leather duster and his sunglasses, an aluminum baseball bat propped on his shoulder. His motorcycle rumbled beside him, its headlight turning the sand red.

"Hey, kid," ares said, seeming genuinely pleased to see Percy. The sentiment wasn't returned as the big glared. "You were supposed to die."

"You tricked me," the son of Poseidon said. "You stole the helmet and the master bolt."

Ares grinned. "Well, now, I didn't steal them personally. Gods taking each other's symbols of power- that's a big no-no. But you re not the only hero in the world who can run errands."

"Who did you use? Clarisse? She was there at the winter solstice."

Harmony wasn't a fan of clarisse, but she didn't find her capable of doing this. Stealing just wasn't her thing.

The idea seemed to amuse the hid. "Doesn't matter. The point is, kid, you're impeding the war effort. See, you've got to die in the underworld. Then old seaweed will be mad at Hades for killing you. Corpse Breath will have Zeus's master bolt, so Zeus will be ,as at him. And Hades is still looking for this..."

From his pocket he took out a ski cap- the kind bank robbers wear -and placed it immediately, the cap transformed into an elaborate bronze war helmet.

"The helmet of darkness," Grover gasped.

"Exactly," ares said. "Now where was I? Oh yeah, Hades will be mad at both Zeus and Poseidon, because he doesn't know who took this. Pretty soon, we got a nice little three-way slugfest going."

"But they're your family!" Annabeth protested.

Ares shrugged. "Best kind of war. Always the bloodiest. Nothing like watching your relatives fight, I always say."

Harmony scoffed but stayed silent. Of course someone as obnoxious as ares would like watching his relatives fight. Even if it means ,massive destruction.

"You gave me the backpack in Denver," Percy's anger sounded barely controlled. "The master bolt was in there the whole time."

"Yes and no," ares said. "It's probably too complicated for your little mortal brain to follow, but the backpack is the master bolt's sheath, just morphed a bit. The bolt is connected to it, sort of like Sancheź's knife or that sword you got, kid. It always returns to your pocket, right?"

Harmony wasn't sure how Ares knew about that, but it didn't come as a surprise. A good of war had to make it his business to know about weapons.

"Anyway," ares continued, "I tinkered with the magic a bit, so the bolt would return to the sheath once you reached the underworld. You get close to Hades... bingo, you got mail. If you died along the way— no loss. I still had the weapon."

"But why not just keep the master bolt for yourself?" Percy asked. "Why send it to Hades?"

Ares got a twitch in his jaw. For a moment, it was almost as if he was listening to another voice, deep inside his head. "Why didn't I... yeah... with that kind of fire- power..."