A 1

Percy staggered over to Jason and clapped him on the shoulder. The ghostly crowd gave them a
standing ovation as the Argo II extended its landing gear and settled on the arena floor. Leo stood at
the helm, Hazel and Frank grinning at his side. Coach Hedge danced around the firing platform,
pumping his fist in the air and yelling, “That’s what I’m talking about!”
Percy turned to the emperor’s box. “Well?” he yelled at Bacchus. “Was that entertaining enough
for you, you wine-breathed little—”
“No need for that.” Suddenly the god was standing right next to him in the arena. He brushed
Dorito dust off his purple robes. “I have decided you are worthy partners for this combat.”
“Partners?” Jason growled. “You did nothing!”
Bacchus walked to the edge of the lake. The water instantly drained, leaving an Otis-headed pile
of mush. Bacchus picked his way to the bottom and looked up at the crowd. He raised his thyrsus.
The crowd jeered and hollered and pointed their thumbs down. Percy had never been sure
whether that meant live or die. He’d heard it both ways.
Bacchus chose the more entertaining option. He smacked Otis’s head with his pinecone staff, and
the giant pile of Otismeal disintegrated completely.
The crowd went wild. Bacchus climbed out of the lake and strutted over to Ephialtes, who was
still lying spread-eagled, overcooked and smoking.
Again, Bacchus raised his thyrsus.
“DO IT!” the crowd roared.
“DON’T DO IT!” Ephialtes wailed.
Bacchus tapped the giant on the nose, and Ephialtes crumbled to ashes.