VANCITTE
Vancitte trudged out of her cabin, half-asleep. Last afternoon, the other demigods had explained to her the Prophecy of Eight, and how she was the eighth demigod. That was great and all, especially since she got her own cabin, (so much space was nearly impossible on long rescue missions) but in some weird way, Vancitte didn't like being a part of the prophecy. Not only the constant risk of death that came with being a demigod multiplied by 20, or how FREAKING EARLY demigods had to wake up, but she was mostly unused to working in groups. Sure, the Schwartzen had required that the division work together, but Vancitte had been head of the group. She was the highest-ranking person of the division - the sole leader. Most of the teamwork had been within the group; it was just how the Society was set up.
Annabeth, Piper, and Hazel stood around the table, bright-eyed and ready for the day ahead. Annabeth eyed her, slightly amused.
"Good morning, sunshine."
Vancitte glared at her out of the corner of her eye while grabbing a mug of coffee. She sipped it, frowning. Mumbling something under her breath, she pulled a small vial out of her pocket and dumped its contents into the mug, swirling it around with her finger.
"Espresso," she replied to Piper's raised eyebrow.
* * *
Vancitte hated high temperatures. Always have, and always will.
The harbor glittered invitingly, and the ocean breeze provided a refuge from the muggy heat. But then it would push her right back in, and the misery would start anew.
None of the others seemed bothered by the heat, and for a moment Vancitte felt a little embarrassed. Here she was, mentally complaining from the heat, while everyone else focused on the mission. But it was true - she had a reason to be uncomfortable. (it was just a crappy one)
And it wasn't like she could take off her sweatshirt. Taking off her sweatshirt would be like removing all her weapons and placing them at the enemy's feet. In fact, that's exactly what it was.
Vancitte pushed her mini-battle out of her mind and jogged to catch up with the other three girls. They were all admiring the Colonial mansions that lined South Battery Street; the flowers, the ivy-blanketed walls, and the Romanlike architecture. Vancitte could see the appeal of historical buildings; she especially liked how the plants seemed to overtake the mansions, as if dragging them back into Mother Nature. But what really caught her eye was the bright light about a few hundred feet out from the harbor's shore.
She turned to look at it, transfixed by the way it floated so elegantly across the water. It seemed to be coming straight towards her, the outline of a woman becoming clearer and clearer.
"Hey, uh, guys? That thing out there looks an awful like the ghost we're looking for," Vancitte said, turning her head back to look at the girls.
Srtartaetgeogsos...
Vancitte's stomach dropped. No, no, not again.
In the place where Annabeth, Piper, and Hazel once stood, now stood herself. Her black hair hung tangled and wavy - but in a soldier-like, beautiful way. The green streaks were nearly faded, only at the tips were they visible. She carried a crested Corinthian-style helmet, the plume a deep shade of red. A shield was strapped to her back, one that Vancitte knew from experience. It was expandable when a discreet button was pressed, and was set on the front with a circular mirror. (for distraction purposes) Her signature sweatshirt, of course, was worn over her chest plate, and her black combat boots housed a special someone.
The other Vancitte stepped towards her, smirking.
"Yuo ud iddind'nt' tr eraelallyl yt htihnikn kI Iw owuoludl dl elaevaev ey oyuo ua laolnoen,e ,d iddi dy oyuo?u"
Vancitte stepped forward, pulling her dagger from her pocket. Other-Vancitte mirrored her actions, pulling the same dagger out.
"Im' mw owrokriknign go no ni ti.t" Vancitte whispered, staring coldly at the other.
Other-Vancitte laughed out loud. It was nothing like Vancitte's normal laugh; it was cold, empty, yet strangely beautiful to listen to.
"Im' mw owrokriknign go no ni ti.t" she mocked, stepping in close. She placed a cold finger under Vancitte's chin, lifting it upwards so they were level.
"Brunr nt hteh em ampa.p .B uBrunr na lall lo fo fi ti t- -I Id odno'nt' tc acraer.e .Y oYuo un eneede dt ot og egte ta am omvoev eo no,n ,o ro-r"
Other-Vancitte kicked Vancitte swiftly in the stomach, letting go of her chin. Vancitte doubled over in pain, sinking to the ground.
"Tahta th ahpappepnesn.s"
Other-Vancitte crouched next to Vancitte, lifting her chin again. Vancitte tried to pull away, and Other-Vancitte grabbed her chin violently and pulled her in.
"D oy oyuo uu nudnedresrtsatnadn?d" she whispered softly.
Vancitte stared at her, not speaking a word.
"Is asiadi,d ,d od oy oyuo uu nudnedresrtsatnadn?d " Other-Vancitte dug her nails into her chin. Vancitte slowly nodded.
"Good," Other-Vancitte stood, flicking her hand. At once, Vancitte felt something in her pocket, something small. She reached inside, and pulled out a small matchbox-sized lighter. Engraved on it in silver was the word Srtartaetgeogsos.
Other-Vancitte turned her head slightly towards the girl on the ground.
"Dno'nt' tf afiali lt htihsi sn onwo.w"
