<div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: bookman old style;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">Tracy "Tray" Coppola</span><br/>Fuck peace, I want War!</span></div><hr/><hr/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://i55.tinypic.com/w0qs6v.jpg)</div>Of course Tray was late, but that wasn't a huge surprise, since she was almost always late.  By the time she made it to the camp, the mad rush of introductions and milling about had already finished, and only a few stragglers remained loitering around the cabins.  But if Tray were honest, she preferred it this way, now she didn't have to deal with whiny children crying and excited shouts of welcoming from the older campers; instead, she could heft her heavy beat up black canvas duffel bag over to the intimidating barbed wire cabin that was home, and settle in without the distractions from her other half brothers and sisters to annoy her.  This was her third year at the camp, and only her second one as a claimed daughter of Ares, but still, the excitement the other Bastard children of the gods seemed to feel did not affect her.  Thinking back, she hadn't even been excited to meet her dad the first time two years ago.  Instead, she'd been filled with an odd feeling of aloofness, a striking contrast to the violent anger she had once felt directed at her absent father; that feeling had never left her, not even now, when she's grown so much over the last two years.  Most of the beds had already been claimed, and she was only a little shocked to realize that there were almost the same amount of beds occupied as there had been last year; the only difference now, was that there were two more empty ones, than there used to be.  A slight pang of anger thrummed in her veins at the prospect that two of her half siblings had died, she hoped that wasn't the case since she cared about them all, in her own way.  But the pragmatic side of herself that she had inherited from her mother reminded her that death was a part of her life now, no one at the camp had a guaranteed life span any longer.<br/><br/>She glanced away from the other beds and headed deeper into the cabin until she was facing the peeling red painted door that led into the cabin leaders closet sized room.  It was already open slightly, and she only had to give it a slight kick for it to swing the rest of the way open, with a small bang from the knob hitting the back wall, she stood in the open doorway.  It could barely be classified as a room, but Tray thought it was plenty, since it was just her.  It had just enough room to hold one small twin bed, and a tiny side table with drawers enough to house a few of her clothes.  The rest, she would keep in her duffel under the bed.  The Bed spread was a rusty maroon color, and there was a tiny lamp sitting on the table.  Enough light shined through the small window over the bed to allow her to see, so she didn't hit her shins against anything as she went to switch on the light.  Last year, she had been made cabin leader, and since the room was still empty, no one else had challenged her for the spot.  From an outsiders point of view, that would probably be considered impossible, since the children of Ares were known for their competitive nature, but as an insider, she knew it was because they respected her; a sentiment that had actually brought down her internal walls enough for her to come to care for her siblings in the first place.  It only took her a few minutes to put things away and change her cut up black tank top, for her torn up and battered camp t-shirt.  All her camp shirts were the same, torn, and singed, and completely battered from her time training.  But she didn't care since they portrayed just what kind of person she was; violent, and ready to fight at any moment.  An old pair of jeans and her steel toed black doc's completed her attire, she didn't even care to do something with her wild hair.  She was just leaving the tiny room when the sounds of screaming erupted through the air.  Startled for a moment, since she knew for a fact Monsters couldn't invade the camp, she held an empty hand open and summoned a huge two handed battle axe to her, before taking off in the direction of the mess hall.  She watched as a few younger children fled away from the chaos that was erupting from the hall, but managed to push her way close enough to see what was going on.  Her panic subsided as she realized exactly what was going on.<br/><br/>"Mother fuckers"  The profanity was uttered under her breath as she visibly calmed, and she spotted Vincent shouting at one of his sisters to calm down.  Leave it to the Gods to not care about startling small children and make a flashy appearance.  Rolling her eyes, she was slightly relived that it wasn't her own dad that had come calling.  The encounters with her father were considered...awkward at best.  Allowing the axe to thunk loudly against the floor, she leaned on it, and settled in to watch.  A small part of her was curious about what the God wanted from his children, but another part of her hoped it was over soon, because she had been traveling for a while now, and was almost painfully hungry.<br/><br/>