<div align="center"><em>Mr. D doing what he does best...Tormenting Demi-Gods</em></div><br/><hr/><br/>Mr. D almost laughed when the boy said he'd taken Greek history lessons. That was very laughable. Those mortal classes rarely got it right. Most demi-gods had to be retaught everything they thought they knew about the Greek World. Sure, they were taught some useful stuff, but so many 'teachers' in those mortal classes made heroes look like...heroes! Mr. D thought they were the trash of the immortal world. They took and took and took. Then they tossed aside all the people that had helped them. That's why he'd been sent here to be camp director as punishment. Zeus knew he hated demi-gods. Taking away his wine and making him live with these<em>heroes</em>was the worst punishment anyone could give him, "If you took Greek lessons, then you should know the Gods don't really know how to keep their pants up," he snorted, "As for who your mom or dad is, how the hell should I know?" he shrugged and chugged down the rest of the diet coke that was in his hand.<br/><br/>When asked to be released, he supposed he could. This one was asking nicely....kind of. It was late, not really, but he was tired too. He wanted to get up to his room with his diet coke and figure how exactly how many hours he had left to be in this wretched place, "Go find Amelia Wicknor," which was Abigale, though Mr. D never said anyone's name right, "...and have some fun in the forest," he smirked as he released the vines and walked past Dante, "Follow the sound of senseless chatter and burnt food to find the others," he called out before the screen door of the Big House slammed shut behind him, "And don't you ever demand anything of me again, Hero! I'll keep you wrapped up in those vines so tight next time that no one will be able to hear you scream," he yelled out the window.<br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/><div align="center"><em>Meanwile...In the Long Island Sound...</em></div><br/><hr/><br/>While the new and old demi-gods make their way around camp. Sounds of greeting old friends and crying demi-gods who have lost friends and family to monsters. The sounds of satyr running around and nymphs singing...the normally calm and placid Long Island Sound are less than perfect today. The setting sun and rising darkness manage to mask the small ripples in the water. Even those that might notice these small waves would think nothing of it. The Sound is known for being inhabited by Naiads and several large species of fish. The Sound is widely ignored by the campers and generally only used at the end of the summer for the fireworks show. Even the Naiads generally swim up the creeks and streams that flow through the forest and camp instead of staying in the Sound.<br/><br/>Unfortunately for one Naiad, she decided to swim back down to the Sound to try and convince a few fish to swim up to the creek. The beautifully pale creature with her white hair swam through the currents and found herself transfixed by the bubbles traveling up from the bottom of the Sound and went to investigate.<br/><br/><em>"Sister..."</em><br/><br/>The little creature didn't have a chance to even swim to the surface of the water to call out for help. Thick, rust colored tentacles wrapped around her small, spirit body. Wrapping around her neck and restraining her thin arms and legs as she fought to reach the surface. As she opened her mouth to call out to her Naiad sisters, a spike covered tentacle forced it's way down her throat. Tearing the pale flesh from the inside out. The Naiad's eyes rolled back as pale blue blood spilled out into the Sound. Her little body left to sink to the bottom of the Sound.<br/><br/>Even a spirit can die.