Fire me up. (OPEN)

[Uriel Camael Mikhail]

Tick tock tick tock.

The unusual cold winds among the beautiful Camp Half Blood whistled passed the skin of Uriel Mikhail. The demigod wasn't a stranger to the bitter cold. Being a Russian Agent, he trekked the cold paths of the Georgian border armed with a rifle. Enough of that, that was all in the past. The man was here for one thing. And it was to taste victory once more. Okay, so he was talking as if he was a gladiator. So what? It wasn't as if it'll stop him from destroying someone today.

The cold winds were less than friendly to him. And he was on the grassfield, that was odd. Mikhail always thought that Camp had some magic property to stop weather interference. Perhaps the winds were an exception. And while amusing, he knew that he didn't have time for such petty things. Thew assassin haven't had a fight since... whenever. And perhaps he would be lucky now.

Could you blame the lad? Fighting was the only thing that held on to his brain and prevented it from snapping and sending him into the darkest pits of which we call insanity. It was something about the thrill and adrenaline of the fight. The steps, the push the swings and the sweat were ecstatic for him. It just brought him up and forced him at his prime.

But the real thing that went beyond ecstasy was the blood he drawn from his opponent. Uri loved it when his opponent bled. it meant he was better, and they lost. Just like how it should be. His mentality was brutal and sick, sure. But it worked for him. He just felt satisfied seeing people collapse on their knees in front of him. After all, he was striving to be the best. And damn right he would be the best; As he stepped nearer the arena, the faint sound of men shouting and women screeching complimented him. Oh yes.

This was his environment. The Russian simply gave the whole arena a look out. Opponents probably. And of course, being the smart Athena kid he was. he formulated a plan. Was he going to walk in and challenge someone? Or randomly attack someone? Or even worse; jump from his position and try to fight all of them at once? Quite suicidal. He wanted to fight, but he isn't idiotic. He knew that being brave was stupid at times. And hence, another plan was needed. He lifted his hand, stroking his blonde hair, his unforgiving eyes laid upon the people.

As he slowly approached, he felt the familiar crawling of power coursing through his body. Soon enough, the Guess watch he had on crawled down his body, but the silver watch started turning bronze, armoring him. And soon enough, he was in full battle gear. It was quite frightening. A carved image of an owl was at his back, while the long sharp tip of his armor's handguards just fit his fingers perfectly. His face however, was not covered with a helm. Rather, a small mask was placed on his mouth. Still exposing his eyes and then, it happened.

A bright maroon cloak dropped from his behind. And from his finger tips materialized a long Falcata sword, glowing in the bronze deep light.It seemed longer than most Falcata swords, and it's blade had an Owl etched to it as well. The blade was in the handle was in the shape on a wing, and it seemed to perfectly fit him. This was him, full battle gear. He was caped and all that. This is what he was; a warrior. Years of training led to this. Him being this monster, ready to attack someone. he didn't waste any time, he lifted his sword and pointed at an individual. Challenging the person to come nearer, to the predator. He wanted to show everyone...that he was the Apex Predator. And he was out for blood. And whoever was unfortunate enough to face him wouldn't leave this arena walking. He could feel it; the rush inside him. He was obviously delighted. This was the only thing the Russian man took delight from, fighting. And it was at the expense of others. Ah well.

[Samantha Taylor Marlyn]

Taylor sat down, drinking water from a bottle. The Mess Hall was a decent place to dance, considering that it had been vacant for hours. Without even thinking about it, she pulled her hair into a braid and sighed, looking around. She needed to go to the Arena for "business" but she had been intent on working out first. And she had. Dancing in a large, empty room for almost two hours seemed sufficient. Later she would go surfing to even it out. She started to pull her thin hair into a braid, sighing. She really didn't want to get up, but needed too. It's funny how one can suddenly turn lazy about a spot that isn't even comfortable.

She finally managed to pry herself away from the chair and walk swiftly bag to her cabin to change into a black t-shirt and shorts. She kept her hair braided, then picked up her bag once more and yawned as she left the cabin. Her long legs took her swiftly to the arena, where she sat down in a rather shady spot and just waited. This was always the least busy time, but hey - she needed the money. And by needed, she meant wanted. And by wanted, she meant she wanted to be able to bribe and not go bankrupt.

Various campers came and went. Some were bleeding and coughing blood, some were fairly uninjured; it was all a matter of who was who. Taylor thought, sighing. She lied to not get into fights simply because she never had in her life, and she didn't intend to get bodily injured due to lack of practice. She had tried using a sword, but it just didn't work. She would be better lurking j the shadows and popping out behind them and stabbing them silently. Not that she would - she did have morals, after all - but it just seemed to be the thing to do.

After coming to camp, she had given it some thought. She had managed with her own monsters without weapons, and it seemed to be easier to not worry about danger. Camp was supposedly safe, right? She knew that a few people had died, but she didn't worry too much; she had learned to just live and let to be until the time came when you had to deal with it.

She waited longer, only finding the glare of the sun to keep her company. When it was four thirty-five on the dot, she stood. She could go take a nap, then surf, now! Until tomorrow, there wasn't really another chance to sell anything. She started to walk, when something caught her eye. Armor seemed to be growing on someone, springing from their chest and wrapping them. It was, admittedly, pretty cool; she kept her face blank as she watched from a safe distance. And when the show was over, she walked towards the exit and towards him.

She jumped when a sword was thrust in front of her chest. "Oi!" She said, acting out of the way. "Watch where you point that thing!" She gave him a stone glare, intending to walk in a few moments. Run, even; he looked fairly big, so if he took what she said offensively, she could just run. She had a billion hiding places, despite only being there a short time; all she had to do was run.

The ultimate Hermes camper defense.

[Uriel Camael Mikhail]

Unfazed. The Brunette girl which he pointed his mighty sword at just exclaimed annoyance. Was she not threatened? or was she just oblivious to the fact that he wanted to gut her lungs out. No matter. While this was enough to send him into a curiosity feat, it didn't mean his thirst for bloodshed was put aside. If she would see his mouth, a twisted frown would have been seen. But the full battle gear, for some reason, didn't feel all that heavy. So, the Russian managed to step his foot to the side, still frowning under the cover of the bronze mask, his sword however, was retracted. At his side. The falcata was shimmering, while Uriel loved that sword, he usually used other weapons of combat, namely firearms. But enough of that. The man lifted his fingers and pointed it at her. His cape still flying within the winds, from afar, he looked like a Greek Warlord. As ferocious as a Spartan was.

But, the problem here was this brunette. Mikhail could just pounce on him, but where would be the gracious art of battle in that? Believe it or not, he believed in doing things with...style. Although not always, it wasn't bad to do things glamorously. Right? Mikhail liked that, he guessed. Few of the things he actually did like. And now he needed to process everything. A great mind of course needed to assess the situation. But, if anything, the Russian Agent wasn't just trained to march around the Russian border shooting some crazed militia man with a rifle. Nope. he wasn't a normal soldier. He was a Covert Soldier. For the best. And hence he was trained to go for the brain first. Psychological warfare, that's what he needed. A small sigh escaped his lips. And he made a gesture. Five fingers.

While she wouldn't possible know what this meant. It's meaning that he was giving her a headstart; Five seconds. That is if she'd run away. if his fist gets clenched together, that meant her time ran out. But he didn't give her any instructions. He knew how to play. Soon enough, his thumb collapsed. Four seconds left. The Son of Athena knew well. He knew how'd they'd easily collapse. Then another finger, three. Two, and before he could speak, his senses found something. Two Demigods. From the Ares Cabin he beckoned, approaching. Holding a spear, while the other one a simple sword and a shield. It was pathetic, the moment they lunged at him. The demigod's fist curled into a fist. And hooked itself, right at his sword wielding assailant. His fist connected and sent the man staggering back. But it gave the one with the spear leverage to try and pierce him from his side, which he easily dodged by grabbing the tip of the spear.

While a fist covered in enchanted bronze being slammed onto your face full force would be quite crippling, Uriel knew it wasn't enough to keep him down. Well they just entered Tartarus. He wasn't going to let them live. While his eyes never left the girl, he momentarily pulled away from her line, pushing the spear to the ground and stepping over it to avoid him getting it mobilized. The man lifted his sword off, twisting it above his head. The horror on the man's face was evident as Uriel swooped down, from his shoulder to his waist. A huge slice on his chest was seen as he staggered away. Bleeding. Meanwhile, the one with the sword recovered, lunging at him, which was met with another blow with his left hand to the stomach, and he didn't hesitate, he thrust his sword, right at his chest. Watching as he bled and limped off, then collapsed. He once again proved how menacing he was. The Russian cocked his head, right at the brunette and spoke "You better start running." But instead, he dashed towards her, holding his sword to the side, ready to pounce.

[Samantha Taylor Marlyn]

Why didn't she run?

She sat there, letting only traces of emotion draw into her face as he first held out a hand, then stabbed the two Ares. The creepiest thing was that he kept his gaze on her. She couldn't move. The emotion that might have been fear traced down into her legs and rooted her to the spot. Her mind went totally blank and only registered what was going on right then, and as it turned out, her instincts totally shut off.

The Ares staggered away and collapsed. She wanted to throw them some Ambrosia. By the time her hand slowly reached to un-clasp her bag to get some, he said something. His voice was like ice. Her brain registered his words sluggishly as if she had heard them through water while she was in a coma. He had just confirmed it; she should have been running.

Taylor launched herself from the spot, taking a flying leap into the air, then landing with a thud and running. Why the hell didn't he just go kill another person?! Why her? Taylor glanced behind her to try and look at him. As luck would have it, the moment she looked in front of her again was also the moment where she had to evade slamming into a tree. She let out heavy breath; this wasn't the first time she had to run from someone, but usually she hadn't just completed her workout and did nothing to provoke them. Did she seriously piss people off by looking at them now? Well, that sucked.

It was about that time that she ran for the cabin. She saw it in her sights, completely unaware if if he was still chasing her, and if she got in she could lock the door and sneak out the back. Surely, a couple hours sleeping in the woods would be enough to ward someone off! She could use the spot she found yesterday. A small cave in the ground with tree-trunks curling around it and then rock on the inside. Especially if she placed leave-covered wood on top, no one wold find her.

[Uriel Camael Mikhail]

The moment she ran, he took right behind her. But he couldn't reach her. Although the armor was enchanted not to weigh him down, he believed that it was her sheer speed. This made him make assumptions; like most facts does. The Son of Athena normally calculated facts, placed them together and voila. An evil plan. And this time, he was quite sure that she was a Daughter of Hermes. He loved those types, he usually loved scraping their eyes out and playing mindgames with them. Odd one, he needed to be in a good mood to let his victims live for a last game.

He was normally a merciless assassin and or warrior. He killed and harmed without enjoyment on his behalf. But sometimes, his devious side takes over, and he plays with them, makes them suffer before watching them beg, then he ends their pathetic life. it brought a smile on his face. And she might be a victim. Although, it would be such a waste to let a talent go unnoticed. The frown exceeded his lips.

She was making it too far. Leaving the Apex Predator behind. This wasn't good. No one escaped him. Well no one ran as fast as she did. His frown was a frustrated one. And then, he jumped. As he did, he morphed, for a second time. His body glowing in a silvery light. And his legs turned to sharp talons, his arms turned to wide, wings. And his body morphed to that of a bird. His long beak extending. He morphed into his mother's favorite animal, the Owl. And not just any owl. The Blakiston Fish owl.

You see, one of the minor magics Athena kids can do were morphing into their mother's patron animal, the owl. And
luckily, every race of owl was his mother's animal. So he could turn into every each one of them. And he loved it. Usually, when he couldn't crush skulls in his demigod form, he hunted in owl form. He loved to piss people off, he snatched mice pets and ate them, even dogs were no match. he was a thirty inch owl. What could they do? He loved seeing the horrified face of the people who's pets he just dismembered. And it made him feel quite elegant. The most dangerous owl.

And the type of owl he morphed to was the heaviest, yet most agile owl in the whole world. Making it a dangerous predator. His size made the owl a bit larger. So he looked like a half eagle. Hovering over her, flying. No matter how fast, he could still catch up with her. And as she tried to to dive in, the owl dived before her, beak first, But she was fast. He however, managed to land right in front of her, spreading his wings and screeching dangerously. His metal talons hovering at her face, obviously wanting to rip her face off. And a voice was heard from the owl.

"Why so serious?"