Is it fair your life burns so short and bright? Death had asked.

"No such thing as fair," Frank told himself. "If I'm going to burn, it might as well be bright.

If I'm going to burn, it might as well be bright.

Frank nodded grimly. “Well…any goddess who throws a Ding Dong at a giant can’t be all bad. Let’s go.

Back in my day, we died all the time, and we liked it!

Tyson, Frank is a descendant of Poseidon."
"Brother!" Tyson crushed Frank in a hug.
Percy stifled a laugh. "Actually he's more like a great-great-...Oh, never mind. Yeah, he's your brother."
"Thanks." Frank mumbled through a mouthful of flannel.

Part of their problem was Percy. He fought like a demon, whirling through the defender's ranks in a completely unorthodox style, rolling under their feet, slashing with his sword instead of stabbing like a Roman would, whacking campers with the flat of his blade, and generally causing mass panic.