The Tyrant's Tomb

Welcome to the war
We hope you enjoy your death
Please come again soon!
OKAY, BUT WHY DID it have to be bicycles?
I understood that cars were a deal-breaker. We had crashed enough
vehicles for one week. I understood that jogging to camp was out of the
question, given the fact that we could barely stand.
But why didn’t demigods have some sort of ride-share app for
summoning giant eagles? I decided I would create one as soon as I became a
god again. Right after I figured out a way to let demigods use smartphones
safely.
Across the street from Target stood a rack of canary-yellow Go-Glo
bikes. Meg inserted a credit card into the kiosk (where she got the card, I had
no idea), freed two cycles from the rack, and offered one to me.
Joy and happiness. Now we could pedal into battle like the neon-yellow
warriors of old.
We took the side streets and sidewalks, using the columns of smoke in
the hills to guide our way. With Highway 24 closed, traffic was snarled
everywhere, angry drivers honking and yelling and threatening violence. I
was tempted to tell them that if they really wanted a fight, they could just
follow us. We could use a few thousand angry commuters on our side.
As we passed the Rockridge BART station, we spotted the first enemy
troops. Pandai patrolled the elevated platform, with furry black ears folded
around themselves like firefighter turnout coats, and flat-head axes in their