So, in my defense, I did nothing wrong. The /graecus/ just caught me. Before you hear about my wretched day, I guess I should introduce myself. I'm Anthony Bishop, demigod son of Neptune, but please, call me Tony. It was a normal day, I was preparing Hannibal for the War Games. I was attaching his armor when I got interrupted by Parker, Anthony Parker. Most people call him Tony, but that's my name, so I call Parker. He was from the First Cohort and he was a Centurion, he also hated me and had several fun nicknames that I'm not fond of. "Hey, Tiny Tony!" He called up to me. That's one of them. I looked over the edge of the elephant and scowled down at him. "Want some help?" He asked, but I could hear him turn towards his henchman and laugh. "Nah, I'm fine," I said, adjusting Hannibal's armor strap. "Okay . . ." Parker must have popped a bag or something because then there was a loud BOOM! and Hannibal went wild. The elephant galloped (do elephants gallop?) and tried to shake me off. My glasses flew off my face and landed in the dirt. I hooked my feet into Hannibal's ribs and held on for dear life. "Help!" I shouted. My brother, Andre, ran out of the Principia and he and a few other legionnaires helped stop Hannibal from destroying New Rome. They helped me off and Andre picked up my glasses and dusted them off with his cape. "Be more careful next time, Tony." He said. My brother and I looked next to the same, except I wear glasses and he doesn't. And he had a military haircut, and I just get the sides of my head shaved. Andre is also a Praetor and I'm not. "Yeah, yeah." I said, dusting off my purple t-shirt. After I got Hannibal back in his stable, I got a nasty surprise. I was simply sitting on my bunk, staring up at the ceiling, when a pillow smashed my face. I was not having a good day. "Let's give Tiny Tony a Code Red, shall we boys?" I could hear Parker through the pillow. I could feel them tying my wrists and sitting me in a chair. "You gotta learn how to handle the elephant, Tiny, or how else are you gonna be a Praetor?" He was taunting me, he wanted me to react. I didn't, I just sat there, my back straight, my hands tied behind my back. If they were going to give me a Code Red, it was not going to be fun. I waited a minute, five minutes, half an hour, hour, nothing happened. I stomped my feet, I tried to shake the chair, I was stuck. "Ah!" My voice sounded muffled and low, no one would hear me. I would have to wait until someone found me or . . . I tried to kick my knife out of my sock. Yes, I keep it in my sock. No one will look for it there, so it's a great hiding spot. I heard a click as it landed on the floor. I prayed to the gods that the pillow covered the back of my head and I jerked backwards, making the chair fall back with me. I landed with a heavy thud and managed to roll on my side. I groped for my knife hilt and cut the rope that bound my wrists together. "Ha!" I removed the pillow from my face and it fell to the floor. I got up off the floor and held my knife up in triumph. There was a low clapping sound and I looked over at the bunks. Andre and the other Praetor, Diane, were looking over me, amazed that I'd managed to get out. "You were here the whole time?!" I yelled. "Yes, it was a test. To prove you were worthy." Diane said. "Worthy of what?" I asked. "Worthy of a mission."
Canva Rick Riordan Definition: A Code Red - Used as a form of discipline in the Marine Corps, it is an unofficial practice, typically given from Marine-to-Marine.