Okay. Before we begin, there are two things you need to know.

1. The God's exist.

Yes. The freaking God's.

2. I'm being chased by a one-eyed demon who wants to eat me for breakfast.

Or is it lunch? I can't remember since I haven't had either today.

How did this happen? You may ask.

Well, funny story. And to think, I thought it was going to be just another ordinary day.

I was just dealing drugs in the big, happy city of New York as usual. Did I not mention I was the messenger of a drug-dealing company?

"Password?"

"Prostitute." The metal gate screeched open and I found myself following two men down a dark path. But I was used to it. After all, this has been my job for as long as I can remember.

"Cameron, you have the goods?" The leader of the gang I was in was a bald man in his late thirties with black beady eyes that seemed to be filled with more malice each time I saw him.

"Give em here boy." The customer stood before me. Plump, short, wearing a business suit without a speck of dust on it despite the harsh conditions of the warehouse. He was obviously rich. He stuck out a chubby hand and I quickly pulled out a bag out from my oversized jacket. It had been easy to hide since I was skinny as a stick and with the bag inside my jacket, it made me look just average.

"Alright we gave you what you want, where's the cash?" Demanded my leader. The plump man rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. In an instant, one of his bulky bodyguards pulled out a metal suitcase, which opened to reveal at least 45 million dollars in an estimate.

Being their messenger boy, I only got 5% of it, but that was enough for me to put food on my imaginary table. I almost drooled at the thought of eating something filling but restrained myself until the customer disappeared.

"Alright Cameron, here you go." I was handed a hundred dollars which I frowned upon.

"Hey man, this isn't right." I narrowed my eyes as I glared up at the bald man. Curse my short height. He scoffed but didn't take his eyes of the thousands in his hands.

"Take it or leave it, kid." Behind him, his henchmen cracked their knuckles loudly. And so I left, with a few more thousands in my pocket.

"Suckers."

I sighed as I exited the grocery store. I had bought a lot of 2-minute noodles and a lot of beer to last me a few days. A week maybe if I decide to be sparring. One of the perks of being a street rat is that no one cares if you're underage anymore. I walked home. And by home I mean under a bridge in Central Park. You'd think with how popular is it someone would walk by and take pity on a 14-year-old boy who sleeps in a sleeping bag full of fleas and whatnot. But nope.

But I'm used to it. After spending your whole life as one, you kinda have to.

I popped the bottle open and in a few swift gulps, half of it was gone. But that doesn't mean I don't want to forget this life. The cold winter days hiding under a thin layer of clothing, the numerous rats you sometimes find in your sleeping bag. Who wouldn't want to forget it? I drank more, and more, and more until the world was a merry-go-round.

"What you got there punk?" In my distorted world, I saw a wicked demon above me. This is Harley, a fellow street rat who hated my guts and let me tell you, the feelings mutual. But there was always something that made me fear him too. Maybe it was the fact that he liked to beat me up for no reason, or his unusually ugly face that did the job.

"Nothing," I slurred. He scowled at me. And plucked me up from my nest like I was nothing but a twig which actually isn't far from the truth.

"You lie." He stated matter-of-factly. His garbage breath filled my nose and in my distorted state, I tried to turn away but no luck.

"You smell bad." I giggled hysterically. He snarled at me to reveal sharp, yellow canines and I swore, in my drunken mind that there were rat tails sticking in between his teeth. Okay. Maybe I drank too much because, in the next moment, where there were meant to be eyes, there was, eye. Singular. One, big, round, ugly eyeball just staring at me.

"You're a cyclops." I cackled childishly. For the record, I'm drunk, and as you can tell I really can't hold my liquor well and there's also the fact that I drank like 10 bottles tops.

"Die!" He roared and before my tiny brain could comprehend everything, he turned into golden dust. I looked up at my savior and was taken back. She was hot. Like really hot. And with the golden dagger in her hand, she looked badass. Curly, golden locks basking in the moonlight which only made her look like a Goddess. And her eyes were what took me the most. Pale, stormy eyes. They looked like they were doing a thousand calculations per second, which made me feel self conscious about how I appeared now but she didn't seem to care. If anything, it was like she was trying to dig into my soul for my darkest, and dirtiest secrets.

When she opened her mouth to speak, there were words I'd never thought I'd hear.

"My name is Annabeth Chase. You need to come with me."

Yep, I definitely drank too much.