a/n This is a story I adopted from Anonemuss14. The story idea and chapters 1-15 belong to her. They are her creation. All credit goes to her and her alone. She is an excellent author who decided not to continue. I quite literally begged to be allowed to adopt this story as it's excellent and couldn't allow it to remain unfinished. I doubt I will be able to do as good as she could have but I will do my best. I want to thank her again for allowing me to do this. If she ever does decide to write again, I would recommend reading as she is quite talented.

Part One: The Fall.

"Can you see it? Can you see the world in flames? Can you see the lives shattering and civilizations crumbling as they fall into Chaos? It is beautiful."

Chapter One: Revenge

Revenge is a strange thing. At times you hate it, but at others it is the most wonderful thing in the world. This was going to be one of those times.

"Are you sure you wish to go through with this?" Dr. Claymore asked. I owed much to him, his company and advice had been much appreciated these last few months, but his attempts to dissuade me were futile.

"Yes, Doctor," I said. "I've waited too long for this. I shall not wait any longer." Doctor Claymore look disappointed about my answer, but not surprised. He sighed and shook his head.

"I don't agree with your choice," he said solemnly.

"I know," I replied.

"But, I will not stop you," he continued. "Nor will I assist you in your plans." I nodded slowly.

"I will not require your aid in this, Doctor," I said. A weight was lifted from my heart at the Doctor's words. I knew that once everything was dealt with, things would return to business as usual. Beside, it wasn't as if I planned murder, only justice. Revenge.

"You are certain it can be done?" Doctor Claymore asked.

"Yes, it will be difficult, but it can be done," I responded. The Doctor had asked this question dozens of times already, and in return I offered the same response each time. My words were, in reality, euphemistic. The acts to be committed would be more than "difficult". If precautions were not taken, dying would be the least of my worries. I could not say this to the Doctor, of course. Though he technically had no power over me, his attempts to dissuade me would increase tenfold if he discovered the danger of my plans and I would eventually give in.

Doctor Claymore sighed again. "Let us get this over with," he said. "The sooner that you settle your vendetta, the sooner we can get to Rome."

"Too true, Doctor," I agreed. "We've wasted enough time already." I began to make my way towards the front of the bus with Doctor Claymore at my heels. The cacophony of noise that was Manhattan, New York greeted me as I disembarked the civilian transport. I glanced distastefully at the Empire State Building, or more accurately, at the mountain five hundred stories above it. The thick layer of Mist that surrounded the home of the gods did nothing to hide it from my sight. For a moment, the old dream of tearing it down brick by brick came to mind. I quickly pushed from my mind. I shouldn't dwell on the past. I smiled bitterly at the irony of the thought. Here I was, wishing to move forward with my life while plotting revenge on an enemy from the exact time I wish to forget. Doctor Claymore noticed me staring at the sky above the colossal building.

"Can you see it from here?" he asked. I knew that he wished to see it for himself, but he could not. Being a mistform gave him no more immunity to the Mist than anything else. His mind was open to more possibilities than before, so he could see further into the Mist than most mortals, but something as heavily protected as Olympus was something entirely different.

"Yes," I said at last. "I went up there once. When the war was over, all the half-bloods were brought into the city for the celebration of 'victory'." I spat out the last word in disgust.

"Alabaster," Doctor Claymore said softly. He put a hand on my shoulder. I shook it off.

"I'm fine, Doctor," I assured him. "Let us go." We made our way through the city at what seemed like a snail's pace. While we were going at a fairly average pace, the anxiety of what I was to do was finally catching up with me, it seemed.

We left Manhattan via the Queens-Midtown Tunnel. I hadn't been a part of the assault force for this area, but I had two brothers and a sister who had died in the initial struggle with the Hunters of Artemis. I harboured some resentment to them for this fact, but no more than any other half-blood who fought in the name of the gods. History remembers the leaders while the soldiers fade into the murkiness of human memory. In any war, one will associate a faction by its leader rather than their underlings. In World War II, history remembers Hitler, Stalin, Churchill, Eisenhower, and Mussolini, while the general populace of the world think of the countless soldiers in the conflict as just that: soldiers; nameless people who fought and died for a cause. Monuments are erected in their honor, to commemorate their sacrifice, but only their own families carry on the only true memories of their actions. And as Churchill said, "History is written by the victors," the gods won, so their propaganda will be what people will remember. We had lost, so history remembered us as those that went against the higher power, and were crushed underfoot like the rebels we were. Not revolutionaries, but rebels; that is how history would remember us.

So lost in my own thoughts was I, that I didn't notice that we had made it to our destination until Doctor Claymore put his hand on my shoulder. My head snapped up and gazed at the tall pine tree that stood as a lone sentinel atop Half-Blood Hill. I glanced at the Doctor and felt the momentary spark of reconsideration. I quelled this feeling immediately. I had come to far to lose my nerve now.

"It is time, Doctor," I said as I withdrew a blank card from my pocket. Doctor Claymore looked at it distastefully. He always hated being confined within the magical object.

"Good luck, Alabaster," the Doctor said as his body faded into the Mist and his form appeared on the face of the card. I tucked the card away for safekeeping.

I muttered a spell and felt the Mist swirl around me and alter my appearance. When I glanced down at my body, I was a young boy of twelve years old. My appearance was altered so that my siblings wouldn't recognize me and I had numerous protective runes on the insides of my clothes to prevent the gods from finding me.

I drew another mistform card from my pocket and a satyr appeared by my side. The mistform began to walk up the hill and I followed it as I put an expression of awe, wonderment, and just a bit of anxiety on my face.

In truth, I felt only revulsion as I returned to this place. It was a symbol of the gods' oppression. They go out into the world and impregnate mortals with children, which they either abandon or confine to this place to amuse them with quests that they couldn't be bothered to do themselves. Slay a monster, steal an object, fight a war, it made so little difference to them. They would send their children to their deaths for their own amusement; Divine Mafia indeed.

"Hello, who are you exactly?" it was Chiron. I had no ill will towards him. He had been kind to us here at camp, but I would not allow him to ruin my plans. I willed them Mist around him and saw his expression change to one of confusion to panic before settling on his usual expression of the knowing and kind mentor.

"Welcome back, Fen," he said to the satyr as though they were old friends. "I assume your mission was a success." He glanced towards me and smiled. I smiled back weakly, giving the impression of nervousness. It wasn't entirely fraud.

"Hi, I'm Nicholas Claymore," I said nervously.

"Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, Nicholas," Chiron said. "I trust Fen filled you in on this place and who you are." I nodded.

"A little bit," I said. "Is it true that my father is a god?" A brother of mine had said something similar to these words when he arrived here. He had been on The Princess Andromeda when he destroyed it. Chiron chuckled.

"Yes, he is and soon you will meet all of your siblings," he said with a smile on his face. Only by looking closely could one discern that his eyes were a slight milky white. I only saw it because I knew it was there. Fen whispered something in Chiron's ear.

"So Apollo claimed you on the trip here," Chiron mused. "Well, that seems a bit strange. Usually a half-blood isn't claimed until they are within the boundaries of camp." I risked the use of a bit more Mist. Chiron remained still for several seconds before shrugging. "Oh well, there's a first time for everything. Why don't you go introduce yourself to your new siblings?" I nodded and walked towards the golden cabin. Behind me, Chiron walked back to the Big House, Fen was gone.

Will gave me a tour of the camp, but I neither needed, nor wanted one. The only place I found mildly interesting was the cabin to Hecate. I had been banished before it was finished and didn't know what it was like. I saw countless runes inscribed on its walls and columns, but the were only there for appearance and had no magical power. This fact saddened me, I had expected more from my siblings. 'Lou is probably in charge,' I thought as I passed the cabin.

I was following along, tuning out his words until we came to the arena. He told me that he was the sword instructor here and that he would be teaching me if I chose to learn. I pretended to act excited, but on the inside I was going through me plan in my head. I pictured what it would be like once the scales were balanced; once I had finally brought justice to my fallen siblings. Will hurried on with the tour and it was dinnertime by when we were finally done.

My earlier suspicions were proven correct as I watched my younger sister, Lou Ellen escort our siblings to the Dining Pavilion for dinner. I sat at the Apollo table and, after grudgingly sacrificing to the gods, sat down to pick at the food. My attention alternated between two locations: the Hecate table, and the Poseidon table. Its sole occupant had either been out in the lake training the campers in the art of naval combat, or in the sword arena. This was the first time I had seen him in a year, and all of my hatred resurfaced. Part of me wanted to run over there and kill him, pay him back for all he had done. But, the rational part of me remembered my plan. I had to be patient.

'Soon, Perseus Jackson, you will get what you have coming to you, and I will finally get my revenge,' I thought.