Disclaimer: I do not own the universe in which this has been based (even though it is VERY MUCH strayed from his course). That's Rick Riordan's property. Also, some of the characters are not mine, but are original characters created by others, who have given me permission for use.

I

SCOTT

Scott heard the howl of hounds as the world around him exploded into a storm of bullets and smoke. He heard his sister give out a small shriek and quickly clamped his hand over her mouth, pulling her behind a low wall made of brick.

"Cindy, be quiet! You'll get us caught!"

There were tears in her eyes, and Scott could clearly see that she was scared. She was only 9 after all. Scott should never have brought her with him. But she begged and begged, and Scott didn't have the heart to make her stay back at the motel. They had enough enemies already, and Scott knew they couldn't spare any time or energy fighting amongst themselves. So there Scott sat, holding his baby sister in his arms, comforting her, as the bullet storm raged around them. This all reminded him of a scene long ago bringing a smile to his face. Cindy wiped away her tears and looked up at him.

"Why are you smiling?" She asked softly between hiccups. He kept the smile spread across his lips, glancing down at her.

"Oh...nothing. Just remembering the day you were born, that's all."

Scott, along with his mother and father, had been avoiding the detection of the "Purists". These self proclaimed "cleansers" had been assigned the task of tracking down and killing any and all descendants of the gods that they could get their hands on. The mortal hunting group had been hot on the family's trail for several days, and Scott could see the fatigue on his parent' faces. They were all in serious need of rest and medical attention, and their only hope for survival was to find someone that his father called 'The Heir to Olympus'.

The family kept moving, searching for this 'Heir' throughout the state of Oklahoma. Eventually they found themselves in a city called Bixby, and Scott's father seemed to believe that the place held some significance to this man that they were seeking out. The town seemed dead to Scott, not having the normal hustle and bustle of a city of its size. There were police cruisers everywhere, and Scott's father continued to look around nervously. All of a sudden, Scott's mother halted, groaning and clutching her enlarged stomach. Scott's father stopped dead in his tracks.

"Leia, what's wrong?" She looked up at him, an expression of pain covering her face.

"Clancy...the...b-baby." That was all she managed to utter. She groaned again. Scott's father hurriedly grabbed her with one hand and Scott with the other.

"Come on. We'll find someplace safe." Off they went, Leia groaning and Clancy urging them on. They came to a motel, which was seemingly empty. Clancy broke down the door to one of the rooms and helped his wife and young son inside. The trio squeezed into the bathroom, Clancy softly setting Leia into the bathtub.

"You ready hun?" Leia gave a pained nod.

Clancy nodded grimly and started digging through a backpack. He quickly found what he was looking for; a small bag filled with pastry-like squares and a canteen filled with some mysterious liquid. Clancy knelt next to his wife, gripping her hand.

"This is gunna be painful, not like Scott's birth. All I have are nectar and ambrosia." She gave him another quick nod, biting back the pain. Clancy looked to his only son and nodded towards the other room. Scott left the bathroom and plopped himself onto the twin bed.

Over the next few minutes, all Scott heard was scream after scream coming from the bathroom. His mother's shrieks pierced the silent air of the city, and Scott could hear nothing else, aside from the faint sound of sirens in the distance. As time passed, the sirens got louder and Leia's screams lessened, accompanied by another's screams. Those of a baby. Clancy called Scott back into the bathroom. As the screams stopped, Clancy pulled a beautiful baby girl from the bathtub, covered in blood. He quickly wiped the baby off, bundling her in a t-shirt, and handed her over to Scott.

"Scott," Clancy said. "This is your sister, Cindy."

The sirens were close now, really close. Scott could hear them blaring from the parking lot and Clancy glanced out the window. His expression went dark. He went down to his resting wife, placing his hand on hers.

"Honey, there are...at least fifteen squad cars out there. Somewhere around fifty cops and hunters..." Clancy's voice trailed off, and it seemed to Scott that he was very worried. "I...I'll hold them off. You take Scott and Cindy away. Find the 'Heir'. Get somewhere safe." Leia looked at her husband with a look so fierce that Scott couldn't decide if it was rage, or lover, or possibly both.

"Clancy Ward. Those men out there are trying to hurt my babies! I. Will. Not. Let. Them."

Clancy looked at Leia pleadingly. "But Leia..." Leia interrupted him, her voice softer this time.

"No buts. I am fighting, end of story. You cannot convince me otherwise." Clancy looked desperately at Scott, hoping his son could come up with something to sway his mother.

"Mom, you just had a baby. You can't go out there!" As if to prove a point, Leia rose from the bathtub, unfazed by the fact that she had just given birth, and stuffed a piece of ambrosia into her mouth.

"I'm ready Clancy." Clancy sighed as Leia entered the other room. Squatting down to look his son in the eye, Clancy pulled out a gun of solid gold.

"Hey Scott, you remember that day Uncle Gary came over for my 27th birthday?"

Scott nodded sadly.

"Well, he gave me this. It's a Desert Eagle, see?"

Once again, Scott nodded, saying nothing.

"Well, Uncle Gary...I don't know where he is anymore, or if he is even alive, but I doubt he would have any objection to me giving this to you." A tear welled up in Clancy's eye, but he brushed it away quickly. "I want you to look after your sister, okay?"

Scott opened and closed his mouth. His throat went dry as he struggled for words. "I...I c-cant. I don't want t-"

Clancy cut him off. "Of course you can. You're six years old and already a greater warrior than I was in my teen years. You have been trained well. You gotta stay strong Scott. Do it for me. Take care of Cindy, be strong for her." Clancy leaned over and kissed his son of the forehead. "Be strong little man. Make me proud." Scott nodded, unable to speak, and wrapped his father in a hug.

Clancy reached into his backpack and removed a green hat, old and worn, and placed it backwards upon his head. "Haven't worn this in ages." He winked at Scott, pressing the bright orange shamrock in the center of the hat. He was quickly enveloped by golden armour, and drew a sword from his waist. He twirled it around a bit, admiring it's golden shine. "Too bad this won't work on mortals. Might've been fun to slice up a few of 'em." He reluctantly sheathed his word, putting on a pair of black sunglasses. "I'll...go get your mother."

Leia entered moments later, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. She slowly approached her two children, leaning over to kiss both of them.

"I love you two so much...You've gotta be brave Scott. Protect your sister, find the 'Heir'. I believe in you...now go. Hide in the closet, wait for this mess to end, and then sneak out. If...your father and I live...we'll find you, eventually. If not...then you need to be brave honey." Leia hugged Scott tightly, then softly kissed Cindy once more.

"Taim i' ngra leat." Leia uttered the only Irish phrase she knew, showing her unconditional love for her children. She quickly whirled around, gliding out of the room, holding back tears.

Scott quickly dragged all of his things into the closet, holding Cindy tightly in one arm. He slowly placed himself into the dark space, closing the door behind them. He just sat there, listening to the many cries of pain, the sounds of grenades and gunfire, and sick snapping noises. There was an occasional flash of light through the cracks in the door, Scott having to shade his sister's eyes from their father's powers. He kept her quiet, listening intently, when suddenly there was a dead silence. Scott waited. And waited. And waited. Waiting for his parents to return. He longed to feel his mother's warm arms around him again, to hear his father's beautiful laugh. Scott waited longer...but his parents never came...

Scott remembered the day he lost his parents so vividly, it was painful. He also remembered another thing. An oath he took, to his father. Official or not, he took it. He swore to his father to protect his sister, no matter what. To be brave for her. And that was what he was going to do. His father was dead, Scott couldn't change that. But he could honor him. Scott wrapped his arms around Cindy, then after a moment, pulled away.

"Cindy, do you remember that trick I taught you? About changing the images around you, to make you seem invisible?" She nodded.

"Okay, then here. Take this." Scott handed her the same gun his father had given him almost ten years before. "I want you to stay invisible. You only use this as a last resort. 'Kay?" Again she nodded, and Scott hugged her. "I'll be back."

Cindy kissed him on the cheek. "Be careful Scott."

Scott slowly rose, surveying the area. The pace of the bullets slowed, but there was still a steady amount of them flying around. Scott saw forty, maybe fifty, men around. Why the hell do they need fifty guys for the two of us? We're not that important...are we? Scott thought to himself. This is ridiculous!

Scott steadied his nerves as he slowly slid down the wall, his nimble fingers tapping at his belt. He knew his ADHD was kicking in, as it always did. His father once told him that most people like Scott and his family had some form of the disorder, to help with battle situations. Scott knew sure as Hades that he was gunna need that help right now. As Scott came to the corner of the wall, he took in a deep breath, steeling himself. 3...2...1...GO!

Scott dove away from the wall, rolling onto one knee. His hands twitched and he allowed his instincts to take control of his body. His hands went to his belt, and two knives slid into his hands automatically, as if he had done it hundreds of times before. Which, of course, he had. Two of the enemy soldiers turned to fire at him, and with a quick flick of Scott's wrists, the throwing knives embedded themselves into the soldiers with deadly precision. They fell with a scream, and Scott quickly scanned the scene. He was in an open courtyard, with the only cover being the wall he and Cindy had been hiding behind. Not good. Not good at all.

Scott needed to find an advantage. Mortals or not, they had numbers, and numbers made a difference. The Enemy must have known they were in town. So they sent there best men. Scott couldn't help but worry about that. If the Enemy had spies watching Scott and Cindy...there would be no way to escape them. It would be only a matter of time before they would be taken before the leaders...and then it would be all over. Execution. Torture. Who knows what. But Scott couldn't let that happen.

More soldiers fired at him, and Scott rolled away, rearming himself. This time, it was not knives that fell into place in Scott's ready hands, but a pair of five-pointed stars. Shuriken. Scott smiled. This weapon had always been his favorite. It felt like it was just another part of his body, an attachment to what was already there. Scott felt his power run through him, using the one skill his father had managed to teach him with light manipulation before he had died. Invisibility.

The instant Scott vanished from sight; he heard commands from a deep voice.

"Cease fire. Smoke grenades!"

Scott scoured the area in search of the commander, his eyes landing on a large man wearing a general's uniform. He was about 6'5, bald, and of African-American descent. He stood there, screaming at his troops, his officers trying to keep up with his commands. Scott's expression hardened. As far as he was concerned, that was his biggest enemy, his first priority. Take out the commander, and any army can crumble. Fall into chaos. That was something his father had once told him during one of their many lessons on military tactics. His father's time in the Twelfth Legion had really developed his skills, and in turn, had allowed him to pass on some of his knowledge to Scott. It was things like that, the small things that had allowed Scott to survive and protect his sister. Even with the destruction of Camp Jupiter at the hands of the mortal armies, the Roman legacy would never die, as long as children like Scott and Cindy lived to carry it on. At this point, that legacy was as important to Scott as it was to anyone else, and he was determined to live here, to carry on the name of his father, and the name of the Twelfth.

Scott fired both shuriken at the large commander, the first narrowly missing his head. The man looked up, startled, just as the second one, with a sickening crunch, tore deep into his left thigh. The man howled with pain, screaming at his troops once-more.

"Fire at will!"

The battle was a standstill for a while, neither side having victory in sight. Scott would dodge, with some soldiers firing randomly at the invisible boy. He slowly picked them off, one by one, but was getting tired, fast. Victory was possible for him, that was, until he ran out of knives. Scott desperately searched for a new weapon. Suddenly, pain erupted in his left shoulder, a bullet ripping straight through it. Scott dropped to his knees, overcome by the pain, his vision blurring. He was losing energy, and his invisibility began to wear off, making him an easy target for the professional marksmen shooting at him. The remained soldiers aimed at Scott, firing off a few more rounds, one hitting him in the left foot. Scott cried out with pain just as the commander raised his hand for the soldiers to cease firing.

"No, hold you fire! I want to kill this one myself!"

Scott sighed, closing his eyes. He felt the vibration of the commander walking towards him in his black combat boots. Thump...Thump...Thump...Thump. The sound stopped, and Scott slowly opened his eyes.

The commander glared down at him, smirking. The shuriken still stuck out from his thigh. How is this guy even walking?

"Hello, scum. Nice arm you've got." He scowled, looking down at the ninja star an inch deep in his skin. He pulled a pistol from it's holster on his waist and cocked it. He pressed it to Scott's forehead savagely, breaking his skin. With a sick smile, he used the oldest cliche in the book.

"Any last words, punk?" Scott noticed movement on the roof to his left. He saw a tall kid with jet black hair, a bow slung over his back, jumping from roof to roof. Suddenly the boy stopped and turned, appearing to have found the spot he wanted. He unslung his bow, nocking an arrow. The arrow was of intricate design, probably homemade, with a blue head. The boy winked at Scott, and Scott started to laugh, spitting blood onto the ground. The general looked confused, and kicked Scott in the gut.

"What are you laughing at?" Scott looked up at him with a smirk.

"Oh, I was just wondering...whether you liked the color blue or not. I imagine it would look good on you." Scott slowly brought his arm up, pointing his blooding hand at the man's large chest. "Maybe some...right here."

The man swatted away Scott's hand, scowling with outrage. Scott took the chance while the man wasn't focused. Scott brought his hand up in a clenched fist. He punched the shuriken in the man's thigh, digging it deeper into the man's flesh, while also cutting open Scott's hand. The man stumbled backwards, roaring in pain. He slowly steadied himself, raising his gun to aim at Scott again. Scott crawled backwards as the man fired, the bullet missing Scott by a hair. Scott heard a whistling sound in the air, followed by a frightening schlick! Scott turned to find the man standing there, mumbling incoherently to himself, a blue arrow protruding from his chest. Scott rose unsteadily, stumbling backwards. Lightening crackled in the air, a huge bolt shot down frying the general where he stood. The summoned blast sent Scott flying backwards.

That's when the others attacked. They came flying from nowhere, the lightening blast obviously serving as a sign to commence the battle. Scott tried to take it all in, but he was losing blood. A lot of blood. He pulled out a small flask, filled with nectar, and poured it over his wounds, closing them. He then downed the remaining healing substance. His vision cleared and he saw the battle raging before him.

Of the new attackers, or rescuers from Scott's point of view, there were four. There was the boy with the bow, who was firing arrows off at enemies from the rooftops, not missing his targets once. To his left, Scott saw a very tall man using a weird looking purple sword. He slashed at one of the soldiers, but the rifleman didn't fall. Instead, he turned and fired at his allies, killing a few before he was shot himself. Next to tall man was another adult, working furiously, stabbing and slashing with dual swords, as well as swatting them with a large lance. The final savior was another teenager,, about the bow boy's age, using a glowing blue trident. He skewered a couple of the mortals with ease, eyes filled with madness. They moved quickly as a group, and the Enemy's soldiers stood no chance.

The army, now without its leader, quickly fell into chaos as the four warriors easily picked them apart. Soon after, only ten or so soldiers remained, running for their lives. The archer boy quickly finished them off, landing arrows in their backs. Scott scurried around gathering his knives.

The group approached them, sheathing their weapons. The two boys chatted excitedly as they walked, probably bragging about the different types of kills they got. Scott quickly arranged the knives on his belt, turning to speak with the men.

The tall man looked down at Scott. "What in the hell were you thinkin' kid? You almost got yourself killed. You can't just try and take on an entire army by yourself! If we hadn't been around...Commander Jerk-Face would've executed you without a second thought." The man spoke with authority, but his tone was also mixed with comedy, as if he knew how to lead, but was always up for a good time. The man's voice threatened Scott a bit, and his thoughts immediately went to Cindy. Scott gripped his knives. The man quickly raised his hands in surrender.

"Whoa. Whoa! Calm down...Look, I didn't mean any offense. It's just really dangerous for us nowadays, especially kids. With the gods not having demigod children anymore...every one of us that dies is a threat to our extinction. I would hate to see the Enemy take down another of us, especially one so young." The man smiled. "What's your name son?"

Scott eyed the man suspiciously. He didn't know who he could trust anymore. Only Cindy. She was the only one who he could rely on, all day, every day. He spoke up to the man, voice free of fear and doubt. "If you'd like to exchange names, I'll have yours first." The man grinned.

"Fair enough...The name's Dennis Ward. And this is my son Wyatt." He pointed to the bow who had been using the blue trident. The boy nodded, a proud smile spread across his lips. Scott noticed the similarities between the two. The curly dark hair, purplish eyes, and the excessive height. The boy had to be at least 6'1, while the man looked to be almost 7'0. Dennis pointed to the other man. "This is-"

"Alex Courtenay." The other man cut Dennis off, sticking his hand out to Scott. "And that is my son, Blake."

The bow boy's name is Blake, Scott noted. He also looked a great deal like his father. He was an inch shorter than Wyatt, with jet black hair, tan skin, and golden eyes. His eyes seemed to be the only difference from his father, who had stormy grey ones. Scott looked to Blake, smiling.

"Thank you for saving my life."

The boy smirked. "Oh that? That was nothing. Just a bit of target practice. The guy made an easy target anyway. There was this time that Wyatt and I-" His father cut him off.

"Now is not the time for stories Blake." Alex looked to Scott, stroking his stubbly chin. Scott noticed Blake roll his eyes from behind his father, and had to resist the temptation to laugh. Alex continued.

"Now. We have given our names. What would be yours?"

Scott nodded. They held up their end, so he saw no reason to fear them any longer. "My name is Scott. Scott Ward."

The two adult's stared at him, wide-eyed. "Scott Ward...as in...Clancy's son?" Dennis asked. It wasn't until that moment that Scott made the connection. Ward. The man's name is Ward. Scott nodded.

Dennis just stood there, dumbfounded. "But...I haven't talked to him in almost ten years. You must be what, fourteen now?"

"Fifteen." Scott corrected. "But, why? Who was my father to you?" Scott asked the question, knowing the answer before Dennis even responded. He could see the facial resemblance between Dennis and his father, and they even acted a bit similar. And the Irish accent did not help things.

Dennis smiled. "Clancy is my brother. Twin brother actually. He fell off the grid a while ago. He must have been trying to protect you and your mother. I just wish I knew-"

Gunshots rang out, and all five men turned towards the location of the sound. The brick wall. A high-pitched shriek followed, and Scott took off towards the wall, vaulting over it easily. He found his sister crying over a pair of mortal police officers, each with a bullet in their chest. Cindy sat there, untouched, and covered with their blood.

"Cin...what happened?" The other four showed up at that point, and Cindy looked up at all five of them, tears filling her eyes.

"They...they tried to grab me. I couldn't j-just...l-let them take me. I-I couldn't."

Wyatt spoke up. "So you shot them." Cindy nodded. Wyatt erupted into laughter, obviously impressed. "I like this girl already!" Blake smacked him in the back of his head, and whispered something to him. Wyatt straightened. "Oh...right. Sorry."

Scott looked at them all solemnly. "Look guys. my sister and I really need to go. We can't stop. As much as you are my uncle and all, we have someone to find. My father said he could keep us safe."

Dennis raised an eyebrow. "Who would that be?"

Scott spoke the name automatically, though it had no meaning to him, except safety. "The 'Heir to Olympus'."

Alex and Dennis made eye contact, promptly erupting into hysterical laughter. "Clancy still uses that name? That was just a joke we used to use!"

Scott, confused, nodded hesitantly.

Alex grinned widely. "Well, you're looking right at him!"

Scott blinked slowly, processing the information. He began to laugh. "You?"

Alex nodded. Scott sighed happily. He had had the goal for so long; it seemed unattainable until that very moment.

"Well, I guess we go with you then. Where to?" Alex began to speak, but was interrupted by loud laughter and clapping. But it wasn't good laughter. It sounded...powerful. Maniacal.

"Well done...well done indeed." Those were the last words that Scott heard before he felt a sharp pain to the back of his head, and the whole world went black.