Unlikely Heroes
A/N: Welcome everyone, to the beginning of another multichap fic. I know, I know, there's not been an update to "Dumbest Idea Ever". I'm working on it, trust me. This fic is for fans of the Crew and fans of the Percy Jackson universe. As an author, I feed off of reviews (and the tears of my readers), so please tell me what you liked, didn't like, etc. Huge thanks to Epoc for proofreading, expect a lot of credits to her and Kia for taking the jumbled mess that is my brain and making it coherent. Right, on with the show…
PROLOGUE
Gubiak and Hollow hauled the slack, half-conscious body of Rage down Half-Blood Hill towards the camp boundary. The Fury circled above them, preparing to dive. Fluke, Evanz and Jake sped up, past the outer limit of Camp Half-Blood, following Gubiak's directions to the medical bay to warn them that a badly-injured demigod was about to fall into their laps.
Back at the Hill, hope was creeping its way into Gubiak's mind. He was going to make it- Rage and Hollow would be safe. They were nearly there. Nearly safe. Nearly, nearly...
The Fury swooped.
Fourteen year old Hollow swung wildly with his celestial bronze knife as Gubiak shouldered Rage's ragdoll form and half-carried, half-dragged him to the camp's border. Hollow's brow furrowed in concentration and his lips were set in a firm line, but the eyes gave it away. The Fury could see his fear, plain as day. He tried to stab the creature again, his blade barely brushing the leathery skin of the Fury's toughened wing. A strange hissing sound came from just above him and he realised the Kindly One was laughing. Terror flared in his mind and he scurried down the hill, the muscles in his legs burning as he forced himself onwards, to join his friend and keeper inside the bounds of the camp.
The door of the medical bay was already being held open, and Hollow could make out the panicked faces of his three other friends in the darkness. Their expressions melted into collective relief as they saw the two demigods and the satyr. Gubiak gently laid Rage's limp body down on the bed that had been prepared for him.
The boy was bleeding profusely from a shallow but nasty cut on his forehead, and a far deeper and more serious wound in his side. The attendants got to work and
tipped a little of a golden liquid into his mouth. Rage's already heavy-lidded eyes fluttered closed and his breathing slowed as he fell unconscious. They gently wiped the blood from his palid forehead. An ointment that smelled vaguely of honeysuckle and peaches was softly applied to the injury. The damage to his side was more severe; a square of ambrosia was pushed into his mouth and a faint light emanated, seemingly from under his skin. The crusted, crimson area around the wound began to knit itself together, soothing the agitated flesh and clearing the dirt and grime of travel from his system.
The door swung open to reveal Mr D, the camp's leader. The colour drained from his usually red, disgruntled face as his eyes fell upon the young teen lying prone on the bed. Fluke, Hollow, Evanz, Jake, and Gubiak followed his gaze to Rage's unconscious form.
A holographic symbol glowed faintly over his head. He had been claimed. If it had been any other symbol, it wouldn't earn such a drastic reaction. But instead of a sun, or heart, or even trident, a pale yellow lightning bolt marked Rage as a child of Zeus.
"Di immortales." Mr D swore, before hurrying from the room.