OK readers. This is an SYOC, the characters are all submitted so I don't need any new submissions or anything like that. this is just a prologue that I've written up. If you want an overview of what's going on check out my SYOC story. Other than that I don't have much to say, I hope you enjoy it!

"Two A.M. Time to get up Mac,"

I pushed myself out of my twin sized bed and looked into the face of John Macmillan. We'd been on the run for a few months now. His hair was long and greasy, and he had a torn shirt on. I could see his muscles through his shirt, they were more defined that they had been when we were at camp. Dodging monsters left right and center would do that to you. He walked across the broken down dirty living room and shrugged on his long black coat. It was a gift, from his dad Morpheus, the Greek god of dreams and sleep.

I guess I should start by saying my name isn't Mac, it's just what John calls people. The name is actually Xenos, it means stranger in Greek. I'd like to think I looked less beat than Mac but we dissagree on that point. I still managed to keep my hair close cropped, even if I have to cut it with Stag, my celestial bronze Ninjato sword. It was a gift from my dad, Kratos, the god of strength. I'm not sure how the god of strength ever had a kid like me. I never lived up to his name. I wasn't strong. At best I was fast, and smart.

Demigods were on average a step above the normal person, when it comes to survival. That's why we could take care of ourselves, unlike most mortals. When the crash hit the U.S. we were able to take care of ourselves. The same cant be said for mortals.

It was almost like the depression, the crash, only it was on a greater scale. Every government in the world collapsed though some held on longer than others, peru and South Africa held the longest. The population every country dropped by at least 30 percent, America wasn't so lucky, it fell a whopping seventy five percent. The world was comprised of drifters and war bands. Not a pretty site. Most demigods had abandoned camp Half-Blood.

They split into four main groups. John and I fell into the 'wanderers' class. We were drifters we didn't fit in with the clans we just wandered around, trying to survive. In the beginning there were hundreds of us, but quickly we disappeared and stopped coming to solstice trials. Last year there were only four that came, and the party ponies, with Chiron at the lead, didn't show at all.

The biggest clan, as far as numbers go was Jericho. That being said they weren't all demigods. They had some gutted out prison in upstate New York that they called home. If a mortal was in trouble that was the place to go, they'd give you a cell and food. That's more than most mortals could get for themselves. Jericho had problems though they were too nice, all the other groups knew everything about them, they couldn't say no. they'd let just about anyone in, and they were getting over crowded as a result.

Now if we're talking about numbers of demigods, the tranqs stand alone. They live in some sort of campsite around Ohio. They don't have any mortals in their group, period. As far as the tranqs go if you can't provide for yourself, by yourself, then they don't want you. They had a huge surplus of food and resources. That made them a target. Any struggling group would try to rob them. Mortals didn't stand a chance, demigods on the other hand. That's a different story.

That just leaves the Trojans, named for the war. They were the meanest, angriest and probably the most efficient of them all. They roamed around the most, save the various wanderers. They couldn't stay in one place for too long, they couldn't support themselves. They had to steal and tax war bands and small colonies. This worked out, for them. It was fight to survive and they were good fighters.

Ok so I guess next on my list of convoluted summaries is the solstice trials. Basically we all missed capture the flag. I think the truth of the matter is we all missed camp half-blood. Unfortunately our differences screwed that up. If any of us tried to stay there it'd piss off the other two and war would break out instantaneously. So instead of fighting we all held a sort of Olympic Games on all the solstices.

"Why you just sitting there Xen? 'S the summer solstice, we gotta get to camp half-blood lets go," I shrugged on my coat and my ninjato and started heading for the door.

Before leaving I checked my reflection with a near by mirror. My sideburns were getting darker and fuller. I could still see a scar lining my chin, an old gift from a chimera in Mexico. My black leather coat was slung over a button up shirt that concealed a grey wife beater. They were all rather dirty and patched up. My dark boot cut jeans had holes around the knees. They were held up with a scratched up leather belt that I kept my flashlight and my cartridge bandolier. I don't use my Winchester repeater very often, but my belt never seems to run out of ammo. Just like my bike never runs out of gas. Both blessings from my dad I guess, he didn't talk often but now and again he'd give me stuff. he never showed up but it was always the same. Somewhere on the gift he'd have the same unforgettable words.

Of course I couldn't forget them, they had been burned into my back for as long as I could remember.

In adversity, we learn persistence.

In pain, we learn resistance

In tyranny we learn insurgence

In success we learn diffidence.

In failure we learn deference.

In death we learn acceptance

In the afterlife we know our life's significance

That's how the children of Kratos were claimed. We didn't get a shining spear above our heads or anything, we got a poem burned onto our shoulder blades. I would never admit it, because i hated my scarred up back, but in times of hardship, when I'm at my worst I chant it to myself. Either whispered or in my head. Somehow it always seemed to help, but maybe I'm just crazy.

I pulled the blue baseball cap from a hook and pulled it onto my head, backwards. I always wore that hat, unless I was sleeping. I sighed, picking up my gun from the corner, I hate mornings. I took one fleeting look at my deep blue eyes and my firm jaw, and then I followed John out the door.

"Why do we have to start so early again?" I asked as I walked out the front door, strait into the pitch black morning. The Night's dew covered the grass and the day's heat was long gone. I readjusted the strap on my ninjato sword. I needed to be able to pull it quickly over my shoulder and into a fighting position.

"Because we don't want any trouble from mortals, it's just easier this way." He said opening the garage door. I knew the answer, i just wanted to annoy John.

"Well we're stopping at sun up, I'm hungry already." I said my foot over my motorcycle. It was a low sleek black Harley. I had long ago replaced the seat with an old saddle I'd found in South Carolina. I tried to polish it as often as I could remember.

"Fine, lets just get some ground behind us, I'd rather we get to camp early."

I ignored him and started adjusting things on my bike. I pushed my Winchester into a better position. I dug some stuff out of my pocket and dropped it into my saddlebag. The second I swung my leg up onto the Harley John was pushing his Pegasus into a canter. "Try to keep up this time!" he called over his shoulder before taking off into the sky.

I slammed my foot down onto the kick starter and was instantly flying through country roads heading strait for half-blood hill. It should have been simple and Easy, but it was a long ride to camp.

I hope you like my story. i'll be posting as often as i can.

-B.W.