Summary: Something about this feels right, but a lot of things are just wrong. Percy Jackson deals with amnesia, superpowers and a sadistic military camp.

Warnings include Lost Hero spoilers, language, general incoherency and a mess of OCs.

Legion

I

Day 01, 0459 Hours

The wolves howled at five in the morning. He knew this because some kid above him protested in a feeble voice that it was five in the morning and dammit, the sun hadn't even come out yet.

He snuggled into his pillow, yawning, and realized that his pillow was actually a chunk of solid rock with itchy fabric covering it. When had that happened?

"MOVE IT, RECRUITS!"

He blinked at his stone and sat up, banging his head on the second tier of the bunk bed. A concerned female voice asked him if he was all right.

"I NEED YOU OUT HERE AT PERCISELY FIVE-OH-FIFTEEN IF YOU HAVE ANY NOTIONS OF GETTING TO BREAKFAST! DO WHATEVER THE HELL BUSINESS YOU HAVE TO DO BEFORE THEN, BECAUSE YOU WIMPS SURE AS AREN'T GOING TO GET A CHANCE AFTER! TEN-HUT!"

"What?" he muttered, his hand going to the back of his head. Not that it hurt; his head was probably used to getting banged up on the pillow or something.

"That's just drill sergeant Vero," girl, bottom bunk to the left, said, "His soothing voice is the first thing we hear in the morning, what lulls us to sleep each night and what we hear at every waking point in between. In case you haven't figured that out by now."

The feeble voice which had protested earlier laughed heartily. The girl shot a glare in the general direction and it stuttered to a stop.

"What?" He asked again, no less confused.

"Snap out of it, Jackson," another guy, one bunk across and over ordered. "You act stupid, we're all going to pay. And man up, everyone. You know the drill."

The girl in the bunk above him (the one who'd asked him if he was okay) groaned. The kid above her sighed. The other two got to (or came down to) their feet with somewhat less grumbling. He tried to sit still and remember where on earth he was, and failed.

"What?" he asked again, a little helplessly.

The girl in the other bunk paused long enough to raise a flaming orange eyebrow at him, "You must have hit your head harder than I thought."

Day 01, 0520 Hours

"THANKS TO RECRUIT JACKSON HERE, THE REST OF YOU PANSIES CAN GO WITHOUT FOOD FOR THE REST OF THE DAY!"

He winced. If this was what his brain was subjected to everyday, there was no wonder he couldn't remember anything.

The others had dragged him out of bed and into what qualified as the bathroom, and all though it he'd acted like he was part zombie. Names and faces had passed over him without making any sort of blip on his brain as he'd stared at them all, somewhat dazed. Finally, at oh-five-ten, they'd given up on him and went into survival mode, and because standing there trying to remember who he was didn't seem very productive, he'd followed them after a while.

The guy he then came face to face (face to chin, if he had to be honest) with was dressed up in steel plates and-

"Are you wearing a skirt?"

There was a choking noise from somewhere behind him. One of the girls groaned.

The guy in the skirt didn't look amused.

"THINK YOU'RE FUNNY, JACKSON?"

"Can you stop shouting? I think my head's damaged enough already."

The guy blinked, slowly and deliberately; then turned to the rest of the group. On cue, all of them shuddered.

Day 01, 0540 Hours

The sun was starting - just- to come up, but there was enough light for him to see the field they were supposed to lap one-twenty times. In full armour. With great big shields.

"Jupiter's ba-"

"AJ!" The tiny girl protested.

"Sorry," the guy with the blue hair groaned. "but you have to admit the situation kinda stinks."

"How's it any different from yesterday, then?" the other girl wondered.

"Great job, Jackson," the last guy shot him a dirty look. He had orange eyebrows too. He'd have remembered those eyebrows, right?

"Who are you people?" He wondered again, for the sixth time in the last minute.

"Jupiter's b-eard," the kid with the blue hair muttered, rubbing his face. "You'd think he'd shut up now, at least. Percy, there is a time and place for-"

"And who's Percy?"

There was silence. The guy's orange eyebrow twitched. The tiny girl gaped at him. The kid with the blue hair stared at the girl with the orange eyebrows, who pointedly drew a finger across her throat.

He absently wondered what colour his hair was. Pink, probably. There wasn't a mirror in the bathroom.

"Okay," Blue Hair said, grinning a little maniacally, "Crash course. I'm AJ Rosa. That's Foster Burke and his incredibly gorgeous twin Claudia. Tiny there is Dukhi Mishra, but we call her Duo for reasons that will soon become obvious. The guy you just made mad was Bobby Vero, by the way; he lives to make our lives miserable. And you are Percy Jackson, the noob who woke up this morning feeling suicidal."

And this was supposed to make things less confusing?

Day 01, 0610 Hours

So far, he'd accepted the names. It seemed like a good place to start.

The rest of them had stopped after the twentieth lap, resigning themselves to further punishments with relative cheerfulness. After all, as Claudia pointed out, they weren't actually expected to finish the laps on time. It was just a test to see how long they could grin and bear it before collapsing into a puddle of frustrated goo.

"So we're at military camp?" Percy deduced.

"Not just military camp," Duo told him cheerily, "Magic Roman demigod wolf-based military camp."

For some reason, this didn't sound as improbable as it was supposed to sound.

"Okay," he said. "And we're demigods?"

"Yeah," AJ shrugged, squinting at the sun, "We don't get officially named until we get out tattoos, but it's usually fairly obvious who's who."

"Tattoos?"

"Didn't we already explain this to you?" Foster sighed from the ground. "We train. We recover. We train again. After a point Lupa decides we won't be embarrassments and gives us our tattoo. Till then we're second-class citizens."

"Puppies, as she likes to remind us," Claudia offered.

"Lupa?"

There was another silence. Apparently this Lupa person wasn't somebody you just forgot.

"Oookay," Claudia got off the ground and dusted herself off, "It's official. Training's cracked his brain. Foster, what do we do with him?"

Foster looked at his watch. "Tape his mouth shut?"

"He's one of us," Duo protested, "Even if he's a noob. Shouldn't we tell someone?"

"Well-"

"INCOMING!"

On cue, all of them ducked. Something black with big teeth flew over them, landed on the other side, turned and growled.

"Now?" Duo yelped, her voice climbing and dropping octaves in succession, "That bast-"

"Formation!" Foster scrambled upto his feet, "Lock shields, semicircle! Don't let it claw you!"

"Um," Percy squinted at the dog, and didn't move, "Isn't it supposed to be larger?"

"And get him behind the shields before he kills himself!"

There was a rough clash of metal, and four shields locked into a smooth semicircle facing the Hellhound. Their wielders crouched behind the barrier, and moved in front of him, blocking him from the hellhound.

Something about this situation did not feel right, and it wasn't the giant black dog with lava eyes.

"Percy, you idiot, get your damn shield!"

Percy stared at his shield and dropped it to search in his pocket. There was a ballpoint pen in there.

The hellhound bared its teeth and leaped over the shield formation. It took all of two seconds for them to unlock, turn and relock the shields into position, again facing the hellhound, same as before. Except that now Percy was in front of the formation, completely unshielded and facing the hellhound with a ballpoint pen.

It cocked its head, growled, and leaped.

End Notes: Admittedly not much of a cliffhanger, but this is going to be it for a while.