A/N: This story contains original characters, on an original setting in an alternative universe of Camp Half-Blood. It's a free reinterpretation of the Percy Jackson universe, but it happens on the same timeline as PJ&O, The Heroes of Olympus and my last story The Son of Aphrodite. The historic references and places visited in this story are not always accurate, for artistic purposes. Language expressions and customs were also followed loosely. Read, review, but most importantly, enjoy! :)

Pedro.

Chapter 1

Jumpin' Jack Flash

I've always had a strange relationship with water. Nothing can make me feel so calm, so in peace. I couldn't go a day without its cold embrace giving me strength, making me forget my problems. But at the same time, water always made me feel a little bit uneasy. As if it was something I resented, that I was trying to forget. Whenever I was under water, I'd think about the life I could've had if my father hadn't abandoned me and my mom before I was even born. Or if my mom hadn't set sail to America, leaving me as a 13 year old orphan with no one to turn to, at the mercy of London's cruel corners and alleys. Water was everything I had left and everything I had ever lost.

And so, there I was, meters deep inside the River Thames on that Wednesday morning. When I needed help the most, the water was the first place I turned to. I looked up, the gray sunlight was shining in the sky, behind the curtain of water. I couldn't be in there for too long, but I couldn't come back up either. If I stayed, I'd drown and put an end to my miserable existence after 17 years of running through the streets of London, fighting for survival on a daily basis. If I emerged, prison would be waiting for me, probably for a good amount of years. Prison or death. It was a choice that I refused to make.

And to think that that Wednesday had started so promising…

My name is Jack Brown and, for someone with no possessions at all, I had seen a reasonable amount of carriage interiors. All of them, under the same circumstances as this last one. And by circumstances, I mean a young lady's skirt.

Now, you see… For some reason, young rich girls seem to like me. Maybe it's my bad boy charm, maybe it's the dangerous vibe, I never knew for sure. And I was only average looking—Tall, wavy black hair, milky skin and green eyes. But yet, there I was again, inside a moving carriage with another daughter of a wealthy merchant or nobleman.

"Oh, Jack," Katrina moaned, her legs wrapped tight around my head. "Right there, Jack!"

Wait, I can't quite remember if her name was Katrina or Jane. Or maybe Bridget. Like I said, I have a lot of "friends" in high places. Focused on what I was doing, it took me a while to realize that the carriage had stopped and that Katrina, Jane or Bridget was now quiet, her thighs tense around me.

"You filthy bastard!"

Before I could react, a hand grabbed me by the jacket and pulled me off of the carriage. I landed on the dirt, dangerously close to a pile of horse excrement. "How rude," I said, getting up. A pair of infuriated blue eyes stared at me. The man wore a long, white wig that matched his thick moustache, his robes were neat and pretentiously expensive. It didn't take much to conclude that I must've been before Mr. Katrina, Jane or Bridget's father.

"You will never see the sunlight again, you low life!" he threatened, grabbing me by the jacket. "I will make you pay for corrupting my daughter!"

"If I got a quid for every time I heard that, sir, I'd be wearing clothes as fancy as yours," I said, looking at the man's turquoise garments. "Perhaps a little bit more stylish, but still."

He threw me back on the floor, grinning maliciously. Standing on each side of him was an armed guard looking eager to rip me to pieces or throw me in confinement or worse. Sadistic people are the riches' guards. Specially these two. There was something about their scarlet eyes, sharp teeth and ugly faces. Somehow, they didn't seem human at all.

"Father, please! Let him go!" Katrina, Jane or Bridget shouted from inside the carriage. Mr. Turquoise ignored the pleads of his daughter and pointed a knife at me. "Someone needs to clean London from scum like you."

The two guards started coming toward me and I was forced to act quick.

"Oh, I totally agree, sir."

I pulled Mr. Turquoise's wig, threw it in the air and ran away as fast as I could, pulling up my pants along the way. After a brief second of confusion, while the guards' tiny brains were deciding what course of action to take, they started to pursue me through the crowded and confusing streets of the city. It takes practice to know how to navigate properly in the middle of all the carriages, horses, people and fruit stands, and I was doing that for years.

I tried to blend in the crowd, but the pair of armed guards was too close behind for me to escape their sight. I turned around a corner and smiled. A parked carriage pulled by two horses was just before me, the conductor sleeping instead of keeping an eye on the animals.

I don't know why, but I've always had a way with horses. I came closer and stared urgently at the beautiful brown stallion on the right. Help me, I thought, jumping on its back. He fought against the ropes tying him to the carriage and galloped away from the guards carrying me, while the conductor screamed in surprise and frustration.

"Horse thief! Horse thief! Get him!"

I'm sorry, but horses choose their riders, I thought, and I could swear the stallion uttered a neigh in approval.

We made our way through the chaotic streets and I relaxed, thinking the guards were far behind us by now. When they reappeared around a corner, each riding their own horse.

"Bloody hell, can't I have one moment of peace?" I said to myself. The loyal stallion tried harder to help me, but the guards' horses were stronger and faster.

"You've done a lot already, chap, thanks." I whispered to him before jumping off his back and dashing through a narrow alley where the guards and their animals would never fit. On the other side of it, I stopped and tried to regain my breath. The Thames rested peacefully in front of me.

I heard screams and spotted the guards racing toward me after going around the block. Their scarlet eyes craving for blood. My blood. My heart raced as I tried to come up with a way out. Thinking back on it, I could've gone back the same alley, but I guess I was too nervous to think about the most obvious option. Plus, something inside me told me that there was only one place where I'd be safe for good, where they could never reach me. I swallowed dry and dived into the Thames, free falling for almost ten meters before hitting the river and sinking like a rock.

Suddenly there was no more noise, no more chaos. I had left London and was now in another place. A better, more pleasant place. But as much as I didn't want to go back up, I was a man, not a fish. After a few minutes, my throat started to close, my chest threatening to explode. I was drowning, but I couldn't come back up. No, I would not be taken to prison, I would not let myself be caught. My vision started to blur and I closed my eyes, my body struggling for air, but my mind feeling totally at peace. I was dying the same way I've been all my life—Completely alone. It couldn't be more appropriate.

I opened my eyes and saw nothing but darkness at first. I was sure I was dreaming because I had no idea how I got there. I sat down and tried to remember something, but my mind was blank. I ran my fingers through my hair and my heart raced. I moved my arms and tried to get up. I was almost weightless, surrounded by a pleasant feeling of protection. I looked up and spotted the sun, shining faintly dozens of meters above me. I almost choked on nothing. I was under water, sleeping on the bottom of the Thames. I couldn't think straight, I forced myself up, struggling to get out of there as soon as possible. My head emerged and I took a deep and desperate breath, swam to the margin and got up on a stone ladder that would take me back to the street above.

I stopped and looked around as everything came back to me suddenly. I jumped on the river to escape from the guards that were after me. I jumped there to hide. How long was I under water? A minute? An hour? I looked around, there was no sign of the guards anywhere. In fact, the streets were a lot more empty and the sky getting darker every second.

"Excuse me, sir," I asked a man walking by. "Can you tell me what time it is?" He analyzed the soaking wet 17 year old before him and took a watch out of his pocket. "It's time to go home, boy. The streets are a dangerous place at night for someone so young."

I just stood there in shock while he walked away. Maybe I was going crazy, but I was sure that it was still the morning when I was in that carriage with that girl, when I jumped in the Thames to hide from those guards. The question was what happened to the almost 8 hours between then and now? I looked at the water and a shiver went down my spine. No, I was going crazy.

I walked all the way to the public library, a huge building the size of an entire block that I called home. The place was overseen by a man named Mr. Ledge. He was a tiny, chubby man with a pointy goatee and curly hair. He never let go of his cane, because he couldn't walk properly. He said it was the result of a horseback riding accident when he was still a kid.

Mr. Ledge found me living in the street, four years before, a few months after my mother abandoned me. He offered me the roof of the library and the food of his table as long as I helped him run the place. He was a lonely, sometimes rude old man that seemed to hate everything and everyone, even himself. He was the head librarian, but hated books. No siblings, no wife, no children. He was completely alone in this city, just like me, which is why I think we get along so well. The only rule of the house was we never meddle in each other's business, and I was totally okay with that.

I walked into the library and spotted Mr. Ledge organizing some heavy volumes on the mythology section.

"Ay, Brown! A little help here?" he shouted with his thick voice. I stopped before him, my clothes dripping water. He arched his eyebrows and turned red. "Forget it, you're in no condition to handle books."

"It's not like anyone would notice, no one comes after those old mythology books," I said, my eyes running through the high shelves. "I love them, but I'm just saying."

"Good for you, Brown. The people of this country disappoint me. No wonder they are rumored to be going someplace else." He said. I stared at him confused. "Who are you talking about?"

Mr. Ledge shrugged and shouted. "No one! Go put some dry clothes, you're going to make someone slide and fall!" He stopped and thought about it. "On a second thought, stay. I'd love to see that."

I laughed and walked away, trying not to think about what had happened earlier. The interior of the library was magnificent with its high ceiling and shelves, standing around us like great pillars of knowledge. Four years there and I learned more than I could learn in any school of the city. Mr. Ledge made sure I always had something to read, especially if it involved Greek and Roman myths. The old, grumpy man had a weak spot for gods and goddesses, and after spending so much time with him, I started to develop one as well. Stories about heroes and quests were personally my favorites.

I slept in a tiny room that was meant to be a broom cupboard. It was big enough to fit only a small bed and a few shelves of books. I took off my wet clothes and lay in bed, my heart feeling as heavy as a rock in my chest. I should be dead, drowned, my lifeless body forever forgotten in the bottom of the river. That was the truth and I had to face it sooner or later. I shouldn't be breathing anymore.

The worst part was that I couldn't talk about that with anyone. Can you imagine if I'd come up to Mr. Ledge and say that I slept for hours under water, got out and walked away as if nothing had happened? He would send me straight to an asylum.

I got up, put on some dry clothes and walked out of the room. Mr. Hedge was still on the mythology section, muttering insults under his breath.

"I'll be back in time for supper." I said. He just looked at me and nodded. Outside the sun had set and the streets were beginning to show its usual nocturnal facet—prostitutes, drunks and thieves were always easier to spot at night, when most people were locked inside their homes. A couple of men were having an argument under a street lamp nearby. I tried not to, but I couldn't help but eavesdrop.

"I'm telling you, mate. He simply disappeared from the face of the earth. No one has seen or heard from him, it's as if the ground opened up and swallowed him." One of the men said. The other nodded and replied. "Just another proof that you should never get on the way of Fair. You do it, you're a dead man."

Fair again. He was the man who supposedly ran a big portion of London's criminal activities. No one had ever seen the guy, but no one dared to act as if he wasn't real. The ones who did, ended up vanishing with no explanation.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. I wasn't dead, I should be grateful. But I couldn't just ignore the fact that I spent hours under water without breathing. Or maybe that didn't happen and I was just finally losing my mind. Either way, I should be worried.

A carriage stopped before me and adrenaline pumped through my veins. It was Mr. Turquoise's. I tried to run back to the library but the two guards were already waiting behind me. They lifted me up and threw me on the carriage.

"Hello, Jack. You really thought you could hide from me?"

I caught a glimpse of an evil smile and turquoise robes before being hit hard on the head and falling unconscious, the carriage starting to move.