Chapter I

Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson, Coca Cola, or Frankenstein. They belong to their respective creators. Any events and similarities are merely coincidence as this piece is only used for entertainment.

"We should not fret for what is past, nor should we be anxious about the future; men of discernment deal only with the present moment."– Chanakya

Mark empathized with people who got sudden chills when he recounted the years his life changed forever. Those who felt it and immediately stopped reading, for they knew what would happen if they continued into this story. It would only be a matter of time before their presence was discovered.

Those who read about it and didn't feel the chill, he envied more than anything. They would only find it amusing since it had nothing to do with them whatsoever. They wouldn't have to face the same problems as the others reading this story.

His useless banter aside, he had to get it off his chest already. Some people know it started in a dormitory somewhere in Illinois. Even though winter didn't arrive, taking a step outside at the end of autumn weather was like being slapped in the face with a block of ice. Travelers never expect it until it's right behind them and driving over them with a bus called reality. Then again, as much as he hates to say it, the cold never bothered him anyway.

His point was proven further as he took a step out of the dorms wearing only a faded pair of loose jeans and a red shirt. Standing at five foot and four inches, Mark Ford was a mountain of muscle compared to many of his classmates. His breath frosted in the morning air, moisture collecting behind his glasses as it drifted past his lips and into the sky. Delicately, he removed the eye wear from the top of his nose to wipe away the condensing moisture on his lenses.

After successfully cleaning his specs, he placed them back on his head to survey the surrounding area. The previous night's snow sparkled before his eyes as he began to slowly walk along the sidewalk. His morning walk became a routine that his friend managed to drill into his head only after a short time of knowing him. "The sooner one begins the day, the sooner their day ends," he would often say.

Shaking his head, he muttered about his friend's sometimes strict belief system before picking up his pace. The crisp air from the lake brought a wave of cod to sweep down his spine. He cursed under his breath, blaming this cold weather on Obama's reelection results about a week ago despite the fact he knew political systems did not affect the weather. Had he known about the cold wave, he would not have complained to Tom as much as he did back when they first met.

Speaking of the devil, he spotted his friend of four years sitting on a park bench. His light tan friend sat in the morning light of the day with a red sweatshirt and dark grey, skinny jeans reading a small book. From across the park, he could tell he was lost within his own mind as he either didn't notice or didn't care that some gang members out of Chicago were trying to establish territory for themselves. Even without his glasses, Mark knew the interaction would turn south in a matter of moments so he started making a beeline for his friend before he did anything rash.

Unfortunately, rash decisions were a thing that Tom specialized in when people entered his personal space. Although Mark was still some distance away from the current conversation, he could tell Tom was about to open a can of whoop ass on the unsuspecting kids. If it's one thing that Mark picked up on after a couple of years knowing him, he knew that it was only a matter of time before Tom let out some pent up aggression.

It appeared that his patience ran out the second one of the criminals tried to slap his book out of his hands. Before his tormentor could further antagonize him, Tom shot out his boot clad foot onto the side of the guy's knee, the cracking of bone echoing throughout the park. As the kid fell, Tom grabbed him by his throat and flung his head first into the metal bench. The four other members decided to step up and attempt to land a hit on the now aggressive teen.

Every time Mark saw him fight, he could not help to be amazed by sheer power Tom had despite his shorter stature. For his short size, he could block and counter without a problem as if he could tell where each punch or kick was coming from before the fight even started. However that only occurred when his mind was clear. Whenever he got angered, his fighting style would change from calculated strikes and blocks to a merciless barrage of fists. Those two different styles of combat made him look like an entirely different person.

At that moment it seemed the gang was getting the upper hand as Tom's movements grew sloppier by the minute. Tom didn't see one of the kids charging at him with a collapsible baton raised. Before the baton could make contact with Tom's head, Mark's firm hand grabbed his arm. Turning his head, the kid received a brutal kick to the abdominals. Having the wind knocked out of him, he was unable to react to the haymaker coming somewhere from his right.

Turning to his friend, Tom smirked and commented, "You know… when I go out for a walk I prefer to be alone?"

"Well knowing you, wherever you go, you always manage to get into some sort of trouble," Mark responded to his friend.

"Yes but unlike you I can take care of myself," Tom remarked.

Having been ignored, one of the conscious remaining gang members dashed at Mark with the fallen baton extended only for him to simply catch the metal with his left hand. Mark let out a wince from the sting of metal meeting his palm but focused on the hoodlum attempting to jerk the baton from the his grip. Because the idiot's attention was focused on getting the improvised weapon out of the his hand, he did not notice Tom's fist until it connected with his jaw.

Once the ill-advised child fell to the ground, the duo slowly turned towards the remaining "gang" member, no older than eleven years of age, standing in shock. He was visibly shaking as they stared at him as Tom said, "Now, why don't you try and give me your best shot, kid?"

Blindly, the hoodlum rushed forward yelling at the top of his lungs with his knife outstretched. Giving a quick glance at each other, the two gave each other curt nods. Once he was within striking distance, Mark grabbed onto his wrist while Tom sent a left hook below the kid's ribs. As if on cue, bile erupted from his mouth onto the snow. Ripping the blade away from his hand, Mark used his leg to trip him back before Tom slammed him into the ground.

After a few seconds, the misled child fell unconscious, bile sticking to his lip and jacket. Slowly, the two turned to each other and did a quick, firm handshake before they heard the pained whimper of the leader. He was attempting to pull himself up from the ground with his arms but the awkward bend in his leg prevented him from placing any weight on it. As his back leaned against the metal bench, Tom walked other to him and crouched down next to the leader.

"This little soiree of ours was quite amusing," Tom stated. "It's been a while since I got to dance around for a bit. I kinda wish you guys put in a little more effort in though. I didn't even get to have the ache in my back out."

Immediately after stating this, Tom punched the kid in between the eyes with a resounding crunch of bones. As he drifted into unconsciousness, Tom wistfully said, "Perhaps it will be better next time."

Standing back up to his full height, Tom turned back to his friend. "You know," Tom began, "I keep telling you there is no need to worry."

"That is when I worry the most," Mark stated.

Chuckling at his statement, Tom walked past the teen, giving him a pat on the shoulder as a sign on condolence. "I didn't need the help. I could have taken care of it myself."

Mark turned to look at Tom as he began to stroll back towards the busier parts of town. Even if he just received some help from his friend, he would still find a way to state his independence. Shaking his head he jogged to catch up with Tom, he asked, "How long do you think it will take them to recover?"

"Well Mark," Tom began, "I am not doctor but it may take them a while to recover from today's events. If they go to a hospital, they might find medical treatment and potentially a night in jail for previous crimes. If they don't receive treatment, it will probably take a couple of months to recover from the physical pain, though I don't know if they will psychologically recover anytime soon."

Shaking his head, Mark replied, "It frightens me that you know this kind of stuff."

Hearing this, Tom stopped his walking. As he looked up to the sky, he stated, "Maybe it is less important to think about that and more important finding some food."

Giving a small smile, Mark asked, "Egg Harbor?"

"It wouldn't be a good Sunday if we didn't get brunch, my tall friend."

The duo walked through the familiar glass doors into the warm restaurant they frequented for brunch. This Sunday there were some friendly faces they already met from their many visits. The sweet smell of eggs and bacon cooking wafted through the air causing Mark's stomach to increase in hunger from their earlier events. They almost always had breakfast over at the dorm but they made it a personal goal to eat there at least once a week to have some motivation to actually go outside on the weekend.

"Hey, boys," a blonde waitress called over to the duo. "Do you guys want your usual seats at the bar?"

"Why are you asking rhetorical questions," Tom asked off to the side.

"Well I am just making sure you don't change on me," she said putting her hand in Tom's hair. "I've grown fond of you little weirdos."

"Just take us to our spots, Penny," he said while removing her hand from his head.

"Sure thing, genius," she said before leading them to their seats with two menus in her arms.

As they were led to their spots, Mark could not help but think about how they first met the twenty-something blonde woman. At first they were just like any other regular customer that wandered through the doors of Egg Harbor Café. Eventually after eating there so often, they got use to each other and were on a first name basis. They knew Penny was only working there until she could pay of her student loans from college but she was a breath of fresh air amongst the rest of their week. She had a way of livening up a hard week of testing and tragically long homework assignments.

Placing the menus in front of them as they sat down, she asked, "You guys need a minute or do you already know what you want?"

"I'll have the Barrington Benedict with some hot tea," Tom stated as he handed over his menu.

"And for you, four eyes," she teasingly asked Mark.

"I'll just have the traditional with scrambled eggs, bacon, and water," he sighed in defeat.

"I'll have your drinks ready in a sec," she said walking away to place their orders.

After she was out of earshot, Tom turned to him and said, "If I didn't know any better, I would think you like her morning banter."

"Look who's talking," Mark snidely remarked.

Tom started chuckling to himself at their conversation before growing silent. Penny dropped of their drinks before attending to her other customers. It was still too early for the churchgoers to arrive and start packing the place. Tom wasn't very fond of sharing the place to large numbers of people but would wait in the filled restaurant just to get his food. A smile made its way onto Mark's face as he continued to stare off into nothing while sipping on his water.

Their meals arrived with a warm smile and a wink from Penny. With all the manners he could muster, Mark feverishly dug into his breakfast. Although it was quite simple compared to the other things on the menu, Mark thoroughly savored how each bite of eggs and bacon warmed him to his core. Letting out a shudder of content, he cast a glance over at Tom as he enjoyed his meal at a different pace. Instead of tearing into poached egg inside English muffins like a starved hyena, he took slow bites out of the delightful dish between calm sips from his warm tea. This made Mark a little self-conscious about his eating habit and began eating a little more like his friend. As he gently placed a fork full of eggs into his mouth, he could have sworn he caught a smirk out of the corner of his eye.

Eventually, the two had finished their meals and were just about finished with their drinks. They were fully satisfied with their brunch but they wanted to enjoy the moment a little while longer. Not every morning could be as good as this one, but they could enjoy it before they were taunted by the other kids their age. Why they were mocked by other kids for going to brunch, Mark could not figure out.

The time came when they had to leave right before the brunch rush arrived. After tipping Penny for her consistent hospitality, they gave her a wave before exiting the restaurant. Stepping out into the cold, they noticed the temperature rose a little bit while they were inside. With the sun disappearing behind some clouds, the two decided to go back to an old warehouse they found back when they first met.

Mark was quite fond of the day he first met the shorter kid, for that was when he truly had a friend. Back then, Mark's mother sent him to a private school an hour away from his home in Chicago due to his ADHD and dyslexia getting him in some trouble at other schools in the city. She didn't want him to be teased for his learning disabilities at a public school so see sent him to a private school, pouring as much money into his education as she could while sustaining her auto shop business.

Being so far from home, he couldn't help being homesick and wanted frequently to return home so he could spend time with his mother working on cars. She always needed help working around the shop and figured he could help her instead of attending school like she wanted. Despite the warm sentiment behind his eagerness to fix cars alongside her, she knew he needed to spread his wings a little more. Looking back, he was thankful his mother wanted him to develop some freedom in his choices.

While attending elementary school, he met Tom one day just sitting at a desk with a solemn look in his eyes. He did not understand what the problem was so he introduced himself to the tired boy only to be greeted by sad eyes and silence. Seeing that he was under the weather, Mark had the sudden urge to fix the problem. After a couple minutes of suggestions, he managed to convince him to follow him to a warehouse the boy discovered while wandering around the area. How he convinced a total stranger to follow into a hidden warehouse, Mark still couldn't figure.

Said warehouse stood before them in the depths of a forest nearby. The two teens observed the broken windows and rusted metal exterior before entering, the interior clear of debris from so many visits from the duo. Only the hundreds of boxes littered the center of the room as rays of light entered through the shattered windows. Memories of making box forts flooded Mark's mind as they wandered further into the building. He smiled at the dozens of fond memories the two had there during the school years, from screwing around with a forklift that always seemed to have energy without any gasoline, to getting splinters inside their hands for not wearing gloves while moving the boxes.

Sitting on top of their latest and greatest creation, Fort Kickass, the two scanned the interior of the building. One section of the roof still had a hole in it that they would have to repair later on. Some more glass shards were scattered on the cement floor, probably from other kids with rocks. Although this was their favorite spot to go to, it was no secret that the two wandered into the area when school was not in session. Some of their classmates would always insinuate that the two were doing something wrong but Mark didn't see any problem with building box forts.

Lying back, he stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought. After a while he openly asked, "What do you think we'll be doing in the future, Tom?"

"I would guess some sort of horrible lesson at school, Mark."

"I don't mean tomorrow," Mark scoffed. "I am talking about after high school future."

Tom visibly tensed up at this, "I have no clue."

"My mom says I should be thinking about what I want to do after high school," he said. "She keeps reminding me that these days will fly by fast. She is also really urging that I attend college after graduation."

Silence filled the air as they remained on their wooden fort. Tom didn't make a sound so Mark decided to drown out the silence by continuing on. "I'm considering going to college in Chicago, maybe earn a degree in mechanical engineering. I know you're not that fond of Project Lead the Way but I think it can take me places, you know?"

"Yeah," Tom sighed.

"So what do you think you are going to do," Mark inquired.

Silence floated between the two as Mark stared at his friend's distant look. He could tell he was deep in thought as his eyes remained fixated on a rusted spot on the wall. Tom's leg began to bounce up and down as it dangled over the side of their fort, his own ADHD acting up from staying still for too long. Mark could see that his question was very difficult to answer at the present moment.

He was about to apologize but Tom responded, "I honestly have no clue. Everything I have tried doesn't really interest me that much. Guitar and art are pretty fun but you can't really make a livable career out of that. With my track record, I do not really think I can get into a good university. I am sure there is something out there for me but I can't see what that is from where I'm at this present moment."

Mark sat up and placed his hand on Tom's shoulder. "That's alright, Tom. You don't have to make a decision just yet."

Tom shrugged off Mark's hand as he stood up from his spot at the edge of the fort. After standing, he bought himself a couple seconds of quiet by stretching out his back. His spine audibly popped as he leaned back and forth, rotating from side to side. Mark knew he wasn't trying to be rude by pushing away his reassurance, but he wouldn't be lying if he said that it made him a little uneasy for his friend's blatant disregard for his support.

"I think it's time we get back to the academy," Tom stated with his arm outstretched to Mark. He recognized the change in behavior and decided to go along with it. Mark's hand went past Tom's hand and firmly grasped his forearm and pulled him up with his friend's assistance.

"If we don't get back in time, Mr. Lubbock is going to throw a fit," Tom said as he slowly descended the large structure.

"When did you suddenly start caring for being on time," Mark questioned.

"It's not a matter of being on time," Tom replied. "I just prefer not receiving an earful from that old coot."

The two chuckled as they exited the fort and warehouse, thinking about what they would get chastised if they were found roaming without supervision. After getting a few meters away from the building, Mark was met with a sudden chill. As he turned back to the warehouse, he suddenly felt that he was leaving his safe place for the last time and would not see the building for some time. He didn't know where this uneasiness came from and tried to think about its origin as he stared at the familiar building. Unfortunately, he forgot that he had more important things to worry about.

"Mark, I'm going to leave you here if you don't start picking up the pace," Tom shouted over his shoulder in the distance.

Noticing his friend already a significant distance away from him, Mark threw a final glance at the childhood hideaway before jogging to catch up with Tom. Whatever caused the sudden lapse of concern could wait until they got back to their dorm room.

The duo soon arrived at the academy. The wooded area added to the beauty as it encompassed the academy. The lingering scent of pine trees drifted through the air as the birds chirped from within the trees. The sun was setting slowly against the tree line, the air beginning to chill slowly. In a matter of hours, the temperature would dip below the freezing point yet again.

After receiving a thorough lecture on why they cannot just wander around town without a chaperone, courtesy of Mr. Lubbock, the duo finally returned to their dorm with a sigh of relief. The dorm itself was not complex, consisting of two twin sized beds, white walls, a small desk pushed in front of their double pane window. A mini refrigerator sat beneath the desk closer to Tom's side of the room despite the fact it belonged to Mark.

Sitting on their respective beds, the two began digging through their backpacks in search of their weekend assignments. Mark pulled out his English reading packet before producing his novel from the depths of his backpack. He flipped through the hardcover version of Frankenstein until he reached his bookmark. Removing his bookmark from between the pages, his eyes began to scan the small font as he read silently. Upon going a handful of lines into the story, the words on the pages began to shift places, making it frustratingly difficult to comprehend the piece of literature.

The opening of a carbonate beverage caught his attention, pulling him away from his growing displeasure. Tom sat opposite of him, drinking a Coca Cola while holding one out towards his roommate. He promptly took the offering, grasping the chilled aluminum in his hands and stared at it before taking a swig. As the sweet caramel flavor danced across his tongue, he remembered about how his friend saw the drink as a stress reliever. Mark did not know the reasoning behind the concept but he thought it was nice of him to offer one from his secret stash.

"You do realize you have that on audiobook right," Tom teased from his side of the room.

A prolonged moment of silence stretched between the two as they lounged around. The realization caused Mark to suddenly scream profanity within the recesses of his mind. He reached for his pillow and sent it sailing towards Tom's face. Without looking over, Tom moved his drink away from his face as the plush object collided with his face. A muffled round of chuckling echoed from under the pillow as Tom slowly removed it from his face.

Mark's attention was drawn away from his friend as he glanced at the clock hanging over the door frame. The device read six o'clock, meaning that it was past dinner time over at the cafeteria. He was a little distraught that they missed out on a warm meal but remembered that they still had some pizza leftover from their Saturday movie night. Before he could turn to open up the fridge, Tom was already handing him a cold slice of pepperoni pizza.

"You always know what I'm thinking don't you," Mark said as he accepted the paper plate from his friend.

"Simple mind, I guess," he mused.

"Shut up."

The two enjoyed their meal in peace as the ticking of the clock continued on. Before long, they finished off the remaining pieces of Italian cuisine and began cleaning up. They folded the cardboard pizza box in half so it would fit into their wastebasket near the door. Mark then started gathering his toiletries for his shower in a few minutes when his eyes panned over to his friend. Tom remained on his bed with his legs kicked up and arms crossed behind his head.

"Aren't you going to come get a shower," Mark asked with his clothes hanging from one of his arms.

Tom's eye lolled open before stating, "I prefer to take my showers in the morning, dude."

"I forgot, sorry."

"No harm done," Tom said as he closed his eye again. "Just remember to take the trash out with you."

"Alright," Mark responded as he walked to the door. With his clothes in one arm and trash bag in the other, he turned the brass door knob. As he vacated the room, he turned to his friend and said, "I'll return in a few minutes."

Tom gave him a thumb up before he shut the door, closing the gap between the two. Mark could not help the sigh from leaving his lips as he walked towards the showers at the end of the hall. He silently padded down the white tiled hallway, the lights shined against the clean floor as he tossed the small trash bag into a larger container. Opening the door to the men's restroom, Mark entered the room lined with shower stalls to find the room empty of other students. Without much thought, he entered a stall in the corner and placed his clothes on a bench before closing the curtain.

He turned one of the shower knobs and waited for the water to heat up before he started washing up. Once he felt that the temperature was just right, his mind drifted to his friend while he got his hair wet. Normally he hated leaving Tom alone, even if it was for a few minutes. There was this gnawing feeling that doing that he would do something rash without him to prevent him from doing anything he might regret. Practically everyone at the academy disliked Tom and made it blatantly obvious that his presence was not desired. Openly he showed complete indifference towards their displeasure but Mark never asked him if he was truly alright.

Knowing that almost anyone could get into their room, Mark quickly finished scrubbing out the dirt from the morning. He dried himself off and clothed himself before exiting the shower stall. As he walked towards the door, other male students started pouring in with showering on their minds. They pushed past Mark, not paying much attention to him as they went towards the showers. He left the shower room and reached his room in a matter of minutes but found it without his friend resting on his bed.

Mark's eyes drifted over to the open window with the screen popped out and resting against the desk. The cold air drifted into the room, causing a shiver to roll down Mark's back. Another thing with Tom that Mark could not quite understand was his resistance to the cold. Whenever the temperatures dropped and others would don another layer of warm clothing, Tom would just shrug as if the weather was nothing to him. Mark thought his friend was a little eccentric at times but the cold was where he drew the line.

After placing his clothes into a laundry hamper and his toiletries underneath his bed, Mark flicked the light off. Light from the moon filtered through the window as Mark crawled into bed. With his back to the window, he pulled the blankets closer to his body in an attempt to retain some of the heat lost to the open window. Once he finished wrapping himself in blankets in a way that kept his torso and feet warm, he let out a content sigh.

Tom soon returned from his venture onto the roof, quietly swinging into the room. The window screen was placed back into position before Tom closed it completely. Mark's mind began to shift in thought to his friend's plan for Thanksgiving break as Tom slid into his covers. Typically during the holidays, he would cut communication from Mark entirely until returning to their dorm the night before school resumed. He contemplated whether or not he should invite him to his apartment in Chicago for the holiday. As he drifted off to sleep, he was almost certain his mother would enjoy finally meeting his friend after so long.

So maybe I didn't update this story as soon as possible and I can understand whoever reads this might be a little off put by my decision to move this story up four years. However I did this to get a better shot at using all the references I could possibly want. Starting off in 2008 forces me to find really obscure events from that year and I would much rather look back at a year that this generation would understand.

As always, you will hear from me in the next chapter, which should be posted in within the hour. Bye bye!