Badguy here, I have a few things to say before one embarks upon this story. Firstly, this is my first story so reviews and constructive criticism is nice. Secondly this has a basis in the Olympians storyline but this isn't a story about any main characters so if your looking for percy dont be disapointed when this story isn't about him. P.S He still may make an appearance. Thirdly this story may be dark at points so if you're looking for a light read… good luck, I guess, IDK, Anyway Enjoy!
Chapter 1 - Hello darkness, my old friend
A man stands on a hill in the a gloom of night turning to day as the sun begins to battle back the oppressive blackness overlooking a burning valley. While he doesn't have many notable features he seems like someone you wouldn't forget. He stands about 6'3 or 6'4 and has a light tan to his skin. He seems athletic, upper and lower body built thick from many hours of physical exercise. His eyes gleam in the firelight and he wears a tired, expression on his face. It seems as though the smoke filling the valley below reflects his soul, burnt out. He is dressed in a close fitting black camouflage BDU with a black plate carrier and holster housing a scared but gleaming 1911 pistol. A long rifle with gold lines traveling down it is slung across his back.
The hill he was standing upon was nothing particularly special but, it did have a good view into the currently burning valley. In the valley, multiple cabins unnaturally glowed in the inferno of orange and dark green. Silvery tents whipped around as though picked up in a cyclone of fire. A large house surrounded by strawberry fields seemed to be in the eye of the fire, magical wards no doubt provided by Hecate preventing the many, many jars of greek fire from destroying the camp completely. As the man standing on the hill looked at his handiwork, he reflected upon his life wondering what made him so different from the teenagers frantically fighting the fire below him. He was nothing special and full mortal to boot…. (sort of but we will get to that later). Yet he had caused so much pain and destructions in his time in the mythological world. Stripping families of fathers, sons and friends of friends. He had his standards, yet as he looked upon the scene below him he came to the conclusion that he always did when he went down this train of thought, he was a bad guy. As the man stood watching the fire tiredly, eight figures dressed in full greek battle armour slowly approached him from each direction, surrounding him. There armour gleamed in the firelight, swords and shields held in a deadly position. There swords shined and they anticipated the taste of blood from the man who hurt so many for their brethren. Barely acknowledging the blood thirsty warriors he spoke an a clear accent with a slightly deep voice, "You know, I wasn't always like this". The warriors all ranging from 16 to 19 stopped, looking at each other and the multiple weapons on the slightly older man. The leader of them signified by her burly build and questioning glances from the other warriors stands from her crouch and spoke in a threatening voice, '' Why are you here, who do you work for". The man said nothing looking past the fighters onto the burning camp. The leader spoke again, angrier "You stand in the shadows like a coward and watch, a real man would fight". Sarcasm entering her voice "Have fun in tartarus or wherever filth like you ends up, KILL HIM" Almost in response to this the man pulls his pistol and shoot her once in the chest, a spray of blood coloring the hillside. "Clarisse" screams one of the warriors running to the once proud leader as she bleeds on the hillside, lifesource slowly ebbing from the bullet wound in her chest. The other six stand awestruck and and fearful of the man who just struck down their leader in the space of 1 second. The man sighs and pulls a small black package from his vest tossing it to the girl desperately trying to stop the bleeding from the large hole in the other girls chest. She looks up fear and an anger evident in her eyes before grabbing the black package and pulling out a cotten blood stop and a syringe filled with a greenish gold fluid. The man simply looks at her and mutters "I'm sorry" before walking past the bloody pair into the remaining night. Seconds later there is a scream, followed by a slow but repeating thud, a heart beating again.