This is not about the Seven. This is after, and a new generation of demigods. This is my first FanFiction, so it may be a little rusty. I don't own this idea, blah blah, and thank for reading. This is a book, not really a fanfic, it's 99% new characters.
Today is a day for many firsts.
"Pietro? Can you get us some milk? Hurry, because the store will close soon," my mother calls from her desk.
I groan and get up from the couch. "Then I don't want to do my Algebra tonight," I call from the TV room.
"No, you are still doing your Algebra!" She tells me. "Just get me my milk!"
This time, I groan audibly, just so she can hear. I grab some money from her wallet and walk toward the door.
I'm homeschooled, so my mom calls all the shots, like in everything. I've been homeschooled forever, because my mother is a genius and wants to teach me herself. She doesn't usually have time to teach me, so that is left to her assistant, Natasha.
When I'm at her doorway, I ask, "Can I go to a real school next year?" It's a tradition, whenever I leave the house, I ask that same question.
"That's the 218th time you asked me that, and the answer is the same. No," she smiles at me and I walk outside. She keeps count of how many times I ask that question. I'd say we have a healthy relationship.
"Bye, be back in a bit. Love you!" I holler as I walk outside. She door shuts and I can hear her faintly telling me she loves me.
We do a lot of yelling in our house, just because it's so big. It's silly how big it is for just us two, including Natasha. We use maybe six rooms regularly, and we have more than fifteen.
I walk to the grocery store down the block, and hear a ding when I enter. I greet the cashier that's always there. She pulls off her headphones and says, "We're closing up soon."
"Yea, my mom told me to hurry up. I'm just buying milk," I explain. She nods and puts her headphones back on. After walking to the refrigerated section, I realize how nice the coolness feels. Even at dusk, Southern California can be brutally hot.
I wait a moment, basking in the cool air from the refrigerator. Back at the entrance, I hear a ding and hear the cashier greet a customer.
I look down the aisle and see the person who walked in. He turns out to be a small man in an oversized trench coat. It strikes me as weird, that he would wear such a heavy thing on a hot day, but I cast it aside. I've seen some weird things here in Los Angeles.
The strange thing I noticed was that we was coming down this aisle. Not much is in this corner of the store besides the milk and eggs. He doesn't stop at the eggs, so I'm assuming he's buying milk, too.
I look back to the selections of milk and decide which one we usually get. The familiar cow design on one of the gallon bottles catches my eye. I loop my hand through the handle and turn to go.
I bump right into the small man, not knowing he was right next to me. I mumble a sorry, and try to step around him, but he moves to intercept me.
Alarm bells ring in my head. I look up, my eyes as big as saucers. My heart suddenly starts pounding and I make another move to go around him.
This time, he hisses and shows fangs instead of teeth. I reel backwards, scared out of my mind. Things are moving so quickly, my mind is on autopilot.
My back hits a door to a refrigerator, and I realize I'm stuck. The only way out is getting by the creepy dude.
Before I can say or do anything, the short man does something weird, really weird. His trench coat opens up and starts molding to his arms. My eyes widen even more and my heart is bursting through my ribs. He hisses again, but this time, his fangs get longer.
I just stand there, trying to figure out if this is real. But by the time I take things in, he has already turned into some sort of monster. His leathery wings beat once, and he is airborne. I try and step back again, but hit the fridge door again.
He lunges at me, claws extended. I didn't realize that he has claws, but now that they're streaking toward me, I do. Every instinct tells me to run, but I have no place to go.
The next decision I make is to fight. I still have the damned milk, and I have no time to let go of it. I swing randomly with my right hand and gallon of milk, my eyes on the verge of closing.
I have a longer reach, so I hit the thing right in the shoulder. The milk container bursts on the impact, and sends a shock through my arm. I didn't hit him hard enough to move him much, but I do change his course so he hits only my left side. The claws barely miss me, but he crashes into my shoulder, breaking the glass behind me and tumbling gallons and gallons of milk onto the both of us.
I finally find my voice and cry out, pain up both my arms. Milk is in my eyes and all over my clothes, with puddles at my feet. I scramble up, away from the monster. He's still lying on the ground, half of him in the fridge, half dangling out. He groans and shifts amidst the milk and broken glass. His wings are bent at an unnatural angle.
Movement at the corner of my eye draws my head away from the beast. I see Natasha, my mom's assistant, at the end of the aisle with a bow in her hands.
I double-take. Natasha has a bow and arrow in her hands. She doesn't look at me, but keeps her eyes on the thing. She releases one of her hands and the arrow darts by me and into the back of the beast.
It lets out a small groan and poofs into thin air. My brain goes wild, trying to figure out how that happened. All that is left of him is some yellow dust that has a strong smell.
My legs barely hold me up as I slowly walk to Natasha. She comes quickly, half running to my side. She stuffs her bow into a backpack that seems too small to fit such a bow.
"What just-? How did you-?" I splutter. I expect to lean on her but she roughly takes my hand and leads me away from the aisle. "But-? Wait, can you tell me-."
"Shush. Wait until we are home. I don't want another word from you until we are home," she tells me sharply and pulls me toward the market exit.
We pass the cashier and she looks at us blankly. I'd assume she would react differently to someone who is covered in milk and yellow dust.
"There was an accident in the last aisle. I think you should clean it up," Natasha explains to the cashier. She nods in return, and walks stiffly to the milk and egg aisle. Natasha's voice was so commanding that I felt I should clean up the mess.
Once we are outside, I stop abruptly. "What just happened inside?" I look into Natasha's eyes, looking for an answer, but they dart around nervously. My arms start hurting again, and this time more painfully than before.
"I told you, we can't stay here. I'll tell you everything once we get home," she grabs my arm and starts dragging me. More pain floods my arm, and I shake her off.
"Ow, ow. Okay, just don't drag me," I want to stop right there in the parking lot to nurse my arms, but Natasha's expression urges me otherwise.
We walk home quickly, much to my protests. Every time I walked and my arms swung by my side, pain would throb in my shoulders. Natasha tells me to hurry up a few times, but besides that, we stay quiet.
We get to the gate of out house, and Natasha fumbles with the lock. With a click, we are in. She lets out a sigh of relief, and walks me toward the front door.
When we are inside, I open my mouth to ask a bunch of questions, but Natasha calls out, "Gianna, it's happened."