Chaotic Order

by Clockwork Argo

Percy Jackson. That name means nothing to me anymore. And it meant nothing to everybody else a long time ago. Well, at least, to nearly everybody else. Rated M due to my own paranoia. Probably not that bad, though.

"Percy Jackson, hah, what a joke!"

"...such an idiot, that Son of Poseidon…"

"Jackson's not a hero…"

"...look at these people he caused the deaths of…"

"...couldn't find a way to save those who mattered most to him…"

"Imbecile"

"Can't save anyone"

"Joke"

"Killed his friends"

I shot up in my bed, wide awake, breathing harshly. I shook my head, running my fingers through my hair, and whispered into the empty room, "Fucking hell," before laying back down to sleep a few hours longer.

As I was falling into the wonderful abyss of sleep, I murmured to myself, "Percy Jackson is not me anymore. I am Revma Proluo, commander of the Chaotic Order. Percy Jackson is dead, gone, non-existent."