A/N: Hello, my lovelies! So, I have been struck by a random crossover idea, this is the prologue so its shorter than the rest of the chapters will be and it will feature the Fantastic Four (K Unit, not the real Fantastic Four). Also, I'm thinking of abandoning From Pillar to Post... any ideas?
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise.
Read on!
The rain was pouring down in heavy torrents, the drops biting onto the boys' skin like bullets. The shorter of the two was running at a decreasing pace; his muscles were giving up from the intense fatigue of the incessant sprinting. His dark hair was sticking to his forehead in a mixture of sweat and rain. The sharp glint of determination was slowly fading from his green eyes.
"Come on, Tom!" shouted his friend. "We have to move faster!"
His friend was a slim, athletic boy who was sprinting persistently, yet keeping at a pace for his tired friend to move at. Drops of perspiration were sliding down his blonde locks, and he wiped them out of his deep, brown eyes.
"So, this is what you do usually, in your job?" yelled Tom, in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Jesus Christ, Alex, what on earth made you go back?"
Alex barely managed a wry smile. "Don't talk too much Tom. You'll use up all your energy," he advised.
"And anyway," he continued, a hint of sarcasm pushing through his weary voice. "SIS Operations don't usually include dogs the size of flipping horses!"
A few hours later, the rain had finally stopped. The Sun dared to peep through the irately grey clouds. There was a hill, its majestically tall pine trees brushing the brightening sky. On the hill, the two boys were lying unconscious, the grief of their troubles etched onto their sleeping faces.
They would have lain there for another few hours, perhaps they might have died from the gnawing cold, had it not been for the boy and girl who had found them.
The boy was tall and muscular, a sword hanging loosely from his belt. He had black hair which was gelled back. His eyes were turquoise. Looking into them closely, one might reminisce of a beautiful, pure sea, such as that you might find in tropical beaches. He was obviously a healthy teenager, with rosy cheeks and a tan that suggested that he was outdoors a lot of the time.
On first sight, the girl appeared vicious and uncaring; her blonde hair was pulled tightly back into a pony tail to clear vision; her body was tense, as if she was preparing for a fight; she held a dagger in her fist, tightly. Her stormy grey eyes, however, told a story of friendship- she would stick up for anyone she loved.
They were Percy and Annabeth: saviours of Olympus and the most strong-willed attendees of Camp Half-Blood.
Alex slowly peeled his eyes open, the blazing lights surrounding him piercing his lids. Slowly, the room he was in came into focus. It was a wood cabin facing the sea. There were hammocks hanging around him, most of which full of sick people.
"A sort of hospital room, then, "he concluded. "But where am I?"
In his assessment of his locations, he had almost forgotten about his good friend.
"Tom!" he shouted, suddenly.
"Ah. You're awake, then," replied someone, who definitely wasn't Tom. He was an old man, sitting in a wheelchair. He had a long beard and curly wisps of hair surrounding his shiny face.
"Who are you?"
Alex's eyes narrowed dangerously. His body tensed as he prepared himself for the answer.
The man chuckled.
"I am Chiron," he replied, his gentle voice rich and vibrant. "But, I am surprised that your first concern is the company that you are keeping at the moment. Do you not wish to know where you are or how you came here?"
Alex sat upright.
"First of all, where's my mate? Where's Tom?"
"The worry you hold for your 'mate' is touching; I assure you that Tom is perfectly fine. Or", he paused thoughtfully, "he will be soon, once our best healers have checked him over more thoroughly."
Shaking his head, as if to clear it, Alex spoke once more.
"May I see him, please?"
He figured that a little politeness wouldn't hurt him.
The old man was about to open his mouth and speak, when a skinny boy ran, breathless into the room.
Was it Alex's imagination, or was the boy a sheep from the waist downwards?
"Chiron! Chiron! The other boy woke up! What do you want me to…" he trailed off as he caught sight of Alex staring at his legs. Blushing furiously, the kid crossed his legs and folded his arms defensively.
Alex slowly turned towards the old man.
"How concussed am I, really?" he asked, patiently. "Because this kid has sheep's legs."
"Excuse you, they're goat's legs. GOAT'S. Holy Hera, first it's donkeys, now it's sheep…" spoke the boy, indignantly.
"Right. Goat's legs. That clears up everything, then, doesn't it," murmured Alex, sardonically. "So, now we've sorted out the pressing issues, would someone mind telling me where on earth I am?"
The old man spoke up again.
"Grover, my boy, perhaps you would like to talk to Alex. The smaller age gap between the two of you might…ease the surprise."
And with that, he exited the room.
The boy, Grover, walked over to Alex's bed and perched on the end. He opened his mouth, slowly thinking about how to phrase his explanation.
"Alex, I'm sure that you're very confused. How much do you remember about coming here?"
Alex frowned with concentration.
"You wouldn't believe me," he said. "Me and Tom…we ran into some pretty weird animals…"
"Animals? What kind of animals?" asked Grover.
Alex pressed a hand to his forehead.
"Well… I can't remember much, but, me and Tom were here on holiday. We were visiting my friend. As you can probably tell, I don't actually live in USA. I live in England. So, we were walking to her house, when…"
And so, Alex explained how they were confronted by a very large, black, extremely scary dog. Grover's eyes widened.
"How on earth did you survive?!"
"We ran," answered Alex, simply. Grover nodded in awe.
"Do you remember much else?"
"Not really… There are gaps," admitted Alex. He could remember who he was, where he lived, his friends, his school, but there was something, something big, missing…
Grover leaned forward, a kind expression on his face.
"Now, Alex. I expect that you're quite frightened."
"Not really," said Alex, but Grover carried on.
"I suspect that you have only one or no parents."
Alex nodded.
"They died when I was a baby."
Grover nodded, sympathetically.
"Do you know who they were?"
"Helen and John Rider."
Now, Grover looked faintly puzzled.
"You know who they were? Were you… adopted?"
Alex shook his head.
"At least, not according to my birth certificate…"
Grover was frowning.
"And your friend? Tom? He has parents? Proper parents?"
Alex nodded again.
"Then, why are you here?" asked Grover. "You're completely human!"
Alex gave a dry chuckle.
"And, what? You're all aliens?"
Grover's face was dark with anxiety. He took a deep breath.
"Not quite," he said. "Camp Half-Blood- where we are at the moment- is for demigods."
"Demigods?"
"Children who are half god. And you, Alex, as well as your friend, can't have made it here without some sort of…" his hands were waving, as he tried to explain.
Finally, he spoke.
"You and Tom…you must have some sort of… ancient divine heredity."
*cue anti-climatic balloon whizzing feebly around the room*
Not as dramatic as I planned. Oh well.
So, tell me what you think, because this is the first time I'm writing in the more ambiguous style you might often see writers use. Also, I'm thinking Wolf/Thalia... always wondered how that would turn out... ideas? I would love to hear what you have to say, so HIT MEH!
Ta ra, my darlings x
