"Someone told me once that shooting stars are really just angels throwing away their cigarettes

before God could catch them smoking."

-Unknown

Leo Valdez hadn't had an epiphany since he lost Calypso. No, no, no! He corrected himself instantly. He did not lose Calypso! Momentarily misplaced her on an island and possibly abandoned her swearing on the River of the Styx that he would find her again? Okay, fine, maybe so. But losing was a hard word for him to swallow, saying that every day since he had left that island it was only her name echoing in his head. It was a year later – the giants were finally gone, the camps were getting along (sort've), and the only thing that anybody had to worry about was that stupid box. But that was usually only Percy and Jason arguing about the dang thing, tossing it between camps, fighting over it over text. In his opinion, they were like some old divorced couple.

During that whole ordeal, Leo had spent every day in that Bunker 9 wondering how he would ever get Calypso back. He did not forget about her, he wanted to tell her, but he didn't know how to get back to her. He tried finding Khione again, he's definitely gotten his fair share of being launched into the air, he even begged his own dad. Apparently, nobody seemed to help the cause, but this time it would work. His idea had to work.

He stumbled into Bunker 9 harshly, tripping on his old tools and almost waking up Festus' head. He accidentally kneed Buford in the leg, and nearly shattered one of his more new projects – An unmeltable ice sculpture. He skittered toward his working table, which was so clustered with papers and diagrams he was yet to find the wooden part, and slapped out a millionth piece to add to the collection. Quickly, he started scribbling.

Get a fire extinguisher

Three broken nails

A very very angry hell hound

A catapult

Tell Hera she's uglier than Narcissus's third reflection

But then as he turned around, jumping in glee because this would work (IT HAD TO WORK), he caught a shadow at the tip of his vision. He yelped, jumping toward the farthest wall as the shadow lingered under a large monstrous pile of broken toys. But then Leo rubbed his eyes tiredly. He forgot that Jason came in here a lot. Actually, he's forgotten his friends a lot lately.

"Sorry Jason," Leo said aloud, a nervous ring in his tone,"Didn't mean to be like that." Leo let out a tight laugh, which hung in the air awkwardly for a moment. But Jason didn't reply.

"Jason?" Leo asked.

"No," said an unfamiliar cracky, thick voice. Leo skidded backward so fast that he ran into his working table. Slowly, a man drawled out of the shadows. He was short and looked just about as old as Santa Claus, but that didn't make him any less of an evil dude. Quickly, Leo grabbed the closest object – a broken pencil- and waved into the air threateningly.

"Who are you?" Leo spat. The man twisted around, pacing in his view as if admiring the lovely antiques. Leo's breath shook. How did he get in here? It was veiled. It was supposed to be a secret. Was he a demigod? A regular god? Leo could feel his heartbeat in his adam's apple. The man took out a small watch, glancing at it and then back at the stuff around him, huffing angrily. He stuffed the pocket watch back into his pocket.

"Well, this place is a mess," the older man muttered in reply. Leo choked.

"Yeah, and it's mine," Leo told him, "So get out before I…I…" His voice trailed off, feeling helpless. What could he do? He wasn't Jason. And now this random person just appears into his home, like nobody's business, and again he is standing there like an idiot.

"I," the older man said harshly, finally meeting eyes with him, "created this bunk. It's mine. It's always been mine." Leo's eyes widened, his fear suddenly gone.

"You…you built this place? That's not right. It's been here since the civil war. I mean, you're old, but you're not that old," Leo sputtered out, quickly realizing that saying somebody is "old" was far from a compliment. But the man didn't listen, but yet decided to keep stumbling dizzily through the bunker, stomping on Leo's treasured – and forgotten – trinkets on the ground. The man let out a wheezed huff.

"Yeah, and then it got destroyed," he snarled, "I made it again. And then I kept up. I…" His voice got lost, as if his mind had fallen into the bunker all over again, remembering memories that could or could have not been true. Leo rubbed his neck anxiously and tossed his head behind him toward the exit. Typically, he didn't like campers interrupting him when he was working, but this time he wouldn't exactly mind.

"You know," Leo said uneasily, "We should get you back to my camp. I can get you some tea, and possibly a blanket." But then the man looked at the top of the bunker, staring at the jagged ceiling.

"But the box, it must be here somewhere," he heard the man mutter. A screwdriver-sized flutter flipped in Leo's chest.

"What was that?" The man spun violently, now looking at Leo with a crazed look in his eyes – like he could kill him.

"The box! Where's the box?!" The man roared suddenly. Leo took a shaky breath.

"How do you know about the box?" Leo asked. The box, the one Percy and Jason had been fighting over, was one of their…rewards for saving the world. Of course, Leo was all game for opening it until they realized that there was no signature. No name. After many screaming fights, a broken arm, and an inflamed satyr nobody had opened the box. Percy said it was a trap – like some twisted story of Pandora. Jason, on the other hand, thought it was a gift that may become useful in the future, like an emerald or a diadem. People started to pick sides drastically, forcing Annabeth and Percy to move on toward New Rome, and Jason staying here. Since then there had been angry phone calls, nasty letters, and constant threats. But in the end, Leo stopped caring. It was just a box and sooner or later people will start to pull up their panties and realize that it's nothing. But now he was looking at a man who looked like a hundred and nine, and Leo could wholly admit that he was fully and completely terrified.

"Did you open it?" The man began to snarl. "Is it awakened? ANSWER ME!" Leo jumped back, his hands flying into the air.

"Look, I'm just the mechanic!" Leo yelled. The man continued to advance on him, but this time he was looking at him up and down with an insulting glare. Leo didn't need the guy to tell him that he thought he was scrawny and short; Leo could see it all over his face.

"The mechanic?" The man mimicked. "Wait you must be…Leo Valdez." Leo's hands lowered.

"What?" He squeaked. The man's eyes looked at him with a shocking expression, getting so close that the man could see through his nostrils.

"I've been looking for you," he said under his breath. Leo's shrunk back.

"Me?" The man's eyes, as if in response, reflected a terrible sadness that almost made Leo not want to leave. Oh crud, Leo thought, what did he do now?

"Reincarnated here? At a camp?" The man sputtered, stepping away slowly. "No, no, no, no! You should've been reincarnated somewhere else!" Leo's eyes widened.

"What? Why? Reincarnation? Huh?"

"The box," The man said muttered, "The box…You need to hear my story. Before you open it, you must hear my story. Because the box, Leo Valdez, it is for you."

"Uh, I think you got it all wrong."

"You are a part of the seven aren't you? The seven heroes? And you're the mastermind?" The man asked, slowly regaining his composure.
"I'm a part of the seven, I guess. But I wouldn't say I'm the master mind. That's more of Jason and Percy, to be honest. I'm kind've just there." Jerkily, the man gripped his shoulders and tugged him tightly.

"Listen to me boy, listen to me! You and the seven, you guys are more than just demigods. You are legendary heroes, who have been reincarnated more than three times. And you must go back," the man stated, "You must save the box. The box coming here was a sign. A plain sign." Leo's eyes widened.

"Look, I'm not sure what's going on but-" The man pulled out his pocket watch again and stuck in front of Leo's face. Slowly, it dangled in a horizontal fashion and almost immediately Leo felt rocky.

"You must go back and save it. You'll find your friends there. To save it, you must come together. The heroes must be binded," the man said, his voice shivering. Blackness started to cloud into Leo's vision.

"Wait," Leo managed to say, "But where am I going? What I'm going to do? But what about Calyp…" And then everything went black.

(insertthreedasheshere)

It was cold. Everything from his toes to his face were cold. So cold. He could feel the chills – like Khione's cold bloody heart – tremble down the left side of his body. He somehow managed to open his eyes, though his eyelids were fighting against him. At first, all he saw was different shades of fuzzy grey.

"Jason," Leo moaned. But then he remembered – the man, the box, the train. Immediately, his head was on alert and his eyesight strengthened. As he scrambled up onto his feet, nearly slipping, his eyes dazed around him. Everything was out of solid grey metal – the walls, the ceiling, the floors. It was just so grey. Leo didn't like grey. Every time he thought of grey he thought of cruel cheap military schools that he was shipped to because he wasn't 'competent enough' for public schools.

"What the-" He tried to say, but different words came out of his mouth. He couldn't explain it – he understood it, he knew what he was trying to say…but it was different. Like it wasn't English but it was English at the same time. His eyes lingered below him, toward the yucky grey uniform that was strapped to him.

"Woah, who put this on me? Where am I? What does this even-" But when he saw the symbol stitched onto the chest, he stopped breathing. His breath started shaking, and he could feel the sweat pour down his neck quickly. What was going on? Why was he wearing this? Was this a dream?

Because for some odd reason there was a symbol on his chest – a Swastika a voice answered him – or in other words…The Nazi symbol.

"No, no, no!" He hissed, and the words he said out loud, which he was sure was German, against the dark grey tunnel. He looked above him.

"Stupid gods, get me out of this!" He hissed toward the ceiling, as adressing a higher power. "I'm freaking Mexican-American, not a prejudice Nazi! I wasn't even born in this era!" For a moment, he couldn't inhale. His knees were weakening. He was having a panic attack. This had to be a dream, he thought to himself. But the realism was too much. Leo was a lot of things, but he wasn't stupid. To be honest, he's seen some crazy stuff. He knew when something wasn't a dream.

"Leonardo!" A voice hissed cruelly. Still stuttering about his uniform, he turned his head and let out a horrified gasp. A stranger walked fast down the long hallway, before meeting Leo at the corner and yanking him by the loose fabric on his chest.

The stranger, a guy no older than twenty-five, had black, greasy hair that waved down his neck and with eyes the color of a dark pool. Despite his fancy uniform, Leo could tell he was skeleton thin because the uniform fell off him limply, and it didn't help that the man's skin was the color of a bone. But yet at the same time, Leo felt almost…scared. As the man stood nose to nose, with his hands balled and his eyes fearless, Leo couldn't help but wonder what his stupid past-self was getting into.

"What are you doing?" The guy snarled. "Why are you over here? You are not supposed to be here!" Leo nodded shakily.

"Yes, sir-" But then, just as Leo swerved around, he felt a cold hand grip him and spun him back. The man showed his gritty, clenched teeth.

"Whatever, we're late," he barked, "And quit being so snarky, would you Leonardo? It gets on my nerves." The man turned his body onward, as Leo stood there stunned. Leonardo? That was his name? Leo nearly threw up at his new – or old – name, but then a thought occurred to him.

"Are we…friends?" Leo asked. The man, about two meters away, whipped his body again.

"Again with the unnecessary not-funny comments," he said coolly. Leo smiled.

"I'm a Hitler-loving junky, and I have friends?" The man, in reply, closed his eyes and hung his head hopelessly.

"Sadly," he murmured through his clenched teeth, "And quit saying it like that." Leo grew closer to him, smiling widely. Finally, for the first time in his life, he was friends with the scary guy. He bet that nobody messed with him in this life.

"It almost makes me regret being a spy, knowing that people think I'm a Hitler-kissing Nazi," the man added so quickly and under his breath that Leo almost didn't hear it. Leo's mouth popped open. So he's a spy, Leo thought fast. That means I am a spy. I AM A FREAKING SPY

His breath, shaking slightly, "I like being friends with you. You're pretty awe-" But then as his eyes drifted to his new friend's chest, he finally saw the man's name tag. Nicholas die Engel.

"Nico di Angelo," Leo whispered out loud.

(three dashes)

Leo– Or Leonardo, whoever he was now – followed Nico di Angelo blindly through the maze-like tunnels. He didn't pay attention to where he was going, but yet who he was following. Nico di Angelo wasn't a part of the seven, he wanted to say. He could see the vague resemblance – the dark hair, the pale skin, the dead look in his sunken eyes. Except now he was probably six foot three, some decent muscle for a guy as thin as he was, and held his head higher. For the first time ever he felt a sense of pride in Nico di Angelo. He almost, in a way, liked him more.

"The Arschloch," Nico said under his voice coolly as he took long strides down the dim hall, "was looking for you at roll call. I covered your butt and said you were helping Bernard create some wacky device." Leo's eyes widened.

"Wow, thank you. But, uh, Nicholas, I have an issue," Leo said carefully, "Do you know where any beds are? You know, so I can get a good night's sleep?" He was hoping that maybe if he went to sleep in this dream then he would wake up. Nico's eyes flashed at him coolly.

"Quit whining!" He barked viciously. "What have you even been doing lately? We're here for a reason, Leonardo. Now hurry up!" When they turned a corner, voices seemed to erupt in Leo's ears. He looked in front of him to see a…

"Cafeteria?" He said aloud. Nazis ate in cafeterias? Nico grabbed his arm painfully, pulling him toward a lonely table. He shoved him into a seat.

"Look, we have about five minutes before the Arschloch arrives," Nico hissed, "And then we can-" But then his voice stopped. His eyes seemed a thousand a miles away as he stared past Leo's shoulder.

"Belinda."

"What?" Leo asked, but when he swerved around he saw it. A girl with dark black hair and light brown eyes strode through cafeteria, linked with some blonde, blue-eyed guy only a few years older than them. The girl was elegant – her hair was pulled back tight, her eyes were large and curious, and her skin was as white as the moon. She wore a stereotypical black cocktail dress that fit around her tightly revealing her curves, with long black gloves draping her hands. He knew immediately that the girl was absolutely and positively not Nico's.

"What? You have a crush on her?" Leo teased. Nico's eyes flashed toward him, a sentimental look flickering in them for a second, before he gave him a tight smile.

"Oh, yeah, yeah. I have a huge crush on her," Nico said, wavering him off quickly, but then Leo watched as his eyes followed the girl as she was led to a larger table that was set up on a podium. She sat beside the blonde-haired man. He wondered who that blonde haired men could be. He was pretty sure he wasn't Hitler.

"die Engel!" The man barked suddenly above all of the chatty voices. Leo jumped in his seat, frozen.

"Wait!" Leo objected, as Nico started standing up. "He isn't talking to us, is he?" But Nico's nails were already dug into Leo's neck before he even got a reply. Leo skidded out of his seat following next to Nico as he walked toward the man stiffly.

"Look, we do this quickly, alright? We just talk to Arschloch, and get it over with," Nico said to him sternly, but Leo suddenly wondered if Nico was talking to himself as well. And then he realized – that man was Arschloch. The man Nico said was looking for him. Leo's eyes widened as he got closer to the blonde haired man.

As they stopped at his table – and it was a miracle that Leo knew how to salute to a Nazi General – Leo evaluated the man deeply. He was the perfect model for what Hitler wanted – white, blonde, blue-eyed, muscular, and with a sharp, indestructible look in his eyes that almost made Leo pee. But when his eyes fell down to the man's chest, he almost fell backwards. His name wasn't Arschloch, he realized as he read the man's nametag.

It was Jason. Jason Grace.

AN: Alrighty, it's the first chapter. Haters going to hate. I won't know if you guys want more unless you REVIEW (not that stupid favoriting thing. That button is crap). Yes, it's a crappy chapter, THE FIRST CHAPTER IS ALWAYS CRAPPY. But don't worry, more characters will to come, not just Jason Grace. All of the characters will start to unravel – different people with different roles in War World 2. It's cheap now, but please stay with me! I love you all 3