A/N: So these beginning chapters are short enough to agitate me, but they're essential. Primarily because this is OC-galore, I'll have to introduce every... single... one. And since this was intended to be four parts, I constructed casts for each, all OC-heavy. I can't think of anything else to say, other than THIS... This is where the story begins.

Chapter 1 - Requiem

Rex hated living in Chicago. He could feel death and entropy radiate from alleys. He hated his gifts that allowed him to sense the feeling. Rex hated a lot of things.

Rex hated the hike to the homeless shelter, like he was making now. They always asked for his information and read his name out loud. He hated the greasy bangs that hung in his face, but he could never scrape the money together for a haircut without starving.

The sunset was not visible. Thick thunder clouds obscured it. Rex still had a mile to go. He huffed and kept walking. He could feel the old death of an innocent salesman in an alley. Shot in the head. A heart attack in an apartment. Another thing he hated: unjust death. He just adjusted his aviator sunglasses and tightened the straps on his backpack. Perhaps he could punish his apathy with discomfort. He kept the sunglasses with scratched lenses because the help desks always asked about his eyes. "Did you get them from your mom or dad?"

I wish I knew, he wanted to say. His mother's eyes were green. He'd kill to have inherited those instead.

Only half a mile to go. The rain began to fall in sheets. He pulled the hood of his dark coat up, he couldn't stop now. He was only half a mile away from a hot meal and a few hours of pleasant sleep. That is, until the insane bird attacked him. He knew hawks were common in Chicago. This wasn't a hawk. The initial attack was a dive. Its talons shredded his thick coat like tissue paper. He rolled forward on instinct, his pocket knife sliding into his hand. He found himself facing off with the vicious avian, himself crouched in a primal hunch. Its scarlet feathers ruffled and it spread its wings, showing off its impressive size. It was the size of an eagle but with a long, slender neck and a razor sharp beak that must have been meant for impaling. The people on the sidewalk backed away, muttering something about a psychopath butchering a pigeon.

The bird flapped its wings and advanced on him. Rex gripped the bird's neck to avoid the lethal beak. Rex drove his knife into… air? It passed harmlessly through the bird and Rex dropped it to the pavement. He quickly put his other hand on the bird's neck and twisted. However, he wasn't so quick that the creature couldn't plant its talons into his side. He winced and snapped the bird's neck.

He scooped his knife from the pavement and examined the massive bird, thrill of adrenaline and action pumping through his limbs. For an instant, he thought he smelled gasoline. Then the bird burst into flames. A pillar of fire erupted from the sidewalk and Rex staggered back.

The thing wasn't dead. Rex discovered this when it flew out of the flames and crashed into him. He fell on his back, scrambling away from the murderous bird. As the beak descended to his face, the entire creature exploded into golden dust, which settled on Rex' face and torso. He stood up and found himself face to face with a man in a suit and dark red tie. It looked expensive.

"New demigod, eh? You must be confused." The man in the business suit brushed monster dust off his shoulder. His hair was thick and curly on top of his head, and he had shimmering eyes that looked like a faint, misty rainbow over golden irises. "I'm Plutus."

"Plutus?"

"Plutus," he said, as if it were self explanatory.

"I see."

"What's the place, ah... Camp Half-Blood? Yeah, that's where demigods are supposed to go. Never had any myself, you know, time is money and kids take time and I like money," he laughed.

"Demigod?"

"Yeah... you've got that Underworld kinda feeling about you. Let's see..." He whips out a wallet so thin it must be empty. He pulls a few dozen one hundred dollar bills and hands it to Rex, proving that it was certainly not empty. "Everything costs money nowadays. Grand news for me, really. Let's heal those cuts, too. Oh, the address."

Blood that stuck to his shirt dried and fell off in flakes and his wounds closed. Plutus scribbled on a piece of paper pulled from thin air. He hands the note to Rex.

Camp Half-Blood, Half-Blood Hill, Farm Road 3.141, Long Island, New York 11954.

Rex couldn't tell if it was fake. Plutus smiled, "Just remember this, kid. You owe the gods." And Plutus vanished into a golden shine.

Rex lied on the pavement for some time, the rain pounding upon him. It suddenly struck him that Plutus was dry as a bone. Rex pushed himself to his feet, the cash and address safe in his pocket. He shrugged off the coat. It was summer anyway. He just wanted to keep it until he needed it, but now it wasn't functional. He brought it with him to the homeless shelter. Perhaps someone could make use of it for themselves.

He finally reached his destination. Cots are filled. The meal has been served. He gave the woman his information and she peered at him over librarian glasses. "Requiem Haze?"

"Yes ma'am."

He found a cot and lay down. Sleepless. He learned what fortunate people meant when they said they had cash burning a hole in their pockets. He lay there until he couldn't stand it. It was 3 am when he grabbed his backpack and snuck out to find a flight to New York.

A/N: So short it causes me physical pain. But alas, this is Requiem Haze, one of our protagonists.