Hi, Innoverse here! Here's chapter two! Starts out a little slow, but picks up in the end.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own PJATO.

- CHAPTER II: GOLDEN GIRLS -

Heart racing, feet flying, I ran across the empty streets, away from the abandoned apartment complex I'd been living in for the past four years of my life. Some poetic air-head who sits in a chair drinking tea all day might've said that I was running towards my 'future,' but in reality, whose future is an old, run down warehouse? I was just running to get away, to find my little brother, and to get the heck out of there.

I probably looked like a madman as I dashed through the streets—I'm sure if I came across anyone, they would call police on me for sure. Tangled, choppy, spiked blonde hair that was standing up at crazy angles from running, torn and bloody white tank top, ripped jeans, dirty track shoes, a wild look in my honey-brown eyes, and the coup de grâce—a bloody wrench. I must've resembled a serial killer.

I turned a corner and saw the warehouse looming in the distance. It was old and gray, a little lopsided like it might collapse at any moment, but it was good enough to stash something in. I darted into the open door—which had been rusted off several years ago—and looked around, trying to find Kenny. He had to be around somewhere, since I'd specifically showed him this place earlier. He even proved to me he knew how to find it by coming to get me one day.

I looked down and noticed small footprints on the threshold of the door, and followed them to the back of the warehouse where I'd stashed our backpacks in an empty storage crate. I heard shuffling around inside, and walked around the front to find him sitting inside, digging through one of the backpacks. I sighed with relief, and sat down beside him. He set the backpack down and looked up at me.

He still looked scared, even if some of it faded when he saw my face. There were tear tracks on his face, and his cheeks and nose were smudged with dirt. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he was still shaking a little. He had the same unruly light blonde hair that I did, and our mother's eyes like me as well. His smile was like our father's while I smiled like my mother, even if it was hard to find something to smile about lately.

Kenny pointed to the wrench that I'd placed at my feet when I sat down, obviously noticing the blood. "Did you kill them?"

I shook my head, trying to ignore that fact that a five year-old asked that question, and put my arm over his shoulders. "I just wounded one enough to get away."

"Okay," he said, yawning and leaning closer to me. "I wonder if Uncle Mark is okay."

"Doesn't matter," I said. "We're never gonna see him again anyways."

Kenny curled up in my lap, and I pulled an old blanket out of one of the backpacks and draped it over him. My adrenaline began to wear off, and now I was very aware of the burning on my left bicep and the blood trickling down it. I pulled out a bandage and carefully wrapped it around my arm, wishing that I had some of the special food that I'd heard about that heals half-bloods. Or, even some of the metal that kills mythical creatures. I'd spend time trying to find some of these things, but not knowing the name of them doesn't really help much. I just hoped I had enough strength to get away from monsters with nothing but a wrench.

As I watched my little brother asleep in my lap, I thought about how nice it wold be to just pass out beside him, and sleep through the night. But the logical half of my brain said that this was too close to the apartment, that the men would probably come looking for us, and that we needed to find somewhere else to rest for the night. I heaved an unhappy sigh, and gently picked up my sleeping younger brother. I slung our backpacks over my shoulder, and carried him out of the warehouse, pausing at the door and looking around cautiously.

Once I saw the streets were empty, I dashed out of the warehouse and began to walk down the block, staying away from the streetlights and trying to stay in the shadows. I was tempted to take out my flashlight so that I could see in the dark, but that would probably attract monsters. And I really didn't need that at the moment.

I just kept up a brisk pace, keeping my eyes out for somewhere that might be a suitable place to sleep for the night—somewhere I could defend easily, where it would be hard to spot us. I thought about sleeping somewhere up high, but aren't their plenty of monsters that can fly? Surely I couldn't be that unlucky. Not only would it keep the monsters away, but it would also keep rats and bugs away, as well as being drier.

I decided that the benefits outweighed the risk, and started looking for somewhere off the ground to sleep. Unfortunately, the options were limited unless I wanted to sleep in a tree—as the only trees around weren't god for climbing or sleeping. I kept walking until I ducked into an alley and finally came across an old fire escape attached to another empty apartment building. I sighed with relief, and began to climb up the rickety ladder until I reached a small platform—just big enough to stretch out on.

I set Kenny down, still asleep in the blanket, and flopped down on the metal beside him, pulling the blanket over myself as well. I held the wrench tight, using the backpacks like a pillow, and clutched my little brother to my chest. I closed my eyes, and soon the world around me faded to black, despite the uncomfortable circumstances.

I dreamed of the last good day with my father.

A week before my mother came back again, he'd brought me to a squash* court at one of our local country clubs on one of his rare days off where he could actually spend time with me. He was lawyer and a very stubborn, determined, competitive person—he'd do anything to win his cases. And he didn't lose. Winning was something that he took as an everyday occurrence, something that he expected. He worked hard to make sure that he could win, and that things were always in his favor. I think that's eventually what got to him—that he couldn't win my mother over.

But I'd inherited a good part of his traits, so a game of squash was practically life-or-death—figuratively speaking. And it didn't help that both of us were pretty good at it. As we swatted the rubber ball around, people gathered around the glass door to watch us in awe since the matches got pretty heated. We were both laughing and teasing each other—one of the few times when he wasn't putting on his business face and we could have fun. I liked it when my dad let his guard down, but he didn't do it often.

I hit the ball hard, sending it over his head. He jumped up, sending it bouncing back towards the wall. "That all you got, Nat?" he mocked.

I swatted it away from my knees. "Not even close!"

"Yeah right!" he huffed as he hit the ball hard, sending it flying at me faster than I could blink. I swung hard and whipped it near the floor, sending it way over his head. He tried to jump for it, but even though he was almost six-foot, he still missed.

"Yes!" I shouted, pumping my fist in the air. My father was smiling and shaking his head, drinking water as he swung his racquet over his shoulder.

"Lucky shot," he said, tossing the water bottle to me.

"No way," I said, taking a swig. "That was all talent right there, old man."

He scoffed. "Old man? Look who's talking, little girl."

"Little?" I said.

"That's right," he said. "You'll always be my little girl."

I snorted. "News flash, Dad. I'm eleven."

He ruffled my hair. "Doesn't mean you can't be little."

"Uh, yes it does. I'm already up to your shoulders, and you're giant!"

"If I can look down at you, then you're little," he said.

"But I'll never be taller than you," I complained.

"Exactly," he said. "Now, this old man wants a rematch, little girl. Unless you're... you know, not up for it."

I hefted my racquet. "Of course I'm up for it! Bring it on, Grandpa!"

"You'll regret that!" he teased as he served the ball.

I was disturbed from my peaceful dream by a loud crash, stirring both my brother and I from sleep. I sat up quickly, tightening my grip on the wrench I was clutching in my hand. The sun was still down, casting shadows over everything. It must've been around two o' clock, and the streets were still completely barren. The alley looked empty, but I knew that looks could be deceiving. Something could be hiding in the shadows, just waiting to crawl out and have Kenny and me for breakfast.

"What was that?" Kenny whispered, clutching my pants leg.

"I don't know," I muttered. "Just stay here, okay? Don't move. Stay under the blanket."

He nodded and hid under it, staying perfectly still. I grabbed the wrench and started creeping down the ladder quietly, scanning every inch of the alley. The shadows all seemed to ripple in the darkness, making everything much creepier then it should have been. I felt my pulse quicken as I heard a metallic sound, like metal grinding on metal. I twisted my head towards the noise, almost swearing I could've saw a the glint of metal in the low light.

There was another metallic ping, and then complete silence. All of sudden, a song started to erupt from the pile of old metal trash cans, echoing around the alley and pounding inside my head. The wretch clattered out of my hand and I dropped to my knees, covering my ears with my hands. I heard Kenny shout my name, and scramble down the ladder with our backpacks. But all I could do was sit and watch as three figures emerged from the wreckage.

They were three women with long, flowing hair and golden dresses, holding lyres and guitars. They were beautiful—at least until you looked down and saw that they had the feet and grease-caked wings of a vulture, or that their eyes were completely black pits, or that their teeth were sharpened to a point. The strangest thing about them? They were made completely of solid gold.

Suddenly, as I watched them and they continued to belt out their beautifully horrible song, their faces changed. One became the face of my father, the other the face of my little brother, and the last the face of my mother. They were all challenging me—taunting me almost—to fix the things I'd never been able to. My father was asking me why I'd let him lose the battle to depression. My mother was asking me why I'd let her leave again. My little brother was asking me why I hadn't been able to take care of him properly.

I wanted to walk to them, to fix all the wrong, but suddenly I felt Kenny's hands clamp onto my shoulder and shake me hard, and I remembered that they were just nasty looking vulture creatures, and were luring me to my death. I shook my head to clear it, and grabbed the wrench and our backpacks again, staring at the golden vulture-ladies in front of me.

"Why isn't the song working!?" one of the woman complained. They stopped singing, and studied me with curiosity as I gripped my brother's hand.

"What the heck are you?" I shouted.

The woman in the middle snarled. "We are the Keledones! The Golden Charmers!"

A Greek myth surfaced in my mind. "I thought you were the attendants of Apollo! Y-you sung for him in his temple in Delphi, Greece. You were made by Hephaestus. You're supposed to be friendly!"

"Apollo! Bah!" the other one hissed. "What did Apollo ever do for us? Made us sing until our throats were dry, and then only fed us the nectar of the gods!"

"We need blood!" one chorused.

"We took a hint from our Siren cousins," the middle one continued. "Luring people to their death was easier than singing for Apollo." She spat the god's name like a curse.

"Demigods! Much better eating!" one holding what looked like a tambourine said.

Suddenly, their instruments weren't exactly instruments anymore. The tambourine melted into a metal-plated shield, and she pulled a six-foot golden spear off her back. The one with the lyre threw the instrument into the air, and when it came back down, it was a metal bow with a golden string, and the instrument bag on her bag melted into a quiver of golden arrows. The last one's guitar narrowed and elongated until she was holding a two-handed sword. Against that, my wrench definitely didn't seem like much.

"Now come here, young one! You will be our first meal of the day!" the one with the sword hissed.

So, I did the only logical thing. I grabbed my brother, turned, and ran.

*Squash is a game played with racquets and a rubber ball inside in a small room, you bounce the ball off the wall to your partner, trying to get them to miss it. (I think this is accurate)

Cliffhanger! Aren't I just evil? How will they ever get away? You'll never know! Well... at least until I release chapter three.

I hope your enjoyed it! Thanks for reading. Reviews are appreciated. :)