Disclaimer: Percy Jackson and all its stories belong to Rick Riordan, the OCs and OOCs belong to me

A/N: Pleasure, this is Yuzi Alice here, just call me Alice. This story is set in PJ background, but most of the characters are OCs, and the main story revolves around them.

- Doomsday AU, the Gods were dead, if don't like, then goodbye

- Originated from a dream of mine, thus the character is also called Alice

- Every chapter will be around 2k-3k words, there will be a total of 3 chapters.

- Swearing/violence warning (only minor)

- Please follow and review if you like my work, thank you~

The Last Days – Chapter 1

I'm Alice, one of the last half-bloods in this world.

Five years ago, mortals found out about the Mythological World and tried to eliminate it. They were successful.

My mother, Hecate, and all the other gods had faded into the void, remembered but vanished, their existence completely wiped off.

I remember that day so vividly it almost felt like a dream. We were in the big house at the ping pong table, discussing the war, when a group of armored men exploded through the door, their grey uniforms splattered with golden liquid. With an ear-splitting bang, the whole camp could hear the Empire State Building collapsing into dust and ashes from miles away, and Olympus tumbled into its forgotten glory. They took Chiron and other demigods, but most of them were killed.

They took me as well.

The white laboratory lay pure beside the black prison as I watched my brothers and sisters being escorted onto the test bench, studied, then thrown out, dying in great pain at last. Every guinea pig that went up all have a strong mind, I never heard them scream, the only sound from the white building was the humming of computers, buzzing through the walls and the bars of my cell.

My cellmate, a daughter of Athena called Hesta, committed suicide before being escorted to the lab as well. She was smiling serenely at me, raised her hand, and sweep it across her neck, long, sharp nails dripping red, her eyes finally having a soul underneath those broken pupils. She took a long time to die, laying there in a pool of blood, and talking to me in small croaks before her life finally ticked away. I ripped out a piece of my clothes, folded it into a small flower, and placed it upon her neck, hiding the gruesome wound that destroyed the serenity of her dead, smiling face. When they came and saw her dead, they took me instead.

Fortunately, I also raised my hands, and swept them across their necks, stole their guns, and ran away.

I don't know how Camp Jupiter was doing, or what happened to the Egyptians and Northerners, but the only thing I know, was when I finally stepped through the doors that had enclosed me for more than one year, the world was grey.

The mortals, at last, destroyed their own home. Without the protection of the supernatural powers, Earth was left weak, unarmed, withering from inside out, and most cities were drowned by the grey ocean. For the resources that once belonged to Mt. Olympus, the countries of mortals announced war among themselves, and finally, a few lil' nuclear bombs wiped civilization off alright.

The face of the earth was left with a few anarchical bases, and the research lab was one of them.

All this was what I've gathered from a daughter of Iris, who miraculously escaped the Camp Half-Blood attack years ago. One week later after we met, she was taken by a group of Anti-Deity forces. I never saw her again. But I kept my word, did what I promised her, and lived on.

On my wanderings, I met demigods scattered all over the world, but I didn't stay with them long: at this time, the fewer concerns, the better, and moreover, more company means more chances of being discovered by mortal forces. Recently, an Anti-Deity organization called MANKIND got its eyes on me, I have to give up my usual hide-away, and continued to wonder.

When the Age of Half-Bloods ended, I was eleven. Now, amid a grey wilderness, I'm a girl of fifteen. Five years was all it takes to make the world a stranger, leaving everything broken. In all those five years, I often ask myself what's the point of life. The point of life is that, when the Apocolypse is upon us, when grey takes over everything, you have to be the light.

This is my principle of believing ever since exploded into dust, and quite coincidentally, I'm alive.

Doomsday was very different from the imagination of people, it can burn the soul to the extreme; when there is no law to regulate our actions, our own values draw us back from the brink of unmorality. In five years, I've never seen a single demigod attack another one. Even though we all just pass by each other, not even stopping to say "hi", but we will always remember our youth, our fragrant youth, and the blue sky that had gone with the wind years ago.

The world was not without light.

I wish that daughter of Athena from five years ago could realize that.

The sound of a quiet treading broke my morning meditation.

My half-closed eyes shot open. I tensed up my relaxed limbs, and placed my hands on my belt, ready to pull out my gun any time. I stared at the ceiling of the hole I'm hiding in, listening.

Silence.

That's weird, 'thought I just heard footsteps.

I had a short attack of deja vu about last time, when MANKIND crept into my hiding place, nearly shooting me straight in the face before I realized what's happening and ran.

Gods that was a horrible experience. I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory (Yuzi: get it? The reference? Get it?!), as I shot up and ran for my life the moment hearing the gun being loaded, my mind races through my life like a movie, seeing myself in every critical moment in third-person POV, pictures flashing past my head as I flashed past the wilderness. I could hear footsteps behind me and pulled out my knife, a pained grunt, then a thud signaling that the weapon had found its target.

I woke from the memory with a start.

Time to focus on the present, Alice. I told myself.

I hold my breath, listening.

Another quiet sound, footsteps stepping on old metal and withered grass, reached my ears, nearly fading by the time it got to me. At least I still hadn't lost my hearing.

Slowly, quieter than the footsteps above me, I stood up.

It sounds like a person. Only one person.

The footsteps got closer and closer, until they reached the metal door up above, and stopped.

I pulled out my gun.

Behind the metal door, a faint "clang" of metal unsheathing fluctuated in the air.

I put my foot steadily on the newspapers covering the floor and aimed my gun at the door.

Three.

Two.

One.

A green figure burst through the door, and lunged at me, one hand holding a dagger, and the other hand was stretched out to my neck—a dark, warm hand, its fingers grasping my neck so tightly I can't see straight. A numb pain slashed through my right arm, then red dripped down. In stupidity caused by the pain, I let my gun slip out of my fingers, feeling warm blood sliding down the hand of the gun. I can't breathe, my neck felt like snapping any moment, I could suffocate any minute, my lungs desperately tried to suck in air, but failing miserably.

Fuck.

I struggled, but my body was slipping out of my control. Twisting my head around, what appeared in my blurred vision was not the grey mask I expected, but the face of a boy, just a bit older than me, wild dark hair falling to his shoulders. His eyes, the color of morning glory, glared out of his deep socket, shining with unswerving firmness.

He stared at me for a moment before realizing who I was, and with the sharp sensation of gravity and numbness on the neck and arm, I dropped to the floor, gasping for air. I felt my teeth gritting tightly together, and I glared at the boy with a fierce fire of a daughter of Hecate.

Fuck.

"Fuck you..." I laid my back against the wall, almost dying. "What's your fucking problem?"

The boy looked about sixteen or so now that I got a good look at him, towering above me (I'm short, ahhhhh!). Shaking, I raised my left hand to my neck and touched the wet print around it. I glared at him, groaning as my right arm sent waves of delayed pain through my body.

The boy, although his glare was gone, still stared at me wearily. "Percy was not sassy,"

"And you are still fucking trying to check fucking signals?!"

He waved his dagger at me again, his blue eyes, although apologetic, still hold that unswerving firmness. I sighed and shuddered again due to the arm wound, holding back a scream and several swear words. "Mortals are just messy. Ok, happy now? Gimme back my fucking gun."

I raised my left hand, signaling, and he threw my gun at me, his smooth face was all scrunched up with awkwardness and regret. His tone was really apologetic now. "Sorry, I thought you were one of those MANKIND assassins, you know, those ones who hide in places demigods deserted and waiting for people." he scratched his head and flung his dirty hair out of his sight. "I'm really sorry, please let me help to dress your wound."

I rolled my eyes at him, still keeping up my glare, which was starting to make my eyes hurt.

This brat nearly sent me back to my mother, I'm not forgiving him on the spot like a dumb damsel in distress.

"Who are you?" I asked, making it sounds as threatening as possible.

"I'm Alex, Alexander actually, son of Demeter, you?" the boy—Alex, took out a small bottle of silver liquid and a roll of gauze bandages from his waist pack, and smiled at me. His smile was pretty, with that radiance and calmness of an adolescent boy. "As an apology, please allow me to help you, Senorita."

"I'm Alice, daughter of Hecate." My right hand twitched in a pool of red slowly forming around it, my fingertips drowning in blood. The stale, fishy smell of blood filled the air, encouraging me to throw my guts out. Alex knelt, and carefully, moved my right hand away from the blood-stained clothes. He took out that bottle of silver liquid, and as I bent to get a closer look at it, I recognized it with a start that it was nectar.

"Wait! You have this stuff?" Nectar, to me, was something long lost. I only managed to grab three guns and a few bullets the day I ran away from the lab, and the rest was what I found in five years. I stared at the bottle as it glittered and shone.

"Got it from a group of Anti-Ds (Anti-Deity organizations), ironic actually, negating everything mythological but using the mythological things themselves. I only have this one bottle left, 'guess I'm giving this one to you." Alex unjarred the bottle, the delicate jar seeming to be even more previous in contrast to his big, rough hands. He tipped a few drops onto my wound, and the silver liquid spread like soft moonlight throughout my arms, clean and cool, like an autumn night, the moon pale and the leaves red, not a single cloud in the sky. He then wrapped my arm in a thick layer of gauze. The numbing, stabbing pain slowly dissipated and turned into needle pricks.

"There's still a little left, drink it." He frowned at the red and purple marks around my neck, still drizzling a bit of blood, and added "I'm so sorry, Alice." I gave him an angry look, but at least he still gave me nectar and bandages, so I still said thank you.

Nectar, it tasted exactly like last time, years ago. Sweet, soft, like a cup of hot chocolate emitting the scent of fresh milk.

Nectar, it stirred all my good memories, remembering six years ago, my father's book store and that cup of hot chocolate always in his hand.

Nectar, like every single good thing in the world, was short and happy, like the youth of half-bloods born in this age, was gone with the wind with a bang.

I sighed.

Alex gave me this weird look and sat down opposite to me.

"I have three other companions, do you wanna join?" He said suddenly, after a long silence.

Three companions? They must have been really good at surviving or just generally stupid. My thoughts must have been obvious, because he shrugged and said: "It's been six months, nothin' happened." He paused, "Do you wanna join? Or continue to stay in here? I saw a few MANKINDs on my way here, but they didn't see me."

"It's not permanent..." I mumbled, but thought about it as well: dangerous or dangerous, which one?

I glanced at Alex, he was using the newspapers I laid on the floor to clean his dagger. He had his head down, all of his attention focused on the metal in his hand, his dark bangs hid his eyes.

"Alright," I said. His head shot up, eyes glistening. "What?"

I made my mouth into a thin line, but still smiled a small smile. "I said, I decided to join your suicide squad."

He smiled again, blossoming that unique radiance and calmness. "Alriiiiight! Let's goooooo! We are at about the north-eastern side of your place, 'will reach there in a few minutes. I'll wait for you to pack up your things."

I stood up, and a wave of vertigo nearly knocked me back down again. I held onto the wall for support, a did a few deep breaths. So much better. "right, just wait a minute."

I turned around and walked into the deeper regions of the hole.

The hole I'm staying in currently used to be a bomb shelter, but after the disaster, it was deserted. When I arrived here a few days ago, I found a few kilograms of biscuits and water, but the best findings were a packet of bullets and a T-Shirt—mine was in tatters, it would be embarrassing to die in that. I hooked up my backpack from the shelf and swung it around my back. When I got back into the entrance "hole", Alex was already out on the ground level.

I crawled out of the bomb shelter, taking in breath-fulls of the turbid air as winds of ashes hit me again. Alex was waiting beside the hole, staring into the distance. Surprisingly, I just can't figure out what he was thinking behind those blue eyes. The morning wind brushed against his hair and coat, his brown sweater and green jacket made him looked like a tree amid the grey background. He turned his head around, his eyes shining, and smiled.

"Let's go."

2552 words, TBC

Hope you guys enjoyed it

Yuzi_Alice