Olympian Heroes

AN: Thank you so much for the reviews. I read them over and over again like a teenage girl reading a love letter. Kinda sad really, what my life has been reduced to. Oh, Oliver is not 16, he is 15. That was a mistake on my behalf, sorry. I also forgot to put down a few other people who got their OC accepted. This is what happens when you rush, people. Speeding while writing a story is just as dangerous as speeding on the road.

On the plus side, we have some character introductions~! Man, I love writing about your characters.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Percy Jackson series. Nor do I own Snow Partol.

Chapter 2| Freezing to Death is not Cool

Oliver

"Welcome to Camp Half-Blood."

Chiron reached a giant hill, and spread his arms over the view. Basil nodded along eagerly, smiling and putting his thumbs up.

"You get to stay here, free! This five-star rate acre of land is available to your needs, twenty-four seven! There will also be services such as, toilets, food, and beverages without any additional charges! And there will also be many sources of entertainment, such as fun games and campfire sing-a-longs!" Basil cheered, throwing his hands into the air.

You know that Basil's seen too many ads if he starts talking like an annoying prick.

"Great. I'm amazed. Ok, I'm going home now, bye." Oliver spun on his heel, facing the way he just came, but there was a horrible thing called a 'collar'.

Chiron grabbed him and pulled him back with great strength. Oliver tried walking. His feet kicked up dust from the ground. Nope, he couldn't move. Maybe being a horse-man had its perks after all. "It's not that bad, Oliver."

With a defeated sigh, Oliver squinted his eyes to see what Chiron was pointing at. Now, Oliver was a tired, messed up, possibly insane kid, so squinting seemed like the appropriate action to do when one wants to look further away. With blurred vision, he saw an old dilapidated farmhouse with a rapidly fading red coating. Was this the 'camp' Chiron talked about? Looked more like a prison, or a place where you bury dead bodies. "I question your sanity if you can call that a camp" Oliver pointed out.

Suddenly, his collar was released, and his shirt settled back on his shoulders. "I bet you're seeing a farm right now, yes? Oliver, that is the work of the Mist, that is not the actual camp." Chiron commented, frowning a bit.

Oliver didn't know what he meant by 'mist' since the atmosphere was so clear that if a cow dropped out of the sky, people in Mexico would've noticed. "What mist? I see no mist."

Chiron sighed, his fatigue evident in his eyes. "Don't worry about it now, I'll explain to you when we get inside camp."

By camp, he meant the farm. By farm he meant the death house where he preformed satanic rituals to summon some ol' demon. Of course, Oliver would happily hand over his life…if he was suicidal, and Oliver was pretty sure that he wasn't.

"How about you let me call the cops first, hmm?" He tried for a smile. It seemed to be more of a grimace.

Instead of Chiron answering Basil did. "NO PHONES!" Basil rushed over to him and started patting his arms, the kind of checking he'd seen police do. "GIMME YOUR PHONE!" Basil screamed with frantic and quick breaths, as if he were close to drowning. Oliver pushed the rampaging goat away by his forehead.

"Why do you want my phone?" Subconsciously, Oliver felt for the familiar outline of his phone in the back of his jean's pockets. Unfortunately, Basil had sharp eyes when it came to finding these small things. The goat smacked Oliver's hand away, making a grab for the device.

"AHA!" Basil-goat held it above his head triumphantly. Unfortunately for him, Oliver could still reach it easily. Before he could take it back, Basil threw it into the air and landed a karate kick on it with his hoof, smashing it into bits.

Oliver would've loved to say, 'the shattered glass fell like beautiful snowflakes, making winter arrive early today,' but no. A karate-kicking goat destroyed his phone. The glass shards clanked to the ground, splintering his ears. Then, with a loud, pathetic lump, there fell his phone case.

He didn't get to kiss good-bye to the cops yet.

For what seemed like a long time, he stared at the cracked screen, lying on the floor like a spider's ruined web. There was silence on Chiron and Basil's end too. Oliver appreciated it, the one minute of silence for the death of his device, an old token from his deceased father. But alas, reality came and slapped him in the face.

"BASIL!"

The half-goat 'eep'ed, and dashed away from him, taking refuge behind Chiron. "I'm sorry, Oliver!" He squeaked.

The alarm resounded through his head again. Revenge. How dare- a token from his father, back when he was ok, when he was sane, when he still cared. It was gone. Possibly the final, and only memoir, left of the good times. Gone, so quickly, like his dad.

Basil peeked out from behind Chiron's horsetail, yelped and ducked behind the stallion again. Oliver bit the inside of his cheek. "Do you happen to have any cooking experience, Chiron? We're having goat tonight." Oliver hauled the shotgun over his shoulder. The siren screamed loudly in his head again.

Revenge. Revenge. Revenge.

At first, it seemed like something he could ignore. Happened all the time. But the longer Oliver waited, the more urgent the message got. It was pounding itself into his skull, screeching, yelling, stabbing. It started to get unbearably loud. Chiron opened his mouth.

Revenge. Revenge. Revenge.

His ears rung. He couldn't hear anything. Chiron looked at him confusedly, and snapped his fingers. Oliver expected the loud click, the same annoying sound, but he heard nothing. The roar in his head was much, much louder. It was like an itch that needed scratching, a habit that needed to be done, he raised his gun.

He forced it back down again.

Right there. He had intentions to shoot Basil. He had intentions to hurt Basil. The sounds were loud; loud enough to send ripples through his brain. Noise has never hurt him this much before. It sent painful aches down his ears, and he vaguely wondered if his eardrums would burst. There it was again. The shrieking, wailing, the hammer-like assault on his head. They were wondering why he was hesitating.

Do it.

Shoot him.

Get your revenge.

With all his of his willpower, he forced himself to drop the gun. It struck the ground, sending dust flying. He expected to hear at least something like a clatter, but the voices in his head lashed out, piercing his mind, colliding together to make a tidal wave in his head.

Now, imagine putting your ear up against static on a radio. It's loud; it hurts your ears, right? Well, that's what it felt like to Oliver. Nothing could block it out. His lungs throbbed, as if they were the ones screaming this wave of madness. The voices were trying to talk over each other, and in order to be heard, you must be louder than the others.

Was his dad still trying to get at him? Even after death? Why? Why couldn't he just leave him alone?

Revenge upon that one as well.

Yes, yes.

How? Dead. You can't get revenge upon the dead. No- no. His dad- he was neutral. No opinions. He couldn't-

Chiron was shaking him. His mouth was opening and closing. He looked frantic. Basil- revenge- no! Basil was…ok. He was fine. But Basil also looked worried. He was also opening and closing his mouth. It looked like the both of them were screaming. The voices started getting more frantic. Crying. They were wailing. They were desperate now. Clawing. They were begging. Oliver covered his ears. The voices only got louder.

Accept it!

He couldn't breathe. His lungs refused to obey him. He couldn't move. He couldn't do-talk. He-he couldn't think. The voices were angry. Swarming. They engulfed him.

Oliver slowly peeled his hand away from the sticky substance on the leather. He felt like retching, but held it in. Instead, he shuffled backwards, until his back was against the safety of the couch. The bruised and beaten leather couch was full of rips and holes that pinched his skin, but if Oliver could squeeze his small body into the right spot, it wouldn't bother him much. Tired, he hugged his knees against his body. School was horrible. The teachers couldn't teach. The learners didn't learn. Friends didn't create friendship. The bullies, now, the bullies were actually doing their job. Oliver stared at his purple elbows. Purple was starting to look like his natural skin colour.

Oh he'd wished such ill things upon them. He strangled them, punched, kicked, and made them bleed in his head. He only did this in his mind because he simply couldn't do it in reality. He was too weak. It was pathetic, really.

Click.

Oliver's eyes widened. Breathe. Mechanical steps. Normal. Calm down. He controlled his heavy breathing.

Breathe. Air. Calm. Footsteps. Oh, God, please slow down the footsteps. Stop them. Breathe. Oliver, control your arms. Stop shaking. Oh, please stop the footsteps. Tears. No don't cry-DO NOT cry.

A small sob whispered past Oliver's lips as he stared at the dark silhouette in the doorway. His teeth were chattering loudly. His heart was going on a marathon.

The figure turned.

He went into tunnel vision. The rest of the room, the broken TV, the kitchen piled with dirty dishes, the coffee table lined with broken bottles of beers and wine, all of it blurred. Oliver tried to make himself as invisible as possible, rolling, squirming, moving further and further back. He needed to get some distance between him and that- that thing. A part of the open skin of the sofa cut into his palm, but he couldn't focus on that. The figure kept staring at him. It wouldn't turn. Turn. Turn. Turn. Look away. Ignore him.

It never ignored him.

"What are you looking at?"

It's voice. It was raspy, broken, so worn out. It croaked and creaked, straining to get the words out.

Suddenly, the figure wasn't at the door anymore. It was closer, much closer. It grabbed his wrists. Pain. Pain shot up his arm. No. Stop. He hadn't done anything wrong.

He hadn't done anything.

"C'mon big guy, open your eyes."

Something cold grazed Oliver's cheek, before rubbing the corner of his right eye. Though the action was slow, he felt something sharp, like a human nail.

"Oh! That just reminded me of a classic!"

The sound continued. It was light, high-pitched. Feminine. His mind immediately latched onto the possibility that it could be a girl. It was gentle, lapsing, like waves. It locked onto him, slurring him back into sleep.

"I want so much to open your eyes."

Oliver could hear the smile in her voice.

"'Cause I need you to look into mine."

Voice. Revenge. No. That snake. The high-pitched rapidness. The voices, the slithering, echoing, resonating as one.

"Tell me that you'll open your eyes."

Revenge. It hissed, seething with black, anger, desist, loathing- boiling, viscous waves of- Revenge.

His eyes snapped. The voice. 'Kill it,' something hissed in his ears. For once, Oliver didn't disagree with it. He snatched the hand, the one caressing his cheek. The singing stopped.

Oliver could feel the bones. Just a little- a little more force, and he would be able to break it.

"WHOA! DUDE, STOP! IT'S GONNA BREAK!"

The loud shout of pain shoved his face into a cold bucket of common sense. A human hand. No monster. No rough skin. Calloused fingertips. Petite nails. Definitely not a monster.

Oliver turned the palm over. Normal. It had the line marks and wrinkles his own hand had. He loosened his grip. Immediately, the hand snatched itself away. Another hand went to rub the wrist. Oliver saw a large red mark. The mark he'd left behind.

Guilt took him by the neck and throttled him. He looked up. Oliver was met with a mass of blonde hair. It was a girl, a very pretty one. Her cat-like eyes gave her face an almost childish lift, the shade being a dark brown like Oliver's. Her golden eyebrows crossed briefly as she frowned, still rubbing her wrist. Cautiously, she reached out to feel his forehead. She withdrew quickly, as if still afraid that he would lash out again. "You seem fine, despite the mentality." She spoke slowly, her voice barely a whisper. She swiftly breathed a sigh through her teeth and stood up. With a tanned arm, she flicked her mid-back length hair over her shoulder. Her chocolate eyes flickered over Oliver's body for a second, as if assessing his condition with something even the x-ray couldn't do.

So Oliver interrupted the awkward moment with an intelligent comment.

"Oh."

There was silence as the both of them had a brown-eyed stare-down. The girl arched a golden eyebrow. "'Oh'?" she echoed. Before Oliver could embarrass himself further, the girl bust out laughing, her chest heaving heavily as she struggled to regain breath. "First word you say as soon as you wake up is, 'oh'? Not 'where am I?' or 'what's going on?'" She placed her hands on her hips, her laughter finding no chance to die down. Her body shook as she struggled to contain herself. "Jeez, the new kid is a freak!" She let a few more snickers escape before she sat back down on the stool again. She stared Oliver dead in the eyes with some sort of random determination. "Oliver, right? Oliver Weber? I'm Madeline Cassie Hall, call me Maddy." Her earlier unease seemed to have vanished along with her laughing. She held her hand out.

Oliver felt nervous about holding the hand that he was just about to break, but he took it anyways. "Yeah…um, sorry." He muttered, as he eyes the red mark that was bruising rapidly.

Maddy followed his gaze and stared at her wrist. She flicked it in the air, dismissing his worry. "Don't worry, I'll just have some nectar." She strained her fingers over to the desk on Oliver's right. Her nails picked at a small clear bottle, filled to the brim with a golden liquid that seemed to act as a mini lamp. After a small sound of frustration, she slightly lifted herself from the stool and grabbed the bottle between her thumb and forefinger. She ripped open the cap excitedly. Without a moment's hesitation, she placed it in her lips, gulping down half of it. She pulled it from her lips an gave a sigh, as if she'd downed a glass of good-tasting wine. "That's chocolate for you! Great stuff!" She made a face, as if she'd eaten something very sweet. She then squeezed the lid back on and placed it back at its original spot on the table with a loud clatter.

Maddy licked her lips clean as she stared at him, as if expecting some sort of remark. Oliver blinked. Why in the lord's name was he sitting on a bed, in a room, alone with a blonde girl? Where was he anyways? The room looked like a hospital ward. It had plain cotton sheets, pulled aside from white beds, neatly set with folded sheets. The corners were stacked messily with open and closed cardboard boxes. He saw Band-Aids and crutches sticking out of some of them. What happened? Was he hurt? He remembered standing next to a hill with Chiron and Basil…

Oliver suddenly jerked his head, as if he'd been slapped. "Excuse my incompetence, but did you just call a thing flowers make, chocolate?"

Instead of answering, Maddy held up her wrist. She pointed at it eagerly. "Look! Look! It's healing!" Slightly annoyed that she ignored him so easily, Oliver obliged reluctantly. Indeed, the bruise was healing, disappearing as if fading into her skin, crawling back into the tissue, as if it weren't there in the first place. Suddenly, he felt nauseous again. Wounds simply do not heal within three seconds. "Err, is there a toilet around here?" His stomach and brain whirled in unison. Maddy grinned, completely oblivious to his state of mind.

"Aww, c'mon, you're a tough guy! Let's go outside! Besides, I fed you the same thing, and you're just fine!" She leaped up from her stool, her bright orange t-shirt bouncing as it caught in the small breeze. Cautiously, Oliver licked his lips. There was still the faint taste of- he froze. It was the biscuits his dad used to buy for him. Was it a coincidence? Why was he tasting-

"Nectar lets you taste what you like. Awesome, right?" Maddy cheered, reading his expression. Yet again, before Oliver could move, or say anything else, the blonde in front of him hopped from one leg to the other impatiently. "I'll take you to Chiron. Hurry up." Suddenly, Oliver's shoulder was grabbed, and he was violently tugged out of the hospital bed. He smacked the ground with a loud thud and his legs fell along with him, the blanket hanging onto his feet, as if trying to bring him back.

"What are you doing?" The girl persisted; as if she expected him to ninja flip out of the bed. "I'm taking you to Chiron! Be happy!"

"I'm not sure if I want to see a half human-horse hybrid. I'll stay here, thanks." Oliver retorted, struggling to kick the blankets away from his ankles.

"I'll carry you if you want!" Maddy offered, holding her arms out. She bounced energetically on her yellow, blinding tennis shoes, an equally bright companion with her neon orange shirt. "I need the workout anyways!" She did a few stretches with her arms.

"No, no, no!" Suddenly, Oliver felt the need to jump out of the window and just make a wild run for it. Sure, the girl was pretty, but she was energetic to the point where she was scary.

Maddy frowned. "Look, kid, I may be Apollo's child, but that doesn't mean that I won't drag you out there." Her mood dropped from one hundred to zero within a matter of seconds. Her face deadpanned. Oliver thought that she wore her happier expression much better.

So, instead of apologising, Oliver, with his natural, amazing ways of communicating, said something smart.

"Apollo? You mean the bike company?"

The next thing he knew, he was in a triangle arm-lock.

"I WILL DRAG YOUR DEAD BODY THERE!" Maddy screamed, tightening her grip.

Oliver sputtered, and attempted to remove her arm. "No, seriously, what's going on?!" He forced out.

"I'm killing you! That's what's going on!"

Oliver made a mental note: don't mess with cute, blonde chicks, you scumbag. Suddenly, he heard thumping down the corridor. At first, he'd thought that it was the police marching in, ready to pulverise the girl and send her to prison. Instead, it was a boy with dark skin and long black hair.

"Bright eyes?" He questioned, staring at Maddy with a horrified expression. Honestly, if Oliver walked in on a scene like this, he would just slowly close the door and walk away, as if it never happened.

Thank God, his lord and saviour was here. Around his neck, Maddy froze, and pushed him away gently, as if afraid that he would shatter into a million pieces. She stood up slowly, and brushed her skinny jeans, as if ridding herself of all the evidence. "Hi, Royce, nice to see you." She laughed; a tad bit nervous and hauled him up. Meanwhile, Oliver was sputtering like a fish, taking laboured breaths. He struggled to place his grip on the ground.

"You know, Bright eyes, it'd be nice if you didn't try to kill our new campers," Royce rolled his eyes as he leaned on the doorway.

Oliver saw Maddy pout a bit. "He was annoying me."

Although Oliver could not express his thoughts at that moment, he wanted to scream: I DIDN'T DO SHIT! YOU SUDDENLY GOT VERY IMPATIENT WITH ME!

Royce caught hold of his eyes, and grinned. "You're Oliver, right? The dude that fainted?" The youth collected himself from the doorway and offered a hand. "Welcome to Camp Half-Blood."

Oliver eyed Royce carefully. He was wearing the same shirt as Maddy, the bright orange one with the slogan, Camp Half-Blood. The youth stood with his back straight, as if he were ready to jump into a pool to rescue a drowning girl any second.

He took his hand gladly. For a gentle looking guy, Royce had a strong grip. It was then that Oliver noticed the muscles on his arms. Ah, better him than some crazy blonde kid that proclaimed herself as the child of a god. As if reading his thoughts, Maddy looked a tad bit offended. She put her hands on her hips and glanced at Royce. "I'll go talk to Chiron, take him outside."

Oliver suddenly ripped his hand away from Royce. Maddy's tone made it seem like he was going to be taken away into a prison, where they left stupid kids like him to rot, and, considering the taller boy's athletic appearance, resistance seemed futile.

Royce held up his hands in a surrender sign. "Whoa there! Chill bud, we don't bite." He laughed and placed a big hand easily on the shorter boy's shoulder, gently offering support. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maddy making a snapping motion with her jaw, as if she were a rabid dog.

Pulling a face, she happily skipped out of the room in search of Chiron. Royce smiled as her blonde hair disappeared out of the door. "Excuse my friend, she's a little…hyper." He began, as soon as Maddy was out of earshot. He turned to Oliver and flashed a toothy smile. "Who's your immortal parent, Scrappy?"

Oh no, great, another insane person. And here, Oliver thought he found someone reliable. "I'm pretty sure that both of my parents are human." He said, rubbing his toe against the ground. Honestly, he wasn't used to people being taller than him. Basil was still ten inches shorter and Chiron used to sit in a wheelchair all day. People being taller than him…made him uncomfortable.

Royce clicked his tongue. "What do you mean, both of your parents are mortal? If you've come to this camp, that means that one of your parents must be immortal." He sighed and ran his hand down his face. "Well, I guess you're still confused. Let's go outside."

He grabbed Oliver not-so-gently by his shoulders and pushed him out of the room. The raven-haired tried to protest, but Royce's hands were firm on his shoulders. "W-wait, can't we-"

Oliver's foot caught itself on a piece of the wooden floor that was not nailed down properly and was nearly sent flying on his face. That effectively silenced him.

"Watch your step." Royce mentioned after he nearly fell.

"Thanks." Oliver grumbled.

Revenge.

The sudden sound roared through his ears like a motor blade. Honestly, Oliver was putting his dignity on the line here; he'd never been so scared in his entire life. He could handle drunken dads, death pigeons, goats and horses, but this shook him to the point where his legs refused to move. He remembered the loud screaming, the anguished cries of people he didn't know.

"Scrappy?"

Again. The sounds were slowly flooding back into his ear. He dreaded, he somehow knew that the voices wouldn't end. He turned to Royce. "I-I…" He tried to force the words out. He couldn't. His tongue turned to mush and his voice refused to listen to him. He ended up gaping like a fish while the look on the taller boy's face grew more concerned. He wanted to tell Royce something. Not to help him, or to call a medic, but to stop him. Like a stupid itch that needed to be scratched, it practically punched him the face; the realisation that he needed to be stopped.

"Whoa, dude, breathe. Dammit, what did Bright Eyes say about these things again?" Royce studied his face, while trying to remain calm. "A-Ah, dude, you're turning…blue. Umm, look, scrappy, I know that this is a lot to take in all at once but trust me, everything will make sense once we explain to you." The taller boy couldn't keep the panic out of his voice as Oliver began to shake.

His eyes flickered over to the wooden board he nearly tripped over, and he nearly passed out as the voices went wilder.

Revenge.

The sounds painted a picture in his mind, telling him to tear the house down, to wreck it, and watch as it crumbled beneath his feet. He couldn't do that. Something stubborn at the back of his skull reminded him to breathe, and ignore the voices. Hesitantly, he managed to form a sentence with his dry throat. "O-Outside, please."

Royce wasted no time dragging Oliver outside. The dimness of the hallway brightened, and Oliver could feel the wind on his face. He took a few steps further and his brain fired him a lazy response. He was outside, and he was standing on grass. The internal buzz of the voices quietened, but they still remained there, as if someone just turned the volume down with a television remote. There was a strong hand on his shoulder. "You ok?" It was Royce. Before Oliver could answer, the taller boy responded for him. "You don't look ok, I'm going to find Maddy. Stay right here." Royce reluctantly took his hand off his shoulder. "Right here. Don't move, ok?" There was the soft pattering of grass as the boy ran off.

Meanwhile, Oliver had the sick feeling of wanting to vomit. His stomach swirled, and his mind couldn't decide whether to puke or not. Why was he here? Where was he? Who were those weird people? Honestly, he'd rather be at school than here. Camp Half-Blood, was it? The name was chilling, what did it mean by half-blood? Like the Half-Blood prince from Harry Potter? Why him? Out of all the possible people in this world, him, Oliver Weber, was chosen to be a guinea pig for someone's funny experiment.

"Heads!"

When you hear the word 'heads' you would normally duck or stand there gaping at the object flying directly to your face. Oliver did the former. He tucked his knees as a flying white and sparkly volleyball passed over his head. There was a cold chill that hit him as he did so. You know that feeling when the sun is high in the air and everything seems perfectly fine until this cold winter breeze brushes past you and shakes you to the core? Yeah, that's what it felt like to Oliver. There was a loud thump, indicating that the ball had fallen. He suspiciously eyed the ball as it rolled gently towards him due to the slope of the hill. After staring like an idiot for two minutes, the ball stopped moving. He could feel some sort of coldness wrap around his leg, as if he'd opened a fridge. Was it coming from the volleyball? Wait, was that frost? The grass around the ball shrunk, and a thin layer of frost coated their tips. It was frost. There was frost around a volleyball. In bright daylight. Yes, Oliver, continue to stare at the frost like a mental case. You've got the acting down, now all you need is to call them. Gently, Oliver prodded the volleyball with his shoe. To his despair, it rolled down further towards him.

The cold was undeniable now, and Oliver could feel his ankle begin to freeze up. Like he stuck his foot into a cold room.

Revenge.

Again.

It was starting again. Dread had never punched Oliver harder in the face. The sudden dizziness and sickness of the voices starting again threw him off balance. What was going to happen now? He could feel himself pale instantly. What if he fell? If he suddenly were to- Pain , crawling. Oliver had never felt so disgusted by the feeling of dread crawling up his throat. The notion of wanting to vomit only got worse.

Revenge.

This hiss, the heaviness of his eyes, it was coming back. What if he- He didn't know what to do- it was just- dread-dread-dread-dread.

"Hey! Sorry about that! Are you alright?"

Second time. The second time the same voice pulled him from his mind. Oliver turned towards the voice. In the distance was a boy who looked around his age, sprinting towards him. The boy shot a pale arm into the air as he saw Oliver's gaze. He waved wildly while Ollie still stood, staring. As he got closer, Oliver swore the air around him dropped a few hundred degrees. The boy was next to him, and Oliver was plunged into an ocean of ice. Was winter always this cold? Did the weather always drop so suddenly? Evidently, the heat and heaviness behind his eyes and in his chest started to ebb away, as if the chill was driving them another direction. It no longer felt like someone twice his weight was on top of him, demanding a piggyback ride. His lungs took in greedy breaths of air, the cold wind acting like mint.

"Oh, haven't seen you around. Are you new here?" The boy declared suddenly, his height making him seem to tower above him. Great, he was just as tall as the Royce guy. Oliver noticed that the dude was wearing shades. In winter, where everything was dim. Shades. Seemingly, those shades also hid the taller boy's eyes from him, acting as a black barrier that no one could lift.

"Hello?" the boy asked, a tiny smirk playing on his face. It was then that Oliver realised that he was gaping like a fish trying to force out an unspoken question. He would've spoken, if he could, but the loud voices of vengeance still left him a bit breathless. It was like he'd gone for an insane and crazy run around the country, if you can count standing still and having a mental breakdown instead running around Long Island, that is. "Well, I'm assuming you're new since you're…acting weirdly." The boy cleared his throat as Oliver clipped his mouth shut. The air fell just as quickly as the temperature, silence settling and getting its unwanted self, comfortable. The tall, raven-haired boy crossed his arms awkwardly, lost on how to start a conversation. The, Oliver noticed that one of his arms was not an arm. Well, it was, but it wasn't at the same time. It was prosthetic. His breath hitched. It wasn't like one of those realistic ones or one of those thin, stick ones, this one looked like it came out of a Hollywood movie. It was webbed with lines acting like joints, connecting each bronze piece intricately like weaved fabric from a professional tailor.

It took an awkward five minutes of staring at the arm before Oliver said something. "Y-Your arm…"

Great. Stupid Oliver, of course the boy didn't know that he had a bronze, shiny prosthetic arm that goes all the way up his shoulder. Of course not, only you noticed, Oliver, you special guy. "I-I mean, i-it's…bronze."

Someone hand Oliver an award for conversation starting. He clearly deserved first place. Oliver couldn't help but visibly face palm at himself, the loud smack echoing over the hill.

The boy wasted no time doubling over and laughing his face off like Maddy. Someone, God, whoever was up there on their high perch, save him from the embarrassment. Unlike Maddy, however, the boy halted his laughing almost immediately.

Thank you, God. Oliver sang in his head.

"Wow, good job pointing out the obvious." The boy added bluntly, shaking his head as another smile slipped on his face. His roughly stacked black hair toppled and blew across his eyebrows, before he quickly swiped it back across his head evenly. "Gale Saunders, you?"

Usually when people introduce each other, they shake hands, but Gale didn't do that. His kept his pale, almost white, arm at his side and his other bronze arm pinned against his ribs. He stood a distance from Oliver and stared at him through his sunglasses. Oliver felt exposed. He couldn't read what the taller boy was thinking; he couldn't see the criticism or judgement. For all he knew, Gale could've been staring at something else, the ground, maybe.

"Oliver. Oliver Weber." Then Oliver did something unexpected. He held his arm out. That's it. He did it. Great, now all he needs is for someone to dig his grave for him. There was a limit to how much shock and embarrassment he could stuff into his heart. As much as he wanted to take his arm back, he couldn't. It could be seen as a rejection, or a mistake, and if Gale was one of those people who got offended easily…well…

Said boy stared at Oliver's hand silently, looking at it as if it was a mousetrap, ready to break his fingers off. Then very hesitantly, with his real arm, Gale grabbed Oliver's hand and shook it briefly, before recoiling like a snake. In the mere seconds that their hands met, Oliver could feel an uncomfortable coldness seep up his fingers. It felt like he'd dug his hands into a bucket of ice water that's been sitting in the snow for hours. It stung. To his horror, the tips of his fingers were showing signs of frostnip. He quickly shoved his hand into the pocket of his jeans.

It took Oliver too long to realise that it was Gale's hand that was cold.

He looked over at the taller boy. Gale didn't apologise. His mouth was set in a grim line, as if saying that it was Oliver's fault for attempting contact in the first place.

Another mental note: Don't touch people who freeze the air around them. Common sense in Oliver packed its bag and fled for a vacation. Today of all days though.

"S-Sorry, I-" he began.

"You just came from the Big House, right? You must've met Maddy and Royce then, first impressions?" Apparently, Gale must've seen the apology coming; he was quick to change subjects. He seemed to have forced out Royce's name, for the sake of leaving behind a pleasant air, but his tone didn't sound so happy.

"Maddy? She tried to kill me. Royce seems nice, but I find him a bit intimidating…" Oliver rambled, desperate to fill in the awkward tension. "A bit stifling…"

Gale frowned, though it seemed to be rather playful. "Yes..."

"GALE SAUNDERS!"

"I know exactly how you feel." He sighed melodramatically.

The taller boy walked past him to grab the volleyball, the spots where he treaded turning white with a minimal layer of frost, before shouting in a surprisingly loud voice. "WHAT DO YOU WANT, WOMAN?!"

The same voice answered him. "ONE DOES NOT TAKE FIVE YEARS TO RETRIEVE A VOLLEYBALL!"

"AND ONE DOES NOT SPIKE A VOLLEYBALL WITH THE INTENTION TO KILL!" Gale yelled back, it didn't look like he was used to raising his tone, his voice was almost struggling. He looked ready to dash back the direction he came, but a small figure approaching the horizon stopped him. He sucked in a breath. "It's gonna get hella cold, Ollie." He mumbled. The figure spotted him and began sprinting.

Oliver was definitely not ready for the chill that came next.

If possible, the air dropped even further, to the point where Oliver was visibly shaking and couldn't do anything about it. He wouldn't be surprised if it started snowing right there and then. There was to light bouncing of brown hair, and a small petite looking girl stopped in front of Gale. Her arms looked about as fragile as ice, and possibly as cold as ice too. Oliver noticed, and with no difficulty, the long and big burn mark that spread across her face, almost covering the entire right side. At the burn, her right eye was shut tightly, as if she was having a bad nightmare. Then it occurred to Oliver that her eyelids were stuck together, melded by whatever caused the burn on her face. Her other eye, however was fine, and seemed to glow a deep black, with small, snowflake-like flecks sparkling rapidly like fireworks. It was like watching a show, a movie, a moving background.

A loud huff caught his attention. The girl blew a strand of chocolate hair out of her eye. Almost glaring, she studied him carefully, her pupil carelessly eyeing him up and down, observing him with a harshness Maddy couldn't compare to. "Haven't seen him around." She stated calmly, a sharp ring to her tone.

"Oliver. New kid." Gale explained for him, shaking his head dismissively. The taller boy sucked in a breath of the cool air, casually as if he were drinking water. Meanwhile, Oliver feared that taking any breaths bigger than his shallow ones would end up freezing his insides.

Oliver's gaze flicked between the both of them as they both stared at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to chuck a backflip. Kai's eye flickered, almost acting like a candlelight. But no, it was much more different from that. Her eyes represented some sort of wildness, a flurry of strong snowstorms, unyielding and untouchable. He briefly wondered if Gale had the same eyes. It then hit him, randomly, out of the blue, what if he wore the glasses to hide something? The girl had a scar that couldn't possibly be hidden, but what if Gale had something that he could hide?

Oliver mentally slapped himself. He shouldn't be prying into other people's business. He noticed that the both of them didn't wear the same orange shirt that Royce and Maddy did. Gale had a white leather jacket zipped all the way up to his collarbone, one sleeve ripped at the robotic arm. He looked extremely comfy in his boots and jeans. Kai had slipped on a grey turtleneck, completed with a red jacket and ripped jeans. Compared to Oliver, who was wearing a long sleeved shirt under his t-shirt, they both looked perfectly warm. Yes, let him suffer the consequences of not being prepared for a sudden temperature drop due to the weatherman not announcing so. Apart from the injuries and all, the girl had stands of white hair in her ponytail of brown hair; it didn't look dyed. It was as if the snow itself engraved its way into her somehow.

"Oi, kid, what'cha lookin' at?" The girl snapped, clicking her fingers in a way that he always found annoying. Oliver blinked as she stepped closer to him in an intimidating matter, at the same time causing his teeth to chatter slightly due to the cold air she was giving off. Cold-room, cold-room, his mind teased. "Am I really that beautiful?" Despite the playful statement, she sounded stiff, angry, even, as raging as the storm in her eye. Then again, surprising Oliver for the millionth time today, the girl's glare relaxed and a smile spread wide across her face. Her tensed features relaxed and despite her cool skin, she brought upon the sun in her smile.

"Just kidding." She pulled her tongue and patted his chest playfully, before taking two swift steps back. "Oliver, right? I'm Mikaela Reyes, but you can call me Kai like this idiot over here." She poked her thumb in Gale's direction. She held her hand out for a handshake. Kai's slightly tanned hand was sort of inviting, but the again, she had the same capability of a fridge.

Kai must've seen the hesitation in his eyes, because her nimble and slender fingers found his hand and shook it vigorously. Shocking him, yet again, he found that her hand wasn't very cold, though it wasn't warm either, so unfortunately, there was no cure from the cold around him. He felt like dead meat, sitting in the freezer, unable to rot because of the cold air.

Before any further conversation could be made between the both of them, Gale interrupted, his gaze focused behind them. His features tensed a fraction. "Kai, Chiron's here, you'd better tell him about our 'situation'." He said, emphasising the last word. Oliver looked back at said girl. She visibly paled. "Oh gods, he's going to have our heads." She turned to Oliver and shook his hand firmly once more. "Nice meeting you for like, six minutes. I'll see you again in the afterlife." She flashed him another blinding smile and went to stand next to Gale, swallowing worriedly. Briefly, Oliver wondered what they could've done to be this nervous.

Oliver turned around and went face to face with a flying goat.

"OLIVERRRRR!"

Correction: Basil-goat.

Basil tackled Oliver with a hug that nearly sent him to the ground. He staggered back a few steps while Basil still squeezed the juices out of him. "I THOUGHT YOU DIED!" He wailed, sniffling dramatically.

"No. I did die; I'm a ghost now. Boo." Oliver stated sarcastically. Basil released Oliver almost immediately and began with his annoying habit of shaking the taller boy senseless.

"Don't scare me like that ever again, you hear me? Gods, not only would I have gotten in trouble because you died, but your mother would've given me hell as well! Oh, wait, how could I be so selfish? I mean my-best-friend-nearly-died-and-I'm-worrying-about-how-much-trouble-I'll-be-in. Oh gods I'm such a horrible satyr, Grover, punish me now!" Basil exclaimed, somehow managing to get all of that out in one breath. He threw his hands into the air as if he'd expected angels to descend and take him away, or for lightning to strike down upon him.

"Basil, calm down." A smooth and deep voice stopped Basil from rambling further. Oliver tried to peer past the goat's fuzzy hair to look at Chiron who'd spoken. The older man smiled, his face no longer showing worried wrinkles. "Glad to see that you're alright, Oliver."

Oliver nodded, while his gaze flittered towards three other figures that stood next the great height of the stallion. There was a girl he didn't recognise, but otherwise, Royce and Maddy were both standing next to Chiron. Maddy offered a wave. He waved back slowly. At the corner of his eye, he saw the both of them nod politely to Gale, who nodded back.

Someone cleared her throat. Everyone turned to the source of the sound. Kai awkwardly shrank back at everyone's stares. "I see that…um, you guys are having a happy reunion, and I'm glad for that, really. But, um…" She glanced at Gale for support, who swiftly looked away. "We may have-" she nervously smiled at Chiron's suspicious stare, "-or may not have accidentally," she stretched out the last word, "turned the volleyball courts into ice rinks." She winked, poked her tongue out and bolted. Gale sighed and ran after her.

"Ice rinks…" Chiron stated blankly, his eyes glassing up, his mind already going through the trouble of having to clean that up. "It's winter…it won't melt…" There and then, Oliver thought he saw Chiron repenting. But the humour looked forced, unnatural, as if he was trying to lighten the mood around them, while trying to keep the sadness away from himself as well. "Basil, go tell Grover the news, we don't want him worrying."

Basil shivered. "I thought I was going to freeze to death." The goat squeaked, rubbing his arms. Nevertheless, he nodded once, and paced off.

"Oliver." The stallion spoke again, his voice turning firmer, more serious. "I have to talk about an important matter with Annabeth, here." He gestured towards the girl he didn't know, "I know you're confused about everything here, but I'll leave you with Royce and Maddy, they'll show you around and hopefully explain everything." He quickly glanced at the both of them. They nodded firmly, yet carefully, as if any sudden movement could bring the girl beside them into ruin. Honestly, the last thing that Oliver wanted to do was hang around Maddy, who almost killed him, but he didn't feel like throwing a fit now, not when the unknown blonde girl looked on the verge of tears. "Sure." He agreed.

Oliver glanced at Annabeth again. Her eyes were a detached gray, tired, sleepy, and yet still struggling to bring her forward. The rims of her eyes were red and puffy, as if she'd been crying a lot, but she still had a lot more tears to spare. Her blonde hair, which must've once been neatly combed, was messily tied into a ponytail, several strands hung on her face, but she didn't sweep them away. They stuck to her begrudgingly, a grim reminder that she needed to pull herself together and clean up.

What happened? Was the unspoken question.

AN: *Rapidly smashes head on table* This is o-overdue… *Coughs up blood* It's killing me slowly… PAH! A WILD ANNABETH APPEARED! What happened, I wonder? ;) Anyways, here are the other two people who I *LOUD AND BOISTERIOUS COUGHING* …forgot… *MORE COUGHING*

Gale Saunders – W. R. Winters

Efrem Nazani – Deadly Animals Are Cute

If your OC did not appear, fear not! Since they'll be presented in other future chapters. Anyways, a few notes:

This entire story will not be told through Oliver's POV only. I'm just using him for now, until we can clearly get introduced to everyone. Unprofessional, I know, but I don't know what else to do.

As you can see, I have accepted far beyond my first decided limit of characters, so not everyone will be doing the quest that's to come, but nevertheless, no one's really going to be left out since I'm going to continuously bring them up, but if your character doesn't get to fully explain their backstory, I apologise in advance.

Anyways, chapter was too long. Imma shut up so you guys can go do whatever you guys do after reading fanfiction. See ya.