The bright, obnoxious glow of police sirens flashed through the cool Miami sky, chasing away the encroaching darkness in flashes of blue and red - in the parking lot of Miami Country Day School, at least. I could see it all from the top of the hill; at least six different police cruisers parked messily near the front entrance of the building, nosy and concerned parents hovering near the bright yellow caution tape blocking off entry while brain-rotted teenagers gossiped loudly about the 'sewage explosion' that'd occurred in the first floor women's restroom.
Fucking Mist.
Marcus passed me the blunt, and I took my time bringing it up to my mouth and taking a nice, deep drag. The burning in my lungs felt more like an old friend than anything else, years of smoking weed and even worse shit in a different life allowing me to handle things the pull with an effortless ease, but my mind was still sharper than ever. We'd been sitting here for half an hour at this point, smoking the same blunt until it was barely more than a roach, and the most I could feel was the slightest warmth of relaxation encroaching at the edge of my hyperactive consciousness.
So fucking much for that 'good Satyr kush'. Awakening the Gacha had to have affected my physiology somehow, because I remember getting drunk off of Kali's vodka stash last Halloween.
I didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
"You feel that?" Marcus whispered, his voice somehow managing to register as both raspy and high-pitched. He leaned against my side, slinging one lanky arm over my shoulders, and gave me a wide, yellow-tinged grin. "I call this strain 'Unicorn Piss'. Got the idea after seeing a unicorn piss on a dead patch of grass and grow, like, hella flowers and shit. Purified, distilled goodness right out their genitalia, man! That's- that's the kinda shit I wanna grow. Pure, distilled dank."
It definitely smelled like a horse pissed in it.
I shrugged his arm off, but softened the gesture with a bemused smirk. "So unicorns are real too, then?"
His bloodshot eyes widened in way too much excitement, horizontal goat pupils dilating until they were practically indistinguishable from normal ones. "Dude, yes! B-but not at Camp Half-Blood, which kinda sucks diiiick. We've got Pegasi, which is, like, cool or whatever… but man, I took a trip out to Europe with a group of friends a couple years back, and the shit we saw…"
Marcus shook his head, automatically taking the roach back and hitting three quick puffs to burn through the last of the Unicorn Piss. When the last of it singed his ash-smudged fingers he winced and tossed it into the dew-covered grass. "You wanna talk about crazy shit, Europe's where it's at man. Florida's got nothing on Venice."
I huffed. "No shit?"
"No shit."
That was funny; I'd been to Europe, actually. Lived in Thessaloniki for a couple months while Kali 'worked through a business partnership' with some big-wig Grecian company - which, now that I knew she was actually the Goddess of Discord and apparently worked for the actual fucking embodiment of Chaos, was absolute bullshit. Not once in those ninety odd days did I ever see a Unicorn, a Unicorn pissing, or really anything supernatural now that I thought about it.
Which was probably the point. Shame, that.
Maybe I'd spot one here in the States.
"But seriously," the Satyr continued, the lilting rasp of his voice finally leveling out into something approaching seriousness, "Unicorns are the last thing you should be concerned about right now, Andreas. Isabella-"
I resisted the urge to be an asshole and sigh.
Not this again.
"She's handled, bro."
"Yeah? You told me that already, but, like- dude. I'm not saying you're lying, but it makes no sense. Isabella, she was a Lamia. As in a soul-sucking, flesh-eating snake woman descended from the same chick who makes monsters hunt you Demi-Gods in the first place! A-and you were naked when I wheeled in. And the smell- it was-… duuude…"
Marcus let out a high-pitched bark of half-manic laughter, his furry blonde legs - free and exposed now that the cat was out of the bag and his wheelchair was abandoned halfway up the hill - beat a discordant rhythm against the grass. His white tuxedo slacks were rolled up and cuffed at the knee, and it was hella jarring, seeing what was effectively a goat's lower body attached to what looked like an otherwise normal human teenager.
"Wait."
He narrowed his goat-like eyes, leaning in so close that I could smell the sweat clinging to his fur and some cheap, musky cologne that did nothing to smother the scent of the Unicorn Piss and nervous goat. One ash-smudged finger poked me directly on the dense, exposed plane of my chest. "You… you didn't actually fuck the Demi-God eating monster, did you? Like dude. That's… so not good. She's literally a monster. Please tell me you at least killed her afterwards."
…
Honestly, I was surprised he hadn't drawn that conclusion earlier.
Then again, the past twenty minutes had been spent with him trying - and failing - to explain what Camp Half-Blood was and the fact that I'm apparently a Demi-God and oh, dude, the nymphs at Camp are so fucking hot man. All in all, L fucking Satyr guide who couldn't even warn me about the danger I was walking into dick-first until I had already literally creampied her snakussy and turned her into my monster spy. His heart was in the right place, but his brain…
Well, it was floating somewhere between the sky and space at this point.
"First off," I started, brushing his finger away and giving him a halfway crooked smirk, "that's fuckin' racist, man. Monstergirls need love too."
"Andre, this isn't a jo-"
I raised my hand, cutting him off. "Secondly… of course I did. Kill her, I mean. Bitch was trying to literally consume me whole, staring with my dick. I had no other choice."
Because fuck telling the constantly stoned Satyr who was probably going to Iris message back to Camp Half-Blood that I was in the habit of fucking and then recruiting monsters on my first week as a Demi-God. I could be dumb sometimes, and yeah I had a tendency to think with my dick and my gut more than my brains, but sparking off… whatever it was that Khaos wanted from me with just three small perks and a dream sounded like a fast-track way to get Game Over'd by the Gods.
I was an adrenaline junkie, not suicidal.
Marcus sighed in relief, falling back into the grass and letting out a long-suffering groan. "Duuuude. Don't scare me like that. I was kinda worried that you were like, I dunno… a monster-sympathizer or something. We had a camper last year who turned out to be a follower of fuckin' Kronos. Was releasing monsters into camp and everything."
A jolt of lightning sparked down my spine.
'Fuck. Right, that Luke dickhead.'
Right now was absolutely not the time to be flexing my monster connections, then. Jesus Christ- or, 'by Eris' fat pussy' or whatever.
"Yeah, well," I absent-mindedly ran the calloused surface of my fingers over the Soulfyre's chain links, the abnormally cold metal oddly comforting. "I barely even know what Kronos is, man. I skip second period Lit every other day. Miss Bernstein fucking hates me."
My high acquaintance-friend giggled - a giggle that instantly turned into a wet, hacking cough that he barely covered up with one hairy fist. "Miss B hates everyone dude. 'Prolly 'cause her husband's fucking the Guidance Counselor."
I paused. "What?"
"You're new so you didn't know, but yeah bro - Mr. Bernstein, the PE coach, is totally fucking on Miss Pearly. There was this rumor flying around that they were caught by the football team in the storage shed during one of the home games, but blah blah blah-"
Yeah, turns out I actually didn't care that much about high school gossip after all of these divine revelations.
Marcus, however, clearly wasn't of the same mind. And I thought I had bad ADHD. This dude wasn't even a Demi-God.
Instead of entertaining his high ramblings about Mr and Mrs. Bernstein's marital problems, I allowed myself the time to somewhat decompress, go over my options, and figure out what the fuck I was going to do from here on out. School was obviously a bust; I'd barely avoided being blamed for the accident here, but something deep in my gut told me that the monster attacks would only increase dramatically from now on.
While I was all for daily fights to the death with Tartarus' rejects, I wasn't so far gone that I wanted to put innocent kids in danger just to satiate my battle-lust and farm Drachma.
And wasn't that the most important thing right now?
I needed power. Going off of the Feats I achieved tonight, accomplishing the improbable and putting myself in increasingly dangerous scenarios to do so was a sure-fire way of earning them. (finally) Kissing Kali earned me a 'platinum' Drachma, fucking Isabella and making her orgasm earned me a silver, and just surviving the awakening of the Chaos Gacha netted me a gold.
Going off of normie video game logic, because ole' Khaos was definitely trying for a very particular theme here, bronze was probably the tier right below silver. Then gold, and then platinum, and after that I had no idea - Diamond, maybe? That's how the ranks in League of Legends went, at least. I was Diamond II myself so I would know.
That meant I had a very, very wide net to catch Feats with; Bronze to Diamond to beyond.
Grow Strong.
Live Fast.
Thrive.
Those were Khaos' only directives to me. They didn't want to railroad my journey or toss me in a gauntlet with Olympians' heroes. So long as I lived my life, thrived, and kept the chaos flowing - kept the waters from stagnating - I'd be doing my duties as Khaosborne. Which only supported my rejection of going back to school. Besides, summer was starting soon anyway. I wouldn't be able to go back to Miami Country Day School for the next several months even if I wanted to, and I really didn't want to.
I wanted to grow stronger. I wanted to explore this scary and exciting new world of mythology, heroes, and monsters.
And after my experience with Isabella?
I absolutely wanted to crack more monster pussy.
'Fuck it,' I decided, adrenaline and excitement and fear surging through my blood. I grinned, clenching my right fist - the one marked by Khaos. 'Impromptu road trip across monster-infested America it is.'
Around my neck, Soulfyre - ΦΑΝΤΑΣΜΑ ΠΥΡΟ - seemed to grow warmer at the thought. I could've been hallucinating it, but somehow, in the very distant recesses of my brain, I felt like there was something… sharp and alien lurking there, giving off a feeling of- what, satisfaction? Was my sword excited too? More monsters meant more essence, and more essence presumably meant a more satiated sword. I was eating for two now.
… And hell, maybe I'd check out Camp Half-Blood. Maybe I wouldn't.
Regardless, Kali and I had some unfinished business to take care of, so no matter what New York was absolutely on my hitlist. Whatever happened after that would happen, and I'd adapt accordingly - like I always did. That was the joy of chaos.
A low, quiet buzz from my pocket pulled me out of my scheming.
"-and I was scared Mr. Whitley was a Cyclops, hehe. Kinda smelled like one. But uh, naw he's just really big and doesn't shower. Like, at all," Marcus was slurring, having somehow pulled another doink out of his tuxedo - as well as a flask of something that smelled suspiciously like cheap, gas station-bought Vodka.
Dude was getting cross-faded on Unicorn Piss and liquor. Actually fucking fiend.
And absolutely not someone I wanted tagging along on my Monster-Slaying/Laying road trip.
Clicking my teeth, I slid my phone out of my pocket and checked my notifications.
[Isabella 🐍]
10:58 PM
Sent on iPhone
hola papiiii
[Isabella 🐍💦]
10:58 PM
Sent on iPhone
made it home safelyyy. n by home i mean the after-partyyy @ club ravenous~! vip ofc. 💅🏽 told my sisters about u hehe not the promise ofc but the way u 🍑🍆😩💦💦💦
[Isabella 🐍💦]
10:59 PM
Sent on iPhone
they want to 'meet' u b4 u leave Miami but i told them u were off-limits lmao but if u ever want some fun just lmk~~~
[Isabella 🐍💦]
11:01 PM
Sent on iPhone
anyways i gotta go! were doing shots lol stay safe, will text u if I hear anything. florida man is out hunting so us monsters r staying INDOORS
[Isabella 🐍💦]
11:02 PM
Sent on iPhone
[BathroomSelfie.png received]
... Florida Man?
No, fuck that-
Boobs.
Four sets of boobs - big, brown, milky titties with dusky black nipples and four sets of long, salivating tongues curling around them. It was a mirror selfie, obviously taken in the bathroom of some ritzy, high-class nightclub. Isabella was in the middle of the photo, her smile the widest, a brand new emerald dress pulled down by her fingers so that her fat ass titties could bounce out and flash the camera. Three other girls pressed in around her, too closely and intimately to just be her sisters.
They all looked Latina - light brown skin, full, plump lips colored all colors of the rainbow, thick curly hair and professionally pressed-on lashes and nails… but did monsters even have siblings like that? As in, their fake physical forms sharing the same fake ethnicity? Or was this some really, really immersive roleplay for these snake ladies?
Better yet- why the fuck was I questioning it? Gay.
All of a sudden my torn and dirtied pants were really, really tight. I pocketed my phone before Marcus could see.
Judging by the widening of his eyes, he at least saw a flash of nipple.
"Bro, what the fuck was that?" The Satyr leaned in close, spilling a handful of vodka over his own slacks and filling the air with an even thicker scent of hard liquor and paint thinner.
My nose wrinkled, but I tried my best to keep my face pleasant enough. Marcus was quickly showing me why I'd never bothered to actually become friends with him, but I knew that he cared in his own way. That was the only reason why I hadn't told him to fuck off by now. Having some form of positive connection to the Olympians and Camp Half-Blood was worth something, and I'd rather have that resource in my pocket than nothing at all.
"Just a side-chick," I shrugged, which wasn't even a lie.
He narrowed his bloodshot eyes, goat-pupils dilating as he scanned my face for any trace of disingenuity. "Whaaat? But dudeee, I saw like- like three pairs of tits on your screen man. And was that fucking saliva-"
"Side-chicks," I cut him off with a grin. "My bad. I'm, uh… dating this one girl and her friends wanted to meet with me too. Figured I'd hit 'em up before I left Miami, see what the vibe is before heading North."
It took him several seconds for his crossfaded brain to parse my words even though they were abundantly straightforward and easily-understood. First there was shock and raw, unadulterated jealousy when he realized that I was referencing a potential foursome, which-… fair. Demi-God or not, I was still fifteen.
Honestly, it was hard for me to grasp onto that concept myself. I was keeping it together, but the horny teenager who'd only just lost his virginity was banging his head against the bars, desperate to go and pop his orgy cherry.
Then the latter half of my statement hit, and that jealousy turned to ash before my very eyes, replaced by confusion and fear. Marcus went to grab my arm - he was a handsy dude when he was high for some reason - but I stopped him in his tracks with one mild glare.
"Andreas, didn't you hear anything I said dude? You've gotta come with me. To Camp Half-Blood. Like, we've gotta leave tonight bro. Do you even know how good you smell right now?!" His hands clenched at the air as if he wanted to ignore my unspoken warning and grab onto me anyway, but he settled for his Rasta cap instead, pulling the beanie off and scrunching it up in his hands.
The goat horns were small, nubby, and kinda cute. Real shame there weren't any female Satyrs.
"Look," I began carefully, raising both of my hands. "I feel you, Marcus, but-"
No," he cut me off, "I- I don't think you do, man."
Curious in spite of myself, I leaned back on my palms and tilted my head at the anxious goat boy. I couldn't pretend to know everything - that would be ignorant as fuck. Hell, I barely even remembered the first couple of Percy Jackson books, and I hadn't even read the last few, so any information he could give me about literally anything was worth its weight in gold.
"Explain it to me then."
Naked hope blossomed across his sweaty face like an oil spill. "Okay, okay. So you know how Demi-Gods have this… this scent, right? Like, it's the way Satyrs like me and monsters like that Isabella bitch is able to find you. It starts off weak at first, mostly when you're younger. But over time it grows stronger, and stronger, and stronger, until it sorta hits a peak in your teenage years. At that point being hunted down by a monster is unavoidable. And when you 'awaken' your divine powers, your scent gets, like uber strong depending on your Godly parent."
He paused to make sure I was paying attention, his own cross-fade clearly disappearing as the sobering nature of our conversation burned the alcohol and weed out of his system. When I nodded, giving him the sign to continue, Marcus sighed and began choking his Rasta cap again.
"Yeaaah, so like… Dude. Do you know who your mortal parents are? Your birth mom or birth dad? 'Cause you… man, you smell strong. Like, Perseis Jackson mixed with Thalia Grace strong. Which is really fucking bad. Because if it turns out that Zeus or Poseidon or Gods forbid Hades broke the truce again-"
…
Wait.
"Perseis Jackson?" I asked, narrowing my eyes and leaning forward. "Not Perseus? Percy?"
Marcus' teeth clanked together when he shut his mouth. Glaring at me for interrupting him but more bemused than angry, he took an anxious puff of his fat new joint. "Ack- fuck. Dude, no, it's Perseis. Like, per seas. And uh yeah, her friends call her Percy I think but I'm not really popular enough to hang-"
My mouth went dry, and it had nothing to do with the Unicorn Piss. "Hold on, Marcus. You said 'her'. As in she/her. As in a chick?"
"… Yeaaaah? You okay, man? You're acting like you know her or something. How-... wait."
He paused, his eyes growing so wide that I genuinely thought they would start bulging out of his fucking skull. "Bro. You haven't, like… dated Perseis too, right? Like off of Facebook or Discord or whatever? 'Cause unless my gaydar's off, and it's never freaking off, that chick's hella lesbo. Tomboy as fuck, dude."
…
Of course.
Of fucking course.
The main character of the book was a tomboy lesbian named Perseis Jackson.
The Goddess of Chaos, Eris, was the founder of Discord and also an unrepentant gooner who groomed her Khaosborne adopted brother.
And I'd just gotten done busting the fattest nut of my life in a Demi-God eating Lamia who now worked for me as a spy in the monster community.
…
What kind of Rated-R fucking AU fanfic was I reincarnated into?!
"Heh… shit," I muttered, a half-snort half -chuckle emanating from my chest as I collapsed back into the grass. "Actually a chick, huh? Cool. Not mad at it."
My voice was low, almost silent, my brain working a mile a minute to try and figure out the sheer depths of how everything could've changed. I was assuming Khaos brought me here, after all, and it was literally in the name wasn't it? Khaos. Chaos. Of course my primordial soup daddy-mommy thought turning shit upside down would be a fun challenge. Nicely fucked up what little meta-knowledge I had.
Marcus was looking at me like I'd just asked him if water was wet, his bloodshot goat-eyes blinking slowly as his brain - still sloshing with vodka and that god-awful Unicorn Piss - tried to process why I cared so much about Percy Jackson's pronouns.
"Yeeeah, dude," he drawled, taking another long hit from his fresh blunt. The cherry glowed bright orange against the darkness, smoke curling up into the humid Miami night. "She's like, a total badass too. Killed the Minotaur at thirteen with its own horn. Went on a quest to get Zeus's Master Bolt back. Went into the Sea of Monsters and came back with the fucking Golden Fleece- which, by the way, revived Big Three Tomboy Numero Dos, Thalia Grace."
He paused, squinting at me through the haze. "Why, you got a crush on her or something? 'Cause like I said, bro, she's hella gay. Like, 'staring forlornly at Annabeth Chase's ass' gay. Those two are like-" He made a childish scissoring gesture with his fingers that I pointedly ignored.
Annabeth Chase.
I vaguely remembered that name from the books; Athena's daughter, strategic 'genius', and Percy's… crush? Girlfriend? I don't remember when they got together exactly, except apparently in this universe Percy was a tomboy lesbian named Perseis who was dating the daughter of wisdom and warfare.
Fuck, that was kinda hot actually.
'Focus, Andreas.'
"Nah, man," I said, accepting the blunt when he passed it over and taking one last, measured drag. The smoke was thick and herbal, with an almost floral undertone that definitely wasn't natural, but I still couldn't forget the fact that he based the strain off of a unicorn's piss. "Just curious. You mentioned her name and I wanted to make sure I heard you right. Thought I heard about her somewhere."
Marcus nodded sagely, like I'd just said something profound instead of blindly tossing out excuses. Thank God he was zooted. "Yeah, I feel you. Keep in mind that names are important though dude. Like, mega important. Especially for Demi-Gods. Your name has power, y'know? Like, speaking it can call attention to you. That's why most of us don't use our full names when we're out in the mortal world. Too many monsters got good hearing."
That was… actually useful information. I filed it away for later, making a mental note to maybe come up with an alias or two.
Khaosborne was probably too on the nose.
Down in the parking lot, more cop cars were pulling up. I could see the flash of cameras, probably under coverage news crews getting photos of the 'sewage explosion' before the buzzards really started to fly around. Students and parents were still milling about, some crying, others laughing and taking selfies with the police tape in the background. A few of the guys from the baseball team were doing interviews, probably hamming it up for the cameras and reaching for their brief ten seconds of clout.
Typical. I wouldn't miss this place at all.
"So, Camp Half-Blood," I said, steering the conversation back to safer pastures. "You said it's in Long Island?"
"Yup!" Marcus perked up immediately, hope flaring in those weird horizontal pupils. "I'm tellin' you, we could leave tonight dude. I got a spare van- well, it- it's technically Chiron's van, but he lets some of us Satyrs use it for, like, emergency extractions and stuff. I loaded it up with some spare celestial bronze weapons in the trunk, got some ambrosia squares and nectar shots in the glove box, and the whole thing's enchanted to take one hell of a beating. We could be in New York in like one and a half days if we drive straight up I-95 and make zero stops."
Not going to happen.
"Chiron?" I asked instead, playing the role of the clueless Demi-God.
Judging by the way Marcus puffed up with pride, he appreciated being the one to blow my mind now. Probably felt like it gave him some form of power in our currently lopsided dynamic. Shame I'd have to disabuse him of that notion soon, but the yapping was fine for now. Intel was intel.
"Oh yeah, he's like - he's our mentor. Runs the camp along with Mr. D. Super cool guy. He's a centaur too, dude. Like, full-on horse body and everything. Teaches Latin and Greek mythology and shit."
"That's wild," I said, because what else could I say? My entire worldview had been completely fucking demolished in the span of a few hours. Gods were real. Monsters were real. Magic was real. And I was apparently some kind of Khaos-blessed hero (or villain) with a gacha system in my soul and a sword that ate monsters. Hearing about Chiron was nothing in comparison to everything else I'd discovered tonight, though I did my best to look suitably impressed.
"Regardless," I said, passing the blunt back to Marcus. "I appreciate the offer, man. Really. But I'm not going to Camp. At least, not yet."
The hope in his eyes died instantly, replaced by panic. "Wh- dude, no! What the hell did we just talk about for, like, twenty fucking minutes? Every monster from here to the Georgia border probably knows you exist now!"
"Then I'll kill them," I said simply, shrugging. "Worked pretty well with Isabella."
"But- but that was one monster! And you barely got outta there with your dick intact!" He was gesturing wildly now, ash from his blunt scattering across his white tuxedo. "Dude, there are things out there waaay worse than Lamias! Entire Hellhound packs that'll chew on your fuckin' femur bones, Chimeras that fart toxic clouds, fucking Manticores! And that's not even getting into the really nasty shit like Kampê or the Hydra or- or Chupacabras-"
"Marcus."
Wasn't he the one who just said names were powerful?
My voice was calm, but there was enough edge to it that he shut up immediately, goat-pupils contracting. Thank the Gods I wasn't gay or he'd probably be popping a chub right now.
"I get it," I continued, softer now. "You're worried. That's… actually pretty damn cool of you, bro. We barely know each other and you're out here trying to save my ass. I respect that."
Marcus swallowed hard, fidgeting with his scrunched up Rasta cap. "I mean… yeah, dude. That's like, my job. As a Seeker. I'm supposed to find Demi-Gods like you, protect you from monsters, and get you to Camp Half-Blood safely. If you die out here because I couldn't convince you to come with me, then…" He trailed off, looking genuinely distressed.
Shit. I hadn't considered that angle - that Marcus might actually get in trouble if I died. He was probably graded on this shit or something.
"Look," I said, leaning forward and making eye contact. "I'm not trying to make your life harder. And I'm not suicidal or anything. I just… I need some time, y'know? To figure shit out. To get stronger. I've spent my whole life being told what to do, where to go, how to act. And now I finally have power. Real power. And I want to use it. Explore. See what this world has to offer."
"But you could do that at Camp!" Marcus protested."We have training facilities, combat instructors, magical items, half naked wood nymphs-"
"And rules," I cut him off. "And schedules. And a bunch of people watching my every move, judging me, trying to figure out who my godly parent is and if I'm a danger to their position in the Demi-God Circle-Jerk hierarchy. That's drama I don't want right now. Not while I'm tryna find shit out for myself."
I didn't mention the real reason; that I needed to farm Feats and Drachma from the Chaos Gacha, and I had a strong suspicion that Camp Half-Blood's protective barriers would seriously limit my opportunities for that. If monsters couldn't get in, I couldn't fight them. And if I couldn't fight them, I couldn't get stronger.
Quick maths.
Plus, there was the whole 'secret Chaos-blessed champion with mysterious powers' thing. The last thing I needed was some Athena kid analyzing my abilities and figuring out I wasn't actually a normal Demi-God, or even a Demi-God at all. Godly claimings were a thing, but from what I remember they were rare - a lot of Campers actually ended up being forced into the overstuffed Hermes' cabin, and I literally didn't have a godly parent. Eris could probably claim me, but she was unpredictable at the best of times. I couldn't reliably rely on her for cover.
Marcus was quiet for a long moment, taking another hit from his blunt. Down in the parking lot, most of the students had started leaving, parents picking them up in expensive cars. The flashing police lights were starting to give me a headache.
"You're not gonna change your mind, are you?" he finally asked, his raspy voice small and defeated.
"Not right now," I admitted freely. "But hey - I'm not saying never. Just… not yet. Let me do my thing for a bit. Explore Florida, maybe head up through Louisiana - I really wanna try some authentic gumbo again, and I bet the bayou's got some crazy supernatural shit. After I road trip up through the Midwest and see the sights, then maybe I'll swing by Camp. Check it out. See if it's really as great as you say."
I still owed Eris a spanking for lying to me for years, and I could admit to myself that I wanted to meet the main cast, even if my childhood GOAT Percy Jackson was a chick instead of a dude in this 'verse. Didn't change the badassery.
"The bayou's got loup-garous," Marcus said automatically, his stoner brain hyperfixations onto the Louisiana comment even as his body sulked and pouted. "And rougarou, which are different somehow? I don't really get it. Swamp hags, which are gross and rapey, the Honey Island Swamp Monster, which is, like… bayou Big Foot. Also vodou spirits, which are like… not really Greek? But they exist? It's weird, dude. The whole thing with other pantheons is super complicated and Chiron says we're not supposed to mess with them but like, they're out there, y'know?"
I perked up at that. "Wait, other pantheons? Like, as in Egyptian gods? Norse? That kind of thing?"
My genuine enthusiasm seemed to cut through Marcus' depression. He grinned, bloodshot eyes crinkling at the edges. "Yeah, dude! They all exist! But like, we're supposed to stay in our lane, y'know? Greek stuff for Greek Demi-Gods. The Egyptians have their own heroes, the Norse have their Einherjar or whatever."
He shrugged with the easy ignorance of someone with no real desire to dig any deeper. "Mr. D - that is, Dionysus - says it's a whole political thing. Like, imagine if a Greek Demi-God accidentally killed an Egyptian god's champion or something. International incident, bro. Divine war. And we're already… well, you'll see. Once you get to Camp."
… Holy shit.
That was huge. My mind was already racing with possibilities - if other pantheons existed, other sources of mythology. That meant other power systems, other magics, other opportunities to achieve Feats and collect Drachma. Nothing in the very brief instruction manual Khaos had given me said anything about staying contained to just Greek mythology.
"Badass," I breathed, unable to keep the grin off my face. "So theoretically, if I wanted to learn vodou magic or Norse runes or Egyptian- what do they even use? Hieroglyphics?"
Marcus shrugged again. "Dude, I have no idea. That's way above my pay grade. I just know it's possible but super dangerous and definitely not recommended." He paused, squinting at me. "You're not actually planning to mess with other pantheons, are you? Because like, that's how you get smited. Smote? Smoten?"
"Smote," I supplied helpfully. "And nah, I'm not planning anything. Just curious."
Liar.
I was absolutely planning to investigate other pantheons. But Marcus didn't need to know that.
We sat in comfortable silence for a bit, passing the blunt back and forth as we watched the chaos unfold below. Reporters were making themselves more visible now, pulling out microphones and cameras while Miami PD's finest tried - and failed - to keep them away. One of them was interviewing Principal Hargrove, who looked like he'd aged ten years in the past hour. It was getting on later in the night - I'd have to leave soon if I didn't wanna bring another monster to Miami Country Day School, and both of us knew it.
Considering this'd probably be my last time having a conversation with a friendly face from Camp Half-Blood for the next few weeks, I could afford to risk a few extra minutes gathering information. And if it just felt… good to talk to someone who actually saw me for the first time in what felt like years, then I deserved that too.
"Hey Marcus," I said eventually, stubbing the second roach out in the wet grass. I was starting to feel that Satyr-grown high now, at the very edges of my consciousness - a light, wavy floatiness that made me feel almost sleepy. It didn't stop me from fishing for useful information, though. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure, dude."
"How does the whole 'scent' thing work? Earlier, you said I smell really strong right now. Is it just because I 'awakened' my Godly powers, or…?"
Marcus nodded eagerly, clearly happy to have something else to explain that didn't involve arguing about Camp. "Okay, so like every Demi-God has a scent, right? It's how monsters find you, but also how Satyrs and other magical beings can identify you. The strength of your scent depends on a bunch of different factors."
He started counting on his fingers. "One: How powerful your godly parent is. Big Three kids - Zeus, Poseidon, Hades - they smell the strongest. Two: How much you've, like, awakened your powers. Using divine abilities makes your scent spike, and the more you train them, the stronger your scent gets. Three: Your emotional state. Fear, anger, arousal-"
The dopey-faced Satyr waggled his bushy eyebrows at that one. "-all of it makes you smell stronger. And finally, four: Whether you're actively suppressing it or not."
This was all news to me.
"You can suppress it?"
Marcus nodded his head again, shaggy blonde locks flopping messily over his eyes like strings on a mop. He kinda looked like a sheep dog, now that I thought about it. "Yeah, dude! Well, not completely. But there are techniques. Ways to like, dampen your presence. Some Demi-Gods are naturally better at it than others. Hermes kids are usually pretty good because their dad's all about being sneaky."
I thought about that, about the way my runic tattoos had appeared, glowing purple and all mystical on my right arm. The markings were still there - I could feel them warm and tingly beneath the sleeve of my tuxedo jacket, black 'ink' tracing Greek characters into my skin - but they weren't actively glowing anymore. At least, I didn't think they were.
Was that suppression? Or just the Gacha's power settling into a dormant state?
"What if," I started carefully, "hypothetically speaking, of course- someone had multiple power sources? As in, abilities that don't stem from just their godly parent?"
Marcus blinked slowly, processing. "Like… blessings? From other gods?"
"Sure bro. Potato potato."
His eyebrows scrunched together in thought. "I mean, it happens sometimes. Hercules had like, a million blessings from dozens of gods and spirits, and Odysseus was a human but received blessings from Athena back during the time of the Odyssey. But usually that makes your scent even stronger, not weaker. 'Cause you're carrying more divine energy."
Fuck. That wasn't what I was hoping for, but it did open up a potential story if my nature ever came into question. I was hoping to just be claimed by Eris and explain my random assortment of abilities on her Chaos domain, but claiming to be blessed by random entities I met on my travels could work as a worst case scenario.
I just had to be sure to actually meet said random entities.
"Good to know," I replied neutrally, turning my gaze back to the parking lot. My fingers tapped a steady rhythm against the soft-packed earth.
The mood shifted. I could feel Marcus' gaze on the side of my head.
"So this is it, huh," he stated more than asked, voice quiet and resigned.
I offered him a small, genuine smile.
"Yep. But hey, give me your number. I'll check in with you every few days, let you know I'm still alive. And if shit gets too crazy, if I need backup or whatever, I'll call you. Deal?"
He perked up a little at that, fumbling for his phone - an ancient iPhone 4 with a cracked screen and weed stickers on the back that had faded from bright green to a sickly, sticky brown. "Yeah? You promise?"
"Cross my heart and hope to die," I grinned, pulling out my own phone - a sleeker, much nicer iPhone 6S that Kali had gotten me for Christmas. We exchanged numbers, and I immediately sent him a text so he'd have mine.
[Me]
11:47 PM
Sent from iPhone
its ya boi Andreas
[Me]
11:47 PM
Sent from iPhone
ill hit u up if im dying lol
Marcus snorted when he read it, some of the tension leaving his bunched-up shoulders. "You're an ass, dude."
"Yeah, never claimed otherwise," I shot back with a chuckle. "And hey. Thanks. For trying to help. And for half-warning me about Isabella even though I was balls-deep by the time you started moving. You're a good guy, Marcus. Or, uh, goat. Good goat."
His cheeks flushed under his scraggly blonde hair, and he squeezed the Rasta cap so tight between his fists that the fabric began to whine in protest. "S-shut up, man. That's like, my job. Trying to protect Demi-Gods and stuff. Not like I even helped. I still don't even know how you killed her."
And he wasn't going to know.
I rolled my neck, letting out a quiet groan when the tense bones cracked in response. "Still, you showed up. You at least tried. Next time, though - for a Demi-God not as badass and sexy as I am - maybe lay off the weed when you're supposed to be 'protecting', yeah? And ditch the vodka. And the wheel-chair, honestly. You need to lock the fuck in bro."
His flush deepened. "I know. I'm sorry."
"It's cool, 'cause I'm here and I'm fine. Just do better in the future."
"I will." He sounded serious. Sober, too.
I believed him.
We sat there for another few minutes, watching as the crowd below finally started to disperse. The cops were wrapping up their investigation - or at least, the Mist-influenced version of their investigation. I wondered what the official report would say. Would they still roll with a gas leak even after it comes back that there was literally no gas involved at all? Cope with 'structural failure'? Regardless, knowing how this universe worked, it would still be mundane and boring that would get buried in paperwork and forgotten in a week and a half.
Eventually, Marcus clambered to his feet, brushing grass and ash off his stained white tuxedo. "I should probably head back to the hotel. Chiron and the Council's gonna want a report about tonight, and I gotta figure out how to explain that I found a stupid capable Demi-God who fucked a Lamia, killed it via unknown means, and still refuses to come to Camp."
"Tell 'em I'm just stubborn as fuck," I suggested, standing up and offering him my hand. "Which is true, so you won't be lying."
Marcus gripped my hand - his palm was weirdly soft despite the calluses, probably from all the weed-rolling - and shook firmly. "Stay safe, dude. Seriously. And if you change your mind about Camp…"
"You'll be the first to know," I promised. "Now get outta here before you start crying or some shit. I don't do emotions unless a hot chick's involved, mom. And you ain't a hot chick."
"Mom?!" Marcus sputtered, but he was grinning in spite of himself. "Fuck you, dude. I'm way too young and hip to be anyone's parent. I'd be the worst mom ever."
"Facts, actually. Stay the fuck away from those wood nymphs at Camp Half-Blood, goat boy."
He flipped me off, still grinning, and started making his way down the hill toward where he'd left his wheelchair. It was a weird sight, watching him walk on those goat legs - he had a strange, bouncing gait that probably would've looked normal if I couldn't see through the Mist. But the Mist would make him look like he was a paralyzed human with normal human legs using the wheelchair again once he got close enough to mortals.
Fucking magic.
I watched until he disappeared into the crowd, then turned and started heading in the opposite direction, circling back around the parking lot to where I'd left my newly-gifted motorcycle.
The parking lot was still in a mass exodus when I got there, students and parents scattered in every corner procrastinating on finally leaving, and most people were too distracted to pay attention to one more teenager. I'd managed to find my tuxedo jacket in the bathroom wreckage and thrown it on to cover the scratches on my chest and abs, but my dress shirt was absolutely done. My pants were still dirty as fuck, but at this point, who cared?
I'd just spotted the sleek, gleaming black bike shining beneath the moonlight when someone called out my name.
"Andreas! Oh my god, are you okay?!"
Shit.
I recognized that voice.
Turning, I found myself face-to-face with Chelsea Williams, one of the stereotypical 'popular girl' cheerleaders, with her sullen-faced prom date trailing behind her - some big, squared-jaw guy from the wrestling team. She was still in her sparkly pink prom dress, blonde hair pulled back into a high, curly ponytail, but cheeks were flushed, her pupils were dilated, and I could tell by the way she was eyeing the scratches on my exposed chest and abs that the sewer explosion was the last thing on her mind right now.
'Ecstasy, probably. Or Molly.'
Last time I actually spoke to her was three weeks ago. And that was after we'd just gotten done dry-humping and making out on her couch at Jack Doriarty's house party. She hadn't been high then - I wouldn't have fooled around with her otherwise - but things had been awkward between us ever since. I hadn't been looking for a girlfriend, and she was as wild and free-spirited as any young Floridian high-school girl with a nice rack and tight ass.
But the heart didn't care about logic, and neither did Chelsea Williams. I had to mute her on Snapchat because she wouldn't stop sending me titty pics and masturbation videos.
"Yeah, I'm good," I replied smoothly, plastering on a casual, lopsided smile that absolutely did not reach my eyes. "Just, ahem- just got caught up in the confusion. How about you, Chel?"
It took me referring to her by her nickname for her to snap out of whatever spell she'd been trapped in, staring at my chest. The meathead behind her shifted on his feet, ham-sized fists clenching at his sides as he glared daggers at me. Buddy was probably pissed I was inadvertently cock-blocking.
Hah. He could have the crazy bitch.
"We're fine, just- God!" She licked her lips, wet pink tongue sliding against a plush, glossy smile, but the enticing sight did nothing for me. Isabella had drained me dry. "Did you hear what happened? They're saying it was a sewage explosion in the bathroom! Can you believe that? On prom night, too! We're lucky it didn't flood the fucking hallways."
"Crazy," I agreed, slowly edging toward my bike. It wasn't nearly as subtle as I'd wanted it to look. "Glad you're safe, though."
The corners of her smile was as sharp as Soulfyre's edge. "Yeah, but- oh, wait! Where's Isabella? Weren't you two…?" She trailed off meaningfully, her eyes dropping back down to the scratches.
Fuck. Right. People had seen us leave together.
"She wasn't feeling great," I shrugged, the lie coming easily even through my Unicorn Pissed brain. The high was already leaving my system. "Food poisoning or something; 'prolly the Deviled Eggs, to be honest. I helped her to her car and she headed home. Told me to stay and enjoy prom but, y'know." I gestured at the police tape and ambulances. "Not much to enjoy now."
Chelsea nodded sympathetically. "Aw, that sucks."
Translation: I don't care. Happy that bitch is gone though.
"Well, hey," she continued when I opted to straddle leather instead of responding, "a bunch of us - me, Kevin, the other cheerleaders, most of the baseball team - are going to Denny's if you want to come? Might as well salvage the night, right?"
I'd rather stick my dick in a blender to be quite honest.
"Thanks, but I'm gonna head home," was what I actually said. "Long night."
The disappointment on her face couldn't have been more real if it was painted on and left to dry overnight. Her entire countenance seemed to deflate like a balloon, shoulders slumping and catty smile falling into that awkward, half-smile half-wince that often accompanied rejection copium. "Uhhh, yeah. Totally! I-... I'll, see you Monday, Andre! Get home safe~."
"See you," I lied, knowing damn well I wouldn't be back at Miami Country Day School. Ever.
The keys were still in my pocket. I pulled them out, hesitated for just a moment as I glanced back up at the quickly diminishing crowd and the objectively sexy sixteen year old practically eye-fucking both me and my motorcycle, and pushed them into the ignition with a sense of both finality and anticipation coiling deep within my chest. The motorcycle roared to life with a deep, throaty growl that sent vibrations through my whole body, and I let out a low, heady chuckle..
Fuck, I loved motorcycles. Something about the raw power, the freedom, the danger they represented - it spoke to something primal in my chest.
Or maybe I actually did have a death wish.
I was guiding the bike out of the parking lot when a sound like my phone vibrating hummed through my ears. Probably(hopefully) another selfie from Isabella. But when I pulled it out and checked…
[FEAT ACHIEVED: TAME A MONSTER]
Reward: (1x) Silver Drachma
The notification wasn't from my messaging app - it was from… reality. The text hovered over my vision like an AR overlay, glowing with that same chaotic, fractured energy as the Chaos Gacha itself. Even as I watched and internally acknowledged the fact that I'd apparently earned another Feat via making Isabella my bitch, that notification window blinked and dissolved into silver sparkles that seemed to sink into my chest, warm and electric.
I could feel it, then - the Drachma, added to some kind of internal bank that I could sense in that vague, distant way I could also sense Soulfyre's presence. I had one Silver Drachma stored away, waiting to be brought out and tossed into the primordial, void-like soup that was the Chaos Gacha.
Time hadn't stopped, and whatever chaos abyss I'd tossed my earned Drachma into before hadn't opened up before me like a wound in reality, but the awareness was there.
Convenient as fuck.
I revved the engine a few times, grinning like a maniac as I leaned down into the weight of my motorcycle and peeled out of the parking lot. A few people shouted after me - probably teachers or cops - but I was already gone by the time they really moved to do anything, weaving through the parked cars and onto the main road with contemptuous ease. I wasn't a pro rider or anything, but Demi-God, or I guess Khaosborne reflexes were no joke.
The wind whipped through my hair as I accelerated down 107th, the humid Miami air thick with the stench of salt and exhaust. My right arm tingled where the tattoos lay dormant, and Soulfyre thrummed against my chest like a second heartbeat.
I needed to get home. Pack my shit. Roll for whatever perks that Silver Drachma would give me. And then…
Then I was hitting the road. Exploring Florida's supernatural underbelly, hunting monsters, getting stronger.
Living free.
__________________________________________
The apartment was dark when I got there, which made sense considering Kali had probably left hours ago. I parked the bike in one of our reserved spots - a perk of living in a luxury penthouse suite with a Goddess who probably shat money - and took the elevator up to the top floor, my mind already running through everything I'd need to pack.
Clothes. Toiletries. Weapons… did I have any weapons besides Soulfyre? Probably not. Money - I had a debit card linked to Kali's account, and she'd always told me to use it for whatever I needed. Never thought I'd be using it to fund a cross-country monster-hunting road trip, but hey. First time for everything.
The penthouse was exactly as we'd left it; dim fairy lights casting purple shadows across the gothic industrial aesthetic, scattered Monster Energy cans and candy wrappers marking Kali's usual lounging spots. The massive TV was still on, paused on what looked like the second Scream movie. Kali had always been a huge fucking simp for Ghostface, like most e-girls. E-Goddesses?
It felt wrong, being here without her. Empty in a way that made my chest fill the same.
I shoved that feeling down deep and headed to my room, flipping on the lights and surveying my space. My room was the cleanest part of the apartment by far - organized shelves with my baseball trophies and MMA medals draped over them, a neat desk with my gaming laptop and Nintendo Switch, and a closet full of stylish, neatly pressed clothes. It was the direct opposite of Kali's chaotic disaster of a bedroom.
I grabbed my largest duffle black duffle bag and started throwing shit in: baggy, heavy-duty cargo pants, slim-fit jeans, t-shirts, tank-tops, a few hoodies and jackets for when I made it up further up north. Boxers and socks. My toiletry bag, along with that pheromone cologne I could only assume was made to fool monsters back when my aura wasn't so strong. Phone charger. Laptop and Switch, because I wasn't going to de-rank on League or abandon my Pokemon team.
Then I paused, staring at my right arm where the tattoos wrapped across my tan skin, black-inked and utterly mundane.
Slowly, carefully, I focused on them. On making them visible.
The runes responded immediately, molten purple lines of fire tracing themselves across my flesh in that same incomprehensible script that somehow translated to Ancient Greek when I concentrated. Fear and Desire, intertwined on my bicep. Truth and Sight below my shoulder. Sky and Jump on my forearm.
Three abilities. Well, two Abilities and one Trait, technically: Eye of Discernment, Sky Jumper, and Scarousal.
And one more Drachma to spend.
It probably would've been smart to wait and finish getting packed first, make sure I had everything I needed before pulling something that had the chaotic potential to blow up the fucking apartment. But the temptation was too strong, that same addictive pull of gacha games and loot boxes and the promise of power, power, power-
"Fuck it," I muttered, closing my eyes and reaching for that tear in reality I could feel lurking in my soul.
The world fractured.
Reality split open in the center of my bedroom, that same jagged wound of gold and chaos, fractals and impossible colors bleeding through and combining in a way that made my head hurt and my eyes burn like they wanted to melt and ooze out of the front of my skull. The tear was smaller this time, only about two feet across, but no less intimidating.
More curiously, time didn't appear to freeze. I could still hear the busy Miami night life outside.
Crimson script flowed haphazardly across the window that materialized in front of the jagged void.
THE CHAOS GACHA AWAITS.
CURRENT BALANCE: (1x) SILVER DRACHMA
INSERT COIN TO R̵̢̝͈͒̓͗O̸͉͈̅̽̌͐Ļ̵̪̞̉̇͗͒͝L̸̼̰̣̀̍̍
All it took was a thought and the silver coin materialized between my fingers, heavier than it should be and almost uncomfortably warm against my skin. I could see my reflection in its surface - distorted, fractal, showing a thousand different versions of myself layered over each other like a glitched video. Something told me that no one Drachma would ever look the exact same.
"Win me something good, baby."
I kissed it, bowed my head, and flicked it into the void.
The tear pulsed, swallowing the Drachma with a sound like some primordial beast hiccuping, and then three Perk cards materialized in front of me, all surrounded by the same crackling, silver-gray aura.
[GAMA]
[Uncommon Familiar]
Jujutsu Kaisen - A large frog shikigami that can support its master using its long tongue. Its tongue can be used to ensnare its master's target and is strong enough to throw and slam them into objects. The speed of the Toad's tongue is useful for helping its master or an ally out of harm's way. Its large size allows it to carry targets in its mouth for transportation or restraint. The power of shikigami scales with your own energy levels.
[SOUL SOLID]
[Uncommon Item]
One Piece - A cane sword belonging to Brook of the Straw Hat Pirates. This sword is extremely sharp and durable, not having dulled even after years of use. It is also extremely dapper.
[ONYX BLASTER]
[Uncommon Item]
Terraria - A shotgun crafted from shards of pure darkness. This gun does not consume bullets but instead converts energy/mana into shards of dark onyx bullets that deal unholy damage.
I read through all three options twice, my brain working overtime.
Gama would be useful - a giant frog familiar sounded both ridiculous and awesome, and having backup in fights where I would almost always be alone couldn't be anything but useful. But while I could respect a power that started off weak and scaled up accordingly with power over time, I wasn't so big of a summoner (or amphibian) lover to go through that grind with a frog. I liked relying on my own two hands.
Pass. Familiars could come later, once I was confident and familiar with my own capabilities.
Soul Solid was cool as hell aesthetically - a cane sword wasn't really my style, felt very Reddit Swordsman-esque, but this was real life and the cringiness would wear off the instant I diced a monster to ribbons with the blade. However, I already had Soulfyre, and while having a backup weapon was smart, I didn't think I needed two swords right now.
Besides, Soulfyre was Stygian Iron, literally made to consume the essence of monsters. It was like pre-ordering a game and getting a fucking Legendary-grade magical weapon from some shitty chest at the beginning of the tutorial. No way I was trading that for some cane sword.
But the Onyx Blaster…
It was a gun that didn't need bullets. A gun that converted my 'energy' - presumably the same divine Essence that powered my other Abilities - into magical ammo that apparently did 'unholy damage', whatever the fuck that was. It was a ranged combat option that I could use without worrying about running out of ammo, and also one that would pair well with Soulfyre. I could already picture the badass aerial combos I'd be able to pull off with Skyjumper and a bit of weapon training, Devil May Cry-style. Feat-worthy shit all on its own.
In a world where monsters existed and could attack at any time, where I was planning to road trip across supernatural America hunting monsters and farming Feats…
Yeah. The choice was obvious.
I pressed my finger against the gray [ONYX BLASTER] card.
The panel abruptly dissolved into black sparkles that rushed toward me, searing a pleasurable burn across the underside of my tricep, and suddenly I was holding-
"Holy fuck."
The shotgun was beautiful. Terrifyingly wicked for sure, like something an alien created after discovering heavy metal, but still beautiful.
The entire thing looked like it had been carved from actual obsidian, smooth black stone shot through with veins of dark purple that pulsed faintly with internal light. The double barrels were wide and fairly long, but when I swung the gun up by its pistol grip and aimed it at the wall, nothing about it was unwieldy or notably heavy - whatever material it was made of was stupidly light, and I immediately felt confident in wielding it one-handed…
If the recoil worked with me, of course.
While I hadn't even touched a shotty in this life, my previous one had been filled with gun violence - so much so that having this baby in my hands felt almost comforting, like holding a stuffed teddy bear.
I could feel it connected to me the same way Soulfyre was, tethered to that pool of power in my chest. When I focused on that link, I could sense the gun drawing a tiny, almost negligible amount of energy from my soul - testing, preparing, ready to convert that thread of Essence into destruction at a moment's notice. Intrinsically, I knew that there were two 'firing modes' it was capable of; a scattershot of dark, unholy energy, and a slug-like crystal of that same unholy energy that could explode on contact.
…
"Fucking sick."
My cheeks could've cut granite with the way that I was cheesing.
Fortunately I was mature enough - barely - to recognize the need for proper gun safety, even if said gun was a magical weapon that drew upon an inner reservoir of my very own 'divine energy' to power its attacks. I kept my finger off of the trigger and avoided flagging myself with the barrel as I set it down carefully on my messy bed and turned to continue packing.
With the gun added to my arsenal, I felt a lot better about this whole 'solo road trip through monster-infested America' plan. I wasn't even a full twelve hours into this new life on the run and I already had a Stygian Iron whip-sword for close combat, the Onyx Blaster for range, Sky Jumper for mobility, and Eye of Discernment for seeing through bullshit.
Scarousing was good for… stuff, too. Of course. Super important stuff. But it was my other Perks that really made me think that I would survive this, even if it was just long enough to raw dog my older sister and give her a half-Khaosborne godling baby.
I was just zipping up my duffle and kicking my filthy shoes off for a quick post-death battle shower when I remembered I hadn't checked the kitchen for food. Kali always kept the fridge stocked with easy stuff - frozen pizzas, hot pockets, energy drinks. Shit you could heat up at a Wawa or a RaceTrac while living on the road. If that was gonna be my life for the next several months, I probably needed to grab some supplies.
Clad in just boxers and a magical chain necklace, I slipped out of my bedroom.
The kitchen was just as dark and atmospheric as the rest of the apartment, but I knew the layout by heart. I flipped on the lights and headed straight for the fridge, already mentally cataloging what all I could fit into the duffel bag-
And froze.
There was a note stuck to the fridge door with a magnet shaped like a little purple octopus. The paper was a muted, off-gray color, the loopy, cursive writing done in a bright silver ink that shimmered under the kitchen lights, and at the bottom…
A lipstick mark. Plump, full lips pressed against the paper, leaving behind a smudge of deep black that shimmered with purple undertones.
Kali's lips.
Eris' lips.
The same ones that had pressed against mine only a short few hours ago.
Against my will, my hands shook slightly as I pulled the note off the fridge and started reading.
...
Andreas,
By the time you read this, you'll know everything. Or at least, enough of everything to understand why I couldn't tell you before. Why I had to let you figure it out on your own, even though every fucking fiber of my being wanted to just sit you down and explain it all.
I'm sorry. I know that doesn't mean much coming from me - I'm not great at apologies, and I'm even worse at following rules and respecting boundaries. But Grandma K was very clear: you had to awaken on your own. You had to discover what you are without my interference. It was the only way you'd truly be ready for what's coming.
And baby brother, so much is coming.
I've spent thirteen years preparing you for this. Every move, every school, every 'business trip' - it was all to keep you safe until you were strong enough to handle the truth. Until you were ready to become what you were always meant to be.
You are meant to be great, Andreas Ashcroft. Greater than heroes. Greater than villains. Greater than the entire fucking pantheon of Gods that's been stagnating on their golden throne for millennia.
You're going to flip their world upside down, Andreas. I know you will. I've seen the pure chaos in your eyes, felt your potential humming beneath your skin since the day I found you. Since the day Grandma K visited me in my dreams and told me that I would raise the boy who would herald in a new Age of Gods.
You were made for this. Literally.
I can't be there to watch you grow. Not yet. Grandma has other plans for me, and I have a role to play in New York. We need someone on the inside; someone to make sure the Olympians don't try anything stupid when you start making waves. And believe me, twerp, you're going to make SO many waves.
I'll be watching, though. Always. Waiting for the day you walk into Camp Half-Blood and show those stuck-up demigods what real power looks like. Waiting for the day you climb Olympus itself and make the gods remember what it means to fear.
I love you more than you'll ever realize. More than I ever should. But fuck it. I'm the Goddess of Discord. Since when do I care about 'should'?
You're mine. I'm yours. Forever.
Stay chaotic, baby bro. Live fast. Grow strong. Thrive.
Oh, and about the bike - it's Ares'. Long story involving two counts of serial cheating, a breakup, some very public humiliation (his, not mine), and a bet he lost. He doesn't know I gave it to you, so if you run into him, maybe don't mention it. Or do. Chaos, remember?
There's a switch under the left handlebar. Emergency use only - flipping it will activate Ares' old war-chariot enchantments, and trust me when I say that thing will outrun basically anything short of the sun chariot itself. But it'll also broadcast your location to every monster, god, and magical being within several hundred miles, so yeah. Don't blow your load too fast, nerd.
One last thing: don't trust the Olympians. Not that rapist Zeus, not the former crash-out Poseidon, and not even Athena with all her 'wise patience' and 'make peace, not war' bullshit. They're afraid of change, terrified of anything that threatens their power and vision of what this world should be. When they figure out what you are…
Well. Try not to die before I can finish what I started back in the apartment.
All my love (and lust),
Eris
Goddess of Discord, Strife, and Chaos
P.S. - There's ten grand in the locked drawer of my desk. The combination is your birthday. Take it. You'll need it.
P.P.S. - Check the freezer. And happy early birthday, Andreas. I'm so fucking proud of you.
P.P.P.S. - Hehe, I said PP. XD
…
It wasn't until the words blurred together and a droplet of burning liquid stained the off-gray nearly black that I realized I was silently crying.
I didn't care.
I stared at the note for a long time, reading it over and over and over until the only thing I knew inside of my head was my sister's low, husky drawl.
She'd known. Of course she'd known. She was Eris, Goddess of Discord, daughter of Nyx the fucking Personification of the Night itself, and apparently the granddaughter to the very same entity that pulled my soul into this world and replaced it with a primordial gacha game. She'd known exactly what I was from the moment she found me, and she'd known what I'd become. And she'd spent thirteen years preparing me for it.
Every school change, every move, every time she'd pushed me to train harder, think quicker, be stronger… it was all for this. To keep me safe until I awakened. To make sure I'd be ready when the Chaos Gacha finally activated.
The note smelled like her perfume. Sweet citrus and wildflowers, the same scent that always clung to her skin.
My throat felt tight. My eyes burned. I wanted to be angry, to be a child and scream and punch a hole through the wall because at the end of the fucking day she'd left me alone and I had nobody but this fucking sword, a drug-addict Satyr, and a Lamia that only followed me because I fucked her good and threatened her with a fate worse than death… but for some reason, that anger just didn't come.
Because I knew she probably didn't have a choice. And, to be entirely honest-
If I'd known that infinite primordial power was on the line before, my dumbass probably would've told her to leave me anyway.
"Fucking weirdo," I muttered, folding the note carefully and clenching it in my fist. "Always gotta make everything dramatic."
But for the first time since I'd seen her this evening, the smile on my face was wide, impossibly wide, and genuine. Happy.
I'd make her proud. I'd make Khaos (Grandma Khaos?) proud. Hell, if Nyx was somewhere out there curiously watching over her mom's pet experiment, I'd make her ass proud too. I was here to chew ass and kick gum, and I was completely out of gum. But I was hella curious about what Goddess ass tasted like.
Probably victory. Or vanilla.
Either way, it'd be mine once I yanked those boring posers off of their fucking thrones and took my place at the head of this new 'Age of Gods'.
But for now, I was emotional and hungry and craving something sweet.
"Check the freezer…" I murmured, my voice husky and rough from too many conflicting emotions to properly parse. I narrowed my eyes at the offending door. "… No way. She didn't."
When I swung it open, I had to come to terms with the fact that she, in fact, did.
It was a cake.
Kinda.
Triple-decked, which was an impressive feat for someone who had the tendency to burn cup ramen, but the whole thing was leaning to the side like Michael Jackson and covered in what looked like purple frosting that had melted and refrozen several times.
'HAPPY BIRTHDAY TWERP' was written on top in shaky silver icing, but the 'TWERP' part had clearly been wiped off (and probably licked clean) a couple times, so the current iteration was in a completely different style than the other two words. There were sixteen candles stuck in at random angles, and what I was pretty sure was actual glitter mixed into the frosting.
It was the ugliest cake I'd ever seen.
And I fucking loved it.
I cut myself a fat ass piece straight from the middle. It tasted like sugar and food coloring and some kind of spicy sauce or wet dry-rub that definitely wasn't supposed to be there, but I ate it anyways, standing there in the kitchen in just my boxers and chain, re-reading the note that I'd unfolded and laid flat on the counter.
She loved me the same way I loved her. She was proud of me. She believed in me.
And she was right. I was going to flip the entire fucking mythological world on its head.
Starting with Florida.
Things moved quickly after that. The note, and the cake to a degree, seemed to fill me with a sense of energy and confidence that I'd halfway been faking before. I finished packing, took a quick ten minute shower using my packed toiletries, looted the cash from Kali's desk drawer ($10k in neat stacks of hundreds - where the fuck did she even get this much physical currency?), some road snacks from the pantry, and one piece of that terrible birthday cake wrapped in plastic wrap.
The Onyx Blaster went into a guitar case I found shoved in the hallway closet from back when I'd begged Kali for guitar lessons. Turned out I was actually pretty good at it, but music had never been much of a passion for me so I eventually fell off it - the actual guitar had gone to a neighbor's kid a couple years back after he broke his and couldn't afford a new one.
Thankfully, the shotgun was about the perfect fit with a little extra room to spare. Walking around with a visible boom-stick was a fantastic way to get arrested, after all, and I'd had enough of juvie in my previous life.
Once I had everything packed and ready to go, I did one last sweep of my room to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything important.
And then I stopped, catching myself in the mirror hanging from the back of my door.
My wine-red hair was wild and wind blown, stylishly chopped locks framing light brown eyes that were still red-rimmed from both the Unicorn Piss and crying. I was wearing faded black jeans that rode low on my hips, lightly torn at the knees, a pair of black, white, and red Jordan high-tops, a fitted black Sex Bob-Omb shirt I bought to match with Kali for a Scott Pilgrim marathon we had last Spring, and a worn leather bomber.
Standing there, with Onyx Blaster's case slung over my shoulder and Soulfyre's chain glinting cool against my chest, I looked… older. Like I'd skipped sixteen and seventeen and went straight into 'don't meet this guy in an alleyway' territory. But even more than that, I looked eager. Excited. For the first time in a long, long time, I had what felt like a concrete goal and ambition beyond just surviving the next school day.
"Alright, Andreas," I told my reflection, grinning that sharp, lopsided grin that got me into trouble just as much as out. "Let's go fuck some shit up."
I turned off the lights, locked the apartment, and headed down to where the BMW R1200 GS waited.
The city awaited me, Miami's nightlife just starting to heat up. Somewhere out there, in 'Club Ravenous', a group of Lamias were gossiping about my dick game while monsters danced and fucked and drank around them. Somewhere on Mount Olympus, Kali was infiltrating the throne room of the Olympians, reconnecting with Gods that she probably hadn't seen or spoken to in hundreds of years. And over in Long Island, at Camp Half-Blood, summer was already well on its way. There, Perseis Jackson lived out the life of a storybook hero along the likes of Annabeth Chase, Thalia Grace, and Grover Whateverhislastnameis.
And I was getting ready to join their hidden world.
I strapped my duffle to the back of the bike, secured the guitar case to the side, and swung my leg over the seat.
The engine roared to life.
Soulfyre pulsed against my chest.
And I sent a text to my new fuck buddy/spy.
[Me]
1:04 AM
Sent on iPhone
yo, where the party @
[Me]
1:04 AM
Sent on iPhone
not a monster but i need some intel. looking for fun shit to kill. dangerous places to explore. loot to find.
[Me]
1:05 AM
Sent on iPhone
and i wanna meet florida man
Isabella 🐍💦 has started sharing her location.
I chuckled to myself, even as I attached my iPhone to the slot between the handlebars and clicked on Isabella's location.
"Thirty minute drive? Not bad."
It only took me fifteen.