"𝐀𝐃𝐇𝐃? 𝐃𝐘𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐀? 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄, 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒?"

"Check, check, and check once again," Brooklyn nodded, playing with the straps of her bag. She continued matter-of-factly, "Actually, I daydream so often I have huge gaps in my memory, I can barely read without wanting to bash my brains against the walls, and the only way I know I'm asleep is if some scary voice is taunting me."

The duo had begun their long journey to Long Island Sound a few days ago, entering Nevada just the last morning. They slept in alleys and parks, finding out of the way places without much hassle. They managed to get by with a mix of hitch hiking on random busses, stealing city owned bikes, and more. The days were long and tiring, and they both looked filthy, but they didn't have time to find a store for clothes. The fact that they could scrounge up enough food for the two of them was a big deal on it's own.

Over the two days, Brooklyn had learnt quite a bit about the Greek Gods and Goddesses. She learned that they weren't always present in their kids lives (she wasn't surprised), but that you could make offerings and pray to them for help and guidance. Whether they gave it to you depended on their mood.

Currently, the two of them were walking through the streets of Spring Valley, Nevada, a town near Las Vegas. Luke was trying his best to determine who Brooklyn's Godly parent could be, while Brooklyn simply tried not to think of how hungry she was.

"That's normal with people like us," Luke shrugged helplessly. "How about picking locks? Do you have a weird talent for that?"

"It's an acquired talent, not something I'm born with," Brooklyn corrected him. "After eight years—that's half my life, mind you—I've gotten this good."

"I guess that rules out Hermes," he told her. "You're probably not my sister. If you were, you'd be able to open a lock within seconds with no prior knowledge. That leaves... seven options for who your parents are."

Brooklyn raised a brow, "Look, I may not be the best with Greek mythology, but I swear there's a million Gods. What the hell does 'seven options left' mean?"

The afternoon sun beat down on them, forcing Brooklyn to put on a pair of sunglasses she nicked a few weeks ago to see Luke's face.

Luke winced, "Seven options left out of the twelve Olympians. The twelve major Gods and Goddesses are called the Olympians, and they're the ones that have cabins at Camp Half-Blood. There's Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, and Artemis, who have empty cabins. Hera and Artemis are maiden goddesses and Zeus and Poseidon don't have kids because of an oath they made a while back along with Hades. Hades doesn't have a cabin at Camp because he's not one of the Olympians. So, if you take away Hermes and the other four who don't have kids, that leaves seven Olympians."

Brooklyn tilted her head, trying to remember what her dreams had told her, anything that might help determine who her Godly parent was. It was hard remembering the details sometimes. Her brain often blocked them out when she was awake.

"But there are more Gods, right?" she asked when she couldn't remember anything important. "All the non-Olympians ones? Don't they have kids?"

Luke nodded, "They have kids, but their kids don't have the same powers as the rest of us. And their scent is much harder for monsters to track. Usually, they live out in the mortal world. Sometimes their parent will claim them privately, but they live in the Hermes Cabin if they make it to Camp."

Brooklyn grimaced, "Sounds tough."

"It is," Luke agreed, a shadow passing over his face. But then he shrugged, and it was gone. "But considering your dreams and monster attacks, you should be an Olympian kid. Hopefully you'll be claimed once—"

Brooklyn grabbed Luke's arm, pulling him into one of the stores. 

She hadn't checked the sign outside, but from the inside, she knew it was a Walmart. Which was good because there was more space to hide, but bad because there were also lots of witnesses. She'd been at this long enough to know how it worked.

"What happened? Did you see something?" Luke asked, eyes trained on the door as Brooklyn led him through the different aisles.

Brooklyn moved her hand down his arm, lacing her fingers through his once she noticed a few people side eyeing her. Luke didn't seem to notice. 

It was a good thing that Brooklyn was left handed while Luke was right handed—it made sure that they were both able to access their weapons easily despite clinging to each other for dear life.

"Guy with a rusty beard," she told him, looking ahead as they moved along the aisles. "I noticed him on the bus we got off from this morning, and before that, at the restaurant we got scraps from last night. Maybe he's been following us for even longer, I don't know. Maybe it's nothing, but it's bothering me a bit."

Luke's expression immediately shifted, eyes alert as he scanned every person around them.

"Did he have anything weird going on?" Luke asked.

"Nope," Brooklyn shook her head. "But I didn't look properly at his face. He's really tall and creeped me out too much."

Luke looked back at the doors, pulling Brooklyn towards the checkout.

"Let's get out from there," he motioned to an exit on the other side of the building. "We can walk to the Paradise Greyhound terminal and take the bus... somewhere. The terminal's not far. We can make it in two hours if we hurry."

"Sounds like a plan."

Brooklyn slipped a few things in her pockets as they weaved through the aisles and towards the exit. She knew Luke was doing the same, but he must've been using his 'son of Hermes' skills, because she didn't even notice it. She switched out her old glasses for a pair of newer aviators.

"This way," she pulled Luke through the self-checkout area and out the back exit.

Two teenagers, holding hands and walking through a Walmart—no one wanted to stare at them, which made for an easy escape.

The duo cut through the parking lot, doubling back and taking shortcuts wherever they could. Brooklyn dropped Luke's hand to pull out two knives. Luke had given her a few bronze knives, explaining how they'd be able to cut down monsters unlike her steel one.

The two of them didn't have much to go by when it came to directions, relying on a map of of the country, and another one of the city.

Luckily, Luke seemed to know this part of Nevada better than she did.

"That road will lead us to the Greyhound terminal," he motioned ahead. "It's about a half hour walk, but we can probably slip on a bus going East."

Brooklyn looked back, half expecting to see that bearded guy, but there was no more sign of him. It seemed like they finally lost him.

"Let's walk quickly," Brooklyn turned back to Luke. "I want to be on a bus before the sun sets."

"I've been waiting for you," a voice like snakes slithered into Brooklyn's skull. "I've been waiting and waiting and... waiting. You've been through so much, little hero. Haven't you?"

Brooklyn blinked, her surroundings coming into view. 

She was in her old playroom, sitting on the floor with papers littered around her. She had a lot of toys, but they were packed up in a corner, while her drawings and writings surrounded her. 

Just like they did when she was a kid.

"Who are you?" she asked, even though she knew she wouldn't be getting an answer.

This happened almost every night. This... this thing would come in her dreams and talk to her. It even convinced her to run away from her home. It wasn't until she was forced to spend her first night all alone that she realized how big of a mistake she made. The only reason she didn't allow herself to go back was her pride.

Her parents were better off without her anyways. The only person she missed was Logan, her little brother. He was a pain, but he was also the only person she ever cared about. 

Except for maybe Luke now.

"Who I am doesn't matter," the voice continued speaking. "What matters is who you are. What will you do to help me? What will you do once you are claimed? Will you stand for things to continue, or will you fix them?"

"Shut up," Brooklyn rolled her eyes. "I don't care about what you say, or what you want. I don't even understand what the hell you're talking about. I may have gotten fucked over by listening to you before, but I'm not letting it happen. You can't fool me twice."

"I did nothing to you," the voice said to her. "I simply reminded you that your parents do not care for you, not like they care for your brother. And after all this time, they haven't found you. Have you even seen a missing poster with your name on it? If they wanted, they could find you, within minutes. But they've made no efforts. Just like I predicted."

Brooklyn didn't answer, not wanting to give it the satisfaction of being right.

"Very well," the voice said. "It seems you don't trust me. Not yet. But you'll be wanting me to return soon enough. For now, an olive branch in your direction. Here's your brother."

Since it was a dream, Brooklyn couldn't hide her anticipation, causing the voice to laugh darkly. The scene shifted, now showing the living room in Brooklyn's parents house. It wasn't where she grew up, but it was the new place that they moved into a few years ago. 

Brooklyn remembered how devastated she was to move. Her parents simply refused to understand that the old house held memories to her, and that meant more than extra bedrooms or extra washrooms.

Logan lay on the couch, watching the LA Dodgers crush the New York Yankees in a regular season game of baseball. He rested his head on the arm rest of the couch, passing a baseball back and forth between his hands. His dark curls had grown significantly since she last saw him, his hair now looking more like a mullet, especially with the baseball cap on his head.

Two months ago, Brooklyn would've been next to him, throwing the ball back and forth to him while they watched together. This was their thing. Watching sports and old shows and movies. Seeing him enjoy it without her hurt... just a little.

"C'mon, c'mon," he muttered to himself, watching as the ball sailed over the boundary. "HOME RUN!" he got up, cheering as the players ran the bases and celebrated on the other side of the screen.

Brooklyn watched him take a seat, watching the rest of the game intently. He was having fun. Even though she was gone, he wasn't miserable. 

It was all she'd ever asked for in life. For Logan to be happy.

And yet, it broke her heart just a bit.

"Brooklyn."

Her eyes shot open at the sound of her name, her brain recognizing Luke's voice and the urgency it held.

"What is it?" she asked, one hand on her hidden knife, even though she didn't have much idea on how to use it. Luke had promised her lessons, but they didn't have a place to crash long enough for him to teach her.

Luke shook his head, "We're in Denver. We got to get off here. There's a ticket inspector coming around, and these tickets only go as far as Denver. I've been trying to get the Mist to say they go further, but it's not working."

"That's fine," Brooklyn said. "At least you nicked those tickets in the first place. Besides, we need to restock on some food and hopefully clothes."

"We look hideous," Luke muttered.

"You definitely do," Brooklyn agreed, shouldering her bag as she got up and moved towards the exit.

Luke made an offended sound, rolling his eyes as he shouldered his own pack and followed her out the door. They moved through the crowd, making their way out of the bus stop without attracting any attention.

"Any idea on where to go?" Brooklyn asked Luke.

"There's a temple to Hermes somewhere in the city," he told her. "The Museum of Contemporary Art."

"Great, let's go there."

"One problem," Luke but in. "I don't... know how to get there."

Brooklyn rolled her eyes, "It's not far from here. Why do you think I was leading you? It's like ten minutes, I guess. I don't think it's open yet, but we've got a son of Hermes and an excellent lock-picker. I think we'll be okay."

Luke tilted his head, following Brooklyn. "How do you know this city? Did you live here?"

"My grandparents did," she answered. "When I was much younger, they'd watch me and my brother if my parents were busy. I don't know the entire city, but I've been around this part enough times."

"Oh."

"There's also a coffee shop on the way," Brooklyn told him. "It's like seven in the morning, so coffee places are open, right?"

"Should be," Luke agreed. "If not, we've got a son of Hermes and a professional lock-picker. How hard can it be?"

"I'm an excellent lock-picker, not a professional," she corrected. "I'm pretty sure the second one's illegal."

Luke laughed, shaking his head to himself, causing Brooklyn to grin as well. It was nice being able to laugh together while on the run. The longer they went without a monster attack, the more they seemed to grow scared of one. It was nice to forget about it for even a few moments.

Luckily, the coffee shop was open and they had enough cash for two coffees and even some donuts.

"You know, I say 'son of Hermes' as a joke a lot, but now I'm actually concerned it's a thing," Brooklyn muttered. "I have no idea when or where you keep getting that cash from."

"Are you complaining?" he asked drily. "Besides, no one's gonna miss a dollar or two. That's the trick. A little from many people, and no one thinks twice."

"Good tip."

"Two medium coffees?"

Luke and Brooklyn grabbed their coffees and the donuts they'd ordered, thanking the employee as they took some cream and sugar and headed to a table. It was early, with some random people going in and out as they ordered their morning coffee. No one was sitting and eating, not like them. It was rush, rush, rush—everyone busy with their own lives.

Brooklyn had experience with that.

Luke diluted his coffee with cream, and only added one sugar, while Brooklyn added packets upon packets of sugar and one cream. Brooklyn noticed Luke smiling to himself, which meant he'd noted that too and found it a little funny. Brooklyn smiled a little at that realization.

She took the sprinkled donut, sighing to herself as the dough nearly melted in her mouth. The donuts were fresh, the coffee was warm—it was looking like a good day.

So good that Brooklyn forgot to pay attention to her surroundings. Not until the bearded man that had been following them took a seat next to her.

Brooklyn froze, donut halfway to her mouth. Across from her, Luke's eyes widened as he quickly set down his coffee cup. The bearded man immediately snapped his fingers, causing something weird to happen.

A orangeish ripple spread out across the room, but all the workers and customers continued their business as usual. It was like they hadn't noticed—which meant the Mist covered it up.

"Who are you?" Brooklyn asked, finally finding her voice. "And what do you want?"

The bearded man grinned, though it looked more like a grimace because of how his features were built.

"I'm Hephaestus, God of the Forge," he told her. "And I want you to do a task for me."

REY WRITES!

thanks for reading!!

rusty beard is hephaestus, damn

there's only a few days time skip between the 
last chapter and this (unlike the update.. whoops)

also, i've decided i'll be updating this on either
saturdays or sundays (haven't decided which yet)
but not every week :( maybe every other week/every
three weeks. but that's because i'm taking a max
course load rn (it's summer ik, but i have to study bcz
i'm in a coop program). two of my classes end early
so i'll be writing more once that happens and i'll 
prolly get a better update schedule then. but i've got
a couple chapters prewritten and i don't wanna leave
you guys waiting. so yeah, hope y'all enjoy!

also if it becomes really long- like more than three weeks,
and y'all don't see an update, feel free to comment a
reminder bcz i got too many things to remember loll

what have you guys been up to recently?

i'm literally posting this as i'm watching the canada
vs denmark hockey game... i'm feeling v patriotic rn

thoughts?

comments?

questions?

headcanons?

theories?