Half-Blood Saints

Written By: Rave Rose of Twilight

Warning: I don't own Saint's Row or PJO. I also don't own Borderlands...if I choose to use something from the series. Still iffy on it.

Chapter One: In The Beginning

His breathing was labored. His throat was dry. He wanted to scream, but nothing came out. He felt a burning, tearing pain from his right arm and left leg. He coughed only to taste the coppery tang of blood filling his mouth. Looking to his right, he could see the grass growing more and more crimson as his blood stained the earth beneath him from the stump that used to be the remains of his arm before it had been violently torn from its socket. He suspected the same went for his left leg. A cold chill crawled through his body as life slowly left him in spite of his struggle to cling to it. He closed his eyes and bit his lip in frustration and mild resignation.

He didn't want to die, but he knew that was likely going to be his fate. Just as he began to accept his seemingly inevitable death, he saw a young girl with unruly black hair and neon blue eyes looking into his own. Her hand, soaked in his blood, was pressed against his cheek. She had been trying to save his life...stem the tide of blood coming from his arm and leg...but likely realized the futility of such an effort. He could see what she was feeling through those electric blue eyes.

Fear. Sadness. Anger. Several emotions rushed through her eyes, though none stayed there for long before another replaced it. A tear fell from her eye before she knelt down and whispered something in his ear.

"Thank you for saving me. I'm sorry," she said sadly. "What's your name?"

He coughed, but kept his mouth closed to avoid covering her in more of his blood. "Colt," he said weakly. He tried to say more, but his mouth was filling with too much blood to try.

"Thalia," she whispered to him. "Thalia Grace."

"Thalia," called a strange, unfamiliar male voice. "Come on! If we don't leave soon, we're gonna die!"

"Shut it, Luke," she barked angrily. "He saved our lives! The least we can do is be with him during his final moments and try to make it as peaceful as we can!"

The earth around him began to rumble as the sound of a group of monsters approached them. Colt was still clinging onto what life remained within his body.

"Go," he whispered with a bloody smile. "Your friends need you more than I do. Keep them safe."

"I will," she said in a tearful whisper before releasing his limp hand and ran away from the scene with a small, blond-haired girl with steely gray eyes and a boy with smooth blond hair and angry blue eyes that spoke of mischief and betrayal.

When the three had vanished from sight, Colt laid upon the blood-stained earth with a small smile on his face. He wished he could have done more with his life. Looking back, sacrificing himself for a total stranger probably wasn't the brightest idea he ever had, Then again, he was never able to stand back when someone needed help.

As his world began to fade, the earth itself began to tremble and a sudden heat washed over him.

A towering mammoth of a man stood in the middle of the street, looking down upon the boy. His black, coal-like eyes seemed to radiate a sadness that most couldn't read. His black mane and beard were wiry and unkempt. His arms were immeasurably powerful. His hands were caked in soot and calluses, showing his dedication to manual labor and hard work. Around his waist was a leather tool belt with hammers, wrenches, tongs, and various other tools hanging from them, a sign of his craft of metallurgy. He gave a weak smile as he lifted up the boy with ease.

"It's not your time just yet, my son," he said to the unconscious body in his arms. "There is still so much for you to do with your life. To the Pit with what Father says. I will not allow such potential to die simply because you interfered in a world you were not yet ready to enter."

In a flash of fire, the two had vanished before reappearing in a massive workshop. The walls were adorned with various tinkerings and random creations he had built on whim alone. Weapons. Armor. Metal orbs that would speed through his workshop, categorizing the objects that he had created. If something was junk or obsolete, it would be placed in one of many junk yards located around the world.

He cleared off a table and laid his son down on it. He looked at the stumps and recalled a somewhat entertaining television show. What was it? Full Metal Jacket? Metalocalypse? It was something Metal...

...Fullmetal Alchemist! That's right! An interesting tale of what the world might have been like had they focused more on Alchemy than furthering technology. Of course, Alchemy wasn't as it was portrayed in the show, but it was entertaining nonetheless. Now, Automail was the most interesting part of the show to him. Fully functioning metal limbs capable of hidden surprises. Like that one girl with a grenade hidden as a kneecap.

Bah. He was getting off track. The science and theory behind Automail intrigued him. It was initially designed as fully motorized battle armor, but was advanced enough to serve as a prosthetic limb for amputees who wanted something more versatile. It was linked directly to the nervous system, allowing it to take the electrical pulses from the nerves to power and regulate the various motors and actuators within the limb.

The process was undoubtedly painful since Ed, the main protagonist, had been fully awake during the process of installing his Automail limbs and the pain was so great that even after having his leg and arm destroyed when he tried to bring his mother back to life using Human Alchemy, a forbidden art, he still cried out in pain. However, it was entirely likely that by going through that pain, his normal pain threshold would shoot through the roof.

He looked around and saw several spare sheets of Celestial Bronze and Imperial Gold. Seeing his son lying on the table before him, he knew what had to be done. And so, he began to forge his son an Automail right arm and left leg. When he had finished the limbs, he went through the procedure to attach them to his son. Even unconscious, his painful cries echoed throughout his workshop. The man, however, refused to stop the procedure.

Finally, when the last wire was attached to the last nerve and the limbs were fully functioning, which he made sure of through some extensive testing, he was confident that his son would survive. With that out of the way, his son would need time to learn how to use his new limbs. Naturally, as his son, he would likely have an innate knack for technology and would grow accustomed to the limbs faster than most would dare to hope. That did not mean that he would have automatic knowledge of how to use his new arm and leg.

So he began to write down a small booklet that would detail how to perform the necessary tests to make sure they were functioning properly, exercises to help him get used to using his automail, and other bits of knowledge he would need to know to get used to them and take proper care of them so that they wouldn't need to get repaired more often than absolutely necessary.

Eventually, time began to pass once again. He'd witnessed Thalia Grace, the girl his son had sacrificed himself to save, sacrifice herself to protect Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena, and Luke Castellan, son of Hermes, from a swarm of monsters, resulting in Zeus turning her into a tree that would protect Camp Half-Blood for many years to come. He witnessed Colt's mother as she lost all memory of their son. It would be easier and more humane to wipe her memory of Colt than watch her be driven insane like Hermes' lover, May Castellan, or driven to alcoholism and instability like Zeus' lover, Beryl Grace.

When the time came for Colt to return to the mortal world came, the man already knew where to send him. Stilwater, Michigan. It was a good place to start a new life and Colt would have every opportunity to live his life how he wanted to.

"Farewell, my son," he said calmly. "May the Fates be kinder to you this time around."

Colt shot up from his California King-sized bed. Sweat dripped from his brow. He'd been having recurring nightmares from time to time. Usually, it would stop after the earth shook when he was lying bloody and torn limb from limb in that field. That girl's name never left his memory. Thalia Grace. When most would have left him for dead to save themselves, she stayed there with him as he laid there dying and bleeding out.

However, what really bothered him was that powerful voice that rang in his ears while he was blinded by unconsciousness, yet still able to hear. The sound of the voice alone made his chest beat faster, yet slower at the same time. Like he should recognize the voice. Surrounded by fire, all he could hear was the striking of a hammer against metal on an anvil, the roar of a powerful flame, and the screams he made when his new limbs had been forcibly attached to him.

Those flames...they felt...comforting...welcoming...

...they felt like home.

As the adrenaline left his body, Colt removed himself from his sheets. He was a tall, young man. 16 years old and standing like a wall at 6 feet one inch tall. He was incredibly muscular with the build of a linebacker. His left arm rubbed uneasily against the metallic right arm as a phantom feeling entered his prosthesis. He'd had the artificial arm and leg so long that sometimes it was hard to remember that they were, in fact, artificial and not his actual limbs.

He'd been living on Saint's Row since he could remember. However, he'd been having vague, almost lucid dreams that seemed more like memories than dreams. Saint's Row was one of the few uncorrupted territories in Stilwater, though even that was slowly changing. For the most part, the entire city was involved in a massive gang war between the Vice Kings, Los Carnales, and the Westside Rollerz, intentionally misspelled of course. Luckily, his neighborhood was largely untouched by the senseless and pointless, in his opinion, violence.

As he got dressed, he prepared himself for the field trip Mr. Grovetree had planned out for his Natural Science classes. Their class was going to visit the zoo, where they would speak with veterinarians, animal handlers, and other employees to learn how they performed their jobs and how different the animals were and their dietary needs.

Mr. Grovetree was one of those hippy teachers. His brown hair was wrapped in dreadlocks. He always had this strange, far off gaze like he was perpetually stoned every second of every day. His classes were more focused on nature than any actual science. Most of the students thought he was crazy and usually goofed off during class, texting on their phones or gossiping with whoever was within earshot about some bout of stupidity.

Colt, however, was somewhat different. He knew, somehow, that the teacher was more than what he appeared to be. Despite his stoned demeanor, he was unusually and uncharacteristically sharp. Even when his back was turned, he was easily able and quick enough to identify students who were cheating or simply not paying attention to whatever he was teaching. Even though he looked fairly young compared to the other teachers in Stilwater, he seemed far more knowledgeable than the other teachers.

However, Colt didn't have a problem with his science teacher. In fact, Colt would dare to say that he was one of his favorite teachers. He helped him on a few assignments when his Dyslexia would act up, even if they weren't in subjects that pertained to the class he taught. The majority of his other teachers didn't care or were simply overwhelmed by trying to maintain order in their otherwise chaotic classrooms with hormonal teenagers to help any students who were having problems in their class.

"Mr. Colt."

Colt's head shot up and a hand rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Great. He'd been daydreaming again. So focused on trying to ignore the drivel coming from the idiots around him and tinkering with a few stray paperclips he'd found lying about that he'd fallen into a trance. Looking down, he saw a small train car sitting neatly on his desk.

He shook himself from his thoughts and returned his gaze to Mr. Grovetree. "Yes, Mr. Grovetree," he asked curtly. He didn't want to come off as annoyed to his favorite teacher, even though that was exactly how he was feeling. Now the eyes of the other students were on him, though thankfully their mindless chattering had stopped.

"Could you tell me what plant has had the greatest impact throughout recorded history," he asked calmly.

Colt looked at the teacher questioningly. "Recent history or ancient history," he asked.

Grovetree turned around and gave a half-baked smile. "Why not both," he asked.

Colt sighed. "If we're going from ancient history, I'd say...the olive tree. Without it, we wouldn't have sayings such as 'extending an olive branch' or some modern medicine. Olive oil has multiple health benefits that would take too long to go through." Grovetree nodded and motioned for him to continue. "Modern history...I'd say it would be a tie between the peanut and hemp." He heard several kids chuckle behind his back. "George Washington Carver found 300 uses for peanuts. Hemp, on the other hand, has many uses largely in the industrial and commercial industries. It's been used to make rope, clothing, food, paper, textiles, plastics, insulation, and even biofuel. And yes. It has even been believed to have some medicinal properties, though there has been no concrete proof that it does anything to cure or prevent diseases such as glaucoma, cancer, and other maladies."

Grovetree gave a weak nod and turned back to the chalkboard. "Correct, Mr. Colt," he said as he wrote down Hemp, Peanuts, and Olives on the board under a headline 'Greatest Historical Plants'. "There have been many plants throughout history that have been infinitely beneficial to mankind. In fact, without proper sources of agriculture, humanity would likely have suffered from several health deficiencies and have died out long before the middle ages. Even in the modern age, in spite of how advanced mankind has become, agriculture is still in high demand due to how quickly the population grows."

The class continues as usual with Colt and a few others trying to focus on the lesson while the others prattled on as they usually did. Occasionally, Mr. Grovetree would throw out a question to one of the other students, catching many off guard and making them look...

...well, it's not like they could look much stupider in Colt's eyes.

Before Colt knew what was happening, the bell rang and school was finally over for the day. As the students filed out of the class in what could only be called a human stampede, Colt tucked away his little paperclip train and packed the rest of his books. "Colt," called Mr. Grovetree. "Could I have a word for you for just a moment?"

Colt shrugged his shoulders before walking toward the teacher's desk. "How can I help ya, teach," he asked casually.

"I've noticed you've been nodding off more often," he said, his eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and concern. "Is everything alright at home?"

Colt ran his hand through his hair. "Just some recurring nightmares," he admitted. "Between that and the gangs fighting so close to Saint's Row, it's getting harder to sleep."

The teacher nodded in understanding. Anyone who lived in Stilwater for long enough would understand the situation at hand. "I hope you're ready for the field trip. We leave in an hour," he said, causing Colt to roll his eyes.

Honestly, there were better things he could be doing than going to a zoo. He could be setting up defenses around his home in case those dumbass thugs got too close for comfort. But, if going on the field trip would make his favorite teacher happy, then he could sacrifice some measure of home security.

That didn't mean that his home would be defenseless. After all, just activating his non-lethal defense mechanisms should deter all but the most suicidal. If that didn't work, then CL4P-TP would land the final blow.

"Sure thing," he replied. "Is that all?"

Mr. Grovetree nodded, dismissing his student to his next class.

As he walked down the hall to his locker, he noticed many of his fellow students from Mr. Grovetree's class were snickering or giving him snarky looks. His gray eyes rolled in annoyance. He opened his locker with practiced ease before his hands began to pick and move his 'tinkerings' away so that he could reach his books while putting away his science book. When his locker door shut and was locked back up, he saw to his right a girl around his age with straight black hair done up in high ponytails, jet black eyes that seems to absorb all of the light in the room, and a rather buxom figure that had many boys coming close to breaking their necks. She and her lookalike that stood just opposite of her wore the traditional school uniform given to girls, which accentuated their curves.

"What do you want, Viola," Colt asked with closed eyes.

"Aside from how you can tell my sister and I apart when most can't," she said casually. "Just wanted to see what Mr. Grovetree wanted to see you about."

"He was just worried about my nodding off in class," Colt said as he walked to his classroom with Viola and a girl who looked like her clone following behind. "And as for how I can tell you and Kiki apart, you like white and Kiki likes pink."

The two girls look at their hands and notice he was right. Kiki always painted her nails pink and Viola always painted her nails white. "But...how..."

"Attention to detail," Colt said without a care. "If you aren't aware of your surroundings, how are you supposed to notice when things change? Now...why are you two talking to me? It's not like we're friends."

"Because out of everyone in this school, you're the only person who actually sees us for who we are, is able to tell us apart, and doesn't ogle us like we're only around for your sexual gratification," Kiki said while her twin nodded in agreement.

This caused Colt to pause as he mulled those points in his mind. He didn't ogle them because he kinda didn't care about girls. He was past the 'girls are icky' stage of his youth, but they just didn't appeal to him because he had far more important things going through his mind. He was able to tell them apart because he was a fairly detail oriented individual. He was the only person in their Shop Class who actually had perfect grades and in Shop Class, attention to detail was mandatory for some of the more complex builds.

As far as seeing them for who they were, he actually respected them at some level. They knew they were beautiful and used that to get anything they wanted from test answer sheets to handmade gifts from would-be suitors without compromising who they were. Of course, because of this, many of the girls would spread rumors about their 'promiscuity' and how easy they were. Colt, it seemed, was one of a very select few who either ignored the rumors or simply didn't believe them, allowing him to treat them as if they were anyone else.

"So because I'm indifferent to you and don't pay attention to the mind-numbing drivel that other people say, you respect me," Colt asked skeptically.

"Well, when you put it like that, you kinda make it sound like you're an asshole," Viola said.

"But...yeah. That sounds about right," Kiki finished.

Their next and last class together was , their Math teacher, Ms. Count, had a panic attack fifteen minutes in when the workbook continued to mention monkeys, a deep-seeded fear of hers, so often that she began to hallucinate that the students turned into monkeys and the wallpaper was decorated with bananas.

After running down the hall, screaming at the top of her lungs about monkeys trying to throw poop at her, the principal, Mr. Mister (And yes. That was actually his name.), told them that the rest of class was canceled until he could get the substitute Math teacher, Mr. Sum, in tomorrow.

That left him half an hour to essentially sit around until the field trip started. And for whatever reason, Kiki and Viola DeWynter practically refused to leave his side. They said he needed to be more 'social'. Needed to make 'friends'.

Bah. Didn't they understand that he liked his peace and solitude? Even the teachers seemed to understand this because even on group projects, he wasn't forced to be paired with anyone. He just did the project on his own. Nobody complained and his grades didn't fall because of it. That was a Win-Win in his books.

"Come on, Colt," Kiki said as stood in front of him alongside Viola while he was leaning against a tree.

"I should have just gone to Shop Class," Colt muttered under his breath. At least with the power tools running, he could ignore the world around him while he worked. But no. He just HAD to go to his 'spot' where he could just relax, hoping that Kiki and Viola had something better to do than bother him until it was time for the field trip.

Nope. They followed him. And now they were trying to convince him to sit next to them on the bus. As if the glares coming from many of the DeWynter sisters' admirers weren't troublesome enough.

"We're not asking for a whole lot," Viola said with her arms crossed just under her bosom, making them appear larger to those who payed attention. "All you have to do it sit next to us."

Colt had gone on many field trips that, coincidentally' the DeWynter sisters had gone on. He knew why they were asking what they were asking. Some tool who thought he was big shit would sit next to them and flirt with them throughout the entire field trip. The two would ignore their harasser and try to get away from them.

"Fine," Colt said in an aggravated tone, finally giving up on getting his peace and quiet back. "But only on the condition that during the entire field trip, you don't bother me. No nudging me to get my attention. No trying to get me to 'socialize'. Nothing."

The two looked to one another, likely having some kind of mental conversation before returning to look at him.

"Agreed," the two said simultaneously. If it got some of their most annoying would-be suitors away from them for long enough, anything was worth it.

"Good, now can I be left alone for a minute," Colt said, causing the girls to smirk.

"You mean...you don't know what time it is," Viola asked Colt, causing him to frown before looking at his watch.

"You've got to be kidding me," he said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

It was time to board the bus and he'd lost out on thirty minutes of relaxation time. He could only hope that the rest of the field trip turned out better than it was starting.