.:It May Take A Battleground:.

I thought I'd finally found somewhere,

where I was needed, but

I was left alone, again.

I thought I was where I was suppose to be—

and maybe I was, but

I didn't think it was suppose to end like this.

Were heroes not suppose to have a happy ending?

Was I a hero?

What did a hero do, that I didn't?

I was alone, again, now.

They left me, turned on me—

just like everyone else.

Where could I go?

I thought I'd finally found somewhere,

that I was wanted, but,

apparently, I wasn't.

Maybe no one wanted me.

Maybe I wasn't supposed to be there at all.

I was unwanted?

They hated me, for some reason—

and I just don't understand anything,

anymore.

Maybe I was supposed to leave, though.

I'd done what they wanted, what was asked of me,

what felt right, what needed to be done.

Now...

I thought I'd finally found somewhere,

that I belonged, but—

maybe, perhaps, I don't belong anywhere.

. . .

I was five when a demon stole my mother's face.

It wasn't quick—it was more of a gradual process, I suppose, but it happened. And I saw it.

My mother was the most wonderful person in the world. She cared for me, took care of me, loved me. She worked at a candy shop, and always—always—brought me home a bag of samples on the weekends that we could share together. They were always blue, my favorite color. When she cooked my dinner, she made it a habit of making at least one dish blue at all times. When she placed the food in front of me, she always gave me a small, gentle smile and said I'd get a bedtime story as long as I finished my vegetables. I didn't mind—the vegetables didn't taste as bad as the other kids were convinced they were, and my mom was just looking out for me, keeping me healthy. That gave me a warm feeling in my chest—she always cared. When I first started school, she'd always make time in the afternoons—even when she was busy—to help me with y homework, and teach me some extra things. Those at-home lessons aided me in moving ahead of the other children, much to their envy, but I didn't really care all that much about my grades—I only sought to do well since it would please her, and make her happy. When I was scared, or hurt, she always made me feel better. She always gave me those small smiles full of love. When I did something from, she never snapped at me—she only gave me a disappointed look, took me by the hands, looked me in the eyes and told me what I did wrong—then she told me to try my best not to do it again, and that it made her very sad. I always listened, since I never wanted to see that disappointed gaze again—it didn't suit my mother, she was suppose to be happy and full of love.

But then, When I was halfway through preschool, it happened. My mother was walking me home from school, when I noticed this odd little yellow car that was driving differently from the others—in this strange, zig-zagged, speeding drive that my mother said was way too fast and dangerous on the busy roads like these. I tugged on my mother's shirt and she stopped, looking down at me. I pointed the car out, and saw that it was now headed toward us. She looked up, and her pretty blue eyes widened, and she pushed me out of the way very roughly before the yellow car speed by, taking her, too.

I was very scared then. Strangers were crowding around me, patting me, and ruffling me hair, and women gave me tight hugs that kind of hurt, and I couldn't see my mother anywhere.

Then a police man came and took me with him, and somehow I ended up in the hospital where a young, bald, black-skinned doctor was kneeling in front of me with a pitying look on his face, telling me in a serious tone that my mother was alright, but she would be there for a few weeks to get better, and then I'd have her back.

I waited and waited and waited those few weeks, but I never got my mother back.

I only got her body, and something else. Something much, much scarier than anything I'd ever encountered, even the snake that my preschool teacher had put in my blankets at nap time.

There was a demon in my mother. A monster, something very mean that only wanted to hurt me—Actually, I never knew just what it wanted, but it didn't treat me like my mother had. I got no love, no overflowing care. Sure, that demon had taken care of me, masquerading as my mother, stealing her face and her looks, but it only fed me, paid for what I needed—like school—and that was it. I didn't get any more candy on the weekends, or bedtime stories, or gentle smiles—I never really liked to eat vegetables again, for some reason. This demon didn't care about me. It treated me rough—hitting me, ignoring me when I was in pain, or scared. I put up with it, of course—where else was I suppose to go? So it went on for years, and soon, I kind of got used to it, bit by bit—used to feeling utterly alone in the world. I went through school with high marks—or I would have, if I'd been able to do my homework. But that demon sort of...prevented me, in ways. So I was, on paper, more of a D-C average student. Soon, though, I turned eleven, and everything sort of...changed.

It was on a field trip to a museum, being harassed by a girl I'd never thought to learn the name of. She was just like all the rest of the bullies. I tended to ignore them, which was never hard, considering the torment from the demon that resided with me in my home. A few months before, a new student named Grover Underwood had entered the school, and he took to following me around for some reason. He had some sort of leg disorder that exempted him from Physical Education, and a strange love for enchiladas. Eventually, he thought it safe enough to dub himself my best friend—and I never corrected him. I'd never had any friends before, truthfully, and I wanted to see how it was. I don't think I fully understood it, but... Even so, I still felt all alone.

Anyway, one of my teachers, Mr. Brunner, was lecturing us about some sort of Greek monument. Mr. Brunner was a nice man, I suppose. He cared about the students he taught—he was patient, kind, and observing. He seemed to pay extra attention to me—he tried to keep it under wraps, but I had a pretty good trained eye. I also noticed he and Grover were accomplices in something, but I didn't know what. Afterward, we were led outside for a lunch break, and that girl, the bully, decided to get up close and personal. I ignored her as usual, not even casting her a mere glance, but something happened, water splashed, and I was dragged into the museum by my algebra teacher, Mrs. Dodds. And it was then, that I encountered a new kind of demon. Not like my demon—the one who's stolen my mother's face, I mean. But a monster—a monster I could kill. Or hurt, since it turned to dust as soon as I swiped at it with the pen(that could turn into a blade, mind you) that Mr. Brunner had thrown at me. He'd arrived with Grover in tow, just shortly after Mrs. Dodds had transformed into that... monster.

And then, they both had pretended nothing had even happened, and I got a new Algebra teacher, Mrs. Kunneth.

Of course I was confused, but I didn't say anything once I found out that no one else remembered Mrs. Dodds at all. Save for Grover. He was a terrible liar, really. And I knew Mr. Brunner knew something, but he was a much, much better actor.

Finally, one night, during the week of final exams, I overheard Grover and Mr. Brunner discussing what they kept a secret. It confused me greatly, and I knew there was some sort of creature that might or might not have been Mr. Brunner, but I was forced to leave when the door opened. When I returned to the dorms some minutes later, I found Grover half asleep on the bed, a book open in front of him. Or, he was trying to appear so. He complained to me what a bore studying was, attempting to be convincing, but I only ignored him and climbed in bed, vaguely missing the way my mother would tuck me in every night—but I shook the feeling off. I'd gotten used to having the demon around. But I still wished I had my mother. Somehow, I knew she wasn't there anymore. I don't think she's anywhere, anymore. She's completely gone. That demon did something to her, and now, I do not have a mother.

My mother was gone, but she didn't go anywhere at all.

A week later, and it was summer break. I was on the bus back to Manhatten, back to the demon. Grover was there too, but I somehow knew that he didn't live in the city, so I wasn't sure why he was coming with me. The bus broke down, and we had to go out, and I looked to the side of the road to see three very old looking women, knitting the largest pair of socks I'd ever seen. The caught my eye—though I don't know how. Their own eyes seemed... pupil-less—and held up two, gold-looking threads. Slowly, as if making sure I was still watching, they took out a large pair of scissors and carefully snipped the threads in half. I was mute, watching as the glittering threads fluttered to the ground—although I was unsure how I was able to see them from all the way across the street—when Grover gripped my arm so tight it was almost throbbing, and I looked up to see him staring at the women in horror. I looked back on last time before Grover roughly began to drag me back on the bus, which was started again, and saw that the three old women all had neutral looks upon their faces.

Once we got back on the bus, Grover demanded to know if I had seen the elderly women do anything. I looked at him, unimpressed, and said to him, rather flatly, that, yes, I'd seen them snip some thread—but I never told him how many.

Grover had paled, and we were both completely silent for the rest of the ride, though I could tell Grover was trying to conceal some very large panic attacks on the inside—he wasn't doing too well of a job, to me at least.

I, shamelessly, ditched Grover at the next stop, when he'd ran to the bathrooms because, frankly, he was beginning to freak me out—and that was hard to do, I knew. You tended to grow a bit hard to surprise when you'd been raised by a vicious demon, however indirectly. Though—I was surprised about a week later, when another type of those new monsters chased me(and Grover, who'd I'd discovered to be stalking me—which was a bit too creepy in my opinion) to the borders of a strawberry ranch. I really don't know how we got so far out of the city, but you tended to miss things when you were being chased by a modern Minotaur—who'd only been a beast-man, and was almost ridiculously easy to defeat, since is rather sharp horns were very brittle. All I'd needed to do was get close enough to break one horn off, then drive it through the monster's heart. Easy. Dealing with a demon stealing your mother's body wasn't too different, right? If not, it was much harder than this, to me.

I dragged the unconscious Grover, who was bleating—bleating—for food, over to the farmhouse. Along the chase, I'd discovered he was a satyr. Of course. The farmhouse was actually a rather large white mansion, along the way there, I'd spotted many shadowy shapes that hadn't been there before, when I'd been outside the borders. The shapes became clearer when I focused on them, and I soon decided that the ranch must be, in fact, some sort of camp.

When I climbed, slowly, up the porch to the front door, I only had time to knock when the weariness from the long, long run over had consumed me, and I fell unconscious—not for the first time in my life, really. It wasn't that big of a deal to me. I pitied the camp director, or whoever ran that place, however. Discovering two unconscious teens—one human, and one satyr—probably wasn't the norm.

But, as I learned when I woke up the next day, it apparently was. That is when I learned of Camp Half-Blood. Mr. Brunner—who turned out to be a centaur named Chiron(yes, the Chiron)explained to me that I was a demi-god, and he went on to tel me about what that meant. I learned that, yes, all that I'd killed were monsters—and that the night before, I'd killed the minotaur of legend, something that every demi-god hoped to do. I decided not to mention how easy a task it had been.

Annabeth, the girl who I'd met when I had woken up, gave me a tour of the camp, and I'd stayed there for a few days before I was claimed in a game of Capture the Flag by the god called Poseidon. The next day, I was sent on a quest with Grover, and Annabeth, to search for the king of the gods, Zues's, missing weapon of power, the Master Bolt, to clear my apparently guilty name of thief.

Turns out, the god Ares stole it. His fault, not mine, or my father's, or even Hades's. Ares.

The following years passed in a similar fashion. I'd go to camp in the summer, get a problem that needed taking care of, go on a quest, then come back as a supposed hero or something similar. One year was a bit difficult, however, since my new friend Thalia, daughter of Zeus, and Annabeth and I needed a ride to a school that Grover was having problems at, in the winter. I decided to just get it over with and asked my demon, who begrudgingly agreed to drive us. On the way there, I was shocked to the core(though I hid it well) as my demon—who'd stolen my mother's body, mind you—acted as if it was my mother. I'd almost cried. It had been as if I'd had my mother back. She was so close... but, she was gone. And not anywhere. I didn't have a mother anymore, I had to remind myself that.

We arrived soon after, and I entered the school with my...friends. Thalia commented on how "awesome my mom was." I agreed with her. My mother had been downright amazing. However past-tense it was. I felt a bit put out that my friends would never actually meet her.

It was about two years later when I was about to turn sixteen, that I'd gone against the titan lord Kronos, who was the supposed master of time. And I won... I'd gone back to the camp happy, since my demon was finally gone—it had been killed in the havoc of New York, though I felt saddened by the fact that my mother's body was destroyed as well. At least, I only hoped the demon was taken with it. It was almost a year later, and things had been going alright. I was dating Annabeth, Grover was a Lord of the Wild, appointed by Pan himself. Thalia was off somewhere with the Hunters of Artemis, doing whatever the Hunters of Artemis did. It was good... but that's when they left me, and I was alone again. Annabeth cheated on me, for some reason I never understood—I thought she was happy, but apparently not. Grover seemed to get caught up in his duties as a lord—perhaps the power had gone to his head... My friends Nico began to resent me for his sister's death—even though I'd thought we'd both gotten over that—once Bianca had chosen to become a reborn soul. I don't think Thalia changed at all, but I never saw her at all, so I wouldn't have known. Chiron tended to ignore me now that he thought he'd taught me all he could. Gradually, the rest of my supposed friends turned away from me.

I shouldn't have minded, really—after all, I was used to being alone, utterly alone. But when they left me, I felt like I had been stabbed in the heart. I realized, then, that I had let those people heal me, and make me feel cared for again, and loved again—something I hadn't felt since my demon had stolen my mother from me. I'd allowed these people to take that feeling of nothingness, uneasiness, away. They made me feel... not alone, anymore.

And then they'd left me.

So I left them. I ran away from the camp in the middle of the night, easily escaping the harpy patrol's notice. I didn't take anything with me—the little possessions I'd gathered over the years would have only brought back memories of not-aloneness. I traveled to the west of the country, taking down the monsters that got in my way. Whenever I crossed paths with a demi-god that was unaware of their heritage and the dangers that came with it, I'd always save them if they were being attacked, then explain things to them, give them some drachmas and provisions enough for the journey towards camp, then told them to forget me, and left them, choosing to forget them myself.

About two years later, I learned of Camp Jupiter, and the god's Roman sides. I met the Roman demi-gods, and they were ruthless. I'd decided long before not to let anyone try to heal me again, since the Greek's betrayal. The particular uncaring attitude of the Roman's helped my decision, it seemed. I spent a year at their camp, as a son of Neptune, rising in the ranks and learning how to make sense between a Roman demi-god and a Greek demi-gos—even if the Romans didn't seem to know that the Greeks existed—just as the Greeks were unaware of the Romans—so I decided to keep them both in their ignorance, and didn't tel them a thing. During that year, I'd seemed to make...allies—not friends. I didn't make friends, even if these 'allies' seemed to consider themselves my 'friend'—and the Romans had appeared to have taken a liking to me. I didn't let the notion get to me head like that last time. When Reyna and Jason came to me, telling me that Jason was thinking of stepping down from the position of praetor, and that they wanted me to take the position, I told them that I'd think on it, then left in the dead of the night. I'd learned all I'd wanted from the Romans.

I spent the time up until I was twenty traveling the country again, doing the same that I'd been doing before coming upon Camp Jupiter—except, this time I sent the Roman demi-gods and Greek demi-gods both to their respective camps, taking time to judge which pantheon they belonged to, then explained their heritage and dangers that came with said heritage accordingly. As I had the last time, I always told them to forget me, but never what I told them. What I'd taught them. I always spent at least one day traveling with each of them, helping them and guiding the so that they could take care of themselves. Then I disappeared. And I never saw each of them again. Well, Percy Jackson didn't.

I died when I was twenty-six, after being impaled on the spear of a snake-woman while aiding a Roman half-blood.

The demi-god had been killed three minutes before—we'd been ambushed by a ridiculously large platoon of drachne. My body disintegrated about thirty seconds after my soul had disconnected from it due to some type of fast-acting poison the spear had been dipped in.

This is where I stand now, on a cliff ledge over looking the river Lethe. No one was aware of my death. The demi-god that had been with me was dead. Hades had no clue that I was in the Underworld, since I had yet to pass through the lines of Judgment. No one knew, and I wanted it to stay that way. I gazed down at the famed River of Forgetfulness. If I jumped now, I could.. disappear. Percy Jackson would cease to exist. I wanted to be gone—not there anymore, but not anywhere else either, just like Sally Jackson. Just like my mother.

I only wished that they was someone to help the demi-gods like I had been. I started to lean forward, feet almost clearing the ledge when a hand landed on my shoulder, tethering my to the ground.

It turned, and stared silently. This individual was very different from what I had ever encountered—but I was always encountering different things, so I decided not to be surprised. After all, even if I had learned some shocking things, I knew that what I'd seen couldn't be all of what was out there.

The man—he wasn't a soul, I somehow knew—was like a living shadow that stood as I did, his body made of complete and utter blackness. Except...not. I looked closer, and saw the galaxy. Stars rolled of and on his flesh, and I swore I saw a planet or two on there, in the vague distance. His eyes were living twin suns, that must have been reflecting the hottest suns in existence—they were completely blue molten flames. I knew his body only mirrored what he was—as I knew, somehow, for some reason, that he was the galaxy, the Universe, the Void—since I felt no heat radiate off of him save for a just above-average human body temperature. The man gave me a warm grin—mouth and teeth a dulled shade of black, and tongue a dark gray.

"You are Chaos." I said, rather bluntly. Don't ask me how I knew. I didn't understand it myself. But, really, who else could he be? "The beginning. Creator of the Universe."

Chaos nodded, still giving me that warm smile that reminded me so unnervingly of my mother. "Right you are, Percy Jackson."

I shifted uncomfortably, both from the caring smile and his words. I didn't like the familiarity of my mother in this being, and I didn't want to be this Percy Jackson anymore.

Chaos's smile grew sad, and his hand tightened on his shoulder. "I understand why you want this, child, but I came here to make a deal with you."

I tilted my head. "A deal?"

He nodded again. "Yes, a deal." He led me a ways away from the ledge, but I promised myself I'd be standing there again soon. Chaos sent me a knowing look. We sat down on the black, cold gravel. He turned to me again. "I've watched you live your life, Child. I've seen all the hardships you've gone through. I've watched you heal, only to be broken again, and I want to take you in."

I blinked. "Take me...in?"

Chaos gave me the same, small, gentle smile that my mother had always given me when she told me to eat all of my dinner. The one that said "I care very much for you." "I don't want you to hurt anymore, but I can't make any promises."

I sent a longing glance toward the River Lethe, and Chaos turned his head and looked too. He looked back at me and nodded knowingly. "Yes. You don't have to be this Percy Jackson anymore, if you don't wish to. If you agree to come with me, so that I can make you strong after you become someone else, you can go into that river and forget, you can come out, back to me as someone else, and Percy Jackson will... be gone, but not anywhere, isn't that how you put it? Yes, he will be gone, just like his mother. Isn't that what you want?" I nodded. "Then, after I get you—or, you'll be someone else, so; after I get them, we can leave here, Hades will be none the wiser." I looked toward Hades's palace, which was off in the distance.

"So..." He peered at me, then spread out his hands. "What about it?"

I sat back, quiet for a long time. This was a pretty great deal, actually. If I did this, I could ensure that my new life would have something. I could make certain that the person that I would be, the person that would come after Percy Jackson was erased from existence, had at least a place to got, if not a life to live. I looked at Chaos again, who was observing me silently. I sent him a barely noticeable nod. "Yes."

He beamed at me, flashing, somehow, those obsidian-like teeth. "This is great news!" He exclaimed, then sent me a look. "Who will you be when you come back?" He wondered. "do you have a preferred name, or shall I come up with one?"

If I named who I'd become, then something left of Percy Jackson would still be with me, forever, into my new life. I shook my head, and the Creator nodded understandingly. "Alright then." He nodded toward the river. "Off you go. Goodbye forever, Perseus Jackson."

I was back on the ledge now. This time, when I leaned forward, my feet did leave the ledge, and I was plunged into ice-cold waters. That, the utterly freezing depths of the River of Forgetfulness, was the last thing I, Percy Jackson, ever knew.

…

Chaos stood up from the cold, black gravel that covered the entirety of the Underworlds ground. He looked toward the River where that young soul had disappeared not three minutes before. Lifting a hand, he poured some of his own power into the river, just for a minutes, and then dropped the appendage, waiting. Soon, instead of the blank slate that usual emerged from the River Lethe after a soul bathes in it, the soul of a young boy with obsidian hair, as dark as his Void, and two eyes as blue as the crystal depths of the cleanest sea stumbled out and looked around, confused. This was part of his deal with that soul he'd talked to not minutes before. Usually, when I soul emerged from the River Lethe, as he and Lord Hades both knew, that soul would then transform into a small, marble-sized star-like object, fly through the roof of the Underworld, then go somewhere into the world above and implant itself into the womb of a expecting human mother. Chaos couldn't let that happen, since he'd been made a deal.

The young soul looked around, a rather adorable pout on it's lips. Chaos strode over to to and placed a hand on it's shoulder. "Hello." He said, and the soul jumped. Blue eyes looked up at him, surprised. "Wh-who are you?" The child asked him, curious, but not frightened.

Chaos smiled. "I am Chaos. The creator of the Universe." He looked down at the soul, then sent a charge of some of his own power into it. The soul jumped back a bit, surprised at the slight shock and Chaos smiled as it, the child, became as solid as himself. This child would need no body. And now, he'd be immortal—almost as he himself was, but not quite so. He'd explain it to the small boy—who only looked to be about four, later on, after he took him to his home as he'd promised.

"...And me?" The child tilted his head, a small frown on his features. Chaos smiled warmly at him, a small gentle smile that a parent would give their child. "You—you are my son," It was true in a way. After all this child had no mother, he had not been born from a womb, and Chaos's own powers had made him solid, existing. "My son, Zavier Cailan Nadir."

end of prologue

Yes. This is a Chaos story. I just wanted to see what if would be like if I wrote one. Just testing to waters for now. I feel terrible for making a new story instead of updating my existing ones, but you writers know how it is. Maybe. My imagination just will not leave me be, and my fingers kinda-sorta-maybe typed this thing up on their own.

Anyway.. Jyup. That's all. I've got nothing else to say, really.