Ok, so this is my first story! Wow, I'm nervous. Ok, so I'm not sure how good it is but bare with me, I have it planned out and think it will be pretty good. Also, I'm fourteen and somewhat lacking in self-confidence so please refrain from criticising my story if you can help it, I did my best.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Heroes of Olympus or any of the characters, that happy job lies with the genius Rick Riordan.

8 years earlier...

Jason's POV

I bounced up and down with excitement. Today was my birthday and nothing in the world could dent my little bubble of happiness. I paced up and down in front of my mom's room, waiting for her to get her coat and wallet. She had promised to take me out for ice cream and then go to a toy shop as a birthday treat and now she was being infuriatingly slow.

"Mom, come OOOOOONNNNN!" i whined, screwing up my face like i was constipated. My mom laughed her special laugh as she put on her coat and zipped up her purse. Finally! I danced on the spot in front of the door as she took an impossible amount of time to put the key in the lock and turn it until i heard the clicking noise that i was sure marked the beginning of all my hopes and dreams.

We walked down the sidewalk not nearly as fast as i would have wanted and every time i told my mom to get a move on she just chuckled and said: "I don't see what the rush is." but i didn't mind so much and we played eye spy as we walked and i let mom hold my hand even though i was a big boy now, and too old for stuff like that, because it made her happy.

We walked and talked and laughed and played eye spy and i was craning my neck to try and catch a glimpse of the neon sign that distinguished the ice cream place, when i noticed a group of kids lounging against the wall on the other side of the street from us, 5 guys and 3 girls. They all looked different ages and they were all wearing matching purple t-shirts. The youngest looked only maybe 3 or 4 years older than me, and the oldest looked about 17, no kidding! I was still looking at them when a car came screeching around the corner and an incredibly loud bang sounded. I froze up and watched as though in a dream, the kids across the street draw guns from under t-shirts, from waistbands, and even from under one guy's hat.

"Jason run!" mom yelled as she pulled me across the street just as bullets started whizzing over our heads as the car roared past and for just a few seconds we were caught in a cross fire. I felt something fly past my ear, making my hair blow as if from a sudden breeze and a millisecond later i heard mom scream. She collapsed beside me and let go of my hand.

"Mom get up! We can't stay here!" i yelled over the noise but she must not have heard me because she didn't move. "Mom?" it came out as more of a question this time. It wasn't until all the bullets had been shot and the car was out of sight and all the noise of gunfire had died away that i made the connection between my mom's silence and the pool of red stuff pouring from her stomach, staining the knees of my pants as it made a puddle in the middle of the road. And then everything ceased to exist. I was vaguely aware of one of the girls in purple kneeling down beside me and putting an arm around my shoulders. I didn't hear much of what she said, just that she was really sorry and she told me her name; Gwen, and she asked me if i wanted to come with her and get cleaned up and i think i nodded, because she started pulling me away, away from my mom.

"NO!" i screamed and held onto my mom's coat for dear life.

"There's nothing you can do for her now." she said it really gentle and sad, like she'd said it a thousand times. I looked back at my mom and knew that she was right. I leant down and gave mom a kiss on the cheek. She loved it when I did that. And i stripped off my jacket and placed it under her head like a pillow, so that she would be comfortable when she got to heaven. Then, i let myself be led away.

I looked back at my mom, lying there with the blood seeping out of her and onto the road, and i felt a scream rise in my throat. I wanted to run, and keep running and shout and keep shouting, and fight and never stop fighting. But i clamped my mouth shut and kept silent. I still have that scream inside me.

Piper's POV

I attempted to control the flood of tears still pouring down my face. I sat behind a dumpster in the alley behind the Chinese restaurant on 22nd street. Scenes from the last few hours flashed through my head like a film on fast forward. I thought about how they had come for us, for him. I thought about how my dad had looked when they held him down and threatened to kill all three of us. I tried very very hard not to think about what had happened next; how my dad had looked when the trigger had been squeezed, when the final shot had been fired, the shot that marked the end, the shot that both created a corpse, and a murderer in a single blow. I tried not to think about my mom's face as they led her away from me. Led her to i don't know where. Never to see me. Or hold me. Or tell me she loved me again.

"Daddy," i sobbed. I leaned over on my hands and knees and threw up what little food remained in my stomach, then i just lost sense in everything. I cried for hours before slipping into a fretful sleep, where men with bodies twisted and warped into grotesque positions chased me. The men all had the face of my father, and they all reprimanded me for daring to survive while hey had been so callously murdered. I begged with them to leave me be but they never seemed to hear, and then my mother would appear at the end of a long tunnel, and I would shout to her for help, but she would just look at me sadly, before walking away from me through the tunnel. I tried to run after her, but no matter how fast I ran the tunnel only seemed to get longer, but I ran anyway, and the dream continued.

"Hey! Hey are you ok?" i opened my eyes. By the looks of it i was in the early hours of the morning. A little girl, not much older than i was, was leaning over me with a concerned expression. She had blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, and large grey eyes that looked both intelligent, and intimidating. She wore jeans, and an army jacket at least 5 sizes too big for her over an orange t-shirt.

I scrambled to my feet and put my fists up. I knew i would be able to hold my own in a fight, but the girl was taller than me, and looked at least a year older, maybe even 9 or 10.

"Who are you?" i asked in my best tough voice. The girl tilted her head to the side as if confused. "I'm not afraid of you." i told her. She looked surprised.

"I don't want you to be afraid of me." she said it quiet and calm, i relaxed for a second then tensed up again, not wanting to let my guard down. "My name is Annabeth," said the girl. "And i'm not going to hurt you, i want to help you." i knew i should run but something about her made me trust this girl. I nodded slowly and lowered my fists.

"I'm Piper." i said sticking out a hand. It was so grubby that at first i didn't think she'd take it, but she did and we shook. I sat back down and she sat down next to me. I was impressed that she didn't flinch at how dirty the ground was.

"So, what's wrong and why were you sleeping behind a dumpster." i debated for a second whether to lie, make up some story, but i decided against it. I told her about what had happened, getting only slightly choked up when i talked about mom and dad. Annabeth didn't speak until i had finished. She reached over and put her hand on my shoulder, like she was reassuring me that she was still there.

"They really took your mom?" was the first thing she said. I looked at her, her brow was furrowed and her jaw was clenched like she was trying to contain her anger. I nodded, sniffling and wiping my nose with my sleeve. I must've looked pathetic. Annabeth shook her head like she was disgusted. "Don't worry, I'll help you. We'll find her." the way she said it made me almost believe her.

Then her brow furrowed again, not angry, more concentrated, like she was thinking very hard. "What color were their shirts?" she asked in such an intense voice I was almost startled.

"Who's shirts?"

"The guys who killed your dad, what color shirts were they wearing." that didn't take long to remember, the image of my father's killers had been permanently imprinted on my brain.

"Purple. Their shirts were purple. All of them." Annabeth's eyes widened and she shot to her feet like she'd been electrocuted. She pulled me up too and started dragging me along the alleyway by my hand.

"What's wrong?" i asked, getting more confused by the second.

"Piper, you're not safe, we have to go NOW!"

Today...

Jason's POV

It's funny how things turn out. Maybe if my mom hadn't been killed, i wouldn't've met Gwen, or Reyna or the others. I wouldn't've been introduced to the underground war for New York. It took me a while to understand the whole thing but even at the age of 7 i got the gist of it; years ago two gangs formed, both from Manhattan, both eager to take control and wipe out the other. I was filled in on the smaller details as i moved up the ranks.

We called ourselves the Romans, in honor of the greatest civilization ever built. The other gang named themselves the Greeks which we were sure was just to gaul us and take the sting out of our name. We were trained to hate Greeks, that was all the training we needed; hate the greeks, love your comrades. Years ago i stopped asking why, no one had an answer anyway. My curiosity vanished along with my soul.

I first killed a man when i was 9. It was more of a test than an actual take out, it was just to see how far i would go. The man i killed was a Greek who we knew to be a spy. I shot him in the chest with the gun my legionary leant to me. I cried for days after, mourning the loss of my childhood and my innocence, for at the time, those things still mattered to me.

The second time i killed was when i was 13. A group of Greeks had passed into our territory and we had cornered them down an alley. One, the youngest, got away. The second surrendered, but the third opened fire, hitting Dakota in the leg and i took him out. I learned from the ID card in his wallet that his name was Castor. I waited for days to feel something, but never did. Proof, if i needed any, that the Jason who liked to eat ice cream with his mom, and cried like a baby the day his daddy left, didn't exist anymore.

I started out as a simple soldier, actually not even that, i think i would've been booted out as soon as i joined up if Gwen hadn't told them that i showed potential. And boy was she right. I started out as a soldier, then moved my way up until i was legionary to the fifth cohort. Legionary at 15, i was proud of that.

The fifth cohort was the least desirable, so i had my work cut out for me. I trained my soldiers until we were like a well-oiled machine. I made friends with the others in my cohort. There's Reyna, my second in command. She was transferred in from another cohort a couple of years ago, immediately we got on like a house on fire. She's my age.

Dakota's two years older than me, and the joker of the pack. He joined when he was 10, and is the best driver in any cohort in the whole Legion.

Frank is quiet at first, but when he trusts you, you'll never meet a nicer guy. He's my age, and the best marksman I, or anyone else has ever met, though he's very modest about it.

Hazel is only 13 and hasn't got her stripes yet, we all feel protective of her. She looks so small and delicate, but she's certainly no coward. She was my call: I found her wandering around the streets of downtown Manhattan, trying to shake off the gang of kids tailing her, teasing her and saying horrible things about her mum, who died of alcohol poisoning, leaving Hazel homeless. I offered her money, which she refused. I offered her a place to stay, which she accepted provided it included a place for her friend as well. That is how both Hazel and Frank joined my cohort. I decided to take her under my wing, as she's the youngest and i was worried she'd be picked on if left alone.

Gwen is 22 and i think is getting tired of the whole thing, i sometimes worry that she will try to make a run for it some time soon, and no one quits the legion. Not unless you want a bullet through your head.

I am one of the most promising legionaries in the whole of the 1st Legion. I have trained myself to feel nothing. To take myself away whenever they order me to do something distasteful. Ad eventually, I took myself away permanently. I'm known as the crazy one; the first one into danger, and the last one out. I've even heard people in my cohort debate in whispers whether i'm actually suicidal. That made me laugh, but i also felt sad. It also made me wonder for a while if they were actually right, but i ended up deciding that they weren't. People tell me I'm brave, but sometimes I'm not so sure. Maybe I'm just stupid. Or numb.

'Jason.. Jason!' a familiar voice breaks through my reverie. I turn my head and see Gwen standing next to my bed, looking both annoyed and amused. 'Earth to Jason. I've been calling for you the past five minutes! At first I thought you were still asleep.'

I sit up and face the doorway, scowling at Gwen. 'I was thinking! I've got a lot on my mind.' I say defensively.

'Right.' she says, stifling a laugh. 'Get up, word just came from way up, we've gotta get going-' she takes in my appearance and sighs in exasperation. 'For God sake you're not even dressed yet! Get up and meet us in the living room.' she leaves the room, slamming the door behind her as she goes.

Grumbling, I pull on a black t-shirt and change from pajama pants to a pair of old jeans, with holes not only at the knees, but all the way up and down like a piece of swiss cheese. We're a little short on cash at the moment and new clothes aren't exactly a first priority.

I go through the crumby two bedroom apartment and stop in the living room where the rest of my cohort are splayed out over the tiny couch and two moth-eaten old recliners. I grudgingly move to the hard-backed rocking chair by the window. If there were any pillows on the back or on the seat it wouldn't be so bad. I stare resentfully at my friends taking up every inch of everything comfortable.

Hazel catches my eye and sticks her tongue out at me. She and Reyna are both squashed in the same arm chair, but they look happy. I return the favor, waggling my tongue in her direction like a five year old. Gwen is holding a brown-ish piece of paper. She passes it round and gives us all a chance to read it. Here is what it says:

23 absconditus est Graecis hominibus

in viam occidentalem .

Ibi 12:30.

NOLI TARDARE!

And in English:

Greeks hiding out on west 23rd street.

Be there 12:30.

DON'T BE LATE!

All the letters we've ever received have been written in Latin, which if you think about it is a good idea, because if the letter falls into the wrong hands, most people won't be able to read it, since it's a dead language.

'Well?' Dakota asks when the letter has made a full circle and is once again clutched in Gwen's hand. 'What time is it?'

'11:54.' Gwen replies, looking at her watch. 'They want us to be there at exactly 12:30, so I'm guessing we're meeting up with another cohort or attack force once we're there.' we all nod.

'So what are we waiting for?' Hazel speaks into the silence. 'Let's get going.'

Piper's POV

It's funny how things turn out. One minute I was just this scared little girl wandering the streets of Manhattan alone. The next I was Thee Piper Mclean, one of the finest soldiers in the Greek army. It took me quite a while to earn that title, mostly due to the fact that I was only 7 years old when I joined. But as the years went on, I started to be noticed by people in high positions. They told me I had talent, though I wasn't sure for what exactly.

We are the Greeks, the most mighty people and civilization ever built. I've been here for nearly nine years. I've learned to take care of myself. I've made friends. I've learned to block out the bad thoughts as they threaten to overwhelm me. I barely even think about my father anymore. But if I'm honest with myself, when no one's around, I've never stopped searching for my mom. Whenever we receive orders that take us into Roman territory, I always secretly hope I'll find her. I just need to see her one more time. That is the thought that has kept me going all of these years. Every night I see her face, the tortured, terrified expression as they dragged her away from me. All I need is to see her one more time, so I can stop seeing that last night over and over in my head like a nightmare that won't go away.

'Pipes? Earth to Pipes!' a voice calls from close by, breaking through my reverie. My head snaps to the side to see Percy standing in the doorway, grinning at me. 'It's time to go! The others are waiting in the hallway. Get your stuff together.' I bound up from the bed I was resting on and give him a wide smile. Percy has been here for nearly as long as I have, and from the moment I saw him I knew we were going to be friends.

'Sorry,' I rock back and forth on the balls of my feet as I apologize. 'I'll be down in a minute.' he nods and exits with a smile and a salute. I grin as I stuff everything important into my red and black backpack. I don't take much; the book I'm reading, a jumper in case it gets cold, and of course my 1996 G14 pistol (A/N, I don't know if this is a real thing. It probably isn't), the same one I've had for 9 years now. I hold the gun gingerly, like it's a bomb just waiting to go off. No matter how often I hold a gun, no matter how often I fire it I still can't get used to the feeling of so much power in the palm of my hand. I also pack my old knife, katoptris, a gift from Annabeth on my 11th birthday.

Our mission today is simple; go to the docks and collect a large order of guns and other weapons being shipped over this afternoon. After that, we will put them in the Delphi Strawberry Services van (our code name) and Pollux will deliver them to the main headquarters, the "Big house".

Over my years here I have had numerous encounters with those murderers the Romans. I've lost many people I've loved to their cruelty. A few years ago Pollux's brother Castor was gunned down in an alley. That was the same night they took Malcolm, Annabeth's brother, as a prisoner. Percy was the only one who managed to escape. To our relief, two weeks later Malcolm showed up after escaping from the warehouse they were keeping him in. Malcolm never told us what they did to him while he was there, but he has never been the same since. And frankly, we're all fine not knowing.

I sprint down the stairs of our luxury apartment and skid to a halt at the front door. The apartment was my idea. I did feel bad about doing it, but our only alternative would've been sleeping either is some grotty motel, or the park. I managed to charm the landlord into giving us the apartment for barely a quarter of the usual price, rent-free! I endured nearly constant teasing about it for three weeks after the event, but it has since proved to be worth it.

'About time beauty queen!' sighs Leo exasperatedly. I hit him over the head (open hand, relax). He looks around as if looking for backup in the faces of our friends, but finds none.

'Let's go, we can't be late.' says Annabeth, unsmiling, from her position holding the door half open, waiting for me and Leo to stop bickering. We follow her out of the apartment and down the stairs (there are too many of us to fit in the tiny elevator). We walk out of the gloomy stair-well into the brightly lit lobby.

'Hey gorgeous.' says Leo. Winking flirtatiously at the lady behind the desk, a very nice and very pretty woman called Mellie. As we walk out through the large double-doors, a paper-weight shaped like a anvil flies through the air and smacks Leo in the back of the head. He whirls around but Mellie doesn't appear to have moved, although a small smile is playing across her lips as she examines the papers stacked neatly on her desk.

We walk through the bustling streets of Manhattan. Some people stop and look at us. We are a motley collection of teenagers; there's Leo, small, elfish, nimble, and wicked. You can take one look at Leo and know that he is someone to watch out for. He has dark curly hair and tanned-brown skin, marking his latino heritage. His big, brown eyes dart in every direction, as though looking for somewhere to run, should the situation take a turn for the worst.

Next to him is Annabeth, his complete opposite in every way; tall, blonde, athletic, intelligent and serious, Annabeth stares straight ahead as she walks, eyes fixed on her destination. If you are ever feeling lost or unsure, go to Annabeth. She always seems to have a plan. Every move she makes has a clear purpose. She saved me that day all those years ago, and there hasn't been a day since that she hasn't been there for me.

Then there is Malcolm, Annabeth's brother. A quiet guy who basically looks like a male version of Annabeth; same grey eyes, height, blonde curly hair and serious expression. His manner has changed though. Ever since he got back from his time with the Romans, he has been more nervous, twitchy, and constantly fingering the knife he keeps hidden in his pocket. They wanted to break him, and they did.

I walk next to Malcolm, with Pollux on my right. He is an exact copy of his brother Castor, which is why it still hurts me to look at him, like I'm seeing a ghost. He is short and stocky, with small, watery eyes, more often than not red from the fumes of alcohol constantly wafting around his room be it day or night. He has hair so black it is almost purple, and he keeps it in floppy curls, almost obscuring his eyes from view.

Directly behind him are the two Stoll brothers, who can be counted as one person, due to the fact that they are identical in every possible way. They are tall and lanky, with identical mops of untidy brown hair covering their foreheads. They are constantly laughing about something or other and are possibly the most immature and annoying people I have ever met. I love them to bits.

Lastly there is Percy, who walks with a confidence born from nine years of never once losing a fight, be it Greek or Roman, friend or foe (accept Annabeth of course). He is tall and slender, with jet black hair. His sea green eyes seem to dance with life and laughter, even when he is trying to be serious. He is goofy and wise at the same time.

However, you wouldn't be able to recognize any of us right now, owing to the fact that we are all wearing bandanas that obscure the lower halves of our faces (hence all the staring). The masks are just a precaution. We always wear them when carrying out orders from the leaders, so that in the unlikely event we are seen or pursued, the cops won't be able to recognize us. Call us paranoid but trust me, we would have been seriously screwed a couple of times had we not had the masks on.

Before long we arrive at our destination. I would tell you where but that's classified information, not that I don't trust you. A group of teens wearing similar bandanas are leaning against a large van with a picture of a strawberry wearing a top-hat, sunglasses, and twirling a cane as it seemed to be doing a tap dance. Across the top it reads in large red block lettering sprinkled with black seeds "Delphi Strawberry Services". Our logo.

Once they spot us, the group of kids push themselves up from their lounging positions against the smooth metal side of the van and rush to meet us. From their hair and eyes, I recognize Katie Gardner (a quiet girl with straight brown hair, going down to her waist), Charles Beckandorf (a burly African American kid with biceps that seem to be putting the sleeves of his shirt under quite a bit of strain), Silena Bauregard (a pretty girl with pink cheeks and flowing blonde hair), Michael Yew (a small, ferrety boy with light brown hair that sticks up in all directions), Chris Rodriguez (a burly hispanic guy with slightly stooped shoulders and close cropped black hair), and Clarrisse La Rue (a thick-set, muscular girl with stringy brown hair and a mean look in her eye).

I rush forward and am immediately caught up in a group hug with Annabeth, Silena and Katie. We babble nonsense in our excitement to see each other again, before I break away and have a turn hugging each person individually, even Clarrisse. We allow ourselves 10 minutes to catch up on each other's news, though admittedly, there isn't much to speak of. But before long, Beckandorf is raising his voice above all the chatter that always accompanies a reunion of old friends.

'C'mon guys! Time to head out!' his voice is slightly muffled by his red bandana, but his deep and booming voice still comes out loud and clear enough for us all to understand. I turn my head to keep chatting to Katie as we all begin making our way towards the van. Suddenly, I hear a noise. An all too familiar noise. To the untrained ear it could be misinterpreted as a car backfiring, but I have been in too many gunfights not to know that sound by now. I turn my head as if in slow motion. Everything feels as if it's underwater as I see Beckandorf fall. For a second I am mesmerized. Beckandorf has always been so strong and so steady, and now he looks almost... fragile. Like a single gust of wind could blow him away. Beckandorf looks so small, so delicate compared to what he once was, and it scares me to death. I am pulled out of my thoughts when I hear my friends shouting, more shots being fired, and Silena's screams. Romans.