Disclaimer: No, I don't own PJO.

Nine-year-old Connor Stoll tore down the sidewalk, dodging and weaving past confused pedestrians. He had been running for a while, trying to escape...whatever it was. Connor stopped in a random doorway to get a better grip on his slightly dented baseball bat and readjust the weight on his back. Said weight shifted and groaned. "Ow. My leg kills. What happened?"

"We got attacked by a business lady with flaming hair. Bro, I'm just as confused as you are." Connor replied.

Travis grinned. "Well, I think we lost whatever that was. Did you manage to steal any bandages?"

"I can't exactly steal something while carrying five hundred pounds on my back!" grumbled Connor. He set off again, this time at a walking pace. Somehow, he knew exactly where to go, despite never having been here (wherever "here" was) before. Now that he thought about it, he had run four or five miles while carrying Travis, and only started tiring within the last minute or two. That wasn't normal, was it?

His brother's voice brought him back to reality. "...that map says Trenton. Well, two states down, one to go!" Connor groaned. Their mother had kicked them out of their Maryland home a month ago, and told them to go to Long Island. They had stowed away on buses and trains, with only a baseball bat and the clothes on their backs. Since then, Travis had stolen a paintball gun, which turned out to be a life-saving investment. Every so often, something would try to attack them. First, a flock of pigeons. Then, a group of Canadians. Just an hour ago, demonic business lady slashed Travis' leg pretty badly.

What was so important about Long Island, anyway? It was probably a trap, considering how they were thrown out into the streets. The only reason they took their dear mother's advice was it gave them a purpose. It gave them somewhere to go. Otherwise, they'd be wandering around somewhere in Baltimore. Maybe they could find somewhere on Long Island to live, permanently. The only permanent thing they had was each other.

Travis saw how tired his brother was and took over the navigation. Normally, they would stop for a quick stolen meal from McDonald's or somewhere, but he knew Connor needed to rest. They usually spent the night in warehouses or on whatever form of transportation they had snuck onto.

Connor took off running again so suddenly that Travis almost fell off. "Bro. Bro! Where are you-?" Of course, the injured ten-year-old didn't get a response. Oh, well. Maybe Connor had located a homeless shelter or something. Hopefully they weren't trying to outrun another...thing. Not a minute later, he stopped in front of a small pharmacy closed for Labor Day and held his hand out. Travis grinned, handing him a bobby pin and a girl's hair clip.

Ten minutes later, their backpack was filled with medications they had never seen but somehow knew how to use. It was the same as their navigation. Neither brother knew how they acquired the skills, but they proved to be extremely useful. Travis tested his newly bandaged leg while Connor explored the back room. The nine-year-old soon returned with a box of pizza and two bottles of water.

After dinner, the brothers lay down and prepared to sleep on the tile floor. Travis made a mental note to borrow blankets sometime in the near future. Still, the shop was a five star hotel to them. Connor rolled over to face him and held up a water bottle. "Cheers to another day of survival."