Renegade

Griffin's POV

I hate my life, I hate this world, and most of all, I hate my parents. Gods, I hate a lot of things, but all for a reason. First off, my life could not have been more uneventful if I tried. My parents sent me Camp Half-Blood as soon as possible, which sounds awesome, right? Wrong. After spending almost ten years at the Camp, do I get handed a single quest? No. And when I do get a chance, it’s either my overprotective mother or my superhero dad who comes and saves me from going on a quest. Secondly, while we’re on the topic, my parents can be so annoying sometimes. I realize that their intentions may be pure, but they’re like those really weird parents at the soccer games who talk about giving their kids mouth-guards and extra padding so they don’t hurt themselves. (Here’s a tip for any new parents: Kids are going to hurt themselves, it’s inevitable. Best you accept that as soon as possible.)

Anyways, like I was saying, I hate my parents. No, rather, I hate the fact that technically, I’m a demigod, but it’s all screwed up. I’m the son of two demigods, and by some weird version of genetic and immortal math, they each gave me a quarter of their immortal blood, therefore making me a demigod. Only problem is, I only can control their immortal powers to a very small degree. I would be perfectly fine with that, except for the fact that a Maeonian drakon can’t be killed with a tiny waterspout or one-quarter Athena knowledge. And, if didn’t just figure out who my parents are based on that last sentence, my father is a relatively well-known guy by the name of Percy Jackson, and my mother is the Olympian architect-in-residence, Annabeth Chase. After all of the adventures they went through, you’d think I’d lead the life of a paprazzi’d child, right? Wrong again. And, when I get one chance to leave Camp on something that isn’t a quest, they immediately object to it. It’s like I’m their terminally ill pet; a creature to be carefully protected and never let out of the space where it can be protected.

It all started with my uncle, actually. Well, not uncle in the sense that he is my mother or father’s brother, but in the sense that he is just one of those proverbial ‘uncles’. My ‘uncle’ introduced me to my opportunity when I turned 15, almost exactly one year ago. He told me everything. He wanted me to work for a secret organization called “I Próti Frourá” aka The First Guard, an Organization sworn to protect Olympus at all cost, preventing the rise of certain beings like Gaea and Kronos. My Uncle was a high-ranking officer in The First Guard at the time. The Organization, as it was also known, accomplished this task by killing as many of the monsters that supported the bad guys as possible, and making sure they stayed in Tartarus. I hadn’t even questioned it, I had just fallen in love. I knew I was meant to work for TFG (another nickname for the Organization) and I knew my Uncle would get me in to TFG. Apparently, so did my parents, because they immediately started talking to my Uncle in hushed tones all the time. Despite that, a week after my fifteenth birthday my Uncle starting training me to be a new TFG recruit, explaining how we did all kinds of jobs across the globe to support the cause, whether that be taking out a hit on a suspected monster in South America, or delivering a package with vital information across Europe. I loved it. I got to be a travelling assassin/messenger for the gods and I got paid to do it.

Obviously, if I loved it, how could my parents? They came down on my Uncle harder than the world came down on Atlas, screaming at him that it was unsafe, that I’d get myself killed. But, my Uncle kept a cool head, and that is the only reason I wasn’t grounded at Camp Half-Blood for the foreseeable end of eternity. My Uncle kept training me, and, two weeks before my sixteenth birthday, he bought me the next ticket to Tangier, Morocco via plane. I would meet with a partner who would work with me for as long as needed in Gibraltar, Spain, and then we would keep going on a boat to Rome via the Mare Nostrum. We were to pick up our first package in the Parthenon in Rome. It was all going smoothly until my Uncle and my dad Percy came storming out of the Big House the day before I was scheduled to leave, each at each other’s throats and screaming at one another. My dad grounded me, and I was not to leave Camp until he saw fit. My dreams were over. Then, my Uncle gave me this look like,

You want your dreams, kid? Well, go get them!

So I did. The plane was scheduled to leave La Guardia airport at 6:30 in the morning, which was perfect for my plan. My Uncle had scheduled a training session for me the night before, and we decided to never return from the archery range. So, after finishing up shooting arrows to our heart’s content, we packed up silently and left for the airport. Just before we went through the metal detectors, in the middle of the security line, my Uncle said,

“Hey kid, take these.” He had a proud yet mischievous smile on his face as he produced two black pistols, and two matching black tubes that looked like silencers, placing them on the steel security table.

“Uncle, what in Hades!? How can you just give me two freaking pistols in the middle of—”

He whipped his hand over the pistols on the metal inspection table and they turned into, no joke, a fanny pack. He handed me the pack like it was nothing, and, despite my protests, we made it through security without a hitch.

“Ah, I love mortals,” He sighed with affection, “so easy to fool.”

“No kidding,” I whistled in awe, “you just snuck two killing machines through security without any weird looks. Speaking of which, I don’t know how to shoot or aim a pistol, much less reload one, or find ammo for it.”

“Well,” my Uncle explained, “it’s just like archery for the aiming bit. And, these pistols are magic, meaning they shoot Celestial bronze, which’ll kill any monster you come across, and they don’t need reloading or ammo. They’re perfect for a beginner like you.”

I looked at him in mock offense, but he looked at me like,

You’re going to argue with me whether you’re a beginner or not? Really?

So, I got onto the plane, my Uncle not being allowed past that point. Sitting in my seat, I realized what I was doing, and how this wouldbe completely new for me. I would be in a new continent, with a new partner, working for a new organization, after having run away from my only home because of my, in all truthfulness, loving parents. Then, I realized that I was being too soft, and became angry at my parents again.

So, I landed in Tangier eight hours later, and took the ferry to Gibraltar. TFG had told me my partner would be waiting at the café by the docks, and they described him as having brown hair and blue eyes.

My new life started when the boat landed in Gibraltar. My name is Griffin Jackson, and this is my story.

Notes

Here GOES NOTHING!!!