¹𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗗 ― Annabeth Chase

― 001, bodies on the road

His dad laughed, "I'm sure he's helped us in ways we don't know, Lan. He stayed around more than most, from what I can tell- told me you were built up from our love. Very poetic."

"Am I a robot?" was his next question, which he had already asked Hephaestus when he'd suddenly appeared at their apartment a few days before with a map and a holographic PowerPoint presentation named 'Surprise. I'm your other dad'. The actual PowerPoint wasn't even that bad. Quinn remembered bits and pieces (including what he guessed were three slides on exactly how to build a weapon which Quinn wasn't sure if his dad approved of) like what Hephaestus was actually the god of.

(He was secretly all too glad to be reassured that by now his powers would have surfaced- so if he looked pretty normal now, then he definitely wouldn't be getting some last-minute powers).

As for the robot thing, his dad assured him he wasn't- just as Hephaestus had assured him. In fact- it had been a point within his PowerPoint.

"You'll make sure to be good, right?" His dad asked, as the rain got worse- bolting down from the sky like bullets. "I know it's going to be different, but he assured me there were going to be other kids- your half-siblings- he said they'd be there too."

"I'll be fine, dad." He promised, "Besides-" he said, slowly looking up from his sketchbook, "what's the worst that could happen-?"

Quinn's eyes locked into something.

He spoke too soon.

The worst had happened.

"Dad," he whispered, blinking before rubbing his eyes (just to make sure what he was seeing was real). His sketchbook slipped off his lap.

"Carefully," his dad said, "your sketchbook-"

"Stop the car." He whispered.

"What? Quinn- what are you talking about?"

Quinn blinked one more time before a shaking hand pointed to the pair of bodies coming closer towards them.

"That," he whispered, fear suddenly entering his body. "That's what I'm talking about."

It was a boy- two of them.

One with horns.

The other holding a horn.

Both unconscious.

His dad and Quinn managed to haul the two unconscious figures into the car, but his dad did most of the heavy lifting.

The two of them were soaked from the rain- hair damp and smelling like a mixture of dirt and the woods around them along with a distinct salty scent coming from the boy with black hair. He looked around the same age as Quinn, maybe even a bit older (perhaps a year or so). The black-haired boy looked tired, dressed in a blue hoodie and jeans that probably would've still looked ratty even without the new muds and rips on them. His hoodie had a mysterious blotch of dark red on it- and Quinn found himself hoping for the unhopeable- begging it wasn't blood.

The black-haired boy carried a large horn like it was life force, covered in bruises and cuts and scrapes with a bit of drool hanging from his mouth.

The other boy didn't look any better. Riddled with leaves in his hair along with a set of horns Quinn still was quite adamant weren't real- along with a set of hooves instead of feet (which... Quinn was still trying really hard to believe they weren't there- but that was the harder one to convince himself of). He looked sad and stupidly frightening with dark freckles accross his brown skin.

"Camp Half-Blood," Quinn read, looking at the boy with hooves as feet. His putrid orange shirt had a name that rang a bell in Quinn's mind. "Isn't that where he said we would be going?"