Being Chaos

Chapter One

Luke Castellan's Point of View:

Chaos had sent Zoë and I an urgent memo to recruit a demigod that has been getting tortured for awhile. She had informed us that the torturer was dead, thanks to her, but she needed us to get the boy. The orders were to bring the demigod back, no matter what condition he was in. Zoë visibly relaxed at the mention it was a guy, she hated when women were tortured, I hated when anyone was tortured, it was inhumane. We teleported to the near coordinates that Chaos had sent us.

"Zoë? Is this Central Park?" I asked while looking around at the familiar location in New York.

"I believe it is. Where is the boy?" she replied, saying boy with little harshness in her voice. She now would look at boys with a bit of respect, unless they proved themselves to not be respected. It had taken her a little while, but she now would not judge a boy right when she met them.

I looked around, noticing our location was right next to a wooded area, "Let's look in there."

She nodded and followed me into the darkness of the forest.

"Do you hear that?" Zoë suddenly asks.

I stop and strain my ears until I hear it. A strangled breath. "Yeah, let's go!"

I took off into a sprint into the direction of the sound, with Zoë on my heals. After a moment, we arrived at a small clearing. It was dark from the trees protective cover, but I could make out a body hanging off a pole. "I'll grab him, you get to Chaos with medical supplies." I ordered her.

She huffed but flashed away, still not very acceptable for taking orders from me. I grabbed the boy's cold hand and flashed out.

I arrived into the brightness of the infirmary, the boy's limp body next to me. I quickly put him on the cot in front of me and gasped loudly. Zoë's attention snapped up from her supplies and she glanced over. Her eyes quickly glazed over with tears, her hand flying to her mouth.

"CHAOS!" I screamed out in desperation, my usually strong voice cracking at the end.

A young woman with long black hair flashed in, looking worried, her eyes flashed to a icy blue as she ran to the cot. Chaos quickly pushed two fingers gently on the boy's bruised, bleeding neck before giving a small sigh in relief.

"He's still alive," she says, before channeling her power through her hands and into his chest. "Bring him water Zoë!"

Zoë snapped out of her thoughts and quickly pours a jug of water on his neck. The skin starts to heal, but the wound is too deep to close completely. Chaos's energy helped heal the rest of the wounds, series of burn marks, whip lashes, broken bones, and jagged knife cuts, but harsh scars remained in their places.

"Is he okay?" I finally whisper after my moments of shock.

Chaos takes a deep breath, "He is alive, and now breathing evenly. I need to give him my attention elsewhere" and she flashes away with the body. My brain barely processed what she said, but it was clear: he would live. There was no way he would die if Chaos was taking care of him.

Although she flashed him away, the image of the broken body in front of me was still in my branded into my head and it would probably stay there forever. I've seen a lot of injuries and torture victims, but none as bad as this. No shoes on his scarred feet so the missing toes were visible, the skin on his shins and calfs was just bruised, but his thighs had multiple stab wounds, along with some burns that looked like brands.The shorts that he was wearing were in very bad shape, the original khaki color barely visible through the blood stains. The teenage boy's chest was in ribbons, whip marks on his back, shirt long gone. His arms were stained with blood, some fresh and some that looked months old. The boy's left arm looked as though it would fall off and the bone sticking up at an odd angle signaled that it was broken, maybe shattered. His vulnerable neck had bruises all the way around, along with the deep knife cut that looked fresh. The knife cut on his neck appeared to not have been "finished" but still ran the whole length of his neck. Face was swollen into a state of almost no recognition, but I would know that face anywhere. He looked a bit older, but it was him.

It was Percy Jackson.