Down in Flames [OC Demigod Fic]

Chapter Five: "The Rock"

I shriek and press the button on my handlebar frantically, to no avail. My bicycle does a couple of front flips, making me disoriented as the city below grows closer.

At the last possible second before my imminent doom, the bike magically uprights itself and stops in midair, hovering over a flat rooftop. Once my head stops spinning, I cautiously dismount and take a few wobbly steps away from the bike that almost killed me. That's when I discover I'm not alone on this roof.

"Sorry about the inconvenient landing," a gruff voice says.

I turn around and see Dwayne Johnson in a oil-stained, faded blue mechanic's uniform.

"The Rock?"

He shakes his head and snaps a finger, his appearance changing to a grotesque, yet extremely buff old man.

"Oh, dad," I reply blankly. I've only met my father once before, a week after he'd claimed me. It was a short, awkward talk, but we both managed to peacefully get through it.

Thankfully, he changes back to Dwayne, crossing his arms, still staring me down. I suppose I should treat my father with a little more respect, him being an Olympian god and all. "...The Rock suits you."

"Thanks, but let's not talk about me and my identity stealing habits. How are you, Sabine?" Hephaestus asks politely, his face unreadable. Realizing he knows about my little situation back at camp and probably isn't too happy about it, I beat around the bush.

"I'm doing well! How's it going up in Olympus?" I say conversationally, plastering a wide smile on my face.

"Lots of tension, as usual."

"I can imagine." After a brief pause, I say in a peppy voice, "It's been nice talking to you, but I've really got to get going," I walk back over to my bike and place my hands on the handlebars. "Tell the wife I said hello—"

"Sabine," his authoritative voice rings out across the roof. I freeze in my tracks, not sure if it's by instinct or command. "You'll be welcome at Camp Jupiter."

I look back at my father, awestruck, yet unsure. I'd never felt welcome anywhere; not at any boarding school I'd been kicked out of, not with my mother on the few holidays we spent together, and not even at the supposedly safe haven of Camp Half-Blood. Though Camp Jupiter is another place for demigods, I still know in my heart I'll never belong— I am a Greek, after all.

"How do you know?"

"You have Roman blood in you; a legacy of both Venus and Janus would not be easily rejected."

"A legacy..." I trail off. I've heard about the Roman camp allowing legacies of demigods being accepted into the legion; is it possible I have both Greek and Roman blood coursing through my veins?

"Your mother never wanted you to find out," Hephaestus said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "But it's important for you to know your roots," he walks over to the ledge of the roof and I step in line with him, looking out at the quaint city below. In the twilight, stars are visible from every corner of the clear night sky.

"Your grandparents were Roman demigods, a son of Janus and a daughter of Venus. They went to Camp Jupiter as teenagers and moved to New Rome as adults, soon after getting married and starting a life together. Their daughter, Amalie, grew up there, but decided she wanted nothing to do with the sanctuary of New Rome or her lineage.

"She ran off, to Las Angeles, Vegas, Hollywood, anywhere she could find the fame she so desperately wanted. Yet, she ended up right back in the middle of the mess; I knew nothing of her past when we met. Only after you were born, I told your mother who I was—she was outraged." He stares off, perhaps reminiscing the painful past he had described. Though it must have been difficult for him to tell, having my history explained to me finally gives some validity to my thought-to-be failure of a life.

He turns to me, a knowing smile on his face. "It looks like fate has run its course," he says. "One daughter of Rome fled, and another returns."

My eyebrows knit together and I frown, confused and troubled. "I'm running too, just like my mom did."

"You have a destination. That's the difference, dear Sabine." His unwavering voice tells me he truly believes my journey is worth it.

"Thank you," I respond after taking a moment for it all to sink in. "I've been a little salty at you— for not being there for 16 years of my life and all— but I really appreciate you coming to see me in person."

My father simply nods once to show his gratitude. I'm ninety percent sure this the longest conversation he's had with anyone; he's not exactly a social person, after all.

"So now what?" I ask. "Will you take me to Camp Jupiter?"

"Oh no," he cracks a grin. "This is your decision, so you must find your way there yourself."

I give him the Seriously? face and he pinches his lips together, nodding in affirmation.

"However, here's a little something that could help you," he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a Swiss Army knife, holding it out to me. "I've modified it to have both its regular tools a and weapon mode, so it's not only practical, but useful in case of any attacks."

I gladly take the tool, and he gives me both American money and drachmas along with it. I stash the cash and knife in my bag. Shifting the weight of the backpack, I head back over to my bike.

Remembering the topic we hadn't brought up yet, I ask him, "Are you mad? About the fire today... And the one from Capture the Flag. They were pretty horrible, I know."

Hephaestus shrugs. "I've seen much more catastrophic fires. They'll get over it soon enough," he says, surprisingly calm. Then, in a foreboding manner, he says softly, "There are worse problems going on right now."

Pretending not to hear the last part, I mount my bike again and wave goodbye. He waves also and slowly walks off, then disappears. All the gadgets are working once again, so I quickly depart, taking my first step— or should I say, pedal— on the long road to New Rome.