Better As A Team (Heroes of Olympus/Lorien Legacies Crossover Fanfic)

Chapter 1

Number Two's POV:

I died years ago, when I was only twelve years old. I was killed by a Mogadorian, a species from another planet, just like me. They're from Mogadore, I'm from Lorien. Lorien was perfect until the Mogadorians destroyed it. The nine ruling elders took nine Loric kids during the Mogadorian attack. I'm one of those children.

The ruling elders each gave us their powers, or legacies, which have to develop as we grow. They put a charm on us, and they gave us numbers. People can only hurt or kill us in number order. I'm Number Two. The charm can only be broken by at least two or more of the Garde uniting. They killed Number One in Malaysia, and me in London, England. I didn't have legacies then, and I still don't now, but I will get them soon, and I will kill every Mogadorian I see. Especially the one who killed me, and the one who tricked me. I remember their faces perfectly, and I will get my revenge whenever I can.

Right now, though, I'm back, and I'm searching for the other Garde. Until I found him, everything was awful. New ID every state I go to, which is a lot. After I met him though, everything changed. Nothing became easier. Things actually became harder. But with his help, I know I can find the Garde. Now, here's what's really going on. This is when things really get ugly.

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I'm running for dear life.

I don't know where this thing came from, but it's been chasing me for hours. I look around, but no one appears to see a giant black dog with glowing red eyes chasing a fourteen year old girl. What is going on?! No one's weirded out or scared by this?!

I look behind me, and the giant thing is still chasing me. What'd I ever do?! It doesn't look like a piken. It doesn't look like anything the Mogadorians would keep. I turn a sharp corner, which is a bad idea, and I trip on a large wooden box. I almost fall face first onto the stone hard ground, but catch myself before I do. I curse under my breath in a language I don't understand, but I let it slide.

I scramble away from the black beast, but that doesn't stop it from jumping onto me and biting my head. I feel a strong warmth. This doesn't feel like dying. And I would know, I've died before.

Instead of me dying, the beast howls in pain. I open my eyes and see the beast's head split open. Then it turns to ash, and it hits me. The Loric charm. It protected me. Wherever you are Number One, please don't die.

I realized a while ago that if I'm back, then Number One must be back as well. It's about time. Thank goodness I'm not the only one who came back from the dead.

I get up and brush the dirt and ash off of my black clothes. I'm basically wearing all black; black leather jacket, black t-shirt, black jeans, and black gym shoes. I stare at the beast's ash. I stare at it, concentrating, knowing that that will soon be my past killer. Even if it's the last thing I do. Again.

I look up and my eyes widen. A man whom I can't see wearing a long black trench coat is smirking through his hood and holding a cannon- a Mogadorian cannon. I automatically turn around and run as fast as I can, which is pretty fast, down the street and into the woods.

I know that if the Mogs capture me, all they'll have to do is wait for Number One to die, then it's me next, and I won't die until I have revenge on the two Mogs.

Then I idiotically decide to look back. And in those two stupid seconds, I crash into someone. The unknown person and I both fall with a grunt. I look up, ready to start running from a Mog again. But instead of a Mog, I see a guy with straight, wind-blown black hair. He looks at me and his eyes widen, and so do mine. He kind of looks like me.

Messy black hair (though mine is naturally red, I just dyed it to hide from the Mogs and cut it short), sea green eyes, and tan skin. The only difference is that my eyes are half blue, half black. Which is pretty cool, minus what happened to make my eyes change from green to half-blue, half-black.

He's wearing a bright orange t-shirt that says 'Camp Half-Blood' and faded blue jeans. We stare at each other for a while, and it could've been minutes until I snap back to reality after I hear twigs snapping behind this look-alike of me. I look up and behind him is the same Mog that started chasing me in the first place. I jump up when the Mog takes out a long black sword from inside his coat and raises it above the stranger's head. That Mog thinks he's me. Didn't that dumb, blind Mog see me sitting in front of him? Does he not notice that the guy is wearing different clothes than me? Or is he just killing off anybody he sees? I'm pretty sure he's just killing everybody he sees.

I pull out my sword; a long, pure-glass blade hidden in a brown leather belt around my waist, something I stole from the Mogs. On the bottom the sword handle is wrapped in brown leather. Glass does not feel good when you're fighting with it almost everyday of your life. Or, second life.

I aim it at the Mog's chest, but the guy that looks like me must think I'm aiming it at him. He tries to scramble away, but hits the Mog's legs instead. He looks up at the pale, smirking Mogadorian. The Mog brings the sword down, but the stranger rolls away before he's stabbed. The Mog raises his sword again, but the stranger gets up and rushes to my side, pulling something small, shiny, and black from his pocket. A ballpoint pen.

He uncaps the pen and it turns into a three foot tall bronze sword. I've seen many weird things in my life, but I've never seen a dangerous pen-sword.

He aims the sword at the Mog and the Mog decides to pull out his other weapon. He puts the sword away and pulls out his cannon. What are up with Mogs and their cannons?

The Mog points it at the stranger, but before he can pull the trigger, I throw my sword like a spear and it hits his chest. The Mog almost automatically turns to a pile of ash on the grass. I walk up to the pile and stomp on it harshly. What can I say, I hate Mogs. 

The stranger looks at me with even more curiosity now. He studies me and looks me up and down like I don't look like much.

Dude, I look like you.

Then he takes a look at me picking up my glass sword from the ground and realizes that I'm not someone he wants to mess with. Cause I'm not.

"Nice throw, but..... Who are you, what was that thing, why was he trying to kill me, and can I go now?" The stranger finally speaks up with a deep voice. I roll my eyes and put my sword away.

Then I realize his first question really bothers me. I honestly don't know who I am. I've never been able to make a new ID for myself since I was chased into this state, New York. I'm in Long Island, New York, and I don't remember my original name from Lorien.

So I decide with the first name that pops into my head. "Max. What's yours?" I reply. Max. That's my new name, my new identity.

After a few moments of silence and staring, the stranger finally answers, like he was debating whether he should answer me or not.

"Percy," he responds, and I can tell he's not lying. "Percy Jackson."

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