Finding Leo

Chapter 6: Leo Meets The Gang (Literally)

Leo's POV

The woods were really spooky at night. Especially if you're in a forest filled with two headed wolves and hydras lurking in the shadows. Unfortunately, those dragons couldn't be tamed with motor oil and Tabasco sauce. Damn.

I felt so exposed out here that I pulled out one of my infamous three-pound flat sided hammers, just in case something wanted to make a meal out of me. I didn't want to be a Leo-steak.

I don't know how long I was walking, probably two hours at least, when the faint lights of NYC shone in the distance. Yeah, if you're wondering, I wasn't going to take the Underground Railroad to New Orleans or anything. I'm taking advantage of modern technology and using a plane. Hopefully Zeus won't get angry at me and zap me out of sky.

I walked towards the lights until I met a road and followed it to the city. It looked a lot different at night. There was still heavy road and foot traffic, even though it was almost ten. Most of the people on the sidewalks looked like they were heading to clubs or bars, but some pedestrians looked even stranger. I passed a man wearing a jogging suit and carrying a stuffed teddy bear bigger than me.

Ok, Leo, focus. Get JFK Airport. Get plane. Go Louisiana. Figure out my next plan of action if I even make it that far.

I decided not to hail a cab, because I hear demigods don't get that much luck with taxis. Percy and Annabeth had explained that on their first quest, their first mode of transport had been a magical light-speed cab driven by three old witches with one eye.

I wasn't taking a chance with a taxi, because with my luck I'd end up on the Elderly Hag Express.

I was only a few blocks from the airport when I noticed that someone was following me. Yeah, demigods need to know these kinds of things if they didn't want to be dinner for a Cyclops or a chew toy for a hellhound. If you aren't aware of your surroundings, you could get jumped by pretty much anything. Anyway, there was definitely someone on my tail, because every time I turned on to another street, I noticed four figures a few yards behind me. Leo, think like Annabeth or something. Size up your opponents before confronting them.

Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to. Why, you ask? Well, because the supposed 'stalkers' just had to grab me by the collar and drag me into a back alley. Yippie.

Before you could say 'GAHHH! LEO'S BEEN ABDUCTED BY STREET THUG ALIENS!', The big, burly one had me dangling a foot off the air, holding me against the wall by planting his clammy hands on my shoulders.

I'd seen some ugly robbers. Hey, I lived a life on the streets. You expect me to say I've never gotten mugged? I think my first encounter with one of these jolly old Good Samaritans was when I was nine, maybe ten. This scraggly little teenager who couldn't have been older than fourteen had grabbed my wrist and demanded for the McDonald's Happy Meal I had stolen. I just managed to escape without attracting unwanted attention from any cops by kicking the dude in the crotch and making a run for it. And yes, I got out with my Kid's Cheeseburger and fries. Fast food had never tasted so good.

Even after all the street urchins I had come across, this dude was by far the worst. He couldn't have been older than eighteen or nineteen, but it looked like he could still easily beat any random grown man in a fight. He wore Vans that I assumed were once white, but they had been beat up and covered in street grime so much that they were now a sickly shade of gray. His tan cargo pants didn't look like they would have passed a sanitation check. All but two buttons had come off of his dark green button up shirt; whether from wear and tear or by force, I didn't want to know. A football cap for the Giants was thrown backwards over a mop of knotty black hair down to his shoulders. He had this look on his face that made it look like he was about to punch you at any second, which I could believe. It was like his face was saying, "Ok, enough talk. Can I kill this scrawny Latino teenager now?"

"Hey look, Wesley," the teenager said. His voice was course, like he'd taken a bag of salt and rubbed the contents on the inside of his throat. "Looks like we found another one of these kids running around the city at night."

A guy who looked the same age as my attacker, who was apparently Wesley, snorted. His metal Harry-Potter-style glasses were foggy and rusted, the same color as his rust red hair (I'm trying to make a HP connection here. Wesley, red hair? Weasley, red hair? Come on!). "Yeah, Brent," Wesley chuckled. "Where you come from, wuss?"

I figured I wasn't gonna get out of this mess with brute force. There were still two more thugs in this gang; another kid who was probably a year or two younger than Brent and Wesley, and, surprisingly, a girl who seemed to be only about eleven. She looked exotic, with pin-straight chocolate hair, tanned skin, but electric blue eyes. Those eyes scared me.

Do what you do best, a small part of my brain told me. Distract him with humor, then run.

"Hmm." I struggled to remain calm as I thought, as Brent's face was about three inches from mine. "Well, buddy, I'm not sure why you would care about where I come from. I mean, you probably have a really nice place, what with this good business you got going and such. How much retail you bring in every week, would you say?"

Brent didn't appreciate my sense of humor. He pulled me away from the wall, then slammed me back into it. The back of my head thunked on the bricks, and little back spots danced before my eyes. "You think you're so smart, don't you, pal?" His voice wavered, like he was busy debating all of the possible ways to make me feel the maximum amount of pain.

I continued. "Why, thank you for noticing. Yes, I believe I am quite educated." I mock bowed, or as much as I could while being pinned to a wall by a loon. "If you want, we could set up a few study sessions. I could teach you how to make friends."

Brent wasn't amused. He raised his fist, ready to punch me. That's when I knew I needed to smooth talk this guy.

"Hey, man," I began. "You don't want to d-do this." My voice cracked, and I sounded so stupid. But I couldn't give up now.

The group laughed, all except for the blue eyed girl. She looked me in the eyes with her blue ones, as if to say, don't even try. Brent's not having it. Wesley snickered. "Oh yeah, wuss? Why's that?"

I took a deep breath and grinned a classic Leo Valdez grin. "Put it this way," I stated with a new kind of confidence. "You put me down, let me walk away, and I promise not to hurt you."

It was silent. Then the three teenagers hollered with laughter. Wesley doubled over, and leaned on the other kid for support. Brent cracked up, his spit flying in my face. "You promise not to hurt us? Who do you think you are, wuss?"

I grinned. All's going according to plan. I shrugged, which was very hard to do with a smelly nineteen year old gripping my shoulders. "Well," I sighed nonchalantly, as if I threatened beefy dudes in gangs every other day, "I warned you."

And with that, I burst into flames.