I mourn I mourn for those we lost I mourn for the camps I mourn for the seven I mourn for Annabeth I mourn for my mom Dead. All dead because of me. I could have saved them. I could have been quicker. I could have been more helpful. Coming home to find Paul, Mom, and my unborn baby sister dead, I went slightly insane, on top of already losing everybody else from camp. Now I wear a mask. The funny, sarcastic, confident mask I have always wore, but now more desperate. Some may call me egotistical. Some may call me insane. But they usually fall for my mask. Maybe I could fall for it too. Maybe. I was in the park when I met a rather odd man by the name of Phil Coulson. Knowing I was underage and without a legal guardian, he offered me a job at a place called Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division. Wow. They really need to shorten that name. Now I here I am, almost 2 years later, working alongside Agent Natasha Romanoff and Agent Clinton Barton. ~~~ Warnings: there will be language Steve definitely wouldn't approve of, violence, PTSD, and maybe some depression, Torture, and might get a little steamy, though I will put warnings at the beginning of the chapter, or a specific part if it contains torture, smut, or major depression. Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Everything belongs respectively to Rick Riordan and Stan Lee. (Pre-Avengers - Post-Age of Ultron)