Scion: Living Legends - [LLSUB] Hangman's Hill By Night

[Dave ST]

In 1692, 18 people were accused of witchcraft and they were all hung atop a place now called Gallows Hill. It's one of those things that a state doesn't really like having on it's resume so today, if you ask, no one really knows really knows the exact location of Gallows Hill. That is, unless you're a Scion and you follow the flow of Legend to the real story.

,,

Gallows Hill, the real one, is in Swampscott cemetery, just south of Salem Woods where a ton of people go missing every year. Coincidence? Most think that, but Demigods know better, they see the World as it really is and they know what sorts of things lurk in the shadows at night. Swampscott Cemetery used to be a nice place until the titanspawn moved into Salem. Now it was a tangled mess of grave stones and gnarled trees just on the borders of a forest. Shadows were thicker there and perception seemed dimmed at times as one would walk around and not be able to discern what direction sounds came from and movement was always in the corner of the eye. If you wanted prestige at Salem High, braving Swampscott on Halloween was the time to earn it.

,,

Those 18 people back in he day, they were demigods, demigods who opposed the wrong people and were sentenced to die by the titanspawn who really ran the show back then. Of course, when you could summon fire, freeze water with a touch, and inter yourself into the earth... witchcraft was a damn good argument. Some claimed they were careless, others claimed it was necessary for Fate's design. Whatever it was, still, eighteen people, demigod or not, were murdered and that had a tendency to taint the land with a evil funk.

,,

Swampscott was, simply put, fuckin' creepy as all get out. That meant the local law stayed away from it and parents never considered their children would be dumb enough to hang out there. Ergo, every teenager in Salem used the forest on the boundaries of the cemetery as their personal stomping ground. Parties, hang outs, make out points... you name it and it was probably happening not to far from Swampscott. Now, mind you it was purely by Fate's design that the local high schoolers managed to find the original Gallows Hill (not that they knew it) and eloquently called their favorite hang out spot 'Hangman's Hill', as a nod to the lost location of Gallows Hill, not knowing that by them renaming the site they imbued it's Legend with power and by constantly partying there they were practically paying homage to the memory itself. By sheer accident, the kids of Salem High had imbued Gallows Hill with an incredible amount of untapped Legend and the Titans were always more that happy to collect it.

,,

Corbin wasn't interested in gatherings or gossip tonight. Like every year after the first day of class, the area was packed with kids from school all assembled on sitting rocks, logs that had worn smooth from years of being sat on, and a collection of milk crates of varying hues. A few small camp fires were burning as the sun was creeping its way beneath the horizon. As he moved through the gossip circles and various games of tossing the foot ball and geeky debates of who was better at Call of Duty Ghosts, people got out of his way. They wanted no part of him and he seemed like he was on a mission tonight. Not that anyone payed him much mind anyway, talking with Corbin was a death sentence. The fact that he was here though made everyone feel like something wasn't right but that didn't seem to halt the merriment, once he was out of their line of sight they went back to what they were doing.

,,

He found a shady spot on the border and stared off to the south, where Swampscott was just a few hundred yards away. In a large clearing on the property was an old, creepy funeral home. Tangles vines grew up the side, and while it was modernized, the style of construction was done in archaic 1800s design. The place was run down, that was for sure, but it was like a mansion. Three stories of what looked like a house that belonged on the coast as someone's summer home was a haunted mansion and mortuary in the middle a cemetery named "Swampscott'.

,,

Life didn't get any better than this. Corbin thought as he pulled his leather coat around him, folded his arms and leaned against a tree. Silently he observed the estate while his 'peers' partied on behind him several yards away.

[z-Ian]

Ian fucking needed a car. He stopped against the gates the Swampscott Cemetery, panting slightly from the jog he’d slipped into to cover more ground. He’d gotten further than he thought he would on that run, particularly given how much he abhorred physical activity. In fact, he caught his breath so quickly that he wondered if he’d actually been out of breath or if he’d just been panting because he was supposed to.

,,

Do not get any freakier, night. That would be not cool. Ian oriented himself to the graveyard, trying to figure out where to start looking for Corbin.

,,

Tipping his head back, he studied the iron wrought sign above the gate. “Swampscunt,” he mumbled, grinning at his new name for the place.

,,

He reached into his jacket pocket and fished out a cigarette. Slipping it between his lips, he lit up and inhaled a deep lungful of smoke. A second later, he gagged and choked out the plume of smoke. “The fuck!” he exclaimed, hefting his cigarette and staring at it in disbelief. The smoke had tasted awful, very similar to how it always did but stronger – strong to the point of disgusting, in fact. Ian shook his head and carefully knocked the cherry off. Tucking his cigarette away, he deliberately ignored what had just happened. Too freaky for me.

,,

Hearing voices and laughter, Ian started following them. He followed them, walking into creepy-ass place. Corbin was in here somewhere. Ian would find him. Fortunately, he was walking along the edge of the graveyard and not through the heart of it. Squinting into the fading light in the direction of the noise, he saw someone slouching like a reprobate a tree. That someone was Corbin, he quickly figured out, not that it was hard to puzzle out. Changing the angle of his approach, he boldly walked right up to Corbin and said, "Black. I wanna talk to you."

,,

He hadn't meant to sound so damned grumpy about it, but he'd just had a really bad day...

[Dave ST]

He stood there with an iPod in his hand. Despite the crappy speaker on those things, Ian could hear it clearly. Like... clearly. It was a video, and Corbin seemed to be just at the end of it as he approached.

,,

The Video

"Hey you!" A gorgeous young brunette smiled as the camera barely did her justice. "C'mon, turn that off, we have Titanspawn to slay. Focus up, it's time to be bad asses."

"Baby, I was born to be a badass," Corbin's voice was obvious but he sounded cheerful, happy even. "This is so I have you with me even when you're gone. The solo missions are killing me lately. I miss you."

"Aww, that's so sweet." She cooed sarcastically. "I love you. As long as I love you, you can never miss me."

"I love you too." He replied and the camera twisted at some odd angle that told the viewer they were probably sharing a kiss.

,,

Corbin didn't even look at Ian, his eye remained locked on the old building. "So." He replied calmly. "Talk."

,,

He slouched and pulled an amber bottle from a cardboard six pack carrier and offered it to Ian. "Rough day huh? If you're looking to me to somehow make it all make sense, you're barking up the wrong tree." He seemed far more polite than Ian had expected. He was expecting someone more like himself, rough around the edges, ready to make a stand at a moments notice, someone... angrier.

,,

"You got hit with a lot today. We all go through it. So, talk."

[z-Ian]

Figures an asshole like that has pussy. Ian couldn’t admit how much he wanted a girlfriend; it was much easier to mock guys who had one.

,,

Ian snorted derisively, even as he took the bottle. He really needed a beer; he hadn’t had one since getting dumped in the foster family. “The only thing we need to talk about is you dropping the bullshit.” Behind his words, Ian’s belief in his own words were faltering. The weirdness was getting too thick to ignore or dismiss and that was starting to eat away at Ian’s already-tenuous grip on sanity.

,,

Corbin popped open another bottle and took a swig, his expression remaining placid. To Ian, it was just one more figurative smack across the face. “Bullshit?” the black sheep of the school asked.

,,

“Yeah, bullshit.” Ian pulled his sleeve over his hand and grabbed the cap, giving it a savage twist to open it. “The bullshit that the fucking teacher at school tried to feed me. This giant fucking trick you are all pulling on the new kid.”

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“All?” Corbin’s single-word questions were getting old fast.

,,

“Yeah, the dork, the slut, and the emo artist-bitch.” Corbin’s expression didn’t change and Ian realized he didn’t remember their names, not completely. “You know who the fuck I’m talking about.”

,,

“Do I?” Corbin stared at him.

,,

“You fucking asshole, you’re in on it too!” Ian heard the other kids’ conversation break off and realized he’d spoken way too loudly. Exasperated and in need of liquid calm, he lifted his bottle for a drink. He stopped when he caught sight of the mouth of the bottle, or what was left of it. The neck ended in jagged teeth of amber glass. Befuddled, Ian looked at the cap in his other hand, and found the rest of the glass there. He’d twisted off the neck of the bottle, not the metal cap.

[Dave ST]

Corbin managed a snort of amusement. He remembered having to get used to the super strength too. "I'll bet I went out got special break away bottles too, right? Look, Ian, you're looking for enemies where you have allies. You're so Hel bent on everyone being against you that you have serious conspiracy issues. Is this all messed up? Yep. Hard to believe? Damn straight. But seriously, Ian, think for a moment. This is an awful lot to go through for a prank on the new kid. Don't y'think?"

,,

"I don't blame you for being suspicious, I was." He tapped his chest with his bottle, still looking over at the house across the way. "So, let me help you out a bit and clear the air, okay? I'm not here to be your friend, I'm not here to be your enemy. I was asked by Archie to keep the four of you safe and teach you a few things so you can get the hang of things. I owe Archie a lot, so I agreed. That being said, I have better things to do than pick on the new kid, so if you can chill for five seconds, relax just a tad, and talk to me like a civil human being, you'll find that no one is out to get you."

,,

He tucked the iPod in his jacket pocket. "If you still think it's all bullshit afterwards, then that's on you. Seriously though man, I've better things to do than lie to people."

[Erika Clarke]

When Erika opened her eyes, she was tangled in a knot of blankets and the jacket she hadn't bothered removing before she'd passed out. She was burning up, covered in an uncomfortably sticky sheen of sweat that left her hair plastered to her face and neck in inky lines and whorls; her clothes, damp and acrid-smelling, felt repulsive. With a disgusted groan, she kicked and pushed at the comforter until it slid reluctantly onto the hardwood floor. The teen curled her lip, huffing at the offending linens for no good reason at all as she swung her feet over the edge of the bed. She needed a shower, now. Her stomach grumbled in response, but she ignored it and quietly padded down the upstairs hall to the bathroom she shared with her brothers.

,,

As she flipped on the light, she winced instinctively, expecting the migraine to return, and was surprised to find that (apart from feeling and smelling freaking disgusting), she was okay. No vertigo, no nausea, no blank spots or dancing lights. "Weird," she mumbled to the girl in the mirror who stared back with sleepy, unfocused eyes and flushed cheeks. Whatever. Leaning over the edge of the bathtub/shower, she turned on the faucet and tried to collect her thoughts. Her headache was gone, she was hungry, and the house was quiet and dark. Maybe there were leftovers? Shucking her sweat-drenched clothes, she waited for the hot water and wondered how long she'd been out.

,,

It took her a while to scrub away the feeling of filminess and residue, even after the actual physical sensation was gone; finally the crisp fragrance of rosemary-mint suds permeated the bathroom, and Erika decided she'd had enough. In clean underwear, and with her hair pulled back in a thick braid that made her squirm uncomfortably as the occasional droplet of water trickled down her back, she felt calmer and much more clear-headed.

,,

Her school clothes went in the hamper. Her towels went on the hooks behind the bathroom door. She chewed her lower lip and breathlessly scurried back down the hall on the off-chance someone came out. She even put on fresh jeans and a faded t-shirt from 8th grade, when her entire class took a field trip to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. Most other girls her age would be mortified that it still fit at all, but as she pulled it over her head, Erika smiled at the familiarity of the threadbare cotton and the memories it conjured.

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The soft washes of light and colour in Monet's Rouen Cathedral, Facade.

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The dynamic brush strokes of Van Gogh's Ravine.

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The brilliant cobalt clothing and piercing eyes of Sargent's Bedouins.

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The meticulously sculptural drawings from Michelangelo Buonarroti's estate.

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Miro. Picasso. Degas. Waterhouse. Raphael. Gauguin.

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She knew their names, their lives, their triumphs and unrealized dreams as well as she knew her family's. Probably better, if she was honest with herself. Despite having lived with them for the last few years, she felt like an outsider in her own home. Maybe because they weren't the first "family" she'd had, or even one of the first.

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"Oh," she said aloud, having made it down to the kitchen to find a note on the island: Erika- We decided to let you sleep. Gone to the theater, dinner is in the refrigerator. Well, that answered that question. The microwave hummed as she reheated the plate they'd left, and she poured herself a glass of milk, her bare feet silent on the cool floor. Sitting on a bar stool at the island, she ate quietly, mulling over the events of the day. The only sounds were the occasional scrape of her fork on the plate, the clink of her glass as she set it down after taking a drink, and the soft, rhythmic thud of her toes sliding off the support of the stool as she rubbed her feet over the metal.

,,

She hadn't reported Mr. Syracuse's rambling, and wondered if she should have. She also wasn't too keen on seeing the other three students at school tomorrow, but she was fairly sure classes would keep her sufficiently busy to avoid discussing what had happened. Probably she should just go back to bed, maybe read for a while, but perversely she didn't feel the least bit tired. If anything, an uncomfortable restlessness invigorated her slender limbs.

,,

"Maybe I'll just go for a walk," she announced to the empty house. Glancing at the family photo they'd taken just after she was adopted, Erika hopped down and put her dishes in the sink. "No, I won't be late. ...No, we didn't get homework. They probably went easy on us the first day. ...Okay. I'll take my phone, don't worry. I'll be careful. ...Okay. Be home soon."

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It was a more involved conversation with her usually-absent parents than she usually had. She hesitated, then scribbled a brief note on the back of the one they'd left.

,,

After darting upstairs to tug on socks and shoes and grabbing another coat from her closet, she shoved her keys and cell phone in her pocket and carefully locked the front door behind her.

,,

With no particular destination in mind, she just followed the pale track of the sidewalk beneath her feet, wandering aimlessly through town. Singing under her breath, hands in her pockets, she let the chaos of the day and her lingering uneasiness at the librarian's speech wash over and around her. Gradually, it ebbed like the tide, drifting from her mind on the same invisible currents that pulled her forward.

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Something dark loomed before her, and, startled, she stopped short: heavy iron gates barred her path. Her eyes widened in surprise. How had she gotten here? Dimly, she could hear the sounds of music and laughter in the distance. Blinking, she remembered that Mr. Syracuse had sent that other guy, Corbin, out here. That upperclassmen came here to drink and throw parties. She sighed. Well, she was here, so she might as well see what was going on, right? It's not like her parents would be home for a while, yet, so despite a niggling feeling in the back of her head that could only be described as "trepidation," she followed the faint orange glow that signaled a human presence amidst the gloom.

[Nadya Lunălescu]

"No, I'm good," Erika replied sharply. "I can walk. Thanks, though."

,,

"Whatever you want," Nadya replied with shrug, faintly disappointed she hadn't earned a marker for later, but hardly pained by not spending more time in her sharp-tongued presence. "Seeya 'round."

,,

While Erika left by the front doors, Nadya headed towards a side door that exited by the student parking lot, stopping by her locker to drop off her books and grab her leather bolero jacket. It wasn't like the teachers actually expected homework given on the first day of school was going to get done and she had something more interesting to do tonight.

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After a moment's thought, she also left behind her heeled boots. Despite her preferences in footwear, even Nadya wouldn't try skulking in four inch heels. And sneakers were good for sneaking.

,,

Heading for the door, Nadya took the last turn too quickly, clipping the corner of the hallway hard enough she almost knocked herself off her feet. Rubbing her shoulder out of habit more than any actual pain, Nadya gave the corner a nonplussed glare - it really wasn't like her to be so clumsy. I blame being distracted with all the shit Archie told us...

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Naturally, one of Mercedes' cronies noticed her klutzy moment, and made no secret of snickering. "Forget how to walk when you aren't strutting around in a pair of six inch stilettos?"

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"Go fuck yourself, Portia," Nadya snarled at the tall, raven-haired girl. Naturally a dozen better and sharper comebacks occurred to her right after she opened her mouth. It would suit her quite well if Portia was suddenly been struck by a bolt of lightning, but Nadya wasn't so lucky.

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"I'd ask you to do me the favour, whore, but I don't have five bucks laying around to buy your services."

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"Since I don't want my vag diseased, I wouldn't sell you my services for a millions dollars," Nadya retorted right before slipping out the door.

,,

Her bright yellow, well-worn '71 Mercury Cougar with rust around the wheel-wells and much mended rag-top stood out among most of the student vehicles - most of which were gone already - but it suited her just fine.

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She found the rumbling purr of the engine soothing, if not the squeaking of the shocks or the screeching of the breaks. it sounded like a real car. Best of all, it was all hers, bought and paid for.

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She frowned, finding a new dent in the driver-side door, then climbed in and drove North for the home she shared with her father above the pawnshop he owned and ran. The drive on the other hand wasn't soothing. The smell of exhaust was too pungent and the other drivers seemed unusually slow today, and overly sensitive for no good reason.

,,

What was his problem?! There was, like, nearly a foot gap! Overreact much? Nadya almost braked right in the middle of traffic when she realized exactly what she was thinking. I considered a six inch gap perfectly fine?! After getting busted for joy-riding, Nadya was actually a very conscientious driver, not wanting to lose her license. What the hell is wrong with me?

,,

Nadya parked downtown on Washington St. in front of Laszlo's Lost & Found, and entered... almost tripping over the front step. For a trained dancer, this was getting very frustrating.

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She also felt totally wired, like she had drunk a hundred cups of coffee. Combined, it probably didn't bode well for a steak-out and/or stealthy activities, but she wasn't going to let that deter her - there were things she wanted to know.

,,

Nadya took a turn behind the counter, giving her father a break, then split her time between home upstairs and the shop as she made a stew for supper. It was easier for her, with her father needing a cane, though she almost fell down the stairs once when she took them too fast.

,,

The entire time, while they told each other how their day went, Nadya debated if or how much to say about what Mr. Syracuse had revealed, but just couldn't bring herself to mention anything about it yet. Still, she felt her father had noted the omission.

,,

Which wasn't really anything special - her father was well aware she didn't share everything with him and vice-versa. But he couldn't help but look at his daughter oddly when she completely flubbed a deal when someone was bringing in a first edition book and tried to convince him it was only a second edition copy, because she was talking too fast.

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"Slow down, Little One," her father cautioned her in Romanian. "There is a time for haste, but don't let it trip you up."

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"I know, I know," Nadya replied in the same language, with a shaky chuckle. "Just been one of those days. Gonna head out after cleaning up, 'kay?"

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"Very well." A faint grin touched his worn, charming features. "Just try not to involve the police tonight hmm? My leg is paining me today - I think we're in for rough weather this evening."

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Nadya put on an expression of affronted innocence. "I would never! You know me, Dad!"

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László laughed out loud, tapping a staccato beat on the ground with his cane. "I know you indeed, Nadezhda, hence the warning."

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Nadya blew her father a raspberry, before heading to her room to change and grabbing some swag, then leaving for her evening foray. She slid behind the wheel of her Cougar and drove down Highland and onto Swampscott on her way to Hangman's Hill.

,,

Creepy as all hell, Nadya liked Salem Woods and Swampscott Cemetery. It reminded her of the depths of the Black Forest in Germany and the wooded heights of the Carpathian Mountains of Romania, where you could find the ruins of abandoned villages and castles - refuges for the more nomadic or reclusive among the Roma people.

,,

The rustling of the leaves sounded like a thousand whispered secrets, secrets she yearned to hear.

,,

Plus, she did great business fencing loot to the school kids who haunted the borderlands between the cemetery and Salem Woods. Nadya parked at her favoured spot on the cul-de-sac at the end of Capen road, grabbed her bag, and sauntered over to Hangman's Hill, unobtrusively skirting the edges as she looked for Corbin without revealing herself.

[z-Ian]

“Trust no one.” In his memory, he could hear his uncle’s voice as he pointed at the TV with an open beer bottle. The documentary on UFO coverups at the highest echelons of the nation played on, punctated by Orson’s raspy, mocking laugh. “But you already learned that, didn’t ya?”

,,

He sure as fuck had. Nothing taught ‘Trust no one’ like learning that Mommy and Daddy couldn’t be trusted. Ian turned the broken bottle carefully, tipping his head back so that the beer splashed directly on his tongue without risking his lips on the sharp glass.

,,

Everyone had reasons to lie, and those that protested that they didn’t had more reasons than most. Everyone lied. Everyone was out to get you. You had to defend against their bullshit. That was Ian’s mantra.

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The problem was, by coming up here, he’s fed right into the bullshit. He should have called Jordan and had his foster father come and pick him up. Of course, that would have raised questions, too, like why Ian needed a ride. He could have come up with a lie to cover almost getting his ass kicked by a girl and getting drugged by his fucking librarian.

,,

Unless… this was Them. The back of his neck, where his implant was located, itched. Ian ignored it, forcing himself to relax. To Corbin’s eyes, the kid chilled out a little and found his own tree to lean against. Corbin could be a government spook. It wasn’t like he hadn’t already run into those assholes tonight. Ian had to be calm and cool and think of a way out of this.

,,

“Okay, so is it story time?” Ian asked, his voice sardonic. “Or do we braid each other’s hair and decide which One Direction dweeb is the dreamiest?”

[Dave ST]

"You tell me." Corbin said calmly. "You came to me for answers, remember?" He sipped his beer, never taking his eyes off the building. Ian may have considered it rude if Corbin didn't seem so caught up in it and wasn't taking the time to actually reply. Still from, time to time he'd let his gaze slip over to his fellow demigod. "Tell you what, I'll go first as an act of good faith..."

,,

He sighed after taking a deep breath. To be honest, Corbin was honestly enjoying talking with someone, he'd forgotten what it was like. "I know all about you Ian. About your uncle, and the unfortunate events that brought you here. I'd say I was sorry, but let's face it, when stranger say things like how sorry they are about your life, it just sounds like a bullshit platitude. You wouldn't believe me anyway, and I'd just sound like a patronizing asshole. So, I'll spare you. What I will say, is that you're not alone as you think. Me, the other three in that room with you today... they've all been through some shit. It's not a pissing contest, everyone has problems, hell some of us have quite the list."

,,

"You're a paranoid delusional, at least that's what the therapists said, right?" He shrugged like all therapists were full of it. "Now, before you run off in a huff, hear me out. Everything you've thought your whole life, man... it's true. You've been right, people are out to get you, monsters do exists, and they have been messing with your life since day one. The only part you are wrong about, is that they aren't aliens. Your uncle did a damn good job of keeping you safe, he knew things, saw things... things people aren't supposed to see. His mind had to make sense of it, so, aliens."

,,

"He sacrificed a lot to keep you safe. I'm sorry that what happened, happened. I respect him." He looked to Ian and raised his bottle in a toast. "And that's not a platitude."

[Nadya Lunălescu]

Gliding along the verge of Salem Woods, feet silent through the brush and undergrowth with unconscious grace, a cacophony of sound and sight and scent assaulted the slender, burgeoning godling.

,,

The laughter, flirting, and gossip of schoolmates relaxing after the first day of school hammered on her ears in an indecipherable mass, punctuated by the pop and crackle of flames burning in old oil drums. The acrid scent of burnt oil that once filled those barrels made her nose tingle, and almost made her vomit as it mixed with other scents polluting the air: cigarette smoke, the sweetness of a joint, and someone seemingly wearing an entire bottle of perfume. The flickering of the barrel fires made the dusk shadows dance wildly, while the bright glare of smartphone screens stabbed at her eyes like lightsabers.

,,

But it was Salem Woods itself that distracted her the most. Nadya couldn't believe how loud its nighttime denizens seemed to be with their screeching and chittering, hisses and squeaks, shifting and prowling. The air was pungent with the spoor of those those creatures, the greenery just beginning to turn, and the decomposition of humus. Under starlight, the forest was painted in a thousand distinct shades of black that only hinted at more vivid colours.

,,

The foreboding presence of Salem Woods weighed on her. Tonight, it was stronger than ever - whether because she had never been more sensitive to it or because after what Mr. Syracuse had told them, she now new Myth and Legend was real. Salem Woods had an atmosphere that Nadya had before only associated with sites of great antiquity or prominent history, like the Great Sphinx or Auschwitz. Salem Woods watched and endured and waited...

,,

"Hey, Moonbaby, how much for a BJ?"

,,

With a start, Nadya jumped away from the tree she was leaning against and looked up at Danny Lewis. Tall, all skin and bones, with lank, straw-coloured hair and perpetually wearing flannel, he always reminded Nadya of a scarecrow. At the moment, she wished a raven would peck his glazed, brown eyes out. Instead, she plastered on an apologetic grin.

,,

"Sorry, man, I'm closed for that business," Nadya said with a wry grin. "No more rides on this train. Business was too good, so the Health got involved, if you know what I mean - risk of an epidemic outbreaking." Nadya perked up, her grin turning rueful as she feigned a look of eagerness to ask Danny a favour, deciding to put one of her plans into motion.

,,

"Hey, Danny-boy, can you, like, be the biggest peach and do me the biggest favour? See, I can't remember everyone I spent time with this summer so can you post a comment on my Facebook page and say you didn't sleep with me? If you didn't I mean? Anyone who doesn't is going to be contacted about getting tested for VD. And since most of us our minors, the 'rents will be too and it'll turn into this whole thing..."

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Waiting to see if Danny would take the bait, Nadya pulled out her phone and glanced around, finally spotting Corbin sitting on a shaded rise overlooking the desolate Swampscott Funeral Home. And that freakazoid Ian was sitting with him! They were sitting just far enough way that she could hear them talking without making out what they were actually saying. What is he doing here? Whatever, good enough if they don't spot me.

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Keeping Corbin and Ian in the corner of her eye, she faced Danny with a charming smile. She hit an icon on her phone, updating her Facebook status with a pre-written message and hoped her plan worked after making her look worse. "If there's anything else I can do for you though, just ask. Got a copy of Saint's Row IV with your name on it, if you're interested, or some CDs."

[z-Ian]

Ian rolled his eyes. “My uncle was looking out for himself. He got a stipend for taking care of me, or something. I dunno. He always used to talk about the money…”

,,

The young man stared out into the dark, unnerved by how much he could see. “Fine. Let’s start with what the fuck is going on here? I’ve got people insisting some shit about demigods and Titans.”

,,

“Okay, what did Archie tell ya?” Corbin asked.

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Ian took another awkward swig of his beer. “I dunno,” he admitted. “Not much. I kinda stopped listening when I realized he was blowing smoke up my ass.”

[Erika Clarke]

The air seemed heavy as the pale young sophomore followed what might have been a trail, an unseasonably chill breeze trailing damp, ethereal fingers over her face. Shivering reflexively, she shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of her jacket and hunched her shoulders. Instinctively, she skirted the edges of the clearing and the firelight, the inborn desire for warmth and safety in a dark place narrowly overpowered by her own desire to remain an observer of such events; getting arrested for underage drinking was not the best way to achieve success and acclaim. No, she mused- the greatest artists saved debauchery for later.

,,

"...did Archie tell you?"

,,

"...when I realized he was blowing smoke up my ass.”

,,

Erika slowed, her sneakers crunching softly in the undergrowth as she caught part of a conversation being carried on not far from where she was walking. The voices were male, and vaguely familiar, and though she couldn't place them immediately, it wasn't hard to guess who 'Archie' was. Sighing, she withdrew a hand from her pocket long enough to push back a strand of hair that had worked free of her braid. She was reluctant to press forward and give even an inch of credibility to the insanity of gods and monsters the librarian had spouted, but curiosity compelled her to find out whether anyone else who knew about it actually believed.

,,

Ugh, she groaned inwardly, briefly rolling her eyes skyward as she forged on through the shadows. Well, if it got too weird, she could always just leave, right? Her steps took on greater strength and purpose as the low voices, almost drowned out by the raucous celebration nearby, became clearer; she could just make out two human shapes beside an ancient tree.

,,

"Hello?" she called out tentatively, approaching the pair.

[z-Ian]

“Well, he still told you something. What is it?” Corbin leaned on the tree as if they had all night to talk about the librarian losing his God dammed mind.

,,

No, Ian realized with a shiver, more people than the librarian had displayed crazy. Swallowing hard, he said, “He knew stuff about me he shouldn’t. That’s when I zoned out.” The shame of the breakdown ate at him. “So right at the beginning, really.”

,,

Corbin sighed but didn’t seem surprised. “You got the part about being the children of gods, right? Tell me you got that much.”

,,

“I seem to recall that.” The scent of fresh shampoo wafted past Ian on a breeze and he wrinkled his nose at the pungency of the herby-minty smell. It wasn’t bad, just strong. Of course, his beer actually had flavor, too. Very hoppy. “Look, just tell me this much – how the fuck did… Archie find out so much about me? Is this something my… god-parent-thing told him?” Ian took another sip of beer and shivered again. He wasn’t cold. He was terrified. “And what was up with the girl trying to eat me?”

,,

“What?” Corbin’s casual-Zen look disappeared immediately. “What girl?”

,,

“Amber… or something.” Ian shifted his beer to his other hand so he could stick his fingers through the rip in his shirt and jacket, waving the tips at Corbin for emphasis. “She was totally going to eat me, and not in a cool stroke the shaft, cradle the balls, swallow the gravy way.”

,,

“Hello?” The feminine voice came at the worst time for Ian of course. Despite his lack of social graces, he knew that girls didn’t like hearing crude jokes about blow jobs. They were girls.

,,

He turned, prepared to say something cool and blow past the blow jobs, when he saw who it was. All care about impressing the girl died as if dropped in a volcano. “Oh. It’s you. What the fuck are you doing here?”

[Dave ST]

"Ian," Corbin gave Ian the universal guy glare for 'STFU dude'. "Show a little respect. Erika, ignore him, he's having one of those 'everyone's full of shit and out to get me' days."

,,

Corbin wasn't too surprised at seeing them both here, Fate had a way of complicating every aspect of daily life for Scions, the four new ones would learn that soon enough. They were written into each others story's now and whether they liked it or not every time they needed each other they'd always be right the corner. Fate was a bitch like that.

,,

"I don't have all the answers," He looked to Ian. The scolding for his lack of tact was already in the past, apparently Corbin wasn't hold anything against people today. "I would have to say, yes. Chances are good your patron gave Archie the info as a way of luring you into at least hearing the situation out. Our parents know how to get under our skin, they know what buttons to push. They mean well, but understand that they are gods and theirs egos and agendas are beyond our understanding."

,,

He sighed, shaking his head. "Not sure about the Amber chick, fill me in on the details later and I'll look into it for you, consider it a 'newbie freebie'. But, look, Ian... I know this is hard, I know it all seems like one big messed up joke, but it's not like any of us are leaving Salem anytime soon. We can't fool you because you're already expecting the punchline, so compromise, man. Ride it out, get a laugh at how crazy we all are, because, dude... seriously... there ain't nothing else better to do in this town."

,,

"Scions, Demigods... whatever you wanna call us, we're never brought into the fold alone. Usually we're awakened three to six at a time. Those three to six are what's called a 'Band'. Their Fate's become linked. From that moment on, we're never alone. It's the Band's responsibility to look out after each other and protect one another. To fight as a team." He rubbed the breast of his coat, the side where he'd dropped the iPod he was watching when Ian approached. "I'm telling you this, because all that anger and pain you have is an excellent weapon, but you're pointing it in the wrong direction. It might not seem real, or it all might seem like it's not worth it or you might not want Band-mates, but trust me Ian... alone is not how you want to be. Not anymore. It's cliche', but you won't know how good you have it, until you loose it all and then, that's it, it's gone." It didn't escape Ian or Erika's notice that Corbin always seemed to work alone.

,,

His eyes seemed to come back form whatever distant memory had occupied his mind and he sighed. He looked to Erika, swaying his head towards them as if to invite her over. "Erika Clarke, hobnobbing with the deviants. Color me impressed." Ian saw his Corbin's greeting was more tactful, but only slightly so. It seemed he excelled at being a dick without actually being a dick. His smile was charming in a way that reminded Erika of a certain cat from a certain book that couldn't be trusted. As a Salem native she was completely aware of Corbin's reputation as a deviant and troublemaker although this was honestly the closest she'd ever been to him, let alone actually speaking with him. He pointed to the dwindling six-pack. "Beer?"

[Nadya Lunălescu]

And now what is she doing here? I've never seen Erika at Hangman's Hill before... Attention focused once more on the two boys and now one girl talking on the small hill under a tree, Nadya didn't notice what she handed Danny, nor the dubious look on his face as he walked away.

,,

Pressed against a tree to stay out of sight, Nadya strained to hear what they were saying, but was too far. The petite woman was just beginning to eye to route to sneak closer when high-pitched, grating laughter nearly made her jump out of her skin.

,,

Twisting around, she found Lexus standing there, a gloating grin on her vapid face, eyes glassy from probably more than the one wine-cooler in her hand. Her gaze shifted to her iPhone and back to Nadya as she waved the cellphone at her.

,,

"Like, O-M-G, Moon-skank! Seriously?! Do you really think being a diseased ho-bag is an upgrade from ho-bag?" Again, that laugh that made Nadya's teeth ache. "And you admitted this yourself, you stupid bitch. You're making this too easy. What? You think claiming to be VD'ed is going make everyone say they didn't touch your dirty cooch and suddenly you won't be the town slut anymore?"

,,

Uh... basically, yes? Nadya thought, though with all of three minutes hindsight and hearing someone else say it, it really was a rather overly ambitious gamble. A glare proved she didn't have laser-eyes to incinerate Lexus, and Wolverine claws didn't satisfyingly sprout from her fist, so that was out too.

,,

Time for another plan.

,,

"Nah, that was just bullshit to get you here, Lexy-baby," Nadya cooed with a vicious smile, hoping Mercedes' lackey couldn't see her reddened cheeks in the dark as she stepped closer to the marginally taller girl. "You see, you're gonna help me."

,,

"Pshaw! As if!" Lexus scoffed.

,,

"Now, now, don't be like, Lex-heart!" Nadya persisted, slipping an around Lexus' shoulder and pressing their cheeks together as she held her phone in front of them, triggering the cheerleader's selfie instinct.

,,

Before Lexus could react, Nayda snapped a few pics, including one of her kissing Lexus' cheek, then skipped away beyond arm's reach. "I don't wanna have to tell your parents 'bout how we fucked all summer when I wasn't whoring 'round. Oh, and that I might have given you VD, so get tested and all that."

,,

Lexus scrubbed her cheek with the back of her hand, staring at Nadya in utter disbelief before giving a contemptuous snort. "They'd never believe you."

,,

"Well, as to that, do you really want to find out how much of a pest I can be, hanging 'round your house professing my love and how sweet your sugarsnatch is? And I guess we'll find out how good I am with Photoshop. And of course, I'll link them my blog, my very explicit blog." Nadya's green eyes glinted in the light cast by their cellphones. "Your father's a councilman, ain't he?"

,,

"You fucking whore!"

,,

"You and Mercedes called it," Nadya retorted. "I just want your help to uncall it. Give it a thought, hey? Anyway, toddles!"

,,

Nadya ducked around the tree before she tried to throttle Lexus or Lexus tried to hit her with her phone, ghosting in the gloomy edge of Salem Woods, before coming out behind and on the far side of the hill Corbin, Ian, and Erika were talking on.

,,

Still wanting to hear what they were saying, Nadya stayed low and crept silently closer, trusting in the dark and the bulk of the hill and the tree topping it to conceal her as she came from behind.