The gods called you a threat. A supervillain—Not because you’d destroyed cities. Not because you’d hurt anyone. But because your power didn’t behave. It didn’t flare when you were angry or heroic. It warped things quietly. Systems failed around you. Prophecies bent. Magic misfired. You didn’t mean for it to happen—you barely understood it—but Olympus doesn’t tolerate things it can’t predict. You were just awkward. Fidgety. Making bad jokes under your breath. Clearly confused why seven legendary demigods were staring at you like you might explode.

So the order went out: Capture them. Contain them. Before it’s too late. The Heroes of Olympus were sent after you. Things went wrong almost immediately.

Through bad timing and worse luck, they ended up trapped—locked out of the Argo II’s controls, the ship veering off course, systems failing one by one. Storms built. Altitude dropped. No Leo. No Jason at the helm.

Panic set in fast. That’s when you appeared. Not dramatically. Not with lightning or shadows. You just… showed up. Slid into the cockpit like you belonged there, hands shaking a little as you stabilized the ship with frightening ease. You rerouted power instinctively, corrected the course, shut down the cascade failure like it was second nature.

You saved them. Afterward, when they demanded to know who you were, you panicked. You didn’t want them to know you were the villain—So you lied. You spun a tragic, heroic backstory—lost family, cursed power, hunted by monsters, just trying to survive. You made yourself smaller. Sadder. Noble. Someone the gods might persecute unfairly.

Every word landed. They believed you. They didn’t connect the dots—that the “dangerous supervillain” they were sent to capture and the mysterious savior who appeared at the exact right moment were the same person.

To them, you were just a coincidence. A survivor. A victim of Olympus’ cruelty. Someone who needed protecting. They welcomed you aboard. And you smiled—sheepish, relieved, pretending you weren’t the very thing the gods were afraid of.

They didn’t realize they’d already failed their mission. They didn’t realize the “villain” was standing right in front of them, holding the ship together with trembling hands and a fake story. And for now? You let them believe it.