Archived:Peter McKenzie

Personality
Peter, in most aspects, is a hard nut to crack. He's mostly seen as sarcastic and very withdrawn, not willing to be as open as society says you have to be. No matter what the conversation may be, he almost always has some snarky/clever comment to retort. Something that gets him into a few altercations. On his better side, Peter is a relaxed and care-free individual. He prefers to have his mind set on the "here and now", rather than think about the future or the past. One of his worst cons is his inability to open up. Whenever someone tries to show love or affection towards him, he immediately shuts them away, preferring to be alone. Only someone with the willpower and patience can crack the nut that is Peter McKenzie.

History
Seventeen years ago, a mortal woman by the name of Andrea McKenzie fell in love. A successful and rich businesswoman in the world of money, Andrea McKenzie was unhappy. Yes, she had money and power, living in the Golden State of Los Angeles, California, but that wasn't enough. Even if she could have anything she wanted, she felt so hollow. Then one day, something special happened. She was taking a walk around her summer house on a beach, admiring the sun setting down behind the ocean. She was so caught up in the beauty of it that she didn't notice the man that she was about to walk into. It caught her off guard, but the man managed to catch her before she could fall. Falling was the least of her worries. Andrea was at a loss for words as she and the man locked eyes, the man smiling at her. She almost believed she was dreaming. Almost.

"You alright?", the man asked, loosening his grip on her ever so slightly. She nodded, not really hearing his words. This man, whoever he was, was very handsome. Tall, muscular and tanned, he wore simple khaki shorts and a blue tribal print tank top, like a surfer. He was barefoot, but didn't seem to mind. Around his neck was a small necklace with what looked like a tooth dangling from it. A shark tooth. She snapped out of her daze. "I-I'm fine, thank you...", she breathed. The man introduced himself as Arthur and he claimed to have lived a ways down the beach. He was everything Andrea could have dreamed of in a man. Before she knew it, they started talking, gradually becoming more relaxed with the passing minute. In her eyes, he was charming and mysterious, like he radiated some sort of power. Not before long, the sun had all but disappeared. Not wanting it to end there, Andrea invited Arthur into her home for "dinner" as she put it. He was none too hesitant to take her up on the offer as they made there way to her home. Little did she know that Andrea McKenzie had invited a god into her home.

She woke up the next day, feeling blissful. Last night had been the happiest she had been in years. It was also, unknown to her, the last time she would ever experience that feeling. Sadly, Andrea woke up to an empty bed. She looked around the house, even around the beach to where he claimed to have lived, but found no trace of Arthur. Confused and saddened, Andrea retreated back to have a cooked breakfast alone so she could prepare for work the next day. Unsurprisingly, less than a month afterwards, Andrea soon discovered that she was pregnant.

9 months later, on October 17, 1997, Andrea gave birth to a healthy boy by the name of Peter McKenzie. He had all of his mother's features, but his eyes were dark and intense, just like his missing father. Sadly, his mother never payed any attention to his looks since his birth. She hardly payed him any attention since. Ever since Arthur disappeared on her, she slowly began grow bitter. Giving birth to Peter was no exception. Not wanting the burden of a child to hinder her job, Andrea sent Peter to live with her sister, Michelle, who took him when he was a few months older to live with her in New York. That would have been the last time Peter and his mother would see each other.

Most of his life, Peter lived with his aunt Michelle in Queens, New York. He was troubled child growing up, preferring to spend his time alone in his room or out and about in the world. Strangely, he felt more at ease when he was near or inside water, preferably the beach or the pool. It somehow calmed him and gave him peace. He spent most of his life being targeted bullies, due to his recent discovery of dyslexia. He's been in a number of fights, with him coming out breathing hard and his victim beaten to a bloody pulp, blood being the actual trigger. According to Peter, whenever he got into a fight and he were to draw blood,he felt...primal, like some type of predator. If no one was around to pull him off, he would've most likely beaten his opponent to death. He's been suspended numerous times and has changed schools every single time. It's been putting much stress on his aunt and he's been seething with guilt because of it. Besides the bullying and the stress of school, lately Peter had been noticing strange things around him. Things he can't explain. He'd been seeing things that were immensely explainable that he would most likely be called crazy if he told someone. Plus, there was always the nagging feeling that he was being watched wherever he went. It wasn't long before someone got bold enough.

When Peter was about 14, he was being followed while walking home from school. It was a woman, about 5'7, wearing dark clothing with a fedora covering her eyes. The scary part was the constant hiss that could be heard from her. There were no witnesses around, which benefited the woman as he was gaining on Peter. Fearing for his life a little, Peter broke into a sprint to try and get away. He managed to dart into an alley, and hope over a fence with ease. The woman was simply too slow as Peter out rand her. As he ran, the stalker removed her hat as she stared after him. The woman appeared to be some type of snake lady, with reptile eyes and scales covering her face. "Ssssooooon....", she hissed.

After that day, Peter started to be more cautious when he would walk somewhere by himself. He couldn't tell his aunt about it for fear of being thought of as crazy. Similar incidents kept happening from then on, narrowly escaping with the hair on his head. Just the next year, he was almost plucked by some weird mutant birds. He managed to ward them away with a crowbar before hiding in a liquor star. That earned him many strange looks from onlookers, probably thinking he was crazy.

Then, when he turned sixteen, he seemed to invoke the wrath of a flaming equestrian. It was amazing how fast a walk in the park turned into a race for survival, as he was being chased by a wild horse he had stumbled upon in a secluded part of the park. It looked seemingly harmless until flames began to spew from its nostrils as it flared its eyes at Peter. It reared on its hind legs, whinnying menacingly. Que Peter running for his life. It almost got him, flames singing the back of his neck as it gained on him. But then, something amazing happened.

He managed to get himself to trip in a nearby lake, falling on his back. The flaming horse was almost upon him. Feeling a sense of doom, Peter waved his hand over his face and prepared for worse. What he wasn't prepared for was the lake to move with him. A tugging sensation manifested in his stomach, as he waved his arm, the lake followed, rising up and crashing onto the horse, dousing its flame. This caught the horse off-guard, causing it to sputter in the water and gallop away. Peter was starting to believe he was going insane, as he started to feel a lot weaker than he should. Luckily, the coast seemed to be clear as he dragged himself out of the lake and laid against a rock to regain some energy. When he mustered enough, he was able to call up his aunt to pick him up and in no time, he was home free and immediately passed out on his bed. He hoped that he was simply going crazy. That was the problem with him, right? Wrong.

It was the last day of 11th grade, and things started to get crazy. Peter, now 17 years old, was sitting outside in the front of the school like usually does. It fairly empty around the front, so he had the whole place to himself. Unfortunately, the latest asshole decided to take a stroll as well. This one was called Droy, tall and pudgy looking guy who supposedly doesn't know the meaning of deodorant;Peter wasn't afraid of at all. Droy started his usual banter on him being a "no-life ass" and "will die alone on the streets", yadda yadda. Peter mellowed a bit with time, gaining the ability to tune out nonsense with music. But, as he looked up to say something smart, something weird happened.

Normally, when the sunsets, the shadows get bigger with time. That, however, wasn't the case. The sun was still out, but the shadows began to grow darker and darker until...something came out of them. Two giant dog-like creatures rose from the shadows, red eyes glowing with hatred. As soon as Droy heard growling, he turned, screamed like a wimp, and ran home to mother. Peter, however, was frozen solid. If it weren't for a miracle, he would have been a chew toy. Out of nowhere, a car pulled up in front of the school and two objects were shot out of it. Both aimed at the dog creatures. As soon as they came into contact with them, they both yelped and dissolved into shadows. All that was left were the objects used to send them away. Arrows? The driver quickly poked his head out at Peter and simply yelled "Get in!" That was enough incentive for him. As Peter got in, he hesitated at the driver. He looked about his age, with dark, curly hair and matching whiskers. That was the normal part. Weird part: From the waist down, he was all hairy with brown fur and hooves like some type of farm animal. A goat, maybe? The driver noticed him staring at him. "Look, no time! I'll explain later, we need to get out of here before they re-materialize", he explained. Sure enough, the shadows were starting to form up again. They had to move quick. Shaking out of his daze, Peter quickly got in and the driver punched it, driving straight through the school's lawn and down the street. As the got farther, they could hear the howl of the shadow dogs getting further and further. He looked back into the back seat. There sat two duffle-bags with familiar clothing inside. Peter's clothing. "Your aunt packed your stuff just in time. Any later and I would've been too late.", the driver said. Peter looked at him, cautiously. "Who are you? What the hell is even going on!?", Peter exclaimed. The driver simply chuckled. "Well, name's Conor. Short version? You're not human and bad things are trying to kill you." That broadened his mind, alright. Peter ran his hand down his face. "Is this some kind of joke?", he asked? Conor shook his head. "Look, I'll explain everything when we get there. I took me while to explain it to your aunt. Almost killed her when I showed her my legs. Should have seen her-" Peter cut him off, "Wait wait wait, back up. 'When we get there?' Where exactly is that?" Conor looked at him briefly before returning to the road. "The only place safe for...your kind of folk. Camp Half-Blood."

2 hours. That's how long it took to get to this Camp Half-Blood. Luckily their hadn't been anymore...excitement to deal with. Earlier that day was more than enough for his taste. This "Camp Half-Blood" was located on the far end of Long Island, NY. The entrance was very obvious, but the name on the pillar seemed to be scribbled in another language. At first, he thought it was his dyslexia messing with him. Then, the letter seem to be moving around to create a name in English he could read: Camp Half-Blood. As Peter and Conor, who was what he called a satyr, pulled into the entrance and was greeted by a small welcoming party. As soon as Peter set his foot on the ground, he was enveloped in a light-ish blue light. They all gasped as one pointed above Peter's head. When he looked, it had already faded away, but he saw it long enough to make it out: a shark. His face of awe and confusion contrasted with the campers' faces of delight. One of them came up to him, taking off something from their back: a sword. Not wanting to make a scene, he took the blade and unsheathed it. It was surprising light and well-balanced and it seemed to be made of some kind of metal; bronze or something around that caliber. Conor clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Welcome, Peter McKenzie, son of Palaemon. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood."