Name: Jekovah Clayton
Age: 20
God/Titan Parent: Plutus
Mortal Parent: Lorraine Clayton
Appearance: Taron Egerton
Weapon: CB Sword and Spear
Personality:
Jekovah is man of conviction. Like any other Clayton, he's stubborn to a fault and determined with his choices. He, however, is probably one of the most fun-loving and positive ones. Both his, and Willa's personalities have degreed each other up to a certain degree so he's developed a sense of bravery and badassery which he lacked as a child. Hardened greatly by living in the streets for so long and having had a negligent a mother as Lorraine has made him come to terms with the reality of life at a young age, and he'll be damned, but he has an inherent lack of tolerance for those who think life is a frolic around the park. Again, that doesn't mean he doesn't have a positive outlook on life, because he does, but he's not one to believe that things are easy to come across, which translates into what is probably his key belief: work hard, play hard.
Kovah is also perhaps a tad too reckless. He will never back up from a fight or a challenge, even if all odds are against him, just to make a point that he gave it a shot and did his best while at it. This has a lot to do with his sense of superiority, which, while not always noticeable, is there most times for whoever really looks for it. He knows he's intelligent, and he knows he's shrewd, and that makes his ego both inflated and fragile. His perspicacity makes him be someone that's rather quick to judge others and make him always want to give off an exemplary first impression in case others might be like him. While not necessarily selfish, he only thinks about his and his loved ones' needs, disregarding practically everyone else. Added to that, there's the fact that he has a rather lax and questionable moral code. If a situation benefits his dreams, goals, or immediate pleasure he's not going to hesitate to take advantage of it, even if it might not strictly be legal, ethical, or hurt others in the process
History:
NYPD detective and son of Themis Sacramento Romero leans in until his face is only an inch away from the crook he’d caught in the corner of the 233rd.
“Come on, man, stop acting like you got shit on me,” the perp, Montgomery, scoffs. “We busted you with eight pounds of heroin, Monty. That ain’t shit for ya?”
Monty’s silence speaks volumes.
Sacramento smirks.
“Tell me about Lorraine Clayton. Who was she?”
Pause.
“Lori?”
The recognition that lights up Montgomery’s eyes makes Sacramento lean back and retake his seat. He gives it a moment, but when the silence becomes too prolonged, he inclines his head.
“Shit, what about Lori?”
“Everything. What’d she do? Who was she involved with?”
“I’m not going to tell you about Lori if I ain’t know why I’m doin’ it, Sacki.”
“Lorraine Clayton is dead, and we don’t know who her killer is.”
“...oh.”
Another pause.
“Lorraine was… well, she was a firestorm. She -”
“Is that why her codename was firestorm?”
“Listen, man, how ‘bout you shut up for a minute? I’m tryna tell a story here.”
“Sorry. Continue, please.”
Lorraine Clayton, from the moment she was born, was a firestorm. A product of her mother’s affair with Hephaestus, she was every bit the best representation of that word she could be. With legacies for parents and a silent agreement to procreate with gods versus mortals like themselves, her heritage wasn’t brought into question growing up. She was very innovative and had the potential to become a leader among engineers, had she been born in a different era. Sadly, Lorraine grew up in the Bronx, exposed to major poverty and increasing sexism. Her intelligence was brought into questioning at every corner, and without money to help boost her profile, the pile of ‘what-ifs’ and ‘could-bes’ grew bigger and bigger. These obstacles, however, were ones she could cope with. It was the loss of her parent’s confidence and trust in her that shattered her. The birth of the golden child - her younger sister - was like losing an essential part of herself.
Her parents had shelved the idea of a second child when she’d begun to demonstrate the capability to become a prodigy child, but when the setbacks began, it was just too difficult to justify not trying for another child. It was in this way that TBD came into her life. With a seven year gap standing, it was understandable that the sisters would hardly get along. It wasn’t just light bickering and snide comments. It was actively having it out for one another, striving to make the other look as bad as possible in their parents’ eyes. From Lorraine spitefully sabotaging her sisters’ friendships to TBD poking holes in her sister’s condoms to setting the other up for things they didn’t do, the sisters’ relationship had gone too astray to ever go back on the mend. Realizing Lorraine was a lost cause, the family decided to cut her off. They kicked her out with only five minutes to gather her belongings before she was forced to live in the streets at eighteen. It was then that her life really started falling apart.
Lorraine met Ares at a public gym that reeked of sweat and desperation. She was broke and it was the only place that could protect her from the frigid cold of a New York winter. It was there that she met Ares; he was a handsome man who seemed very interested in the callous woman. Throughout the night, with a very late dinner and whispers of promised glory, Lorraine ended up sleeping with Ares. Irresponsibly, she forgot a condom, and that decision came back to haunt her when she discovered some two months later that she was pregnant.
To make matters worse, around that time, she had decided to go to a marathon, where she met Nike and ended up conceiving another child: Reginald. With an infant abandoned by his goddess mother and a baby on the way from a man who promised glory and left her abandoned the next morning, Lorraine was lost. She had somehow managed to fulfill her parents’ unspoken prophecy of failure and shame. They had done the right thing by kicking her out, it seemed. However, Ares did live up to his end of the bargain. While it wasn’t glory, per sé, he did guarantee her a cheap, one-room, rundown apartment in a complex several blocks away from her childhood apartment.
It was never for her, but for the child he knew her to be carrying. Ares did many bad things throughout his lifetime, but he was still someone who cared for his children and refused to have them living on the streets - especially if the mother was unstable in all senses of the word. With rent paid for a year, Lorraine was spurred into leading a better life… except that didn’t last long. While yes, she got a job as a waitress, she partied too much and cared too little, which ended up in several more children. While she loved Alena, TBD, Icarus, Claudia and Maggie, having seven children was too much for her; especially when they were all demigods. Over time, the conditions in which they lived began to deteriorate, and their lives went from bad to worse.
Building a relationship with Lorraine was difficult, and nobody knew that as well as her oldest kids - fraternal twins Jekovah and Willa - did. To survive, the siblings needed to rely on one another, but like all siblings, they bickered and argued and fought. They had little in common beyond struggling to make ends meet due to their mother’s frivolous spending. Between that and needing to help watch the gaggle of Clayton demigodly offspring, the duo became increasingly close. They were found together at most times of the day, and if they weren’t, it was likely because one of them was in the bathroom. Otherwise, it was a rare event that either one would be without the other. It’s why it made sense that they were together at the time of their first monster attack, at age 13.
One might be wondering why they didn’t have any attacks sooner, and that’s valid. There were seven demigods living together, with gods coming and going out of their apartment at odd hours. Their scent was very potent, but living in the Bronx, a place known for its large demigod population, the monsters that caught a whiff of their scent and tried to hunt the family down always seemed to die at the hands of older, more experienced demigods before they could find the chance to attack. Very rarely did they make it long enough in the Bronx, but it seemed fortune was not on his side. Maybe a hellhound on its own wasn’t a big deal when it was facing off twin demigods, but when you factor in their lack of training and weaponry, it became a hell of a lot harder to fend for themselves. With nothing to help save them that one rainy day at the park, their only option was to run. So they ran. They weaved through alleyways and busy streets, unsuspecting tourists and seasoned New Yorkers, and strategically split up through incoming traffic to confuse the monster. It was difficult with the hellhound’s impeccable eyesight and scent, but they managed to shake it off their tail.
Meeting about a half hour later several blocks away from where the initial attack was, Jekovah and Willa agreed it wasn’t ideal to return to their family. They had their reservations about how well their mother could take care of their siblings, but they were of the belief they’d keep causing monster attacks. They were understandably afraid and all too emotional to really make a sane decision, but like all Claytons, once they had their mind set on something, it was very difficult to convince them otherwise. So, they lived on the streets. It was difficult, and they needed to rely on each other more than ever as they braved the horrid New York winters and summers. That first year was arguably the hardest. With no other support network and no money to use, they also needed to make extensive research about the monster that had attacked them and why it attacked them.
Most their time was spent in the state libraries whenever they weren’t scavenging for scraps. Eventually, as their research spilled onto Greek Mythology, they began to realize what might have caused their attack. It explained their natural understanding of Greek - which they hadn’t even noticed until they started hitting the books - and why they were constantly jittery and hyperactive. They were hardwired for battle. With this understanding, it suddenly became a lot more manageable to survive on the streets. They spent a lot of their time trying to figure out their heritages, but ultimately they concluded they both had to be children of Plutus when Jekovah accidentally summoned a gold nugget during an argument with Willa. However, while Jekovah started getting a hang of his power little by little, summoning precious metals to pawn for money, Willa couldn’t seem to tap into her powers. It was confusing and discouraging. Sadly, it was the cause of many arguments between them. Jekovah felt Willa wasn’t contributing much, and Willa thought she wasn’t as good as her brother was.
They were arguing when they were attacked for a second time some seven months later. This time, it was a harpy. Unlike last time, they couldn’t make a hasty escape and use New York’s traffic to their benefit. It was a no-car zone. However, that doesn’t mean they didn’t get lucky. They were found by a satyr, who was quick to save the demigods by throwing them two identical necklaces that turned into swords - gifted to him by Camp Half-Blood in case he stumbled across any demigods. His quick thinking, along with the adrenaline and natural instincts of the twins, led to killing the harpy. But by the end of it, they were exhausted and still very much so at odds with each other. They only seemed to really get over it when the satyr brought them to Camp and Willa was claimed by Ares, whereas Jekovah was claimed by Plutus. It… explained a lot. Why Willa was more pigheaded, more athletic, more inclined towards fighting versus strategizing, less helpful when it came to putting together some money.
Initially, Jekovah and Willa were very fond of the whole concept of training alongside demigods to hone their skills. However, they grew cocky of their improved self-defense skills and eventually decided Camp Half-Blood was boring. With little to offer them, they decided to take their belongings - new and old, including armor and weapons - and left, preferring to go back to living on the streets. Having a roof over their heads was nice, but they missed the exhilarating feeling of not knowing how the day would go and what they’d face. In the streets, this time around, it was substantially easier for them to survive on their own. They were attacked by an empousa and flesh-eating sheep in the first month of leaving, but they were able to hold their own. During one of these attacks, they stumbled upon a latino gang that had taken to a few blocks not far from where they grew up in the Bronx. They might not have fit the latino bill, but the gang, being comprised of non-gifted mortals, thought them to be ruthless killers when they spotted the twins warding off an attack from a pack of hellhounds they only saw as wolves. They could use muscles like that, hence why they made the exception and let them in.
There, Willa and Jekovah thrived in ways they never had before. Who’d have thought a pair of fifteen year olds would make for good gang members? Luckily for them, they weren’t the only ones on the younger side. They benefited from the money the older gang members raked in, between the club they rented and ran as a front and the drug dealing that happened behind the doors. Being adept at hand-to-hand combat even for their young ages, they left good enough impressions that some of the seasoned members began to impose on them some of their prior knowledge. Guns, knives, how to speak Spanish - Willa and Jekovah learned all of it at an impressive rate, seeking to leave an even better impression. They were living a life of crime they weren’t necessarily proud of, true, but there was no blood on their hands as far as they were aware; all they were doing was profiting off the drug war their gang had going on.
Things were good. Too good to be true. They were there until they were eighteen with no qualms at all. By that point, they were considered like family among the rest, and with an increase in monster attack frequency due to staying fixated in one place, their reputation only seemed to improve. There were many rumors about the ruthless twins, the ones that used medieval weapons to kill animals and people alike (which was a lie, but they weren’t about to get into the whole ‘no, those are telekhines, fire-breathing horses, etc’). Their gang became increasingly notorious, and there wasn’t a deal where Willa and Jekovah weren’t in the background, overseeing the dealings and ensuring it all went off without a hitch. There was no reason to doubt their loyalty until Willa and Jekovah were caught arguing about a suspicious ‘Camp’. Some thought it was code for their rival gang, but the truth of it was that Willa wanted to go back to Camp. She had grown tired of the gang and wanted out, but Jekovah didn’t quite want to go yet.
Paired with the sudden intervention of the NYPD in one of their dealings, which went wrong and led to a full-blown shootout and caused several casualties on both sides, the twins were suspected of having betrayed the gang. They didn’t. On gods, they didn’t. But of course, nobody believed them, and Willa and Jekovah had to spill the truth about their Greek heritage to save their own asses. About Camp Half-Blood, the Greek world, monsters, the attacks, all of it. Not everyone, but the essential people knew - which was really just the ringleader and his personal bodyguard. They got lucky they had the proof, and that he himself was a skeptical legacy, because otherwise, they probably wouldn’t have survived. The rest of the gang, however, would be suspicious if they didn’t do anything, so they came to an agreement; they’d have Willa take the blame, fake her death, and Jekovah would continue with the gang for another two years to keep up the façade until the suspicion had waned and the police investigation concluded regarding their drug bust. It was the only thing they could come up with where both demigods would leave, unscathed. And it worked.
Willa arrived at Camp Half-Blood in 2018, while Jekovah visited every other weekend or when he could to train and catch up with her. By January 2020, he began the process of untangling himself from the gang, and some weeks later, he was allowed to ‘drop off the face of the Earth’ and return to Camp Half-Blood with his sister. However, in May of 2020, the Clayton siblings were all forced back into each other’s lives for one reason and one reason only; their mother had been found dead, her body mangled in ways that should be impossible. It wasn’t a monster… So who was it? Who killed Lorraine Clayton?
“So you’re tellin’ me it could’ve been any of her kids?” “Well, they’ve got tha’ motive, ain’t they? If an alibi don’t check out, there’s ya killer.”
“Could it have been her sister?”
“Hmm… maybe. I ain’t ever find out what happened to her… but I did hear rumors once that her sister had gotten some bastard kid or somethin’. Dunno, I never dug deeper. Lori didn’t like me looking through her shit. I just gave her the drugs n’ dipped, yakno?”
“Maybe she was still bitter.”
“Listen, Sacki, I ain’t know nothin’. You’re the detective. Go detect.”
“Yeah… yeah. Looks like I’m gonna have to dig into these Clayton kids. One of them’s gotta be the killer.”
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