Angela Sallow was a thief, and a great one at that. She stole purses, wallets, money, trust, lives, and hearts. The police didn’t know who she was, or how this common thief always managed to get the best of them. They called her the shadow, because when she stole from you, all there would be left was a shadow. She would gain critical information on heists by cozying up to police, mob bosses, and political figures. Then, she would steal what was necessary and bring it to her employers. Angela was the best at the game. This, however, did not mean she needed the money. Her father was a rich tycoon who gained his money from the blood and tears of his workers. He’d set up a trust fund for her. What she needed the money for was to give it to those her father had hurt, and hurt her father’s industry, one theft at a time. Angela picked her own cases, and normally, they had some sort of affect against her father. On one of these cases, an employer asked for her to steal 2 billion from her own father’s account. He stated that she could keep ½ a billion for herself, and that later, he’d give her another billion for completing the task. His only condition? That he tag along with her. She was flustered by the request, but agreed. 1 and a half billion dollars was more than enough to compensate the workers, and 2 billion was more than enough justice served.
Angela took her father’s pin numbers, easy as pie. Her employers job was to take her father’s associates pin numbers, so that way they’d have full access to the Swiss accounts. He managed to do this quicker than Angela. Once everything was set up, all they needed to do was drain the money. And they did. This hurt her father gravely, and they had to move to the gods forsaken 3 million dollar home in Detroit. Angela was pleased by the work she’d done, and happy the workers got such payment. The only thing she missed was the odd bonding she’d experienced with her employer. This feeling continued to grow for several months. Finally, her old employer showed up, and delivered the 1 billion dollars as promised, and the other ½ billion they’d stolen. She was awestruck by this, and a feeling of love over powered her. He admitted that the only reason he’d asked for her to do the job was to get closer to her. A skilled thief, he naturally didn’t actually need her expertise. They hit it off, and what do you know, Angela becomes pregnant. She tries to continue her robin hood ways, but things are different when you have a baby. She gets caught, and sent to prison. Her father, now knowing everything she’s done, disowns her. Angela’s mysterious employer disappears. When the baby is born, he is given up to child services, and Angela continues to serve her time in prison.
Miller grew up in Detroit, a tough place for a kid, especially one in a foster home. By the age of five, Miller had to be clever enough not to mess with his foster father, who always terrified him when he came home, asking for the kids to bring him his "special cup". Only later would Miller know it was alcohol. He walked lightly, and made sure his faster father never heard or saw him. It was tough on the streets, with gangs rampant everywhere. You had to learn how to defend yourself, or run like a deer. By age 7, Miller knew how to run, and how to run fast. His foster father always spent the child services money on his "special juice" more , so the kids of the house had to learn to scrap for food. This is when, at age 9, Miller began to steal things for his foster siblings, such as bread, meat, water, and Twinkies, all the necessary foods to live. They came to know him as The Magic Man, because he would always appear with food and goods from out of nowhere, the food his bunny, his quick hands his hat. The kids were grateful there was someone who would lookout for them, even if he was so young. They formed a comradship, all of them looking out for each other.
This all changed when child services moved him. By now they’d been living the good life, with their foster father not even knowing what was going on. Only child services could ruin such a bond. Luckily, when they moved Miller to his new home, it just so happened to be fairly close to the state penitentiary, where his mother was staying. At the age of 10, Miller visited his mother for the first time in his life. He was accompanied by his social worker, who'd felt sorry for the boy. She didn’t seem like a criminal, only a good woman down on her luck. Angela was delighted to see her only son, the fruit of her womb that she never met. Every weekend, Miller went to visit his mother, and learned more about her and her past. He realized they were more in common than he’d thought, both of them being thieves. This made him realize he needed to be careful when stealing things, and to be careful in the lifestyle he chooses to lead. For a while, he behaved. For a while, things were….. normal. He got good grades, he visited his mom, he made friends. It was as if everything that had ever gone wrong in his life….. corrected itself. Unfortunately, this had to end someday.
On Miller’s 11th birthday, he received a peculiar package in the mail. Opening it up, he found a bow staff made of wood, with bronze at the tip. A handwritten note was left by its side, saying “You’re going to need this.” Miller was baffled by this gift. He flipped the note on its back, to see if it said anything else. It did. “P.S. Twirl it.” Miller twirled the bow staff, and it turned into a javelin, it’s tip made of what he would later know as celestial bronze. He didn’t understand what this meant, but he knew the happy days were gone. A few months later, Miller got his first attack. He’d been walking to his foster home from school as usual, when he heard a growling. Turning, he noticed it was a hellhound, poised to attack. It was a good thing he'd brought his staff with him, after convincing his teachers that it was his walking stick and should be allowed to be brought to school. As the monster leaped, Miller wacked it with his staff. Using the monsters momentary daze to his advantage, Miller twirled the staff. This time, when the beast came charging, he impaled it with the javelin. He then went home, battle shocked, and exhilarated.
When Miller was 12, He was on a field trip o the petting zoo. What he expected to see: Tigers, lions, zebras, and maybe a cheetah. What he did not expect to see: Fire breathing horses. It took a lot of convincing for the zoo workers to allow him to enter his staff, so Miller had just explained it was his walking stick, because he had leg disorders. It was lucky he did, or he, and many other people in the park, would've been roasted alive. Miller cut off the horses heads, saving everyone but himself. The zoo keepers blamed him for the deaths, and he was never allowed back to the zoo. Miller was then promptly expelled from school.
At age 13, Miller knew he would face his next monster When his substitute teacher said his name as ‘Smillersssss”, a mistake very few can make. On top of this, the lady had a green scaly face. Unless she’d just went to a salon on a groupon, this lady was not human. At the end of the day, everyone lined up to leave for school. Naturally, the substitute asked Miller to stay. By this time, he'd convinced everyone he knew that the staff was his walking stick because he had some muscular deficiencies in his legs. He explained that his foster family didn't have the money to buy proper krutches, and that the stick suited him fine. Most believed him. What other logical reason could there be for a kid to carry around some wooden stick? As all the kids left, Miller took out his staff, ready to tango. This Scythian Dracnae was harder than any of the other monsters he’d fought, and it took a while. Finally, the Dracnae did a misstep, and Miller took advantage and plunged the javelin into her belly. She disintegrated, and when the teachers heard about Miller “frightening off the substitute”, so did his chances of staying near his mom.
Social Services moved Miller to Chicago, a place very similar to old Detroit, but with a bean. Miller’s new foster parent didn’t turn out to be so good, so he was back to stealing. At the age of 14, On one of his midnight thefts, Miller encountered what he thought to be a closed bakery. He went in, planning to steal some pastries, when he heard the flapping of wings. Turning around, Miller took note of a flying chicken lady, watching him with beady eyes. “You here to kill me?” he asks. Naturally, she replies with a screech and attack. Miller makes swipes at it, but she’s too close range for him to twirl the staff. He goes out into the street, running hard. The harpy is at his back. Finally he makes a sharp turn, and as the harpy is making the turn, using his and her momentum, Miller hits her hard with the staff. She shrieks and falls to the ground, and he twirls the staff. As she comes at him, he tries to impale her, but things don't go as planned. Instead, he just waps her with the flat end of the javelin's bronze tip. She roars, and with a speed he didn't know he had, Miller escapes. After such a brutal attack, he made a promise to himself to learn how to handle his weapon better.
Some might think that by now, Miller most have gone to camp half-blood right? Wrong. Chicago is full of demigods, and full of monsters. The chances that Satyrs will sniff Miller out are 1 in 10. At the age of 15, Miller was walking down an old alleyway, when a giant bug caught his eye. Turning, he sees a massive ant looking at him, then looking at the shiny bronze at the top of his staff. It was not gold, but it was shiny enough. The beast attacked, and Miller was on the defensive. Its skin was hard, and even when Miller had twirled out the javelin, he still couldn't seem to pierce the myrmeke. The beast began to spit acid, and Miller knew he was done for. The acid burned through concrete. In desperation, Miller did the craziest, most unpredictable thing to do in a situation like this: He ran at the ant. It was slighty startled, but soon recovered As it went to spit acid, Miller leapt over the Ant as high as he could. As he crashed to the ground, Miller shoved the javelin as hard as he could behind him, striking the soft shell of the beast. It disintegrated to dust. He hasn't liked ants since.
After years and years of wait, a satyr finally sniffs Miller out. At first he is suspicious, not completely sure about Miller. His doubts proved to be unfounded when a monster attacks him. This time, it was a telkhine Miller had come across in the park, by the lake, while chatting with said satyr. As soon as he saw the beast, his first reaction was to twirl his staff, transforming into a javelin. As the telkhine went to attack, Miller threw the javelin for the first time, hoping for the best. It landed in the water, near the telkhine, but not impaling it. He ran and jumped into the lake, going after his only weapon of defense. The telkhine roared, and speedily swam after him. He bit Miller's leg hard, and Miller cried out. Still, he continued swimming toward his javelin. By this time, he felt as if the telkhines razor sharp teeth had gotten to his bone. Finally able to grab the javelin, Mllier thrust it behind him, onto the surprised telkhine chewing on his leg. He disintigrated. Miller swam out of the water, slowly losing his vision. As he finally reached the bank, he fainted. When he woke up, he found the satyr there, feeding him some ambrosia. He'd dragged Miller under a bridge in the park to aviod suspicion, and went back to clean up the bloody mess. Miller healed well, but his leg was never the same again, and he walked with a sort of limp for the rest of his life. Not knowing how the satyr managed to cure him, he decided to travel with the satyr, whom he felt knew more about himself then even he did. The satyr told him about the insanity of his life, and about monsters, and about who he really was. They headed for New York, and Miller told the satyr of the peculiar story of the javelin. All was well, and though monsters tracked them, they were well out of reach. They did not know, however, that the next enemy woudl come from the front, and not the back.
It took awhile for them to reach camp half-blood, as Miller learned to deal with his new condition. On Miller’s 17th birthday, a flock of stymphilian birds attacked. This was by far the worst attack, as the satyr had limited knowledge on them, and Miller knew practically nothing. He jabbed and jabbed, but nothing seemed to work. They were being pecked alive. They'd been close to camp, so when the water nymphs saw their plight, they sent word to camp half-blood, and clanging help came on the way. As the terrible noise reached the birds, they panicked, and weakened. This was just enough for Miller to spear head a few of them, but most flew away. He then procceeded with the rest of the campers into camp half-blood. Here, he hoped to learn how to fight, and use his gimp to an advantage.