The V Word
We found a small, grubby diner that was open 24 hours. It was dotted with a couple of hobos and graveyard shift workers, and waiters with dark bags under their eyes moved sluggishly between tables.
The fight hadn't lasted very long. To cut the mob-arms a bit of slack, they probably hadn't expected a visit from two demigods. If they had, they'd have brought a few more goons. Like, maybe a hundred more.
Between my water wielding and Annabeth's strategy-ing, it wasn't too difficult to find and rescue Daniel Reeves from the chair he was handcuffed to. He was still terrified, but that didn't stop him from being very curious about being saved by two strangers in masks. We watched him afterwards, when the police came, as he animatedly recounted his experience from under the embrace of his father, who looked like he hadn't slept in a week.
Neither of us wanted to head home afterwards. Our adrenaline was too high or something. Anyway, once we were in the diner we slid into a small booth at the back.
"What can I get y'all today?"
I looked up at the waitress. She was a middle-aged blonde woman dressed in a dull pink apron. She looked about as tired as I felt. And yet she still wore a genuine smile as she waited for our orders.
"Two coffees please." Annabeth replied. If the waitress was concerned about two high school kids drinking caffeine at four in the morning, she didn't mention it, just jotted down our orders and trotted off, leaving the two of us to sit in silence.
It wasn't really an awkward silence, more like an exhausted, where-the-hell-do-we-even-start kind of silence. Our coffees were brought over and I sipped it slowly, cherishing the warmth that slid down my throat.
"Annabeth I-"
"Percy-"
We chuckled.
"Go on." I gestured for her to continue. (One must always be a gentleman.)
She let out a long breath.
"So... Tonight was... Different."
I snorted. "I'll say."
"But it was also sort of... Relieving? I can't really explain it, but I think... I think you understand what I'm going through, right? You feel it too? The... Heaviness? The feeling of danger even when danger's not there. The need to do something, anything to do good."
Everything she said struck a cord, putting into words all the emotions I'd been feeling over the last few weeks.
"Yeah," I continued, "And it's like, even after all we've been put through, even after all the risks we've taken, I still have this... Urge to put myself in the line of fire and help people. Like some ancient demigod instinct in my blood."
She nodded. "For most people I think a therapist would say this is an extremely unhealthy coping mechanism. But..."
"We aren't most people."
"Exactly." She took a long swig of her coffee, tapping her fingers nervously against the mug. "I think we need this."
I nodded, and she sighed again.
"Listen, if we're going to do this, we need to be sure it's what we want to do. Otherwise..."
I understood what she was saying. There wasn't much backing out of this. Except...
"What even is this?"
It was sort of a dumb question. Of course I knew the word for what we were sort of planning on doing. It's just it still didn't really seem real.
"Vigilantism I suppose."
Whelp. There it was. The V word. That came out wrong.
The full force of the word crashed down on me. Fighting crime. Thwarting evil on the streets instead of on the battlefield. Beating up muggers instead of slashing monsters to bits. It would either be a refreshing change of pace or a complete disaster.
Either way, it was bound to be interesting.
And illegal, I should add; although at this point the law was kind of irrelevant.
"Let's do it."