II
Chiron was conflicted. He had always been. Training heroes since time immemorial, only to watch their stories end in naught but tragedy.
So many of them where the hero decides to give their life so that the day would be won. Where their allies, friends and family would cheer in celebration for their sacrifice. But their stories were always one of lesson and hardship in the quest to victory.
Their tragedy was that they never saw the fruits of their labors, no matter how heroic their deaths, no matter how noble their purpose and no matter their skill in the edge of a blade nor how flowery or honeyed their word, they always died in the end.
But this was not that story. Chiron looked to the demigod who was coaching the Titaness in the ways of the sword, spear and shield.
The Son of Poseidon's story was one of tragedy, yes. But it was not one of sacrifice nor one for lessons to be learned.
It was one of primal need. One so barbaric and ancient that there was only really one word that could accurately describe what they were fighting for. There were no heroic deaths had in this war. Their purpose not of nobility. Their skill with the blade did not matter. And the honeyed words fell on ears unwilling but forced to listen.
The heroes of this age did not fight because it was right. They fought because the other option was death.
Many stories of this generation were ones of a single pure and un-adultered basic mortal instinct.
Survival.
But Perseus' was not just one of simple survival. Something so basic was usually found absent when it involved the demigod. He lived and fought in two wars, back to back with no respite in between. He had seen his family crumble to a sleep they would never wake from again.
His tragedy was that everyone died in the end.
And that he didn't.
It pained Chiron to see the demigods used in such a way. Not even the heroes of the elder days had seen such careless expenditure of life.
And even Chiron knew it was not by the will of the Council that it had been ordered.
But by the words Son of Poseidon and the Daughter of Bellona who spent the lives of their friends and family like so many coins to be filtered.
The Will of Olympus, or Olympus is watching. The phrases or variations thereof had become a common saying uttered by the two commanders of the Olympian Army. They had near-absolute authority granted to them unanimously by the Council to oversee and wage the war against Gaea across the Steppes of the Mount as they saw fit.
Their words only superseded by the Olympians themselves and they did not make much of an appearance unless the faces of their arch-enemies reared the ugly and malformed gazes.
Something happened during those two years when he had been abducted. Chiron was sure of it. The Olympians, for all their faults, were not so senseless in their ways to waste a demigod of Perseus' caliber in mere hibernation.
No, Chiron suspected they had done something to him and the Son of Poseidon was none the wiser to it.
Thunder rumbled in the distance on a day where there was no cloud in sight.
The ancient trainer turned his thoughts away from that. The Immortals of Olympus did not appreciate the questioning or investigations of their machinations. Those lines of thought had often ended with the individual on the wrong end of a deity's ire.
And if this was truly that important, not even Chiron would be spared the opposite end of the Master Bolt.
His gaze turned to the Son of Poseidon. The demigod moved like water. Fluid and swift as he showed Calypso the correct way to move while fighting.
The titaness had the raw strength and endurance, curtesy of her father, and had she any natural skill with a blade she might have posed a threat to any demigod but her inherent peaceful nature and thus her lack of affinity with the practice of war made for rather embarrassing moments for the Daughter of Atlas.
As evidenced by the fact as she attempted to lock blades with the training automaton before her but was quickly knocked backwards into the training pit.
However, while she put in the effort to learn, she still had a great deal of work to achieve before she became any noteworthy combatant.
And she had already been training for the past year, where most demigods only needed to hone borne instinct to become better.
She was decent with a bow and arrow if nothing else.
Having enough of getting tossed around the sandy pit by an unruly husk of metal, she sat on a nearby bench to watch as the Son of Poseidon took command of the training arena and all the enchanted automatons and thralls within.
Perseus flicked his wrist and Aegis, the late Thalia's shield, formed in his hand and as if pulling something from a small space, Clarisse's spear made an appearance as it lashed out to the side, lightning crackling to the side, its celestial adamantine tip caressing the sand below it, searing it into pearlescent glass.
Attached to the shield, Chiron could see the handle and black leather sheath of the xiphos, apparently gifted to the Son of Poseidon by the Lord of the Underworld after it had been realized that Anaklusmos had been lost during the final confrontation with Gaea. It was a short blade and not as long as Riptide had been at a little over two feet in length from hilt to tip.
It was not drawn and merely left in its sheath.
Another flick of his wrist and and three daggers formed around him. One against his shoulder, another at his hip and the last at the small of his back, this one being longer than the rest, and just a small kopis.
Chiron noted that the Son of Poseidon had not summoned his armor. Most likely because it felt weird when he did so.
At least, that was what Perseus had often said when he was questioned by his peers.
But Chiron knew. The armor was made for war. When the armor was summoned, the demigod and whoever or whatever was around knew that something was going to happen.
It was a symbol. One born not to inspire hope in his friends and allies, but to instill fear into his enemies.
Instead, he wore the training leather cuirass, with similar spaulders, bracers and greaves.
And like a flick of a switch, the atmosphere change from one of learning to one of demonstration.
Three automatons rushed the Son of Poseidon. Their hive mind enchanted cores quickly determining that the best way to subdue the demigod before them was to attack together as one.
But like water, Perseus was fluid and swift. Unconcerned with being outnumbered, the demigod ducked under and past the first metal thrall and crashed into the one behind it shield first, while striking with the his enchanted spear at the third.
The effect was immediate, as while the first automaton twisted its bulk to strike the demigod again, the second was thrown backward into the sand pit, groaning and creaking in protest as it tried to rise. The third however, was the first to fall. The electric spear grazing past the bronze torso, a miss but not exactly.
The arcs of lightning along the spear jutted forth and struck the third thrall as it passed by, completely encasing the thrall in a web of illuminate and blue lightning. The smell of ozone permeated the air as the husk fell limply at the act, shutting down from the sheer overload of energy.
The first thrall's second strike aimed for the head while the Son of Poseidon's attention was on the approaching wooden and metal thralls.
It missed by a mere inch and Perseus continued to advance, unconcerned by the automaton behind him that was recovering from the wide swing.
A handful of wooden thralls loosed their arrows, many with two or three nocked, behind a phalanx of automaton, not all directed at the Son of Poseidon but creating a zone where he had to take to them on. Their enchantments recognizing that it would be in their best interest to impede the movement of the demigod.
The arrows were uncaring of their automaton allies as the one attempting stand received four arrows, two embedding inside its armored head, another in its neck and the last in its back, deactivating it.
While most arrows were deflected by the Son of Poseidon with the Aegis shield, quite a few flew past him, with two hitting the first metal thrall, embedding themselves into the chestplate and shoulder joint of the automaton.
The force of arrows did not stop nor slow Perseus in the slightest as he charged ahead.
He did something that not many would think to do. Instead of going around the flank of the wall of shield and spear, the Son of Poseidon ran straight into the center.
Now Chiron knew that automatons were arguably stronger than the average demigod to about the level of a grown cyclops, the training ones even more so due to their enchantments placed upon them by the Children of Hecate and Hephaestus working in tandem. The training thralls were designed to be difficult opponents already so as to simulate and prepare young demigods for whatever monster they may encounter.
The already enchanted strength, the weight of the shield wall, the metal and force being made into a phalanx, it made such ventures as attempting to break the front and center by oneself a fool's errand.
Which made it more disbelieving when Perseus was able to break the line, running over one of the automatons, and crash into the archers behind the hoplite mimics.
The wooden mannequins didn't even have a moment to react before Percy was already cutting them down, divesting them of weapons with bashes of Aegis or charring the wooden archers and disabling them.
The hoplite automatons, while fast considering their hive mind enchantments, were too slow to save their more vulnerable cousins. But they were just as quick to engage the Son of Poseidon not offering him a moment's respite.
Spears lashed out and batted away by the Son of Poseidon as the automatons attempted to encircle him. He was not having it though as the moment one grew too zealous in its attacks, was fried as bolt of lightning shot from a short thrust. The automaton crumbled to a heap, smoke rising from its husk as its cortex was overloaded. Percy willed Aegis away as he gripped his enchanted spear with two hands.
The remaining constructs attempt to close the gap as the lashed out with their spears once again, though as they grew closer, it became harder for their bulky forms to maneuver, their spears clashing with their own ally's weapons and sent off course or their shields began impeding the movements of others.
Something that the Son of Poseidon quickly capitalized on as his dexterity wasn't hampered by heavy metal nor large shields. As he twisted out of the way of an incoming spear tip, he had stabbed the butt of his spear into the ground, twisting and swaying the pole to bat away more attacks.
Lightning began arcing around but the bronze shields carried by the constructs easily absorbed the strikes.
The circle grew smaller and the metal automatons began becoming even more encumbered by the weight of their numbers. Perseus let go of his spear when another contrast attempted to jab him and held it. Leveraging his own spear as a pillar of support the Son of Poseidon pinned one spear in his grip.
Another strike and using his other hand, he leveraged the second spear against the first automaton's and his own.
Another thrust. The demigod slid his body ever so slightly to dodge this one as he began to run out room to maneuver before slamming and pinning the spear against his leather cuirass, the enchanted spear and leveraging the other two spears.
Three of the eight hoplites automatons now struggling against the vice grip of the Son of Poseidon.
Then the Son of Poseidon moved forward with all the spears in his grasp and with one fell move, the hoplite circle collapsed into a smoldering and smoking heap, arcs of lightning coursing through their fallen bodies. Three of the spears having small tufts of flame running down their lengths like veins of orange and red.
Chiron didn't even see it with all the bulks of metal blocking his view but he saw the bolt of lightning that flashed like a blue sun from the pillar that was the enchanted spear.
The Immortal Trainer could guess the rest.
The constructs were so close that their metal conductive bulks were touching. Perseus, using the spears of the automatons as a conduit, pushed them into the enchanted spear, arguably one of the more powerful weapons in the Camp.
The only construct left was the one circling the formally surrounded Perseus, with two arrows in its body, stalking around with sword in its metal hand.
He didn't even bother reaching for the spear, the amount of lightning still coursing and arcing off across the entire length of the shaft instead of just the spearhead. The Son of Poseidon was strong but not stupid, even he wouldn't bear pain if he could avoid it.
Instead, he approached the construct that did the same, twisting the bare minimum to dodge a slashing strike while also wrenching free the arrow from the shoulder and pushing the construct away.
The automaton did not let up however and the moment it was within reach of Perseus, the demigod caught its gauntlet and before the automaton could retaliate, jammed the arrowhead into the neck of the construct, deactivating it.
A forceful and powerful display but Chiron knew why he did it. Even if it might've been subconscious.
Despite her lithe and fragile looking figure, Calypso was still a Titaness. One with the strength and endurance of her father Atlas. Perseus was showing her how to play to her strengths.
Which in this case, was, well overwhelming strength and magic. She didn't need to flank a phalanx and should instead break formations as a shock effect. She shouldn't need to dodge all that much with her lithe figure and instead use enchantments and spells to defend herself. With her endurance she should be able to hold spells near indefinitely.
The weakness of her lack of skill with a weapon was something that could be improved upon with sufficient time.
But it was her hesitation to use her divine gifts and abilities and thus her complete inexperience of using them in an violent manner that would hold her back.
Perseus tinkered with something on his leather bracer. A rather ingenious contraption by the Children of Hephaestus, one that Chiron had used as well many times. They had gotten off bathroom-cleaning duties for a month for it.
The automatons and thralls despite their rather broken, dented and charred states, stood as one, grabbed their weapons and marched to their little cubicles where they would be repaired by a flurry of clockwork arms.
Chiron sighed as the Son of Poseidon began approaching the immortal trainer, the titaness trailing a couple steps back as she followed.
"Percy." The wheelchair bound centaur greeted. The demigod nodded his head in response. The greeting seemed so alien to the trainer's lips. This was not the lively and energetic demigod that he had first met and trained. Stood before him was anathema to that. There was no life in those sea green eyes of his. No energy in his stature.
He simply existed.
It crushed the old centaur's heart. How could the Fates be so cruel?
"Calypso." The centaur intoned his own greeting to the Titaness who inclined her own head, in slight awkwardness. It had been a weird affair meeting her. After all, her own father had been adamant about their death not so long ago and had stood at the opposite ends of the battlefield once upon a time.
It didn't stop the occasional awkward greetings but her venom against her more violent Titan family had been made clear. Perhaps that was why she hesitated on using her heritage, it made sense.
They both wore the orange camp t-shirts but Percy's own was more faded than many others while Calypso's was more personalized with hers tied at the small of her back and had stitched swirls of waves along the sides and chest.
"I've decided to go see my mom today." Chiron felt relief at those words and he had nearly missed the glare sent towards the back of the Son of Poseidon from Calypso. The aftermath of the Giant War had been a mess and parties were sent around the world to put out the roving monster bands that were the remnant of her armies. If Chiron was correct in his assumption, the demigod had not spoken with Sally since the end of the Second Titanomachy, nearly four years ago.
Chiron understood it though. How could he not?
The son did want to be a wavering and broken wreck for a worried and protective mother that most likely thought him dead. While Percy still grieved, he was not as he was after the war. Shut off and aloof for lack of better terms, were common descriptors used for the Son of Poseidon by his peers.
While Percy, the carefree and spirited demigod would have been great at consoling grieving demigods. Perseus, the Sword of Olympus and destructive Son of Poseidon that the campers saw him as now would not be so welcomed.
Calypso would prove to be a boon to the camp.
Chiron still could vividly remember the first few weeks of camp. Nightmarish screams and crying were a common occurrence during the nights as they relived the horrors of the war in their sleep. Neither of the two would see much sleep as Calypso would sing and comfort those that couldn't move on.
It was one of the few times she used her magic. Soothing songs and enchanted words comforted many to a deep sleep. They wouldn't forget their grief but she would ease them into it and allow them to feel safe in their beds and sleep. Her previous curse of comforting weary and broken heroes proving to be a miracle to the campers.
But while Percy wouldn't prove to be much help in regards to silk words and warm touches, his very presence offered a safety that none else could provide. The first days of peace had seen demigods and legacies wary and scared of the very ground they trained upon.
The barest rustles of bushes and shifts of sand would often send many of the younger demigods into a panicked, frozen and catatonic state. Earthborn raids were all to common of an occurrence when they were in the war camps upon the fields of Greece.
Perseus' presence assured them that such a thing wouldn't happen. Not on his vigilant watch. The oldest children of Ares and Kratos, and the Son of Poseidon had patrols going throughout the day and night. The harpies were permanently disbanded because of it. The demigods were more comfortable being protected by their own rather than monsters.
In all honesty, Chiron would have doubted Percy got any sleep at all. At first, the trainer thought the Son of Poseidon did, but then Calypso revealed that someone had erected a sound barrier around the room in which he slept. The implications heightened Chiron's anxiety more than it comforted him.
After all, no one had survived Tartarus before Percy, Annabeth and Nico. With the latter two having been killed in the war, that left Percy. The experience, coupled with the aftermath of the war, it had to have had on someone's mentality would no doubt break anyone else and probably why Percy must have requested someone of considerable power for help.
The immortal trainer would have guessed Calypso to have had a hand in that but considering that she abhorred the use of her magic already, especially considering who and what it was for, that left only a handful of others who could do something like that.
Chiron knew that Percy would rather die than have his peers see him so vulnerable.
Regardless, they knew Perseus would die before anyone else came to harm even if they did fear and hate him for his uncaring actions in the war. The Camp was supposed to be a safe haven and his presence did much to deter attacks as much as Peleus did.
"When are you planning to leave?"
"As soon as possible. I've already packed." Percy said, his voice trailing off. "I think…I think I'll be staying there for a while and visit every now and then."
Chiron's gaze flicked over to the titaness as he had been expecting the look of anger to flash over the woman's features.
"I could still use your help during Capture the Flag." Chiron said with a smile tugging at his lips trying to dissuade the tension that was beginning to build up.
A hollow and mocking chuckle escaped the Son of Poseidon as he and Calypso began to walk away. "You just don't want to get out of your wheelchair."
At that, the centaur let out a laugh. The excitable demigod may have been gone, but his witty sarcasm had only sharpened over the years.
Not knowing that this would be last time he would see the Hero of Olympus for a long while.
"When were you planning on telling me?" Calypso asked as she matched his stride with her own towards the Poseidon Cabin.
Her gaze was locked onto the path in front of them before turning to a scowl at his silence.
Percy was not planning on telling her so he didn't answer. It sort of just came up. He had been planning on not telling anyone and just leaving but then they would just send someone to investigate so he figured speaking with Chiron before he left would be the ideal route.
Calypso being there was just plain bad timing as he figured she would go shower after the training session.
They passed a couple of demigods who were playing basketball. It looked to be a full match and in a twist turn of fate the six players for Apollo were barely losing to a team of satyrs. They were probably legacies in that case.
They continued to walk.
"You know it helps if you talk." She said quietly on their trek, her eyes wandering to the strawberry fields where dryads and children of Demeter were hard at work harvesting the yield. Younger demigods no older than ten were bounding through the fields playing tag, much to the dismay of the those working.
I know. Was his unvoiced thoughts. They approached the cabin area where a couple of them were being expanded upon and another cabin for Apollo was being erected by a team of Cyclops with a couple of Athena's kids were directing them.
They soon made their way to the cabin of Poseidon where nearby Calypso had her own little abode. It wasn't anything extravagant given that it was only her living in there but it mirrored much the same way her own home on Ogygia was like and had its own little garden that a dryad was attending to. Moonlace skirted the edges of the Poseidon cabin as the Titaness had taken it upon herself to plant.
"I can't keep wasting away here." Calypso said as they stopped at the threshold of the Poseidon cabin. "Take me with you."
And that was why he didn't want to tell her.
He knew she would want to meet his mom.
But showing up with Calypso instead of Annabeth would bring up so many questions that he was not in the least bit ready to begin answering.
He did not want to relive the last moments he had with her.
"Percy?"
He blinked.
And blinked again as he realized that his hand had stopped just before touching the doorknob.
"You promised."
Percy turned to her.
"When you came all those years ago, you promised to take me to the mortal world."
He stared at her. He felt like a hypocrite. He had been avoiding taking her to the outside world because he didn't want to go.
"Fine." He relented though the words were done with clear displeasure. She brightened as her sun-kissed face erupted with a smile. And then visibly deflate at his next words. It was like watching a small puppy be disappointed and it honestly made him feel even worse than he already did. "I'll take you this weekend. Just give me a couple days with her. Its been…a long time since I've seen her."
She frowned but nodded anyways, understanding gracing her features.
"I'll hold you to that." She laughed lightly attempting to ease the awkwardness that pervaded the air around them. "And don't worry, I'll keep training."
Doubt it. Percy's thoughts suddenly said. Calypso did not like training with anyone else. She would most likely work on her garden of moonlace and other exotic and magical plants. He offered a tight smile as she walked away and he stepped into the cabin.
The cabin like most others was enlarged on the inside but the sea salt breeze brought a comforting feeling to him.
He made his way to his room and quickly gathered his stuff. It didn't take him long at all. He had most of everything he needed, but he did change out of his camp clothes after taking a quick shower. A dark, navy blue hoodie covered a bland white t-shit that had replaced the faded orange shirt of Camp Half-Blood while the black tactical pants were exchanged in favor for casual blue denim jeans and his boots changing into a pair of comfortable sneakers.
Checking he had always his stuff with him he nodded to himself in reassurance. Charm bracelet, armed with his kopis just in case he wasn't able to summon his other weapons, wallet and the faded digital camo seabag that had been enchanted by Calypso to carry more than its normal size would usually intend, which unless it was completely divested of its contents, would appear full and feel full.
He only had a couple changes of spare clothes in there as well as the standard demigod traveling kit.
He grabbed the bag and after one more once over, he felt satisfied that he had everything.
Then he focused, envisioning and willing himself to turn into a spray of saltwater. When he had first discovered this ability and done it, it had left him with an alien and awkward feeling and drained of energy. While the feeling was akin to pulling himself apart, it didn't hurt in the slightest but more natural as if he had been doing it all his life.
Regardless, it was still an ethereal feeling, it was like he was moving but not. The Misting was an ability awakened within sufficiently powerful water deities or other beings of water as Calypso had described and then promptly demonstrated by misting from her place beside him and than reforming from the water in the air some feet away from him near instantaneously.
Percy had forgotten that her mother was Tethys as she reminded him upon seeing his widened eyes. Calypso had likened it to Flashing for beings of the air and heavens, Flaming for beings of fire and warmth, and Forming for beings of the rock and earth. Simply put, misting was just another form of divine travel.
She wasn't surprised he had the inherent capability for it as well.
He only had to will himself somewhere and he was there, at least, it had to be according to his knowledge of the area and how familiar he was with it.
As evident of the fact, he had appeared in an alleyway near where he knew his mother's apartment to be, information supplied to him by Chiron who had kept an eye on her as a favor to him when he had disappeared in the aftermath of the Second Titanomachy.
He schooled his features, lugging his seabag over his shoulder as he did so and stepped out of the rancid alleyway.
And stopped, his breath catching in his throat as he did so.
This wasn't the free and open atmosphere of Camp.
This was the stifling and dense bustle of New York.
At Camp he made it a point to not interact with others, mostly because they didn't want to, people gave him a wide berth there on account of his previous actions during the war. They were none to keen on starting a conversation that would send or lead their brothers and sisters to their deaths.
Apollyon. Many had taken to calling him. Whispered in hushed and secret tones when they thought he was out of earshot or wasn't paying attention. An impromptu title that had taken the literal meaning of his name and made a mockery of it. He could ignore them and pretend he didn't hear the veiled insults thrown his way.
None would do it to his face as none had the courage to do so. And though they called him Destroyer and God-Killer in near-silent derision, they knew that without him they would all be dead. So while none of the campers opposed him, they weren't his friends nor his family even though he considered them as such.
However, here on the streets of Manhattan it was a different but parallel story. None cared nor knew for who he was, which was an awkward feeling given that he spent the last two years in the company of those that either feared him or were star-struck.
That was an awkward feeling but a welcome one.
This was not a welcome feeling.
Percy became overwhelmed.
So many people, sounds and scents that sent his senses into overdrive as his mind tried to process all of it in the few seconds that he had encountered the sight.
His breathing became vapid.
He calmed though it took him a couple minutes to do so as he simply stood against a wall, twiddling and thumbing the charm bracelet on his wrist, the pendants and beads upon it. A familiar sensation. Familiar was good. Familiar was safe. It sent a soothing flush throughout his body as he forced himself to take measured and deep breaths.
After a couple more, he steeled himself once again before walking into the bustle of New York.
He didn't notice that those mortals around him seemed to give him a wide berth. The mortals didn't either.
He entered the apartment complex. It was mid-level and in a decent neighborhood considering its location in Manhattan where usually only the more affluent were able to live. He had heard his mother had actually become a best-selling author.
He wondered what happened to Paul.
Percy hoped he wasn't hung up on the dent on the hood of his Prius. A near-silent chuckle escaped the Son of Poseidon at the thought. It had been a long time since that happened and imagining the indignation at the prospect brought a slight smile to his lips. Though he doubted the man would even care at this point, he didn't seem the type to hold grudges like Gabe did.
The walk up from the elevator was a silent one. Teenagers and young adults lounged out of the rooms conversing. Some sent gazes to him in curiosity but most didn't bother to spare second glances.
He made his way to a particular door. It was the same as all the other ones he had passed. Except this one felt familiar and radiated an aura of comfort.
"Sir?"
He blinked.
And blinked again.
He had raised his hand to knock but had never completed the motion so his fist was hanging just before connecting with the door.
He looked to the source. A mature woman with slightly greying hair and wizened features. "Sorry, just spaced out for a second."
"Sally didn't mention she was getting any visitors today." Her voice while not accusatory was still one of trepidation but mixed with curiosity as she narrowed her eyes at him.
"I wanted to surprise her." Percy spoke and knocked on the door. Deep but respectful thuds emanating from the impacts.
It seemed that the woman may have connected the dots as she gasped slightly into her hand. He didn't spare her anymore of his attention though and was only eager to see his mom again after so many years.
"Coming!" A grizzled male voice announced. His hearing could pick up the minute lilt of olde English that probably escaped most conversations. Soft footfalls casually followed the voice.
The door soon opened and revealed a slightly older middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and a stubble of growth on his face. Dark brown, almost black, eyes stared back at his own. Paul was a man of many things, having been rather abruptly introduced to the Immortal Realm and working as a college professor had left the man quite immune to surprises.
The shock on his features and the dumbfounded look was as evident as the day blue sky.
Percy had to repress the instinct to fight back and push the older man away when Paul engulfed Percy in a hug that would put most men to shame. The professor was no short man either but Percy had a good half a foot on him. Percy stood frozen for a moment though unwilling to reciprocate, fearing if he did, he might just crush the man under the force.
The Son of Poseidon and neither could Paul, repress the quiet sobbing that began after a moment however.
"Honey, who's at the door?" A warm and comforting question filtered past his ears. The sound of his mother's voice sent Percy near bawling. A state he had not been in since the end of the war and returned with renewed vigor as he relived all the moments that should have been his last. Malicious opportunities that had attempted to remove him from her presence forever.
Percy barely registered the sound of a plastic tin clattering to the floor and the rush of movement from the hall.
The forceful push against Paul caused him to peel himself from his stepson as his mom engulfed him in her own bone-crushing hug. "My little fish!" She cried as she wrapped her arms around him, the squeezing enough to think that she would not let him out of her sight in the near future.
Sniffles and chuckles of embarrassment abounded as the two peeled from each other, his mom cupped his cheeks, her eyes puffy and still brimming with tears. "I've missed you so much!" Her voice trailed off. "We…"
He didn't let her finish that sentence as he shook his head.
Percy looked around, seeing only the neighbor to his mother with her phone out recording the reunion. She also seemed to have tears in her eyes and clutched at her heart with a hand.
It was then did he hear it. A sudden wail of a child further into the apartment. Percy's eyes widened as more tears began to fill his eyes. Overcome with emotion, the Son of Poseidon fell to a knee, incapable of standing. "Is that-" He choked out. He didn't dare finish the words for fear of being wrong and this all being some terrible dream. His seabag falling to the floor beside him.
He grabbed hold of the doorframe, seeking something real. The wooden frame was very nearly crushed under the strength of the demigod.
She nodded as tears continued to fall from her eyes. His mother dragged him upwards and pulled him into the apartment. Paul hefted his bag and exchanged an awkward greeting with the neighbor before following the two into the abode.
Percy allowed himself to be guided by his mom.
It was a surreal feeling. It was all so normal. So mortal and human. Smooth, pale, plaster walls with photos hanging just about everywhere where there was space. Polished paneled flooring was covered with a couple long rugs colored and designed with deep reds and golds that made them look more like expensive quilts rather than something to be stepped upon.
Then he entered the living room. It was a warm and welcoming area with all the amenities but welcoming and not at all overwhelming. Upon the floor, sitting with her legs splayed out was a small girl that dressed in a simple shirt and skirt with a tiny blue bow that wrapped around her growing head. She had the warm brown eyes of their mother and the button, impish nose of Paul. Ringed around her were small stuffed marine animals, many he recognized as previously his.
The girl wailed at the woman he was beside for juice. She wailed louder when Sally did not produce said juice that she wanted who instead pulled Percy forward.
The wail died in the throat of the small girl as she looked upwards at him with wide eyes like she was star struck. Percy looked downwards, tears still streaming down his face as he crouched and kneeled in front of the little girl to be at a somewhat eye level with her.
She did not make a single sound and Percy, the cynic that he was, had to make sure that this wasn't just some foul trick conjured by an upstart deity.
If it was….
So very slowly, softly and cautiously, as if a single touch would break the innocent girl, poked her belly. She giggled in amusement but did not make more sounds.
"She likes you." Sally said softly who was leaning to Paul's arms as they both watched on.
"Her name?" Percy's voice didn't rise above a whisper and barely moved his lips while his gaze never left the small girl as if she would disappear should he do so.
"Estelle." Paul answered. At her name, the girl looked to the source but as she looked to the pair her eyes connected with their mom. "Mommy! Juice!"
Then as if she knew that who he was, looked to him with pleading brown eyes. "Juice?"
He didn't even know he had done it until a hitched breath sounded behind him. A pair of thin but extremely long tendrils of water, coiled around the handles of a pink and baby blue sippy cup had presented said cup, filled halfway with what he was able to guess was apple juice. One of the tendrils, at his bidding cleaned the stopper just to be sure and then presented it to the girl who happily took the cup in a fit of giggles and amazement.
The tendrils quickly retreated to their source.
"I'll never get used to that." Paul muttered.
And like that, he felt like he was at home.
And Percy would not let anything take it away from him again.
Nicolas Joseph Fury watched the newly obtained obtained surveillance footage of one Perseus Jackson.
The reunion was heartfelt and provoking emotions he hadn't seen since he got home from his stint in Cold War Europe and Asia. The relief and joyous occasion had left a lasting impression on him that he had thought faded from memory.
The manila file on his desk pertained to the young adult in question and he calmly flicked through it.
The file, if one could even call it that, was like a corpse long since decayed. Lacking any sustenance or anything noteworthy.
Percy had first caught the eye of SHIELD and Fury during the national manhunt for him when he was twelve. But that was way back when they were above hunting adolescents.
That was until he blew up the St Louis Arch.
With an actual terrorist threat and not wanting another repeat of 9/11, SHIELD began preparing to intervene. No one wanted a radical teen that demonstrated the capability of devastation.
But before they could even begin to mobilize the resources to be brought to bear, the manhunt had been called off and Perseus had been exonerated of all charges levied against him as it had turned out a notorious biker had framed the kid. The biker was said to have been killed in a standoff with police.
And that was where the official SHIELD file for Perseus Jackson ended. Just a string of bad luck for him.
Fury and consequently SHIELD dismissed the case as nothing more than unfortunate luck on the boy's part. 'Wrong Place, Wrong Time.' Was a common phrase used by the agents that had been assigned to the case.
He should have been nothing more than a footnote in the history of SHIELD and even that was pushing it.
Fury, however, felt a familiarity with the kid. As if he recognized him from somewhere but he just couldn't place where.
And Fury always trusted his gut.
So the SHIELD Director had discreetly and unofficially kept tabs on the kid and something disturbed him.
The kid had a nasty habit of popping up across the States in the blink of an eye, something that shouldn't have been possible.
He was seen at a boarding school in Maine where a blizzard had subsequently shut the school down. There was even documents that he had attended there since the incident in St Louis. The grades weren't anything special to write home about.
Afterwards, they were seen at the Air and Space Museum in DC during an incident when some nutjob released a lion on the premises some two days later. While there was confirmation and records of them traveling to the Capitol with a layover in New York, there wasn't any indication of them even getting near an airport.
Then after a couple days, they were spotted at the Hoover Dam.
And then after that going on a hike at Mount Tamalpais. This kid didn't seem the adventuring type but he was hitting some decent if odd stops in only a matter of days but skipping everything in between.
The next report that he made for himself would be that he was seen with his mother three years later before essentially vanishing off the face of the earth for the next four years.
And now here he was again.
Fury took a couple notes on a notepad and pen. Considering it was an unofficial investigation, it was best if he kept all records of it physical rather than electronic.
For all intents and purposes, Perseus Jackson was an average kid with a streak of bad luck and happenstance. The fact that he disappeared off of Fury's radar for four years being reasoned as simply that the Director had not kept as close an eye on him.
But Fury wasn't the Director of the foremost intelligence agency in the world for nothing. There was something about Perseus Jackson that just didn't fit.
The Director determined to settle this case once and for all, even going as far as clearing all his appointments for the coming weekend to meet with the boy himself.
Thunder rumbled quietly in the distance and Fury tuned his singular eye outside his office. Ominous storm clouds began to form over the Atlantic.
'Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy.'
-F. Scott Fitzgerald