•-- •• •-•• •-••

Several loud bangs echoed against the cabin door. “Will. Aliens are attacking New York,” Nico called through the door, “Grab your med kit. We gotta go.”

“Thank the gods.” He murmured under his breath, then turned to his half-siblings, who were looking at him, unimpressed. “I’m really sorry, I’ll have to work on clarinet some other time.” Also known as: never. He added silently.

He stood, setting the poor clarinet he had been torturing for the last hour onto his seat and grabbing his med bag from where it was hanging on his bunk.

“See y’all later!” He called, ignoring the sputtered protests behind him as he swung open the door to the Apollo cabin and joined his boyfriend outside.

He slung an arm over his shoulders and smirked. “So are there actually aliens or was that a clever scheme to rescue the ears of everyone in the vicinity?”

Nico huffed. “Please. You aren’t that bad.” He paused, “Besides, the Apollo cabin is soundproofed.” 

Will snorted. 

Nico’s pace was so fast that Will had trouble keeping up, which was really quite impressive, considering he was half a foot shorter. He was in a hurry, then.

“So.” Will sighed, “Aliens?”

“Yup.”

Will groaned.

They had been doing so well. Nearly six months with no strange disappearances, no out of place monster attacks, no ancient premortal powers rising from the depths of human memory to take over the earth.

That was practically a record.

Things had been calming down, the near-permanent sense of tension and terror receding. 

Will hadn’t had to bring a demigod back from the brink of death in weeks. He liked this slower pace. 

Liked the fact that the injuries he was treating were the product of teenage stupidity and not actual battles. 

Liked the way he’d slept through the night without being woken by his siblings’ (and his own) prophetic nightmares. 

Liked the way Nico had been smiling more, recently.

Now though, Nico’s eyes were dark, his body laced with tension. His face was drawn with worry and when he spoke his tone was forcefully light.

“The Jacksons are in New York” Will realized, watching his boyfriend’s jaw tighten at the reminder. “Percy and Annabeth are visiting, too.”

They had visited the Jackson home together several times before, when Sally and Paul needed babysitters or Estelle was feeling ill. The first time they’d met, Sally had given him a shovel talk and scolded Nico for not visiting more often before baking them blue cookies and letting them hold Estelle. The thought of them being in danger twisted his stomach painfully.

“Where are we going?” Will asked, changing the subject. “We should drop by the infirmary afterwards..”

“We’re going to get you a bow and quiver.” Nico answered readily. His eyes flicked up to Will’s and a slight huff of genuine amusement escaped his lips. “Don’t give me that look, I’m not taking you into an alien invasion unless you can defend yourself.”

“I’m just going to be healing mortals, like always. There’s no point. Besides, you underestimate how horrible my aim is.” Will said darkly. His lack of skill with his father’s other godly talents was a bit of a sore spot for him. Most other Apollo kids were at least passable at everything, though they all had their specialties. Not Will.

Nico looked at him strangely, brow furrowed in confusion. “Will, I’ve seen you practice archery. You’ve never missed the target.”

“Ah yes, because hitting the blue ring on a stationary target translates swimmingly in combat.” Will deadpanned.

“That…” Nico brought a hand up to his chin, thinking it over. “Yeah okay, that’s a fair point.”

“I do make them fairly often.”

Nico shot him a sharp look. “A knife then.” Nico decided, his hand dropping back to his side. “I’ve seen you work with knives. You’re good.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m offended that you would think of me as anything other than perfectly sincere.” Nico put a hand to his chest to illustrate his offense.

“I wouldn’t exactly call myself ‘good’, but I can stay alive,” Will sighed, pulling his arm from Nico’s shoulder in favor of running his hand over his face. “I’ve been at camp for five years, and the whole camp was involved in battles for a majority of them. I’d have to be some kind of hermit not to pick up some skills.”

“Ah, that explains a lot. I thought I saw you lurking under a rock once.” He said dryly, knocking Will’s shoulder teasingly.

“A hermit? With my sparkling personality? Banish the thought.” Will replied, allowing himself to fall into their familiar light banter.

“Which begs the question, why haven’t you been actively training instead of ‘picking up some skills’?” Nico asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” He winked. “You of all people should know that.”

Nico scowled at him, cheeks flushed, and said nothing.

Will basked in satisfaction for a few moments before they passed the Ares cabin and he remembered where they were headed.

“Will our weapons even work on them? They’re aliens, not monsters.” Will questioned petulantly.

Nico’s steps faltered for a moment, as if he hadn’t thought of that. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Well that was that, he supposed.

They opened the storage shed and Will waited apprehensively as Nico dug through the weapons and pulled out a wicked looking dagger and a thigh sheath.

He sighed and took the sheath and dagger, weighing it in his hand. 

It was pretty close to the weight and length of the practice blades he’d worked with before. The thing was about twelve inches long and curved. There was a serrated edge on one side near the hilt that would be useful for cutting cloth. He sheathed it and strapped it to his thigh, feeling a new weight settle over his whole body that had nothing to do with the physical weight of the sheath and everything to do with the instrument of death inside it.

Will didn’t like fighting. He wasn’t good at it, and never had been. He could learn the stances and forms, sure, but even the idea of seriously injuring someone made him shudder. Nevermind actually doing it.

Now, Will wasn’t stupid. He had a Celestial Bronze oyster knife hidden in his bag for monster attacks. It was only about two inches long and to be honest he used it more for cutting bandages than anything else, but he’d still offed a monster with it when circumstance demanded. He was a combat medic, after all. 

This dagger felt different. It could do a lot of very real, very deadly damage even if wielded by an idiot with no knowledge of anatomy.

What if these aliens were sentient? What if they were people? He’d banished monsters to Tartarus before, sure, but Will had never killed someone before.

He’d seen people die. He'd come close once or twice himself, but he’d never been on the other end of the dagger, so to speak.

He turned his thoughts to the supplies he would need to grab, but he had no clue what he was getting into. What supplies were appropriate for alien-inflicted injuries, anyways? What if the aliens were venomous? What if they created wounds that he couldn’t heal?

He would be helpless again, watching the life drain from another stranger, another friend, another brother.

The tattoo over his heart seemed to burn. He’d gotten it after the Battle of Manhattan when he had been visiting his mom in Austin. She had been hesitant at first, but once he explained she’d agreed, and had gone with him to the Tattoo Parlor. Now he had a stylized sun over his chest, names etched in rings inside the circle. The names of all the people he’d lost. His brothers, sisters, friends, even the strangers who had been injured when they crossed the barrier. All the ones he’d been too late to save...

It was a tribute. A reminder of what happened when Will failed. Lee Fletcher had been alive when Will had found him, but he had been twelve and far too stupid. He’d wasted time with shock and grief. 

Lee wasn’t the only one.

He shook the memories away sharply and entered the infirmary, packing extra bandages and ambrosia in his bag. He had a job to do. Estelle needed them. Percy and Annabeth needed them, and Hades be damned if he let family die on his watch.

•••• •- --•• • •-••

Echoing whispers filled Hazel’s ears. Cold hands seemed to pull at her hair and skin. It was pitch black and she couldn’t even see Frank beneath her as he tore through the shadows as a massive hellhound. It reminded her of her time in Adosphel. She wondered if Frank was remembering his time there as well. 

Not that she could ask. Frank was currently a bit busy carrying the two of them to New York.

Altogether, She was almost relieved that shadow travel was a power of Hades, not Pluto. She could navigate easily enough once they were in the shadow world, but getting there was beyond her. 

She and Frank emerged in the shadow of the Statue of Liberty and Frank collapsed with exhaustion, snores like chainsaws making the grass shudder. That was another thing she didn’t like about shadow travel. It was tiring, and often imprecise. It took a lot of practice to get as good as Nico was, and even he sometimes ended up a mile or more from his goal.

The sprinkler system suddenly turned on, which provided a very nice rainbow for Iris Messages, she supposed.

Unfortunately, it also soaked the both of them, Frank startling from his sleep so suddenly that he flinched about a foot into the air and turned into a corn snake, the sudden shift causing Hazel and the heavy bag of armor she was carrying to fall several feet onto the now-wet ground.

She sighed and looked down at Frank. Thankfully, nothing had fallen on him. 

Hazel picked up her pack and smiled down at Frank, who was curling against her leg, hissing apologetically. She had to admit, she’d never thought that a snake could be this adorable.

“It’s alright. I can carry a corn snake.” She assured him gently, bending over and letting him slither up onto her arm. He coiled around her neck, his orange scales cool against her skin. “Get some rest, I’ll call Arion.” She looked around at the aliens swarming New York like mosquitoes on a bayou. 

“You’ll need your strength for this.” 

Frank the corn snake nuzzled her neck in sleepy agreement and fell still almost immediately.

She cast her mind out for Arion, tempting him with the promise of some nice aliens for him to brain with his hooves. 

A line of steam appeared in front of her and then Arion was tossing his head in front of her as if impatient for the promised head bashing.

She smiled and climbed onto his back, pointing to the beam of light on Stark tower and explaining their goal.

They zoomed over the surface of the water, the sound barrier booming around them, and then they were on solid ground, darting around people and over cars. Even with the weight of her pack holding her down, she felt like she was flying. Hazel had ridden like this many times, but the feeling of gliding across the ground, the pounding of hooves and the feeling of warm muscle moving beneath her always filled her with an intense energy.

They hadn’t encountered any aliens so far, which struck her as odd. She could see them swarming from that bright blue beam in the sky, but none of them seemed to be this far out. 

As she got closer, she saw them. Strange creatures in flying, horseless chariots.

She whipped out her golden Spatha and began slashing up at aliens as they passed, Arion jumped upwards and slowed obligingly to allow her the luxury of purposeful movement, which she appreciated. Much of the time, he seemed to forget that not all beings could process input and translate it into movement as quickly as he could. When he really got going, Hazel just had to slash at anything that wasn’t purple or orange and hope for the best.

Arion took the scenic route to Stark tower. She didn’t see any of the others, so she let him zig zag through the streets as she watched out for her friends.

About ten minutes passed and Arion raced through a street that was splattered with blue-black liquid. It was as if someone had taken a paint gun and decided that the upper levels of these buildings would look great in indigo. Metal vehicles littered the streets, coated in the same fluid. 

She had the unsettling feeling that the liquid was alien blood.

She nudged Arion, and he followed the bath of purple-stained streets. In moments they were approaching Percy and Annabeth. They were both spattered with blood, evidently from the aliens overhead. They weren’t visibly doing anything, not throwing daggers or slashing swords. Their weapons weren’t even drawn. To be fair, they probably wouldn’t have been able to reach.

Then, before Hazel could announce her presence, she saw Percy raise a hand. A moment later one of the aliens exploded, its strange dark blood spraying over its comrades as its vehicle dropped from the sky to join the others.

Percy scowled and swore violently as Annabeth tried to stifle her laughter in her sleeve.

“Don’t laugh at me.” He pouted, “They just keep exploding!!!” She collapsed into a new fit of silent giggles.

Wait.

Had Percy just made that alien explode? That didn’t make sense. Percy was a melee fighter. He fought with water and his sword. He couldn’t wave a hand and blow up enemies from a distance. That was more Leo’s area of expertise. Besides, it didn’t seem like Percy wanted the aliens to explode. In fact, he seemed discouraged by it. Like a new recruit who had ended up on their back during training for the twelfth time that day.

She couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

Then she looked around at the blood that coated the walls and pooled in the streets.

Oh.

Oh.

Percy was controlling the aliens’ blood and bursting them like water balloons.

He was controlling the blood of his opponents and killing them instantly from a distance.

Hazel hesitated. If someone outside of the crew of the Argo II had this power, she would have been horrified. She would have turned Arion around and sped in the opposite direction as fast as his hooves would carry them.

But it was Percy.

Percy who had saved her life countless times.

Percy who put syrup in his orange juice and peach preserves on his brownies.

Percy who would never use this power to hurt innocent people.

She trusted him. 

She trusted all of the demigods that were coming today. She’d trusted them with not only her life, but the fate of the world as she knew it multiple times. Now Percy had a power that could topple armies, conquer countries, do horrible unspeakable evils. 

Well she’d trusted him with the world before, she could certainly trust him now.

So she shrugged off her pack and held it out to her friends. 

“I brought extra armor.”

They both jumped and looked around, weapons ready, then they saw her.

“Hazel!” Percy cheered, and he looked so genuinely happy and relieved that she felt guilty for hesitating. He took the pack from her and began pulling out chest plates and arm guards, handing the smaller set to Annabeth. “You’re the best.” he said seriously.

“Thank you,” Annabeth said. And from the look on her face, Hazel could tell it wasn’t just for the armor.

“I’ve ‘got you, boo’, as the kids say.” She even used the air quotes Leo had been so insistent about teaching her.

Both Percy and Annabeth burst into slightly hysterical giggles.

Yeah, she’d made the right call.