This is my first story on this website, so I firstly should thank you for at least attempting to read this, whether you liked it or not. I got this idea from reading something about greek gods, so basically you can see what the story's about when I decided to consider this idea. Hopefully this chapter is good, and reviewing might give a little motivation for me to make improvements to my writing, so don't be afraid to point out certain errors.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Under no circumstances do any of the names, characters, and events taking place in the story have connections with anything or anyone. Any similarity is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. PJO belongs to RR.

Warning: Depiction of violent scenes is included. Profanity is used. Characters may be portrayed in a darker, sadistic sense.

Chapter 1

Percy would've laughed if anyone had bothered throwing money his way.

In the harsh, sadistic environment of the New York street alleys, there was more danger lurking in the shadows than what the usual, busy lifestyle of New Yorkers seem to presume. Well, being abandoned at a very young age could mean that he'd have to fend for himself for a full 24 hours. Though, he might exchange a day without peril for just a few dollars that might give him a good breakfast. The very first good breakfast he could have in the last 10 years of his life. It shows how much concern the deprived got from the world.

He admitted it; he was hungry. He always was. He sometimes had to search leftover food scraped near garbage bins and wolf them down before the vermin had arrived and take them away. So it would give him some incentive if someone had at least thrown a dime into that handkerchief of his. But they probably thought, Oh, but I only have few left in my pocket, what am I going to do? I know! I'll come back tomorrow and give a lot more! And Percy will never see them cross this alley ever again.

His body spoke for itself, too. The thin, frail legs, an unhealthy stomach, sagging ribs, they all reeked of hunger. On top of that, the scars made slick remarks of his predicament as they smeared themselves all over and increased the sense of guilt on the by-passers looking at him with fragments of pity.

And he absolutely hated it.

He wanted to strangle them so badly he cried for not being able to. He wished he could just throw a garbage bin at those wealthy bastards looking smug with those sick jewellery they wore all over themselves, not even considering the risk of being robbed. But here he was, begging in the streets with no authority to rule this people. Here he was, being controlled by the actions of these selfish assholes. Forever living like this, till a day came when someone would save him. When it would come, he did not know.

A very sudden clang shook Percy's thoughts. His pale sea-green eyes turned very quickly at the source of the sound. What the hell?

Squinting his eyes at the far, dark end of the alleyway, he spotted a few garbage bins scattered about from something that apparently had pushed them. However, there was nobody there to confirm his suspicions. A few minutes later, a disheveled black cat jumped out from one bin.

Percy got up disdainfully from the cemented ground, awaiting any threat that was about to show its face sooner or later. He scanned the dull, lifeless red brick walls on either side of him, and then to the back, where there was only the empty road that brought silence. There was no one here besides him. He knew he was about to be attacked.

One. He felt like someone was watching him, lingering around, as if calculating his every move. Two. The presence felt stronger, like it was running towards him from somewhere, about to ambush him. Three. He thought he heard a plastic bottle tear.

Out of nowhere, or what could have been from above, a rough, meaty hand raked his hair, muffling Percy's screech. The ambusher's other hand was quick to cover the boy's mouth, and he felt a forceful surge blast through his spine, numbing his entire body and nullifying his brain. Fuck!

Percy dropped to the ground from shock, unable to process what had occurred in the last two seconds. He could still feel his attacker's presence, but he failed to recognize where. Clutching onto his head, his eyes tried desperately to clear the blurred vision he saw, while the world was being tilted from side from side, making him dizzy. He forced himself to get up from the ground, shakily. His legs staggered and his eyes drooped slightly.

The numbness was starting to swell, however it disappeared almost instantly, and Percy could slowly feel his body stand straight. His vision was still troubled by some dark spots he saw here and there, but he could make out the thug standing interior to him with a sneer on his face. Percy noticed the scalpel sticking out of the thug's left pocket, ready to be used when provoked. Percy wasn't ready for another scar to add to the countless others that were still visible from past attacks. Though, in almost all attacks, Percy was abused. This would be no different.

"What do you want from me?" he croaked out, failing to find his voice in this fight-or-flight situation. The thug simply sneered, refusing to reply. He had asked the same question to all these thugs every single time they had attacked him, and in almost all of those times the only reply he got was hits from their fists. The rest of the times he got kicked on instead.

But for some reason, Percy wanted this to be the last time. He wanted to fight back. He wanted to show these motherfuckers that he wasn't everyone's punching bag. If he were to die, he would die defiantly.

His attention was brought back to the thug, who had his scalpel armed and ready to strike. Percy began to shuffle to his left, bringing his opponent to move accordingly, in order to face each other body-to-body. His forearms bent slightly, though he doubted the thug noticed his movements. Percy next brought his arms to chest level, carefully motioning them so they do not seem to garner too much attention. The thug gripped his scalpel's handle tighter, but sharp green eyes were quick to spot the tension of muscles and in turn, anticipate the oncoming attack.

With a long abduction, the thug thrust his weapon forward mightily to stab Percy's vulnerable stomach. However, he saw it coming and instinctively brought his right hand out with speed, grabbing the thug's forearm rigidly while the same time avoiding the lethal blow to his stomach that would've instantly killed him. This had recoiled the thug a bit, as he wouldn't have expected for someone to cancel out his attack completely.

Percy's mind sneered to itself, as over-confidence was starting to surface. He could beat this prick and feed him to the vermin. And everybody would stop messing with him after they saw what he did. Then he would have power and control in the streets. He would be unstoppable.

However, Percy didn't notice the thug's other hand that had found its way to his right shoulder. He didn't notice that his hand was removed of its grip the next second and was now in his attacker's clutches. Snapping back to reality, his eyes only caught the thug's snarling breath and malicious expression before he was flung off the ground for an inexplicable 3 seconds. Shit!

He landed the next moment like how he was feeling when he was ambushed. His body turn numb once more while pain veiled his brain, and the blurry vision returned worse than what Percy experienced momentarily. This time he wouldn't be so lucky. The thug would want to kill him now for what he did. He would have already begun to bring his scalpel onto his head. And then the pain would worsen and he would die slowly and painfully. But he had at least enjoyed two full seconds of control, of authority. He would let the world know that he hated it. In the end, there really was no one there for him.

Suddenly, Percy felt a strong presence take shape somewhere near him. He could feel a load of emotions with it. Strength, war, power, control, bloodlust, ruthlessness. He could almost feel his body bring itself back to existence. His awareness returned. The pain subsided. The blurry vision cleared.

His mind woke itself up, and when his eyes was alerted, his attention was brought back to the thug, still standing in front of him, but a large shadow covering his physique. And the thug looked afraid. Really afraid.

A split second passed, and a huge, buff figure smashed his way pass Percy, before a violent eruption of punches shocked him just by watching it take place. The figure beating the soul out of the thug was way too big to be humane. He had big, broad shoulders, a huge chest, thick arms, and a wide back. He looked like he could throw a thirty-floor building a hundred yards away.

But his eyes were the ones that intrigued Percy. He had caught one single glimpse of those eyes. He couldn't believe them. They were sockets of flame-colored spheres. And in those spheres Percy saw a wave of raw emotion. He saw the deaths of countless lives, the crying and sobbing of people, and the havoc caused by wars and skirmishes. He took only a second to witness it before he came back to where the fight still was taking place.

The muscle monster was still there, smashing a motionless figure on the ground. The thug looked like he took a massive blow, with scars and blood smeared in his face and a blue-black eye and a tattered shirt. Hulk continued to punch his victim's face painfully, grinning like a madman as he did so. It made him look almost evil. Crack. Break. Repeat.

He finally stopped. And the next minute he threw the dead body into a green dumpster, making the latch fall and close it too. Satisfied, he flexed his arms and the bones in his body cracked simultaneously, and Percy flinched at the weird noise produced.

This guy is sick.

The buff figure rotated his body, almost way too fast, and faced Percy with flame-socket eyes burning. Percy recoiled slightly and tried to avoid getting too close to his intimidating physique. Slowly moving his face upward, he forced himself to match his pale, sea-green eyes to those red, merciless eyes. He could see amusement in the face of his "savior". He could tell. The atmosphere each of them produced was way out of chemistry.

"What's it to ya?" The stranger asked him. It sounded pretty rude, but Percy was more than comfortable at taking insults to the face. Though it made him frustrated at everything, like he wanted to pick a fight with a wall. Percy tried to keep himself cool.

"Nothin'. Just get that face checked, will ya?" He countered. The stranger's eyes glowed harshly, and Percy tried not to look at them wholly. He didn't want to see those visions again.

"You wanna pick a fight with me, kid?" He growled dangerously, like he was about to shoot someone with a gun. Percy had barely begun to feel afraid. He didn't need to give bastards entertainment, he would go straight to the point and give them a piece of his mind. He wouldn't go down without a fight.

"And if I do? What're you gonna do about it?" Percy grunted, unwilling to bring this spat to an end. Why did this guy save him anyway? He couldn't have pitied him, could he? This two-fifty pound beast was going to comfort him? Give him a shoulder to lie on? Percy doubted this guy would put people before his reputation.

"You'll see what I can do," He snarled at him. Percy made a mistake at looking into the man's cruel eyes. Suddenly, he was in a different place. He saw the entire region he was in burning with flames. He heard screams and shouts for help. For some reason, he wanted to save those people. He wanted to save everyone from danger. But he couldn't. He couldn't stop the destruction. He couldn't stop deaths of many. He was helpless. That was the last thought before the flames around covered him like a shadow.

Percy snapped out of it. He felt his body stay frozen to the spot he was in. But he analyzed his surroundings. He was still in the alleyway. The stranger was still in front of him. He still had a mean sneer on his face. And Percy wanted to rip it off his face.

"What did you do to me, you asshole!" He yelled at the intimidator. What was he? Some black magician? No normal person would be able to manipulate his mind like that. This guy was not normal. He couldn't be human. And Percy wanted to get away from this freakshow before his mind got blown from the strange things happening around him.

The man continued to sneer. "I already said it, kid. I'll show what I can do."

"What you can do? What you can do? You just mind-raped me! You can't do that!"

"Damn, you're clueless as hell. Did you really think you were human? A full-mortal? You didn't even think you were half-god?" The man pressed on further. His words were like wires tangled up and being shook violently. Percy was having a really hard time. Could he just kill himself? A mortal? A half-god? What was this guy talking about?

"And I suppose you're a god? An immortal living on Earth?" Percy said sarcastically. This guy had to be joking. He was probably drunk; maybe that's why his eyes were a bit wicked. However, the stranger simply laughed. It was a sickening laughter, one that even made Percy want to cover his ears in fear. The stranger looked at him with wide, crazed eyes, as they glowed the brightest they ever could.

"I am Ares. The god of war."