"Oi! Another round on Jackson!"
In small pub on the corner of Bowery and Grand in Manhattan, a twenty year-old Percy Jackson was enjoying a beverage.
He and a couple of his Pinkerton buddies went out for drinks almost every night. Beer generally tasted like fermented deer piss in comparison to liquor, but it went down easier and gave you the same end product. And that was all the demigod cared about.
Inside the bar, smoke filled the room as lower class men and women mucked about, smoking and drinking. An Irish band was playing a tune, and a few of the bar patrons were dancing. Percy didn't dance.
Just down the street, his infant daughter of barely a year - Anna, named after her mother - was sleeping under the watchful eye of Ms. Hobbes. That woman was a godsend. Percy was... having issues in kicking the boozing and gambling, despite his best efforts.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Mister?"
Percy turned to see a woman of maybe twenty looking up at him. Through his jumbled, alcohol-inhibited visions he could vaguely make out that she was quite pretty, with dark hair and big eyes. "How can I help you?"
She swooned bashfully. "I couldn't help but notice that you seemed awful lonely."
The son of Poseidon's eyes widened. Was she coming on to him? The few men with him were wolf-whistling. "I don't know what would give you that impression, miss."
After a quick giggle, she grabbed his arm playfully. "You've been standing there all night, looking mighty sad. And I'm without a man... if you're looking to pass the time."
It wouldn't exactly be faithful to Annabeth... but she was dead now, and Percy had definitely missed a warm body next to him. And the girl seemed insistent... "Alright then, miss. Let's go on back to my apartment."
"Attaboy, Jackson!" A Pinkerton said happily.
Percy led the girl - who stayed on his arm - outside and into the streets of New York. "Mister, could we stop for a moment in that alleyway? So we can get acquainted proper?" She asked delicately.
Perhaps in a proper state of mind, Percy would have asked why it needed to be an alleyway, but he was too enamored with the prospect of the night's events to care. "We sure can, miss."
The two turned down the alleyway, and the girl let go of Percy's arm. "What's your name, mister?"
"Percy Jackson. And yours?"
The girl put her hands on her hips. "Elizabeth."
"That's a pretty name."
The young woman stopped her smile. "You don't remember me, do you?" Elizabeth said coldly. She pulled a handgun from the folds of skirt. "Maybe this'll jog your memory."
The demigod put his hands in the air and backed up against a brick wall. "I don't know what this is about, miss, but-"
"Look at me, Mr. Jackson. Look me in the eyes."
Percy squinted, and gasped as he finally saw her eyes - big and blue. Just like... "Anna?" He asked in awe.
"No. I'm not Anna Jackson anymore. You sold me, to pay off your debts." Percy's mind shifted. He... he... "When you came to rescue me, you failed."
Suddenly, Percy remembered.
He remembered giving his daughter away to a stranger. He... he remembered being hired to go find her in a floating city.
And lastly, he recalled being killed at a... a raffle. A rotary blade dug into his skull. He'd failed.
But... if he'd done that, how could he be alive? Raising Anna?
"You were given a second chance, though you don't deserve one." Elizabeth had the pistol trained between the demigod's eyes. "You don't deserve Anna. You don't deserve to live."
"No... I have a daughter at home... please..."
Elizabeth scoffed and cocked the gun. "Really? And you show how much you love her by drinking and gambling away all the money you could've spent on toys and food? She's better off without you. Every Anna is."
"No... please... I'm so sorry, child..."
And she pulled the trigger. Percy Jackson fell over dead.
Elizabeth regarded the dead man coldly.
She put away her gun, and leaned back against the wall. She reached for her pack of cigarettes and pulled one out, only to find that she'd lost her lighter. Oh well. She reached into Percy's pocket and plucked out his antique. She flicked it open and lit the cigarette.
She dragged on the wretched thing, and looked down at her father's - no, Percy Jackson's - body. The son of a bitch deserved it every time.
Time didn't move in a straight line for her anymore, so she couldn't say for certain exactly how long she'd been doing... this... for. Being able to open Tears at will and use the Sea of Doors with ease messed with her sense of time.
The only others remotely like her were Robert and Rosalind Lutece, and Elizabeth tended to keep to herself and act on her own motives. Robert had argued against what Elizabeth was doing, but she didn't care. She was angry.
The Luteces were still an enigma to her. They had more power than her, but at the same time, it felt less. They called themselves 'Infinite', whatever that meant. Elizabeth was still mortal; still aged, still could die. They were essentially deities.
She took another drag of the cigarette and moved a strand of hair out of her face. She wasn't sure how long she'd stay here. Or where she'd go next.
Paris, maybe?
Despite being completely, she still hadn't visited the city. She wasn't sure why - it just hadn't felt right to her. Maybe this time, that was where she'd go.
"Miss Comstock." Came a curt voice to her left. Elizabeth froze. Two things crossed her mind - she was holding a gun and a dead man was at her feet, and the fact that someone could know her last name. She never used it.
An individual walked up to her, not taking note of the dead body at her feet. He wore a pale yellow sweater that was pulled up to his mid-forearms, revealing what seemed to be chain tattoos on his wrists. He was around her age, with brown eyes and hair. He seemed to be unarmed.
Elizabeth held her ground and blew out a cloud of smoke. "And who are you?"
The man shrugged. "My name isn't important. You mind pulling me a weed?" The woman looked at him blankly, not familiar with the slang. He sighed. "Can I have a cigarette?"
"Not until you tell me your name."
"Jack. You can call me Jack." Elizabeth pulled out her pack and handed the man a fag. He took it. "How 'bout a light?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "No. You asked for a cigarette, nothing more."
Jack shook his head and smiled. "Smart girl. I've been told your mother was a genius."
A handgun was soon leveled at the smug man. Elizabeth wasn't sure who this man thought he was, but he knew far too much. She tossed away her cigarette. "Who are you, really? How do you know my name?"
He kept looking at her calmly, and put the unlit cigarette in his pocket. "Miss Comstock, please hear me out."
"Don't call me Miss Comstock."
"Would you prefer Miss Jackson?"
"Don't you dare call me that." She said harshly, not moving her aim.
Jack chuckled. "We're pretty similar, you and I."
Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow. "And how do you figure that?"
"We have both have more than one father."
She dropped her gun arm and stared at him shock. "Who are you? How do you know these things about me? And... I don't have a father."
"Really? Then why do you use one of your father's name? And more prudently... why don't you use the other's?"
She glared at him. "You're not answering my questions."
Jack sighed. "You've got Daddy issues, just like I do. But soon-"
Elizabeth brought her gun to his head. He took a step back. "WHO. ARE. YOU?"
"A friend."
"ANSWER MY QUESTION, DAMMIT!"
Her voice was cracking, from a combination of anger and fear. He was dragging up all of her insecurities. "Before I answer you, Elizabeth, I have one more thing to ask you."
She seethed, but nodded. "What?" She asked through clenched teeth.
"How long have you been hunting down versions of your father?"
"He's NOT my father!"
Jack rolled his eyes. "Is that how you're justifying it? Really? Whether you're willing to admit that you've done wrong or not, you can't deny it. Percy Jackson is your dad, no way around it. Unless you consider Zachary Comstock your father."
A single tear fell down Elizabeth's cheek as she dropped her handgun. "I don't know how many versions of him I've killed."
"Eighty-six. You've caused eighty-six versions of your father to die. You've spent a year of your life doing this."
Elizabeth tried to control her breathing. "Every single time, he's deserved it. For being Comstock. For selling me."
Jack put his hand on her shoulder, but she shook it away. "Ah. No touching. Got it." He pulled out the cigarette and looked at Elizabeth expectantly. "Can I please have a light now?"
Elizabeth grunted and lit the cancer stick. Jack took a drag from his cigarette and looked at the woman in front of him. "You want to know who I am?"
Her expectant expression answered the question.
"I'm very much like you. My mother sold me as an embryo to a man who thought he could use me. Then, my biological father killed my mother out of rage." He breathed out a cloud of smoke. "Now do you see how we're the same?"
Elizabeth nodded slowly. "I suppose."
Jack was apparently tired of his smoke, and tossed it aside. Great to know he wasted it, Elizabeth thought angrily. "Now here's the difference between you and I. I don't know who my father or mother is. I don't know who I was sold to." He took a deep breath of the smokey air. "I didn't even know about this until recently."
The woman felt a pang of sympathy. She remembered things back before she saw all the doors - back before she knew that Percy was her biological parent. But still, she wasn't moved. "You mind telling me why I should care about this?"
Jack laughed dryly. "Right now, there's no way that I can resolve things. I'm not in contact with my parents, and there's no way I can figure it all out with the current circumstances. You could... I suppose it was foolish of me to think you would help me."
"You're right."
The man shrugged. "Sorry for bothering you then, miss."
He walked away, and Elizabeth got to pondering what that whole exchange was about. He still hadn't explained how he'd known about her. Or about Percy... she shivered, thinking about Jack's words. She was... she was doing the right thing. These Percys deserved everything she'd done to them.
Her father had died to wipe out the Comstocks. All these men she killed... they weren't her father in any way.
The Lutece Twins appeared next to her. "How are you doing, Miss Comstock?" Robert asked kindly.
"That's not my name." Elizabeth insisted.
The two Brits flashed looks down at Percy Jackson's cooling corpse. "I suppose this one deserved it in your mind as well?" Rosalind asked delicately.
Elizabeth spit on his body. "All of them deserve it."
The two shared a glance. Robert cleared his throat. "We have a task for you, Elizabeth."
"And why should I help you?"
Regardless of her snarky response, a Tear opened up over Percy's body. Elizabeth squinted into it, before gasping. It was the city under the ocean - Rapture. From her knowledge of the city, the vengeful daughter could tell that the Tear was probably sometime in the 1950s. "What's going on? Why is this job you have for me here?"
Robert smiled slightly. "What's the issue? Having trouble seeing behind the doors?"
Elizabeth furrowed her eyebrows. "What are you..."
Suddenly, she hit a mental wall.
The doors were gone.
"What's going on?" She demanded.
Rosalind smirked. "Think of it as a slice of humble pie, served to you by us."
Elizabeth stamped her foot in frustration. She knowing... everything... now, without being able to see all the doors... she felt naked. She couldn't even see Tears. "How can you do that?"
"Two heads are better than one."
Robert sighed dramatically. "If only you had a way to mend this without our aid."
Rosalind gestured to the Tear. "Your answer is inside Rapture. Go there, and do what comes naturally. Then you will know our meaning."
And they dissapeared, leaving the Tear open. It shimmered, as if inviting her. Elizabeth picked up her handgun and regarded the rift in reality. The Luteces weren't giving her much of a choice, were they? "Traitorous bastards..." She muttered.
Without the doors... She could only remember very basic things about Rapture - she knew that the place was underwater, obviously. The place was essentially the anti-Columbia in every way. Atheist. Free-market.
Well, Elizabeth hated Columbia. If Rapture was the opposite, maybe it'd suit her better.
She sighed, and rubbed her head. She wasn't used to not understanding things... and it bothered her. Imagine having access to the greatest library on earth, but then you'd have to forget it all in a day. That's what this felt like to her.
She glanced down at her attire. In order to better fit in with the usual New York bar crowd, she'd changed her clothes by merely creating a Tear and plucking out an outift - a nifty power, back when she could use it. She wore a simple white blouse and a long grey wool skirt. Her hair was long, which was how she preferred it. Now... she couldn't merely will herself to change.
A liquid dribbled out of her nose. Elizabeth put her hand to it in horror... blood. She... she didn't get nosebleeds. Percy used to get them all the time, back in Columbia... this wasn't good.
Elizabeth sighed and kicked the corpse. "Damn you."
These Percy Jacksons deserved nothing other than a swift death. The only version of him that was worth a damn lied dead... and was it all due to his stupid sense of duty. After everything he'd done to her, she STILL would have forgiven him. But noooooo. He had to die to give all the other versions of himself a second chance.
A choice he'd made without giving a second thought to what would become of Elizabeth. She didn't belong anywhere. Her entire life had been one huge period of loneliness that was interrupted by a short few days of companionship, and then back to loneliness.
She couldn't exactly take revenge on a deadman for abandoning her, but killing eighty-six versions of him definitely helped her feel better.
"Kid, you will NOT become me."
She cocked the firearm that was in her hand and raised it to her temple... before letting it fall to the ground.
She looked at the Tear skeptically. This seemed to be the only way to go, no matter how much Elizabeth didn't want to give an inch to the Luteces. She still didn't understand exactly how they had neutered her powers like that, and she didn't like that she was... outnumbered, for lack of a better term.
This was a horrible situation.
And she stepped through the Tear.