Hey guys, new story by me. I know I have other stories to complete, but this idea just came to me and it wouldn't leave my head. So here it is, i put it into words. I hope you guys like it, favorite and follow if you do. This chapter will be updated with short but frequent chapters, so that's good for you guys i guess. I have another idea that's bugging me as well but i won't write that yet. I will complete this story first then that will come. Anyways enough talk, enjoy and i will see you guys in the next chapter.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Chapter 1
The second giant came to an end at the sacrifice of two demigods, two of the seven from the Prophecy.
The brave daughter Pluto, Hazel Levesque, was the first to fall. She had sacrificed herself to closes the doors or death, and make sure they stayed close for a long while.
The second to fall was the elfish son of Hephaestus, Leo Valdez. When Gaea had awoken in Camp Half-Blood, in an attempt to defeat her, Leo, with his iron dragon, Fetus, did a suicide attack on the Earth Mother.
The Fates must've been on their side, because the attack had succeeded, returning Gaea back to her slumber and gaining victory for the gods and heroes.
After the battle had come to an end, Zeus led the gods back to Olympus, leaving the Heroes to clean up the mess and mourn their dead. Once the shrouds had been burnt, and the sacrifices had been made to the gods for their help, the campers were called up to Olympus.
There, Zeus gave his congratulatory speech about how the heroes had done well in defending Olympus. After, he had announced something that surprised the heroes.
He declared that in order for Olympus to have reliable leaders in the future, in the case of danger, they had had come to the conclusion to grant partial immortality to the remaining five members of the prophecy. Partial immortality that was similar to the hunters of Artemis, yet different. This form of immortality will let them age, until they hit the age 30 before their aging stopped; this clause was added to compensate for Percy's previous complaint of not being able to enjoy his teenage years if he accepted immortality. These new immortals would train the new heroes, and serve Olympus when it called. And learning his lesson last time at the refusal of a certain son of the sea, Zeus declared that that they had no say in the matter. Them becoming partially immortal had already been decided by the council.
Some were thrilled, like Jason, who was ecstatic at the thought of being immortal; especially since his sister was already one. While others were hesitant, like Percy, who was thinking of his mother. But regardless of what they felt, they didn't have a say. They had become immortal.
Ten years later.
The man sat on the leather couch, reclining his head to stare at the ceiling of the room. His body motionless, almost as if dead, the only thing betraying that was the slight rise and fall of his chest. His face was covered with a thick beard, his long black hair also fell on his face, successfully covering his eyes. A pair of faded sea green eyes peaked through the mop of hair, dull and lifeless, as they stared at the wall.
The man continued to stare, unblinking, as he brought up his hand to reveal a glass bottle. He placed the opening on his lips, taking a sip of the drink. He was indifferent towards the burn the liquid set ablaze in his mouth, as he swallowed, much to the protest of his throat.
He continued to sit there, in the silence, almost as if being absorbed by it. He took another sip of the drink, gulping it down as his eyelids slowly shut, hiding his lifeless eyes.
A sudden burst of gray and blonde flashed through his mind, causing him to jerk his eyes open.
He let out a sigh, returning to stare back up at the wall. He brought up bottle again, draining it of its content this time, instead of just taking a sip. Once empty, he brought up the bottle overheard, studying it, waiting for the feeling that accompanied this type of drink to arrive; a feeling which almost never arrived, not because he didn't drink enough, but because his constitution never allowed the feeling to breach into his system.
He let out another sigh, letting the glass bottle fall to the carpeted floor with a clear thud. His eyes drifted over the room he was in, everything engulfed by the shadows.
There was a flash of light in front of him, his eyes slowly shifting towards it; his phone. He extended his hand and brought it closer to him.
He stared at it, reading the notification for the text message.
"Death: What are you doing? We are meeting…"
The man stared at the message, the light from the phone illuminating his hair covered face in the dark room.
After a moment he placed his thumb on the screen and swiped down, clicking the x that promptly destroyed any existence of the notification for the text message. He looked at the time on the phone that indicated it was 2:30 am.
He let loose another sigh, and slowly rose to his feet, placing the phone in the pockets of his sweats. He extending his hand again, picking up his wallet and keys, that had been resting beside where his phone resided. He walked into the shadows, dragging his feet as he went. He felt his way through the dark until his hand landed on a doorknob. He turned it, slowly pulling the door open as the light from the outside rushed in, illuminating the dark room.
He stared at the bright hallway that faced him, the walls colored white, the floors covered with patterned tiles. He squinted his eyes as they slowly adjusted to the brightness. He reached over to the coat stand that was resting at attention to his right, grabbing the hoodie that resided on one of the hooks. He stepped out into the radiant hallway, pulling the door close behind him. He locked the door before walking through the deserted corridor, arriving at where the elevator was located. He waited momentarily, before taking the lift down to the lobby of the building he resided in.
He approached the security guard, who gave him a smile, holding the door open that led to the outside world. He was a 6 feet tall man, with tan skin, and bulging muscles who made people rethink their dumb ideas in his presence. His look intimidated many, but the residence of the building knew that underneath the layer of veiny flesh resided a caring and gentle heart.
"Pretty late to be heading out Mr. Jackson." He said as the man passed through the doors.
"Can't sleep. Going to get coffee, want anything?" The man replied, his voice deep and heavy, as if they carried too much weight.
"A coffee would be nice. Falling asleep on the job is never a good thing." The security guard called out after the man, Mr. Jackson, who had already started walking away from the entrance. The security guard watched with a smile as the man gave a thumbs up, indicating his acceptance.
The man walked, his leather sandals dragging against the rough pavement, as he made his way to the lit up store two blocks down. The bright green, orange, and red number seven was glowing on the sign, the bright light from the store glaring on the dark sidewalk, keeping the shadows at bay.
The door slid open, the smell of different types of food and drinks wafted into his nostrils. There was movement to his right as he averted his gaze to the cash register, where a woman, who seemed to be around his age of late twenties sat, flipping through a magazine.
She looked up, hearing the arrival of the invader. A smile adorned her face, recognizing the alien.
"Mr. Jackson. Time for your late night coffee break?" The woman asked, smiling. Her brown hair in a ponytail, hidden underneath her hat. Her red shirt uniform strapped tightly around her pudgy figure, her khakis, no doubt she was wearing, hidden behind the assortments of candies and gum.
"You're saving my life by being open this late, I don't know what I'd do without you here Amanda." The man said, his heavy voice reverberating within the silent store. He made his way to where the array of different size cups were stationed, grabbing two extra large ones and filling them with searing black liquid. He closed the lid to one and took a sip, savoring the bitter taste that permeated throughout his mouth.
"You're actually making my night by coming in here this late. For every customer that comes in past 1, I get five dollars added to my check at the end of the week." She beamed at him. She fluttered her eyebrows, straightening her clothes, as if trying to catch his attention.
"Well I'm glad we could help each-other out."
"How can you drink that stuff, at least add some sugar or something. Drinking straight black coffee is kind of barbaric, don't you think?" Amanda scrunched up her nose, as if she could taste the bitterness.
He boomed a laugh. "Tainting the sweet taste of black coffee with other products is the true barbaric act wouldn't you say?"
"Guess we could never get coffee together. I can't drink with a guy who doesn't at least put sugar in his coffee." She hinted, hopefully. He didn't reply, much to her disappointment. She watched as he added milk to the second cup and closed the lid. "Who's the other one for?"
"Bruce, he said something about falling asleep on the job was bad." He replied, grabbing a handful of sugar packets before making his way over to the girl.
"Anything else?" Amanda asked, already knowing the answer.
He glanced at the glass case beside the counter, that held plethora of foods. Before he could even utter his request, the woman was already opening the case.
"Give me all the Taquitos, wings, and chicken tenders." He said pulling out his wallet.
"Gotcha." she said smiling at the predictableness of the man in front of her.
"Pack of smokes too?" she inquired gently placing the bag of food on the counter.
Snap! The man clicked his fingers as realization hit him. "Thanks, I need that too."
"Any booze?" She asked again.
"No, not this time. I'm going to my friends bar later, going to pick up some good stuff there." He brought out his credit card and swiped on the machine once Amanda had entered all the products.
"Well thanks for coming by. See you tomorrow. Enjoy your non barbaric coffee." She exclaimed with a chuckle.
Mr. Jackson gave her a court smile before exiting the store, his face becoming stoic as soon as the door closed.
He walked back to his building, dragging his feet, glancing at the occasional car passing by, going who knows where.
Once the door man, Bruce, saw him arriving, he pulled the door open letting him freely enter.
"Did you buy all their wings and taquitos again?" Bruce chuckled.
"Mm." He nodded, handing over the milk coffee and packets of sugar.
"Thanks." Bruce said focusing on making sure all the sugar entered the cup.
"I'm not eating all of these by myself." Mr. Jackson said leaning against the wall of the lobby and sliding down to the ground.
He dropped the bag in front of him and placed a chicken tender in his mouth.
"My girlfriend has started to nag me about why I don't eat anything when I go home, and I just don't know how to explain to her that I stuff myself at night with chicken wings and taquitos from 7-eleven." He laughed joining the man on the floor.
"If she gets too curious, just tell her to come join us as well." Mr. Jackson chuckled. "We can even wake up Marcus. That guy loves to eat."
"If Marcus were here than this wouldn't be enough." Bruce said taking a bite out a chicken wing.
"Mm. Anyway, how's everything? Anything new happen? By her constant nagging, I can see your relationship is going smooth as ever."
"Oh don't even get me started. She keeps dropping hints that she wants to move in, but I'm not ready to move out of that apartment. It was my first apartment, kind of has a sentimental hold on me." Bruce groaned.
"Isn't she already practically living with you? She's there every night, isn't she?" Mr. Jackson. His face said he was curious, but his eyes only held indifference, indifference that went unnoticed by Bruce.
"Yea, I told her she can move in with me there if she wants. There's plenty of room for her too. But she doesn't want that, she keeps complaining about the place, sometimes it's the building, sometimes it's the neighborhood. I just don't know what's going on through that little head of hers." Bruce sighed, his face showing how tired he was.
"Don't worry my friend. You're still only 30, girl problems are only merely the beginning. It'll all work out." Mr. Jackson said with an air of certainty.
Bruce sighed again, sipping his coffee. "I hope so. Enough about me, how about you? Anyone new?"
As soon as those words left his mouth Bruce regretted it. He had totally forgotten about what had happened to the man.
"Uh...sorry about that, all these muscles, not enough blood getting pumped into the brain. End up saying some stupid shit sometimes." Bruce said nervously.
"Relax Bruce. It's not like I can't talk about it. And it's in the past, I can't do anything about it now." The man replied with a small smile, but his dull lifeless eyes betrayed him, exposing his pain and struggles.
"Alright." Bruce sighed. "How about work then? How's research on that dolphin shark coming along?"
"Don't even get me started. I've turned its genetics inside out, but I can't get it to expose its behavioral patterns. Sometimes I feel like that little devil is mocking me for trapping it in the tank!" Mr. Jackson said with his brows furrowed, making Bruce laugh.
Bruce reached into the bag or another piece of chicken when he noticed something, or rather a lack of something. "No booze tonight? Are you finally working on quitting?" Bruce inquired hopefully, noticing the missing glass bottles.
"Heh...don't jump the gun. I'm heading to my friends bar later. Hopefully he has the usual good stuff. Typical vodka is getting boring." The man chuckled. Bruce sighed shaking his head.
"You're going to burn your insides drinking straight vodka like that."
"I welcome the feeling with open arms." The man muttered, Bruce sighed once again.
The two men sat there, eating and chatting quietly as the night slowly turned to day.
"Morning already, time sure does fly fast." Bruce said noticing the silent rays of sunlight through the herd of infrastructures.
"Daytime, worst part of the day." Mr. Jackson muttered.
"Most humans aren't nocturnal you know." Bruce laughed, throwing out any evidence of there being food present before walking back to his positing next to the door.
"Mm", the man nodded, "well I'll be off then."
"Try trimming the beard, or rather shaving it all off. It's a little too much." Bruce called out as Mr. Jackson neared the elevator.
Hearing his words he presented an unfriendly gesture with his hand, causing Bruce to laugh, before he stepped into the lift and headed back to his apartment.