carry on, wayward son
summary: One of these days, he'll get it right. One of these days, he won't be the screw-up son, the bastard child. But today isn't one of those days, and Percy Jackson just has to learn to carry on. Alternatively, in which Percy finds out he is a demigod, and nothing goes as planned. orphan!percy au
author's notice: hey, ren again! so, as you guys who read my other stories can tell, i've done some major deleting. bruises is getting a revamp, and always and forever is moving at it's own plodding pace. i needed to start something new. this is that something new. hope you enjoy!
today's bouquet goes to: my friend chisai on tumblr (good luck with elsword weeb queen)
Percy was getting sick of orphanages. He was fifteen - almost sixteen years old, and you'd figure that they'd at least let him become an emancipated minor. No such luck, not for this orphan. He had always been a special case, from the circumstances of his birth, to how he had become an orphan.
Percy had been orphaned at 10, when his dead-beat step-father, Gabe got so drunk one night, he had snapped, going beyond what normal abuse Percy suffered day after day. The fatass had tried to kill the under-grown boy with the largest knife in the kitchen, and had almost succeeded, when his mother - gods, let her rest in peace - had come home late from her job. She'd come home to see her only son, scrunched up against the dingy apartment walls, her husband spitting profanities at him, knife dangerously close to the curved junction of Percy's bruised neck.
Sally Jackson had screamed so loudly, that the people in the apartment building across the street had heard her through the miraculously open window. But whoever had called the cops had called them too late. By the time the police had burst into the dilapidated apartment, Sally lay dead on the floor, blood leaking from her severed neck. They'd been too late to save his mother, but not too late to save Percy, who was sobbing next to his mom, desperately trying to warm her limp and cold hand. Gabe had snuck up behind the ten-year old, crimson dripping grotesquely off of the steel blade, intent on killing the boy as well.
Gabe Ugliano had been taken under arrest that night, and Percy Jackson, only son of Sally Jackson and a man long lost at sea, had been placed in an orphanage.
Of course, he didn't stay there for long.
Desperate for someone to tell him just when to stop, Percy lashed out at everyone, everything. No one got close to the boy, not without getting the proverbial door slammed shut in their face. Six months after the incident, a week before his birthday, Percy shoved what meager belongings he had into his ratty canvas backpack. He left in the dead of night, and ran away from the orphanage. Percy was caught two months later, trying to hitch a ride on a subway from Penn Station.
Over and over, the cycle went. Percy ran away. Percy caused problems. He never stayed in one place for too long, never lingered long enough to make any real connections. Fake a smile, then leave when no one was looking. Words the raven had come to live by.
Now, they weren't even letting him apply for legal emancipation. Percy had enough of orphanages, of kids that thought they had it bad, just because their parents had died when they were born, their parents had died in a car crash. Bullshit, the teenager thought bitterly. Bullshit. This wasn't fucking Annie. Losing your parents to a normal death wasn't the "hard knock life."
Had any of them been through the hell he'd been through? Been violated and touched in places adults weren't supposed to touch children? Had the air strangled out of them, and have to try to cover up the hand-shaped bruises, amongst the other wounds? Did those other kids have to watch the light fade from their mom's eyes, have to watch the only person in the world that still cared for them die, while they held their hand?
Percy leant against the brick wall of the latest orphanage dorm, burying his head in his knees. No, he bet that they hadn't. But he wouldn't have to stay for much longer in the new orphanage the government officials had stuck him in.
Tonight, Percy was getting out. Out of New York City, away from the comfort and the pain. Maybe he'd hitchhike to Maine. Maine was nice in the summer, and there was plenty of water. It didn't matter to him where he went - Percy Jackson just couldn't stay in New York City anymore.
A new beginning was in order. Time to follow the wind wherever it would take him.
His instincts had taken him to a random hill in Long Island, guarded by a gigantic pine tree, that seemed to tower over everything. Percy was sure that the only tree that he had seen that could possibly be bigger would be the Christmas Tree in Rockefeller Center. A twinge wormed its way through his heart.
No, don't think about her, Percy scolded himself, watching as the brewing storm grew denser. His unruly black hair whipped about, striking his cheeks, and covering his sea colored eyes.
"Well," he said to no one in particular - perhaps the hidden moon, "this was a nice afternoon, but I've got to get a move on. Maine's waiting for me."
He barely moved a step, before the ground trembled beneath him, knocking him backwards onto the wet grass. "What the-"
The scent of rotting meat, and smelly socks left out in the sun too long bombarded him, and Percy winced, eyes watering. What a smell!
However, that was the least of his worries.
Beneath him, the tremors increased, and as Percy scrambled to his feet, he came face to face with a sight he would not forget for years to come.
A gigantic, ten-foot tall figure loomed in front of him, its legs like a bull's, shaggy with pungent brown fur. The chest looked akin to a shirt stuffed with baseballs, and two horns broke the skin in the monster's broad forehead, illuminated a gleaming ivory in the lightning.
Run, all of Percy's street instincts screamed. Run, this isn't an opponent you can beat!
But deep inside him, a power long-dormant stirred. The Minotaur, Percy begun to realize, the dawning horror contorting his face. Gods, wasn't it supposed to be just a myth?
The monster lumbered forward, blindly sniffing the air for his prey's scent. With a jolt, gears began to churn in Percy's mind, stringing exhibited weaknesses together in a complicated web. The dumb bull couldn't actually see him! He might have a chance after all!
With a reckless scream, Percy ran forward, catching the Minotaur's attention. The beast snuffled again, before letting out a bellow, and charging to meet the sprinting teenager.
Rain tracked its way down Percy's cheeks, and soaked him to the bone, but he had never felt so alive. With a burst of inhumane strength, he springboarded onto the beast's hairy back, before clambering up the furry expanse. Realizing what was upon its head, the Minotaur thrashed and swiveled, trying to dislodge the pesky prey from its body. Percy, however, held on for dear life, his hands clasped tightly around one of the Minotaur's black and white horns.
With the next mighty buck, the bull-hybrid had him thrown against the large pine tree. Slumped against the rough bark, Percy groaned, blinking stars from his vision. "Fucking bull thing," he cursed, rubbing his aching head.
The "stupid fucking bull-thing" lumbered forward, as if sensing that its prey was weakened. Percy took one look at the horn in his hand, the tip a deadly point, and then at the Minotaur's exposed chest. "Oh gods," he sighed. "Might as well try." With another screech, Percy hurtled forward, thrusting the horn into the Minotaur's chest. The bull's face was one of shock and pain. If Percy himself hadn't been in so much pain, he was sure he would have laughed. The monster disintegrated to golden dust before his eyes, scattering like papers in the wind.
The last thing Percy saw was golden-blonde hair, bright as the sun itself.
author's notice the second: not too shabby for a fight scene, i hope. i'm not very good at them...
well, please review/follow/favorite this story! i'd love to see your opinions on this!
ja ne,
ren