Ch. 1

Percy Jackson wanted to die.

"Oh man, I really wanna fucking die!" said Percy. He was currently in his posh New York apartment, drawing a bath and grabbing the toaster.

"If this doesn't do it, I'm gonna use the cheese grater as a fleshlight!"

Percy wasn't in a very good place. He had the looks, he had the money, he had the power, but he didn't have the big kahuna. The poor sod wasn't happy. After his abusive childhood with no real father figure, becoming a battle-hardened child-soldier and a veteran of two wars, as well as the deaths of everyone he loved (and everyone he didn't, almost everybody died in those wars), Percy Jackson wasn't a prime example of an exuberant young soul.

He was still welcome on Olympus, but seeing the half-built work of his dead ex didn't really lend itself to the situation.

Thus, his current situation. Taking a bath with an electrical appliance. He didn't really know if the water and electricity would cancel themselves out in his special case, but he was willing to find out. Grabbing his trusty Waring Toaster Wct708 from the kitchen, he made his way to the bathroom, intent on finding Elysium.

Or Asphodel. He wasn't in any position to be picky, and as long as he wasn't going back to Tartarus he didn't really care.

However, when he opened up the bathroom door, he was surprised to see a man sitting on the toilet, pants down to his ankles, reading the paper. Hearing the door open, the man glanced up from the times, his eyes wide.

"GAh! Get out! Can't you see I'm trying to take care of some business!" Percy quickly slammed the door shut, and yelled out a quick apology, the unfortunate Waring Toaster Wct708 falling from his hands and crashing to the floor.

"Wait a second…"

The toilet flushed, and the man in the bathroom came out to one very disgruntled demigod, finding himself on the wrong end of a large knife.

"Who are you, and why are you in my house?" The man smiled and shook his head.

"I believe that this conversation would be better suited to a more comfortable location." Just as Percy was about to respond, the man snapped his fingers and they appeared in the living room, sitting in some admittedly comfortable armchairs. With another snap, two cups of coffee were in their hands.

"Do you take cream? I myself prefer it black, but of course it's up to you," Percy wordlessly nodded, a constipated expression on his face. "Excellent."

"Well, down to business then. My name is Chaos, Lord and Creator of the Universe."

"What the fuck?"

Chaos was a tall man, wearing a fine but not expensive suit, colored mint green. He had on a sun hat, and long white socks with suede shoes. He looked like a 70s porn star. His skin shifted colors, and he had a large nose. His hair was brown.

"Ah, yes. The three most common words I've heard in the past hundred years or so, and variations of it before that. Interesting enough the Chinese had some delightful-"

"Lord Chaos, sir?"

The man stopped and looked Percy in the eye. His pupils were an endless nothing, extending over a plain of darkness. In his eyes you could see the beginning of everything, a spark that set it all in motion, stars and planets extending over galaxies- Chaos broke eye contact and winced.

"Yeah, that tends to happen around me. Just try to avoid eye contact."

"I'll try to uh… keep that in mind."

"If you would. Now Perseus, I have come here to stop a grave travesty. My granddaughters- The Fates- had you dying over yonder in that bathtub, with a few thousand volts of electricity pumping through your prone, cold body, by your own hand no less. I saw them cutting your string myself, and I, Lord Chaos, have come to save you."

Percy took this in, his face etched into an expression of disbelief.

"No offence, Lord Chaos, but I kind of want to die. And how do I even know that you're really Chaos?"

Chaos tapped Percy's temple.

"What… whoa…"

"That's a new color. I'll call it Messi, in honor of the true football king."

"It's beautiful, Lord Chaos, but I still want to die."

"Nonsense, my boy!"

"I'm pretty sure I want to die."

"Oh, silly Perseus, you don't want to die!"

"Of course I do! I have nothing to live for!"

"I never said you had anything to live for! That's why I'm here!"

"Lord Chaos, my entire family is dead- my girlfriend, my mom, step-dad, my cousins, all my friends, most monsters, the Ares cabin-"

"My dear boy, stop with the pessimistic attitude! Think of it like this: everyone you love isn't dead, they're simply not alive." he said with a sincere smile. "And I can give you purpose, but only if you give me a chance."

Percy looked on, focusing on Chaos' nose. You know, maintaining what's almost polite eye-contact without actually making eye-contact.

"Alright," he finally said. "I'll give you a chance." Chaos grinned, flashing his bright smile. As Percy looked at Chaos' smile, he saw a thousand setting suns, giving the last shreds of a day to millions of worlds- Chaos winced.

"Actually, just keep focusing on my nose."

Chaos and Percy had relocated to a bar to discuss Chaos' proposition. Both agreed that getting drunk was the best option in terms of discussing serious business, Percy because drinking to forget sorrows is depressingly real, and Chaos because Chaos just really loved getting really fucking drunk. The bar was kind of trashy, but not rat-in-the-toilets-roach-in-the-sink level. It was more of a moderate white-trash-chewing-tobacco-and-drinking-bud-light level of trash, as it was a beloved local establishment. If you wanted to sit outside, you had to stay in the cage, to prevent the all-too-common bar fights from spilling out into the road.

"You know Perseus-" sang Chaos on his sixth beer.

"Please, call me Percy." said Percy, pausing in the middle of his tequila shot.

"You know, Percy, I had this really crazy idea man. Real fuckin' crazy. I was gonna save your ass, and then bless you and shit, and give you all these really cool powers, and make you the commander of my awe-inspiring army of destruction, where you would go down in history as the greatest hero ever to grace the shores of Earth, but now I have a better idea!"

"Really?" asked Percy, flagging down the waitress to buy more alcohol.

"Yeah, really! But I just realized, that would be totally cool and all, but have you ever seen the Mission Impossible movies? The ones with Tom Cruise- gods I love Tom Cruise, he's my favorite result of creating the universe! You know he does all his own stunts? In fact, I was thinking of making this island devoted to Tom Cruise, but now I'm rambling and I really need to get on with enlightening you to my radical idea!"

"Interesting." Percy nodded, before taking a swig from a bottle of whiskey.

"Yeah, well I realized man, I need my own Mission Impossible dude to tie up loose ends and all that. I've decided, you're the man for the job! I've drawn up the contract and everything! You're gonna be a real badass Perce, and I can even make it into a learning experience! It's gonna be all, burn this after reading and all that, real cool! What's your favorite number?"

"Six?" Percy was face down on the table, surrounded in empty bottles and glasses.

"Higher."

"Seventeen?"

"Lower."

"Nine!"

"Did you say twelve? Alright, twelve tasks for the Champion of Chaos! This will be so much more entertaining than Herakles! I'll have to broadcast it into the void! Just sign here, and everything will be good to go!"

Percy sloppily signed his name.

"Hmm, Repcy Sockajn? Sounds about right. The first task will happen in three weeks. I'll stagger out your wicked powers after you complete each task, so you're on your own for the first one. See you in three weeks! Ta-ta!"

Percy was engaged in a bar fight, up against the cage, beating the shit out of some redneck hick.

Percy woke up the next morning covered in his own sick, as well as with a migraine that would trouble the gods. On his bedside table, a sheet of paper with a sloppy signature at the bottom. Taking a few minutes in an attempt to decipher it, he had one thing to say.

"Oh, fuck."