Percy

I was currently standing, staring at a newspaper. It was talking about a murder. The murder of my parents.

I didn't know who did it, and the police didn't know who did it either. I had went to visit my mom and Paul and found them dead. Perhaps it was Gaea, or some god set out to make my life miserable. Maybe it was Tartarus. When I got to their apartment, there were claw marks- signs of a monster. I had brought this on them, by going to fight. By making so many enemies that hated me so much that any would have hurt them.

Now, because of whatever had hurt my mom and stepfather, I was stuck at the police station, waiting for results. The police were trying to find a relative willing to adopt me. That was unlikely; I had no one on my father's side and few on my mother's. I would probably end up at an orphanage. Though mentally I was eighteen, in order to survive the giant war I had to be converted into a seven year old. The gods had changed it to make the mortals believe I was seven. I still had my strength and skills; I just didn't look the same.

As I stood there at the police station, something came crashing down upon me. I had no one left; no one. The rest of the seven had died in the war. Reyna, Thalia and Nico, too, had been killed. Grover was a laurel bush which I visited monthly. We had won the war, but in a way, we had lost as well.

Gaea's minions could regenerate, even if regeneration was painful.

My friends and parents... not so much.

From there a deep feeling rose from me. The urge to protect, the one that had been damaged by the deaths of my friends and family.

Perhaps, if I tried, other people could be spared.

I was pulled from my thoughts when Officer Montgomery came into the room. "We've found a relative," he said curtly in an official tone. It was harsh and sharp, like he was disciplining a little girl. "Bruce Wayne, billionaire. He lives in Gotham. He's your uncle, your mother's brother."

I turned. "Is he willing?" I replied with equal curtness and similar tone.

"Yes," the Officer replied, somewhat begrudgingly.

I turned. "When will he get here?"

"About half and hour."

Well, at least that gives me time to prepare. I knew that Bruce Wayne was well known; There would probably be reporters of all sorts questioning him. I looked around the stark room. The walls were gray. There was a single brown worn desk that was probably at least fifty years old. Around it the floor was scratched, the gray pain faint at some places.

If the reporters came storming in here, I would have nowhere to hide.

The officer watched me, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He had come to the same conclusion as I had. "We'll try to keep them out"

"Thanks."

The officer left the room, and I sighed and leaned back against the wall. I fidgeted, thinking about what would come.

But perhaps, after this, I would regain what I had loss.

And that brought me through the thirty minutes it took for my uncle to get to the station.

Bruce/Batman

Alfred and I drove to the police station.

I had thought Sally was dead. After disappearing not long after our parents had died, it had been assumed that she was dead, for the police could not find her. Now, finding out that Sally had been alive and had a daughter, I had not hesitated to agree to adopting her.

I just hoped that she would fit in with Dick.

Out of the blue, Alfred asked, "What do you think she'll be like?"

"Fierce, nice, maybe a bit spoiled," I replied. Sally had been really kind; she would probably have spoiled her daughter a bit, though not too much.

I missed Sally. After my parent's death's, she had been there. We had clung to each other, getting each other through the harsh times. It has surprised and hurt me that she had ran away.

Soon, we arrived at the station. Reporters surrounded me, and I answered most of the questions that were thrown in my face. I entered the stations and saw a young girl.

Unlike Sally, her eyes were a sea green that seemed to burn a hole through me. They had both fierceness and kindness in them, as I had predicted. As I looked deeper, I saw something else. Grief. Loneliness. Loyalty. And a strange determination. It seemed to signal that she wasn't only grieving for her parents, but others as well. But who?

I knelt down in front of her. "My name is Bruce. Bruce Wayne. I'm your uncle." Close up, her eyes seemed even more piercing, and I could not resist a flinch, which I tried to hide. I saw a bit a satisfaction in her gaze, and inwardly groaned as I realized she had saw.

"I know," she said with terseness. "My name is Persephone Jackson. Please call me Percy."

I felt the tension in the air wrap around me, thick and pulsing with energy. "Well," I said awkwardly, "let's go.

We walked through the clusters of reporters. Alfred opened the door for Percy. I followed. We went back to the manor in an awkward, tense, silence that seemed to amuse Alfred, for I noticed he was suppressing a smile. Percy was fidgeting in the back, and after watching her antics for awhile, I concluded that she either had ADHD or was really hyper. Her feet tapped the car bottom restlessly, she kept rearranging her position, and she threw a pen in the air while catching it again. She did this while analyzing me while I was looking at her.

Percy

He seems really... unexperienced in talking, I mused. Like he doesn't know what to say or what to do. He has good strength and endurance, though. And a lot of scars, which might mean that he has experience fighting.

Soon, we arrived at a large house.

Well, he's definitely rich.