Okay guys, welcome to The Diabolist. I love noirs. They are awesome. So I decided to write one of my own. Though let me tell you it is a bit out of my comfort zone. Cause noirs need to be first person narratives for them to be truly awesome. So I don't know if I am going to succeed or fail, but I sure as hell am gonna try. Do tell me how I am doing and how I can improve.

Prologue.

The white walls of the room seem to descend over me, making the experience claustrophobic. The walls are bland though. No imagination to them.

Wouldn't want to trigger an episode after all by adding color to the place.

Gods forbid if they make the place a little cheerful.

I am under what you would call solitary observation.

They decided to put me in this place, because of my last violent episode. Which I felt was a bit of an over-reaction. They let you get away with a lot of stuff in here.

Wanna sneak some extra candies, here is some more. You want to stay an extra 5 minutes in the recreational room, hell you can stay for 15. But break a glass jar over an orderly's head and suddenly all hell breaks loose.

If they didn't want me to break the jar, they shouldn't have kept it there in the first place. And the guy didn't even bleed...that much.

But to let you into a secret... I am not really crazy.

You don't believe me?

Before you get into the argument about how every criminal says he is not guilty and the same logic applies to crazy people, you would just loop yourself into a Catch-22 situation.

Have you ever heard a sane person say they are crazy? Granted I am the one locked in a 4 by 4 cell wrapped up in a strait-jacket and granted this isn't exactly my first term of service in an asylum.

But we will get back to that later. Wouldn't do to get sidetracked just yet.

I don't know how long I have been here. May have been 3 hours, may have been 13.

But I could tell it was almost time.

The fluorescent bulb hanging over my head starts flickering, followed by the loud scream that tore through the corridor.

"AAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHH!"

And that ladies and gentlemen is my cue.

Thankfully I had dislocated my shoulder a little early in preparation for this eventuality, slipping out of the strait jacket was a piece of cake.

Popping the shoulder back into its joint... not so much.

Gaining as much momentum as my small cell allowed, I slammed my shoulder into the wall.

The part of my brain which wasn't dulled by the excruciating pain that I was currently experiencing told me that this wasn't such a good idea.

Its kinda ironic how hearing voices in your head is considered to be the first sign of dementia and that still happened to be the most logical portion in my head.

I am probably not selling the 'I am not crazy story' very well am I?

Don't answer that.

But getting out of my restraints was just the first step. The next step involved, getting through the door.

How about that?

But I had it covered. The art of lock-picking was one of the first skills I have picked up in my short life of fifteen years. I had snagged a pair of paper clips just in case something like this happened.

It took me another 30 seconds to defeat the lock.

Unlocking the door I made my way towards the screams, which came from 6 doors down my own.

The standard response time for the orderlies to start flooding the corridors was 3 minutes. I had one and half minutes left.

Plenty of time to get where I wanted.

Not enough time for me to do what I needed to do.

Time to improvise.

I kicked the door to the source of the screams.

It was a girl, Mai Sakazuki, Japanese descent, age fifteen tied to her bed diagnosed with DPD and paranoid schizophrenia. I had read the file.

She had been confined to this room since she tried to break her own spine.

Nasty stuff.

Time to get to work. But first things first. I shut the door and placed a chair over the handle. Can't have people disturbing me now can I?

Biting into my left thumb drawing some blood, I hastily drew some symbols into my opposite palm. The girl in the meantime had manged to break through one of her restraints in a show of impressive strength.

It was now or never. Jumping on the bed I pinned one of her hands under my knee and slapped my hand onto her forehead.

Now before you start jumping to conclusions, let me tell you this isn't what it looks like.

But I will get to that in a minute. The girl collapsed back on her bed. But the bed began shaking, the room was windowless or I am pretty sure they would have been rattling.

I was running out of time. Already there were people outside the room, trying to break in. I could hear their shouts and grunts as they slammed themselves repeatedly against the door.

My momentary lapse in concentration costs me, as the girl had managed to break the restraints on her legs to and managed to scissor them over my throat.

I could have appreciated the view, if my lungs weren't screaming due to oxygen deprivation

The girl was hissing and snarling now. I managed to place my thumb over her forehead, getting to loosen her hold.

Blessed oxygen.

I began the chant.

I hated this part.

The girls screams reached a new fever pitch. I chanted faster. The bed was beginning to levitate now.

Another otherworldly scream, the light bulb shatters, showering us with bits of glass. But I keep up the chant. A sudden jerk and we land back on the floor.

Success.

Now that wasn't so hard, was it?

At this moment, the door slammed open followed by 3 orderlies and a doctor. A resident I guess stood there with their faces resembling gaping fishes.

That's when I realized the position I was in.

On top of a seemingly unconscious mental patient, straddling her waist.

Crap!

"Guys this isn't what it looks like." Was all I could manage before the three orderlies charged.


I was back in my cell, and this time I had been pumped up on tranquilizers, making me more groggy than an alcoholic during happy hours.

But I am being rude. I have yet to give my name after all.

My name is Percy Jackson.

And I am a Diabolist.

Confused? Well I suppose it would have made more sense if I said I was a shaman, a witch doctor or the exorcist. Then why the Diabolist?

I just thought it sounded cooler.

Despite how cool it sounds. It is still a pretty thankless job. I don't get paid for my troubles, the hours are worse than that of a resident doctor and trust me when I say that being a soldier in a battlefield is probably a safer prospect. And on good days like the one I am currently having I get to be strapped to a strait jacket, thrown in solitary.

Then why do I do it?

Its a really long story, but I will give you the crash course.

I have a gift. Could see things no one should have to. Scared the crap out of all the orphanage kids I can tell you that much.

The caretakers at the orphanage, bless their souls made it worse.

See I am a psychic. A powerful one at that even if I do say so myself. The real deal. I don't read cards, or tea leaves or palms for that matter.

I couldn't tell you what it means for the Saturn to be in the seventh house of Gemini constellation.

But if you have been possessed by a spirit or a demon. With boogeymen in your closet or monsters under the bed, you know who to call.

And I will give you a hint. Not the ghost busters.

But where was I? Oh yes, the orphanage. It wasn't a long stay I can tell you that much. By my seventh birthday I was carted out of the orphanage and placed in an asylum not unlike the one I am currently staying in.

That's where I met him. My mentor and teacher.

The door to my cell opens to admit the man I have been talking about. He is a tall man in his early fifties. Tall with dark brown hair tied in a pony tail and dressed in a brown suit.

"You couldn't have messed that up any worse now could you kid?" He smirks at me.

Mr. Brunner. At least that's what he calls himself. To be honest I don't think that's his real name. But to be honest I was never the curious type.

But then again when you know exactly what's out there you're too busy being scared than curious.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I exorcised the spirit didn't I?" I shot back. "So when can I get out of here?"

"They are drawing up the paperwork right now. Apparently you're too volatile to be kept here, so they are moving you to a more secure facility."

Oh he was having way too much fun with this. I kept my mouth shut. I had a few wise-ass comments I could fire, but it probably wouldn't do to piss off the one person who could get me out, or he might decide to leave me here for a few more days.

He had done it before. And I was sick of the food.

So back to how I met him.

Long story short, he was in the neighborhood, probably conducting an exorcism of his own. He met me. Recognized me for what I was, acknowledged me and taught me everything I know. Gave me a purpose.

So, that answers the question of why I do what I do.

"You are too reckless kid." He said taking a chair and sitting in front of me."Did you really have to break his head?"

"I was running out of time. I had to improvise." I defended myself."That was the only way they were gonna put me close enough to her and I don't think I broke his head."

"And that was the only reason?" He fixed me with his 'lie to me or else' glare.

"Fine, I saw him bullying some of the older patients." I admitted. "I am impulsive, sue me."

Mr. Brunner sighed rubbing his forehead, which I have to admit made me feel more than a little ashamed of myself but then I felt angry. I swear I didn't get the guy at times. He always expects so much from me. No matter what I do, its never good enough. As if I am letting him down.

"When will you learn Percy?" He said in a disappointed tone. "You have a gift..."

"Well I didn't ask for it." I snapped, before he could finish. Partly because I knew how the rest of the speech went. How I had the power to help people, to make a difference.

"One day you will understand." He sighed as he gave me a look of understanding mingled with pity.

Thanks Mr. Brunner for making me feel like an even bigger jerk than before. Still didn't know how he did that. No matter what I could never stay mad at the guy no matter how hard I tried.

"You will be out of here in a few hours." Mr. Brunner said getting up.

"Thanks." For once I kept the sarcasm out of my tone.

He walked towards the door and turned the knob, seemingly hesitating before finally turning around.

"Good job by the way."

Wait... did he just compliment me? Forgot the last time that miracle happened. He smiled at my expresion which I am sure resembled a gaping fish by now, before leaving me alone in the room.

Despite myself I felt a smile creeping over my face. It was a job well done.

My name is Percy Jackson and I am a Diabolist.

So, that's that. My first attempt. Don't forget to leave a line. Originally a Naruto fic, but I decided I have a better plot point if I write it as a PJO fic. Moreover the main character somehow felt more Percy than Naruto. Anyway don't forget to leave a line.

Criticisms and suggestions welcome.