The first chapter, starts at The Lightning Thief, but it will not follow the same exact storyline or flow, it will eventually deviate, and deviate hard, I have an idea for the ending. Review if you enjoy or want to comment on stuff, tell me of any mistakes. If you saw anyone else's story I have not tried to copy them, but it would be fun to read theirs if they have the same ideas. I have not seen stories like what I want to achieve, but I may just make them like other people's in the end.
Holy crap I just realized fanfiction doesn't update the chapters in the story when you update the document. That means there have been many mistakes that I corrected in here but didn't actually show, so I'm just going to re-upload the proper ones.
Just for notice, Chaos or any variations thereof are not included into this story, and I will try to keep Percy away from being OP.
Disclaimer: I do NOT own PJ&TO or related series by Rick Riordan. This applies to the whole story. Enjoy:
"Awaken," a word not nearly as common as it should be, especially when it came to the porcelain-skinned boy, head hanged in pure relaxation, jet black hair weaving down upon it, oh the blissful wonder of sleep, "Awaken, my son."
The boy jutted awake in surprise, the bus, an electrifying, warming yellow beast, shuddered to a halt as it too faded peacefully daylight slumber as the crew arrived at the destination.
The surroundings were rather quiet, the twilight earliness hushing everyone into whispers.
The sunlight etched its way upon the crew-member's majority of adolescent faces, one of which was the boy's face. He was a spindly lad, limbs too skinny, long, and just plain weak. He had no need to improve his physique. Not that it could be hidden under the ruins of a perfectly good, grey, t-shirt, plain but fitting, nonetheless. Jeans too, to match, greyed over time from flooding of dust and penetrated throughout with countless holes and string fillings. Shoes, lovely, he prided them, how malleable they were, trainers for the casual jogging- and yet they somehow managed to last for so long.
The woven threads of time ran everlasting, or at least this day would bear example to this. Boring, boring, boring. The class once disembarked, strode slowly into the museum, colossal, so very spectacular. Pillars were placed in pleasant parallels, statues adorned the passage, chiseled images of certain characters from millennia ago, and others from the imaginations of the ancient pious peoples.
What was not so spectacular was his school-mates going along with him, bickering, and now giggling with some unceasing hilarity at the privates of some marbled Greek gods. This school trip was organized by Mr. Brunner, a man who gained the boy's respect through his constant joking and occasional stern teachings about Latin and the ancient world (He also had a battle-ax). It might be useless, but it was a lot- a lot- more interesting than the life of today. Who doesn't want to live in a world with swords, disease and the constant threat of dying?
The school budget could certainly not afford a school trip for every subject, least of all the most fun (in his opinion) and also the most useless (in theirs). One of the points was to minimize the number of people on the trip by allowing most of the people with illnesses and disabilities etc. Then you fill the gaps with who will pay enough to get out of a few lessons, thus pressuring support for the trip whilst gaining a bit of money on the side; the boy fell into the first category: mild ADHD and dyslexia. On the other side of the argument, there was one girl. The ultimate spoiled brat:
Nancy Bobofit.
Sometimes the boy credits her the fire-starter of his pain, or at least the journey which he took, the morality never truly mattered.
Nancy, the one and only, was preying upon Mr. Underwood. Grover, they call him, crippled- yet somehow never letting that bother him- he was an easy target for bullies such as Nancy. Her morality never getting in the way of her laughing, mocking, and being down-right awful towards the teenager. It didn't help that by the looks of it, Grover was kept back a year or so to redo some failed years most probably, judging by the wispy beard. Neither did it help that Grover was practically a wreck when it came to dealing with bullies, preferring to eat his troubles away (and somehow managing to stay really quite active looking in the process, not overweight at all) and simply ignore everyone he deemed to be rude.
All eyes turned to the center of the room, however, when Nancy squealed, that was strange, she was in a fountain, who knows why there was a bloody fountain in a museum. The boy couldn't care less. His eyes preferred to skitter along the ceiling to witness the art and the countless hours of effort placed in satisfying mimicry of ancient worldly designs.
"-to the fountain, why do you hold such anger for sweet, young, Nancy here? Answer me Perseus Jackson!" Came the shrieking of Mrs. Dodds, the boy's pre-algebra teacher. Shocking him out of his daydreaming.
The boy was called Percy. Percy Jackson, orphan extraordinaire, and now Mrs. Dodds was blaming me for the actions of some other idiot: life was great.
"You better come with me Percy, I think we need to have a talk." Mrs. Dodds rasped, with an essence of what looked like joy. Such that a cold bead of sweat fell down his back, coupled with the shivering submission leading him to trudge off in Mrs. Dodds' direction.
The granite flooring didn't change, that was what Percy paid attention to anyway, it never changed, so smooth, and yet so harsh with a lack of, flexibility. Eventually, they traveled up and down stairs so: soon he had no idea of where he was, except from being in the museum itself, moving through areas of ancient Egypt, upstairs into realms of fine art and industrialization, before returning downstairs, back to some kind of roman area, before halting in a rather cramped spaced compared to the rest of the museum.
What Percy didn't expect was when returning his gaze up to the withered form of a teacher he couldn't help feel some pity for, to be able to witness a goddamned demon. Or at least a naked lady, looking quite a lot younger now, with snakes wrapped around her flawless body and into her curling auburn hair like some demented fashion craze with some very impressive, terrifying, leathery bat wings.
Her eyes, filled with a keen pleasure you may get from completing a Rubik's cube, froze Percy in place as her appearance shimmered like strobe lighting before changing once more, closer to a bat this time. Clawed hands, pointed fangs and unrelenting hatred.
"Demigodddddd... Where is the lightning bolt, give me it now that I might spare your life." Dodds grinned, a murderous car catching him in the headlights. A giant figure, packed with a ton of severity, towering over some pathetic teenage kid. "Or maybe we can do this the hard way. Hahaha." Her laughing, both beautiful, the most captivating melody, capturing the essence of power itself within it, and yet harsh, like nails on a chalkboard, it knew no bounds.
"Oh yes, well, um, I don't have, um, any, um, lightning rod?" Percy replied, brain fumbling over the insanity of the situation. There was only one thing his brain rationalized at that point in time: hastily turning and sprinting in the opposite direction to run, and run he did. His knees, so non-athletic, immediately hated himself as he panted with mighty intent. Looking back with a tilt of his head over his right shoulder, the sight was shocking.
She was hovering right above Percy, gleaming in a spiteful arrogance. "I am The Unceasing One, Alecto, the Avenger of Crime, and your sweet demise...
Percy didn't think it was that boring anymore.
AN: Taster test chapter, because it is. Also, fixing chapters to be third person instead of first, if you see any mistakes please comment upon them, or just have faith I will notice them.