When Percy woke up that morning, the house was completely silent and cold.
It was silent every morning. He was always alone, it's been that way since that fateful day on his twentieth birthday, almost four years ago.
The now twenty-three year old man slipped out of bed and into the shower, trying his best to wake up. An hour passed, then two, before the warm water finally ran out and Percy was sitting on the bottom of the tub, icy water hitting his skin and ricocheting off onto the plastic textured floor.
His rich sweet-green eyes stared blankly at the drain, inspecting the whirlpools forming around each opening. With a simple thought, not a movement, the drain clicked shut and the icy water started to pool around the tub, growing higher and higher until it licked at the edges of the bath ledge. Percy blinked, then frowned when he noticed.
The drain opened again and the water shut itself off. He sat in the tub for a while, watching the water lower inch by inch.
His mental clock told him it was eight o'clock by now, meaning he had been awake for three hours by now. He climbed out of the bathroom, completely dry. His scars glittered in the light of the already arisen sun, highlighting his past. He continued into his bedroom to change into his work attire.
Before he knew it, he was already sitting at the kitchen counter, tracing each dark line within the marble stone top. The smell of coffee and oatmeal aloft in the air, sweet but bitter at the same time. He picked at his food, taking a bite of the creamy blue substance every now and then. A newspaper was opened in front of him, on page four, an article about a conference/interview with New York's Senator Caroline Krite circled in bright blue ink. The television was on in the other room, a recorded press conference from the night before. Madam President - a daughter of Apollo named Hinata Saule - was discussing the matters on the most recent development in the East, somewhere in Europe that Percy knew would have been a target.
"... We are working on obtaining evidence to verify who we believe is responsible for the fire, though I can not disclose are suspects." The Japanese American Demigoddess informed the press. "We will make sure to put our best on top of this."
Percy pierced his lips at this statement, knowing exactly who was going to be on that list of the best and the list of suspects. He took a sip of his half stale coffee, then went back to reading the article.
When the clock on the kitchen wall chimed a upbeat song, there was a knock at the door. Percy was still sitting at the kitchen counter, scowling at page ten of a different newspaper, the tv long since muted.
He made his way to the white and gold door, only to be greeted with the same person who showed up at exactly nine o'clock, every morning.
"Hello, Mister Jackson." The voice was hinted ever so softly of Malian accent, one most people wouldn't be able to catch.
Percy nodded his head a little in acknowledgement to the daughter of Dike.
Sarah Valarie was a petite girl, much unlike her father - Dalisto Valarie. As far as Percy was aware, Valarie wasn't her father's original last name. Dike had came down disgusted as Nesa Valarie and the two got married before he found out she was a goddess. But Dike was attracted to Dalisto for one reason - fair judgement. That point aside, Sarah was just like her mother, attitude wise. With her auburn brown hair, lighter skin, and sharper features, she looked more like your stereotypical biracial girl who you'd find within the popular cliche. Instead, she was an equal rights advocate, as well as former debate leader in her highschool years. She always judged both sides fairly before making her decision, which made sense. Dike is the Goddess of fair judgement, rights by law, and morals.
Sarah is Percy's secretary, as she insisted in call herself, and personal friend.
"You don't have to call me Mister." Percy repeated the same phrase he said every morning. Sarah looked up at him, her hazel eyes meeting his green ones.
"Yes I do, Mister Jackson. Are you ready for the day?"
Percy sighed, his figure visibly tensing. "When are any of us ready? What's my schedule for today, Miss Valarie?"
Sarah read out his schedule as Percy gathered his things and made his way to the car idling at the bottom of his driveway.
Percy fidgeted with Riptide as he watched the roadside trees blur past. The deadly pen-weapon clicked against the glass of the window to his left, tapping out an old rhythm to a song he once sang while he was surrounded by fire and friends.
He hummed the familiar tune, watching the trees turn into town buildings. Then those town buildings blurred into tall skyscrapers and city lanes. Percy watched the traffic on the opposing lanes as the car hummed down the HOV lane on the interstate.
Another hour passed before the familiar parking area of Percy's place of work was upon them. At exactly ten thirty o'clock, like every day of his life, he stepped out of the backseat of the sleek black Cadillac, thanking the driver for the ride. Sarah stayed three paces behind him as he made his way to the door. The guard, an elderly man, took a look at him, slipping on his glasses.
"Welcome back, Mister Jackson. How was your weekend?" The man said. Percy sighed.
"Not as relaxing as I hoped, with all that had happened."
"I hear you have a lot of work ahead of you," The guard, Jeremy, said, then typed some stuff into his computer.
"That I do." Percy agreed, before entering the building. The cool dry air hit his skin, a stark contrast to the humidity and heat from outside.
The area was crowded, but once someone saw Percy, all chatter died and they made a human carved path for him. He kept his gaze forward, not making eye contact with anyone. He heard Sarah's heels behind him.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.
A quick beat to keep up with Percy's slower, but still fast, pace.
He made a turn down one hallway, then another turn shortly after.
An elevator ride and three turns later, he opened the door to his 'office'. Immediately everyone stood up and turned to face him, silent as sleeping stones.
He kept his gaze forward as he paced to the other side of the room. One by one, everyone sat back down and continued making their phone calls and drafting their emails.
The wall in front of him was a mustard yellow, which he scowled at. Grey letters were stenciled on the wall, crisp clean lines. A row of exactly eight pictures hung stiffly below these words, all of them portraits of people once dear to the man's heart.
Four years ago, eight people made an agreement.
Four years ago, Annabeth Chase, along with Jason Grace, Piper McLean, Leo Valdez, Clarisse LaRue, Travis Stoll, Malcolm Pace, and Connor Stoll, made their way onto the America's Most Wanted list.
Four years ago the former President of the United States of America came up to Percy and asked him to hunt down these people.
Four years ago, Percy became a government agent.
And he made it his personal mission to see his former girlfriend, and friends, in jail for their crimes.