Street

by LwlyRythm14

Percy Jackson's life sucks, he has no friends, no money and he barely has enough food to eat everyday. His home is a run down apartment in the not so good side of New York. What he does have however are his fist's which he uses to beat up a new person every night for money. Untill an alleyway encounter with a girl helps him bounce back. All Mortal AU.

1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: all right go to Rick Riordan I own nothing

Slight sway to the left, right arm higher then the left arm, steps right before throwing a right jab, all the things I studied from my opponent in the first seconds of the fight. Yet he never managed to land a single blow, if he swung right I ducked under it or took a quick step back before gliding in with a fast straight punch to the cheek, if he made for a jab then a hook following I would just block the jab step into his guard get as many blows to his abdomen before he could counter. You would think with the way I'm telling you exactly how the fight is going that he would be able to get down a pattern of what I'm doing but he cant, because even though I can tell you what I'm going to do before I do it I change what I do each time so every hook or jab or haymaker is different from the last.

it might be hard to tell that I'm fighting on the street against someone twice my size with nothing but fist's for a few extra bucks, but this is how Percy Jackson makes a living, fighting anyone that will fight me. The brute standing in front of me isn't a bad fighter sure but he's to big he barely throws any straight punches or jabs mostly hooks and haymakers that could finish anyone that isn't careful off in one blow. unfortunately for him I am careful and unsurprisingly the fight doesn't last very long before he falls to the ground with a bloody face and body. I look into the group of spectators, all a bunch of gamblers or people that life watching fights each one of them shocked that I didn't lose and more then half angry because they lost their bets but I don't care I just fight for money no matter how little the payment is.

I turn towards the organizer who has my money, I want to get it and go before the cops show up, as I spot his face in the crowd of cheering thugs I make my way over to him as he counts the money I earned.

"you would make a lot more money if you would make the fights last longer" he whispered to me

I knew he was right but I also knew that he really just wanted to see me get hurt. He was there the first fight I was in he had bet on the man I was fighting and had lost a lot of money he's come to all of my fights since looking to see if I would get the shit beat outa me. I never did not anymore at least I'm sure it will happen one day but not today, I had to stop delaying and get home my rent is late and I cant afford to get kicked from my apartment because I don't have enough money for any others.

I have to walk pretty fast to get to my shitty apartment in a run down building somewhere in new York I cant even remember the street name or address of my apartment, or of any place in new York for that matter I just know where I'm going by memory or distinct features of the place I'm headed. I couldn't tell you my address but I could tell you my apartment building inch by inch from the stained carpet on every floor to my door witch wont open unless you hit the doorknob at the right angle. I had to walk fast or groups of people will come out of the alleys and take everything you have. I remember I guy in my building came home naked because someone had mugged him and taken his clothes when he said he had no money on him. if someone came out of the alley ways for me I could probably take on about two or three of them maybe even three or four, but they all carry weapons I just have my fist's but you can be damn sure I would try and hurt them.

I made it to my building in one piece, I took the elevator to the forth floor and entered my apartment. my house has a dining room and kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom I threw my money down on my dining room table and went to my bathroom so I could d what I always do after a fight check myself in the mirror for anything I might have picked up without me knowing. looking in my reflection I looked the exact same as when I left my apartment besides the fact that my pitch black hair was a bit sweaty my green eyes moved in the mirror as I checked my self, all the same. All I could do now is go to sleep get ready for my fight tomorrow and hope that I make it through the night.