Because the city of New York needed it. That's why.

Percy understood the risks, the terms, the conditions, the late nights, the guns, the peril, the hostages, the threats.

And still he did it.

Because the city was his family. As ridiculous as that sounded to other people, this was his home, the people here his friends (the non-criminals, at least). As long as he had his abilities, he was going to keep saving them, simple as that.


She didn't quite know why she kept doing it.

Sure, she loved the city. The city is why she kept saving it, of course, but the corruption and crime were a serious downfall. She didn't love the city to a fault like he did, but she loved the life, the lights, the glory of New York. The feel that you could do anything when standing over the city, staring into the radiance.

Annabeth did it for herself.

The late nights, the pride, the exhaustion at the end was what made it worth it, in the end.

And she wasn't sure what would keep her together otherwise.


Sure, supers in the city were normal by now, but not normal enough to make police commissioners not out to get you, not enough to make idiots stop breaking the law, not enough to make passersby not take out their iPhones to snap a picture of the illustrious Hudor. Saving the city was hard enough without people trying to pull off your mask to see your face.

Which is why, as he rode a wave down the both darkened and lightened 5th Avenue, he pulled his mask a little bit further down to hide his cheekbones and readjusted his skintight suit over his neck to hide that god-awful scar. It would be easy to recognize him, if it came to it, and no faux low growl of a voice or sunglasses sewn into his suit could hide it.

His costume certainly helped, of course, masking his body shape to something broader and stronger than he normally was (a tall, limber, and scrawny-looking kid). Sure, he had muscle here and there, but he was almost the opposite of bulky. Y'know, for a superhero.

He skimmed the top of his water as he came to a stop, stumbling on the pavement as he started to walk on solid ground. Hudor checked his watch, and seeing the hands tick towards 3 AM, sighed. Work tomorrow would suck.

He summoned his water again, and willing it to make a pathway for him in the sky, rode the water into the sky. The sky was dark, starless from the city lights below him. As he glided on the waves, swirling and disappearing behind him, Hudor searched the ground for people, the dark roads and alleys for knives or guns or just people.


He was huge, a towering guy over six feet tall, clenching his hand into a fist and yelling, yelling "fucks" and "mine" over and over, a woman with streaming mascara slammed, trapped against the brick wall with a large hand.

A shadow crept up behind the man, and it reached for the arm currently curled back, twisting his wrist up and pushing up on the elbow, and with a pop his arm dislocated. The man gasped with a shriek, collapsed on the ground onto his arm, and the lights disappeared temporarily from his eyes.

The woman gasped, crumpling to the ragged concrete below, sobs echoing throughout the alley, the shadow approaching her.

"Are you okay?" the shadow asked, sitting cross-legged next to the woman, whose thick black hair hung around her hands covering her face. The shadow wrapped its arm around the woman, pulling her into its chest as she cried.

It was eerily quiet, save for cars passing on other streets, rare light except for the few blinking from apartments ahead. A man on the ground, a woman crying, a shadow comforting. It would be unusual in another place, another time, another universe, but definitely not New York City.

"Is- is he okay?" the woman asked the shadow through her heaves.

It was some sort of irony, the shadow thought, how it was not vengeance or revenge they sought, but them being "okay."

"Yes," the shadow said, sighing lightly. "What's important is if you're okay. Do you have a cab or a car or someone to take you home? Do you have somewhere to sleep tonight, away from him?"

The woman sniffed, wiping her nose on the back of her manicured hand. "I can take a cab to my place."

"What's your name?" the shadow asked, withdrawing its arm from around the woman and looking at her.

"Helen. Um, Helen Grace," the woman said, wiping the dark smears under her eyes with her fingers, her bright blue eyes watering still. "And I suppose you're Nous?"

"Mmhm," the shadow confirmed, offering small sort of smile at the other woman. "Helen, can I borrow your phone to call the police?"

Helen silently handed over her uncovered iPhone to the masked woman, who swiped and asked, "Password?"

"It's staple. All lowercase."

"Thanks," Nous said, quickly tapping out the sequence with her gloves and it clicked as it let her in. She dialed a quick 911 and held up the phone to her ear. "Hello, there's a passed out guy here with a dislocated arm, he was going at-"

Helen sighed, digging through her purse for at least a tissue, sorting through lip gloss and receipts, not really listening to Nous. It wasn't every day that you met one of New York's finest, but not really every day that you needed to. Stan wasn't a bad guy, she thought, but not that it really mattered. She wasn't going to get together with him again, she decided. Never. Not with someone who held your wrists together above you and gave you deep bruises on your cheeks with those knuckles, those knuckles that lay now on the ground, unmoving and disabled.

Nous hung up with another click and handed the phone back to Helen. "Thanks. They're on their way. I'll walk with you to get a cab, if you're ready."

Helen nodded, slinging her purse over her shoulder, bracing her hands against the ground and pushing herself up off the dirty concrete. She held out a hand for Nous, who shook her head and jumped to her feet. Tall and thin, with a blonde bun at her neck, clothed in a skintight grey suit with a belt around the middle with tiny pouches of god-knows-what, Nous walked ahead of the woman out onto a street, hailing a taxi in record time.

"Take care of yourself, alright?" Nous said, opening the door for Helen, who nodded, sliding in the cab and closing it.

"Where to, lady?" the driver barked at her, but she was preoccupied with watching Nous walk away, boots hitting the pavement, her suit a matte grey as she walked against the bright lights of open-late Chinese take-out places, giving a slight wave back at Helen. Her long legs turned a corner and Nous disappeared from sight, blue and red flashing in her wake.


Percy yawned, stripping off the last of his suit, feet damp as he stepped onto his cold apartment floor in bare feet. He reached for his phone, sent a quick Love you, see you tomorrow to his mom, slipped on a pair of boxers, and curled under the blankets, falling asleep in seconds. His alarm clock went off at six- two hours of sleep would be enough, right?


hey guys, new story! it's superhero au, if you hadn't caught on, and it's a LOT of fun writing it. it's heavily inspired by rainjoy on lj's klaine superhero fic, which everyone should read even if you haven't seen glee. the title's stolen from 'four-color love story' by the metasciences, the perfect superhero love anthem.

i should be updating fairly soon, i'm in atlanta, georgia at the moment for a dci show, and i will definitely be writing on the long way home. anyways, i really hope you guys will like this, i'm so pumped for the rest of this! thanks so much for reading and i'd love it if you gave me some feedback. thanks again! 3 xx