A/N: I didn't mention this in the last author's note, but since this is rated M, expect violence, vulgarity, and sexual themes. Also, there will be far fewer OC's with a more canon main plot. Subplots, however, are gonna be used to make it so that the story isn't always following the books. The only character I intend to change to a noticeable degree is Percy, so if you're uncomfortable with that, this might not be your cup of tea.

Disclaimer: I do not own or make any money off of this work of fanfiction. All rights for the characters in Percy Jackson and the Olympians and Heroes of Olympus go to Rick Riordan and all who were involved in the creation of the novels.


2. In The Woods, Only He Can Hear You Scream


As the sun shone through the trees, Perseus twirled his silver toothpick with deft fingers. Occasionally, a shaft of light would connect with the metal object, sending out brief glints that caught his eye. A soft, cooling breeze whispered through the foliage, rustling bushes as it passed. The half-blood allowed himself a small respite after having walked for hours on end.

Shortly after his mother revealed that Iapetus was his father, Perseus had started the trek toward Jack London State Historic Park. As far as Sally knew, that was where the Wolf House could be found, although she had told him to follow his instinct. It was odd advice, considering that he didn't really know what instinct even was. In the end, Perseus was fairly certain that his 'instinct' had gotten him lost.

His mother hadn't sent him out into the wilderness with nothing, though. She'd told him to bring his backpack so that she could fill it with a variety of different essentials like water, a compass, some medical supplies, and of course her world-famous―at least they should have been famous―blue cookies.

Even with the compass, he had no idea where he was. About a mile back on his journey he'd felt a small niggling sensation wash over his skin, setting him on edge. The niggling had subsided quickly, though it was replaced by pinpricks shooting through his heart.

While Perseus wasn't sure what to make of the feelings, he figured more caution wouldn't hurt him in any way. Something was definitely off about his location, and he'd be damned if he were to be caught unprepared for a fight.

After all, he sought the thrill of battle, not the cold embrace of death. It would be embarrassing to die without putting a few scars on his opponent should the odds be against him. Even so, death, while not exactly a welcomed friend, wasn't something he worried about in depth. As long as he had some fun before dying, then it was fine for him. That said, he didn't actively seek to die.

Perseus frowned. Him being the son of a Titan still made his curious. Never had he heard of another Titan ever siring a half human child. Questions ran rampant in his mind, waiting to spill out if he ever met his father.

On one hand, it made sense as to why he and his mother lived on the West Coast as opposed to the East. Apparently, the Greek pantheon had the entrance to Mount Olympus in New York City. It would have been dangerous for him to live anywhere even remotely close to that area.

The West Coast, on the other hand, was home to Mount Othrys. Why Iapetus insisted he and his mother live so close to Titan territory was another question that needed answering. After all, his father left to protect Perseus from his relatives; therefore it was odd that he would say California was the safest place.

'Too bad I'm not a son of Krios. Maybe I could've used the constellations to guide me or something.'

Though he'd gotten lost―which he continued to blame his 'instinct' for―he didn't really mind allowing his thoughts to wander. The natural beauty that surrounded him only helped facilitate his musings. He could see why so many people went on hikes if they also were given free roam of their thoughts. He wasn't relaxed, per se, but it was still a nice way to clear the clutter that typically constipated his brain.

Most days saw him focusing on the organization of his facial expressions and vocal tones in order to entertain himself. In addition, he would do his best to analyze his peers' attitudes and state of being from both verbal and nonverbal cues alike. It was a fun little way to pass the time, while also entertaining when he saw how many people actually liked his two-dimensional farce.

His mother had said that it was a self-administered challenge. In that respect, she was completely correct. The kind, approachable, charming personality was something akin to a Frankenstein project for him. Years of observation―be it of movies, television, magazines, or other people―helped him understand the nuances that could make or break a good facsimile. From that, he tried to stitch together a fractured identity from the bits and pieces he wanted.

Taking that into consideration, the teen wouldn't say that he was being very dishonest with anybody. The emotions that he displayed weren't fake, simply exaggerated. After all, not everybody could be cheerful, bubbly, and seemingly happy all day, every day. It just wasn't normal. The identity wasn't created with some foreign sentiment to him. It was just a hyperbole of his typically joyful emotions. Yes, the emotions weren't fake, just the amount that he displayed.

The reason he built his overbearingly amiable persona wasn't because he was a body snatcher or some other form of alien monster needing to blend into human society. To him, it was much more innocent than lizard-people infiltration.

For the most part he considered it a hobby. Something he could do when nothing else was worth giving attention. It helped bring a bit of amusement, which he always found lacking in the normal world.

Sure it was strange, but it was his.

That being said Perseus recognized he was… prone to losing himself inside the constructed visage. He could freely admit that there was truth in his mother's words. Both his 'Dr. Jekyll' and 'Mr. Hyde' attitudes were generally the absolute extremes of his emotional range. Like every other human, he was able to go between happiness and sadness, depending on the circumstance.

His 'Mr. Hyde' was just another fun projection for him. It was a fallback, a compartmentalization where he could put the other emotions that were rarely used in his day-to-day life. He wasn't angsty enough to say that his 'true' self was an aloof, brooding, calculating, cruel human being. That wasn't to imply that he couldn't enjoy bringing about such behavior, though.

Like Sally said, it was another extreme that he swung toward.

When his grossly happy side became stale, he typically changed to something a little more reserved. Some would even go as far to call it callous.

He truly enjoyed the reactions that particular exaggerated identity garnered from his oldest acquaintances―those that still remembered him from elementary school. Leticia, especially, was a fun one to intimidate whenever they were paired up for something in class.

Still though, he didn't really like giving his emotional caricatures any form of name, since then it just sounded like he suffered from dissociative identity disorder.

Scoffing, Perseus flicked the toothpick through the air, watching as it drifted back down toward his open palm. There was a certain amount of irony that he could laugh at. He was, after all, one of the most disingenuous people that came to mind. It was funny then, that he would be searching for authenticity.

A hypocritical conundrum.

Suddenly, the pricking sensation came back, scuttling around his chest cavity. Perseus scowled and tugged at his shirt a bit only for the feeling to race down his arm.

With a cocked eyebrow, he raised his hand and peered closely at the small toothpick between his fingers.

A glow, so scarce that it was almost indiscernible, bathed the tiny object in a frigid aura. Perseus stared at it curiously, noting that it seemed to thrum with palpable excitement under his scrutiny. Looking closer, the teen felt the pricking return to him in full force, this time sending slivers of discomfort through his entire body, lancing into each muscle.

Humming in thought, Perseus stopped his stride, opting instead to mull over what the toothpick was doing. Before he could do anything else, a voice rang out, putting the half-blood on alert.

"Oh thank goodness! Another person! Hello, can you help us?"

Perseus looked away from the silver object, sliding it back into his mouth.

Approaching his position was a woman dressed for a hike; olive green shorts and an earthy brown T-shirt adorning her svelte body. She had long, rich brown hair and a dazzling smile that could blind somebody with its radiance. A single dimple formed on the left side of her face as her grin stretched out.

"Uh…" Perseus blinked for a moment, taking in the―admittedly beautiful―sight before him. As the woman approached, he shook from his stupor and chided himself for staring.

The teen took a second to decide upon his expression.

Soon, he smeared on a hastily created smile that sat closer to polite than joyous. It would be poor form if he seemed too enthusiastic about meeting somebody for the first time; however, he was certain it would've been equally bad coming across as standoffish.

Clearing his throat, he decided to respond before his smile became awkward. "You said you needed help?"

The woman nodded her head, some of her voluminous hair falling around her forehead, framing her face immaculately. When she was only ten feet from him, the stranger stuttered in her step. Perseus' smile strained minutely at seeing the woman's nostrils twitch.

"Yes! Me and some of my friends were hiking out here, but we got all turned around," the woman said, face flushed and abashed at her words. "So… we're a little lost right now. Would you mind guiding us back to the main road? I'm sure we'll be able to figure out our direction from there."

Briefly, Perseus considered admitting that he was also lost. Instead, he took one look at her face―her captivatingly warm eyes―and accepted her request. "Sure, I can help you guys out."

"Really? Oh, that's great! Thank you so much!" She gushed, rushing forward and taking his arm without hesitation. "My friends aren't too far from here. We decided to send one person out to find another hiker while the others waited, just so we wouldn't go further into the woods. As you can guess, I got the short straw, so I was the one sent out."

Nodding absentmindedly, the teen fell in step with his new companion. "Apart from getting lost, have you liked hiking in this area, Miss…?"

The woman seemed surprised by his conversational attitude, though she answered him nonetheless. "Samantha. And yes, we did enjoy our time here. Well, I did at least."

Perseus hummed to himself. With the young woman attached to his arm, he marched forward, feeling only slightly out of sorts. He began hoping that his life wouldn't become a romantic-comedy... because he truly had no time for it. Unless, of course, it managed to bring him entertainment. Then he wouldn't mind too much.

[[AaMT]]

"Hmmm... favorite color?" Samantha asked.

Perseus tapped a finger to his chin. "Uh… probably gray."

"Makes sense considering how you dye your hair," the woman chuckled.

"Not you too... my gray hair is from a genetic mutation, alright?" The teen explained, slightly annoyed that yet another person had assumed he dyed his hair.

"Suuuuure… next... do you have a girlfriend?"

He examined Samantha more closely from the corner of his eye. It was an odd thing to ask, considering they'd only been walking together for twenty minutes before she began a game of 'Twenty Questions'.

She looked to be several years older than him, maybe in her early twenties. Two barely noticeable smile lines helped contour her cheeks and mouth to an endearing extent. He still thought her interest in him was weird, especially since they were basically strangers. That being said, he could easily see a lot of other men finding her demeanor to be innocent and playful, especially when they took her appearance into account.

There weren't any exotic qualities to speak of; nothing that proved loud and attention-grabbing on first glance. Yet, she held herself with such natural charm that her understated looks actually screamed attractiveness. As a result, her contradictory nature gave Samantha a certain 'girl-next-door' appeal that Perseus often heard his male acquaintances talk about.

Shaking his head, the young man smiled wryly. "None so far. That's fine though, I'm not in any rush."

"Really? That's surprising," Samantha said coyly. "Someone like you… well I'm lucky to have met you out here. My wilderness hero."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were flirting with me," Perseus commented, tossing his companion an amusedly restrained smile. "But I doubt you'd do that, considering we just met and all."

Samantha coughed into her hand, a blush rising to her cheeks. "I… well I… wait… how old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"Oh… oh my gosh… I-I just f-flirted with a minor," the woman stammered, covering her face with both hands. "Let's… let's just forget… just forget what I said, okay? Don't tell my friends, please, they'll never let me hear the end of it."

The half-blood waved off her concerns. "Don't worry, I won't say a word. A few people mistake me for an older guy. Not many, mind you, but this wouldn't be the first time."

Letting go of a loud sigh, Samantha nodded timidly. "Yeah… um, thanks for that. My friends aren't too far up ahead. Let's go!"

Once again, Perseus found her arm looping around his own, locking them together quite closely.

'For somebody worried about verbally coming on to a teenager, she certainly likes to cling…' Perseus mused. 'Though nobody's gonna hear me complaining about it.'

The girl's strides soon began to lengthen, though when they did, the teen noticed she had a distinct limp. Even though her gait was uneven, Samantha pushed forward at a speed that surprised him.

Eventually, the trees began to clear, giving sight to a placid lake. Sitting by the shore was a group of six other women, all around the same age as Samantha. Each was dressed similarly to Perseus' companion, though they sported a decent amount of individuality through their hair and facial features. Yet, in the end, they were all very attractive no matter how one looked at it.

"Hey guys! I found somebody!" Samantha called out, garnering the attention of the group. She smiled her typically blinding smile at Perseus again. "Come on! You should meet the group!"

"Sounds like a plan," the young man shrugged.

As he and Samantha walked to the other women, he casually kicked a rock forward. The brunette next to him didn't seem to notice when the rock landed in front of her. When she took the next step, her foot rolled over the oblong stone.

With a yelp, the young woman tripped. Reacting quickly, Perseus managed to catch her before she could hit the ground. He pulled her up and gave her a sheepish laugh as he pulled his hands off of her chest and spine.

"Eh, sorry about that. I kicked the rock basically right in front of your foot," he admitted, backing up and gesturing in surrender.

Samantha huffed, but grinned soon after as her eyes roamed over Perseus' body. "Mhm, are you really all that sorry? You managed to cop a good feel there, buddy boy."

"Which was completely accidental." His retort was calm, but it was followed by a crooked smile. "Though it was a happy accident at least."

"My, my, what's this Sam? Already finding love out there in the wild, are you?"

Perseus turned to look at who'd spoken.

She stood a bit ahead of the rest of the women in the small group, pitch-black hair in pixie cut form and vivid amber eyes setting her apart from the others. Looking to be marginally older than the rest, Perseus assumed she was the leader of their collective.

"Hi there. Thanks for coming to help us out," the leader said. Her tone was amiable enough, though there was an obvious French accent to the voice. "I'm Valencia, it's nice to meet you."

Inclining his head, the half-blood reciprocated her niceties. "Likewise. I'm Perseus, in case you care."

Samantha lightly tugged at his shirt. "Oh c'mon, you never told me your name!"

"You never asked."

The brunette pouted at his bland response. "Neither did she! Well, whatever. Let me introduce everybody else!"

Samantha went on to point out who was called what. Perseus truly didn't care about any of the women's names, only barely registering what his lively companion was saying. Out of typical social convention, he nodded along with the words that flew from Samantha's mouth, even as he observed the surrounding area.

The sky was clearly visible now that there weren't trees in every direction. There were a few clouds drifting, though for the most part the blue expanse was clear and vividly intoxicating. Around him was the lakeshore, which consisted of small, smooth rocks. Trees dotted the distance and he could see the treeline as it stretched around his position.

Perseus broke from his inspections soon. Samantha had finished naming her friends, which brought Perseus to extend a hand as he smiled timorously at each of the gorgeous women. "Nice to meet all of you."

Only one―a girl named Ameenah―chose to shake the offered limb. Nobody else stepped forward to do so, instead meeting the gesture with curious and semi-suspicious glances. A few eyes were narrowed his direction, though the most dangerous expression was plastered on Valencia's face.

It was apparent that no more would return the pleasantry. He supposed it was both a blessing and a detriment.

Perseus took a step forward. His eyes never left Valencia even when his diffident countenance shifted. Taking a moment to think, he placed his middle finger and thumb together, before nodding resolutely.

'Pesky consequences begone.'

He snapped.

Blood exploded from Samantha's torso, splattering the side of Perseus' red shirt, staining it black.

At the same time, his ability lacerated Ameenah's hand, ripping the appendage in two parts through the middle and spilling more black blood across his jeans.

Samantha fell back. Or rather, the top part of her body―from her chest up―fell backward. The bottom half simply crumpled to the ground, legs giving out as there were no signals supporting it. The brunette's face was frozen in an expression bordering between shock and agony, her face twitched for a few seconds, eyes scanning around and jaw moving up and down.

Ameenah, on the other hand, screamed and dropped to her knees, trying to hold the two segments of her arm together. Perseus could see the tears falling from her chin as she cradled the ruined limb, sobs racking her body violently as the screams choked between her gasps for air.

Deciding not to let her get back up, the half-blood leaned close and flicked the girl's forehead. Ameenah's gaze snapped up at his touch, her eyes wide, terrified, and pleading.

"No! No! Please… please!"

Before she could speak further, Perseus rent. Her head was torn in two, split much like her arm was. Chunks of bone and tissue fell to the ground, falling between the rocks.

The other women stared in shock even while their friends dissolved into gold dust.

"So you are monsters. Good thing, huh?" Perseus chuckled, shaking his head. "I wasn't―as embarrassing as it is to admit―one-hundred percent sure. It would've been pretty awkward if I'd accidentally killed two random mortal women. All of that set-up… would've been for no reason at that point."

While it certainly might have been unfortunate, he wouldn't say that it would have changed anything. Even if Samantha and Ameenah were human―which he now knew they weren't―the other women would still have died, by his own hand no less.

He couldn't very well let them leave after they witnessed their two friends being murdered. The cruelty of letting them live with such horrific memories wouldn't be lost on Perseus. While guilt wasn't something he experienced often, it typically rubbed him the wrong way. Such was the reason why the others would die.

Mercy killing.

Perseus figured death was preferable to living a life haunted by the images of close friends and family being violently mutilated and murdered. Especially when one was close enough to smell the metallic tang of blood in the air. There was a very distinct difference between the ignorant, pitiful cruelty of youthful taunts and the inhuman, heartless cruelty of premeditated murder.

After all, he wasn't a sadistic monster.

Even he had the occasional nightmare of that first human he killed. It was a picture that might never leave him, although the guilt had diminished over the past two years.

Truthfully, he enjoyed such a form of absolution. Without the fetters that might bind him, restrict him, force servility unto him for the sake of others, Perseus understood that he was… a bit odd. Even so, he usually slept well at night and saw no reason to worry.

Valencia was―unsurprisingly―the first to shake herself from the shock. She bared her teeth, which elongated and sharpened into fangs. Her once fair skin gained a pallor quality, becoming a shade that resembled baby powder or chalk. Long, fiery wisps replaced her short dark hair and red soon bled into her irides. Both legs also shifted, one growing brown fur and looking like a donkey; the other retained its humanoid shape, though it was made entirely of bronze.

Having seen their leader transform, the rest of the women morphed too, becoming terrible hybrids that shared similar features with Valencia.

Perseus raised an eyebrow at seeing the monsters in front of him. "Vampires? Don't remember them from Greek myth… huh… spooky… I guess? What's with the legs, though? Don't tell me your parents… did it… with a donkey."

One of the vampires―who'd been introduced as Yoana―stepped forward. "We are servants of Hecate, demigod bastard! Vampires? Don't make us laugh! We haunted the night far before those fakers ever did, draining the blood of weak-willed young men for ages! We are empousai, the perfect combination of flesh, metal, and ghostly remains."

"Oh! Spooky indeed! You've got me quivering, little Ms. Perfect Combination," Perseus drawled. He quite enjoyed the reactions elicited from taunts, which was perhaps the only reason he ever jeered at anybody.

Yoana growled, limping toward Perseus, but she stopped when Valencia raised a hand. "Not another step! I will deal with this half-blood slime… myself!"

Perseus smirked and let the backpack fall from his shoulders. Yes, he could definitely appreciate the art of taunting. "Your move."

The lead empousa drew a gold, double-sided knife from behind, flicking her flaming hair haughtily. "You fool! I've lived for centuries, never once bested by one of your kind. If I recall my count correctly, over fifteen half-bloods have tried to kill me… and all of them met their grisly ends at my teeth. Depending on the godly parent, their blood was always a treat, a delicacy that nears euphoric bliss. I wonder how you'll taste."

With that, she lunged forward, her speed catching Perseus by surprise. Given that her legs were mismatched, the teen expected her to move slower. Instead, she closed the distance much too quickly, leading Perseus to reflexively back away.

The dagger whistled through open air, having missed his neck by several inches. Seeing his chance, Perseus jabbed experimentally with his fist, testing his foe's reactionary speed.

Valencia took no chances, undoubtedly worried about what he could do with his hands, and completely avoided the attack. She gave his fist a wide berth, letting it pass her by.

Perseus could see the caution in her ruby eyes. Much like the Chimera, once she'd gotten a taste of what he could do, there was no rush to experience it again. It was painfully clear that Valencia would do her best to keep away from his hands.

In that moment, the half-blood lamented that his powers were confined to such a small part of his body. His abilities―while fearsome―were also extremely limited by circumstance. He could only rend under certain conditions: the object needed to be susceptible to wounds; any part of his hands had to touch the object; the object couldn't have been touched more than five minutes past; and he needed enough stamina to perform the rending on said object.

That said, Perseus honestly wouldn't have wanted any other ability. It was part of who he was, helped define him, brought him a sense of content. Using his power was exhilarating each and every time. The injection of dominance into his bloodstream, flowing through his body, inundating him with a wholly unique and intimate pleasure.

He loved every second of it, even when it left him exhausted and panting, feeling worn and completely spent. The gratification that accompanied his rending reached just short of nirvana, staying close to―yet so very far from―orgasmic rapture.

Not allowing ruminations to impede his fight, Perseus refocused on the lead empousa. She was watching his moves closely if the way her eyes flickered from limb to limb was any indication. Shifting his foot forward, the teen saw his foe tense up.

His muscles coiled and bounced with barely restrained glee, ready to push and pulse at their master's command. The excitement of another fight filled Perseus. He felt his breathing speed up, knowing full well he could potentially meet the reaper. Even so, he would fight to his last breath no matter what, needing to feel everything.

When he saw Valencia begin to move, he released the tension by sprinting full force at the monster. Valencia's face expressed her fear when his fist nearly caught her chest. She rolled to the side, just barely avoiding having her life taken.

Perseus kept his momentum, though, spinning on his heel and executing a poorly-advised spin kick. His foot caught the empousa in her arm, which caused the beast to stumble. Before he could act again, a thin gash was opened through his jeans, cutting into his calf, courtesy of Valencia's dagger.

A mutual exchange of blows.

The half-blood leaped vicariously at his opponent, launching a series of punches and an occasional kick in hopes of dealing some better damage. It proved an arduous task quickly however, since the monster held the weapon advantage. The extra inches that were added to her reach became an insurmountable obstacle.

Each time he overextended, Perseus was rewarded with another slash to his extremities. He counted four cuts on his body in total. None of the wounds were especially debilitating, but he realized that if the dagger had been coated in poison, his life would be forfeit.

'Guess there's a reason to go to that camp after all,' Perseus thought, pulling his hand away from another deliberate slash that nearly took a few fingers off.

The difference in fighting skill was not extreme, but the teen was aware that Valencia had a few hundred years of experience on him. She'd claimed to have killed over a dozen other demigods. Such a feat must have meant that she was adequate in terms of combat.

Unfortunately for the empousa, all Perseus needed was one touch.

Another shallow injury was opened on his bicep, though he disregarded it. He moved close and rammed his knee into Valencia's donkey thigh. He went to grab her throat, only to dodge the dagger that nearly found purchase in his eye. The two separated from their close proximity for a moment.

Glancing around quickly, he realized that he'd moved closer to the group of empousai who watched the fight closely. Each of them had taken out a dagger of their own, apparently prepared to fight him if their leader fell.

Sweat trickled down his forehead, moving down the bridge of his nose and crossing close to his eyes. The sun's beams felt like fire on his skin. He couldn't feel the air around him. His heart pounded heavily and his ribs ached.

It was a heavenly feeling.

An idea formed amidst the heated frenzy of his boiling blood. The fight, while a bit more difficult than expected, was very entertaining. That being said, he wanted better fights in the future. Perseus ducked and moved as Valencia took advantage of his sudden lack of aggression. She was careful not to present any solid openings, which left Perseus both a bit frustrated and amused.

Soon, their fight led them within ten feet of the other empousai. Perseus bent backward, avoiding a slash that was meant to blind him. When his upper-body was parallel with the ground, he flexed his arms behind his head, planting them on the rocky lakeshore.

With a great heave, the teen pushed his feet off the ground while pulling his lower-body into the air with his core strength. Continuing the motion, Perseus allowed his entire lower-body to swing in its arc before he threw himself off the ground with his hands. He landed on his feet haphazardly, stumbling a bit as the rocks shifted beneath his weight.

Shooting a smirk and a wink at Valencia's slightly astounded look, he casually dusted off his shoulder.

"Damn I'm good."

Turning on his heel, Perseus dashed and grabbed the nearest empousa he could find―who happened to be Yoana―by the wrist. Squeezing as hard as he could, the small carpal bones were crushed under the pressure.

Hearing the sound of moving rocks coming from his rear, Perseus spun around the wounded empousa, placing his body behind her own. He gripped the back of her shirt and watched as one of her friends drove a dagger through Yoana's heart.

Without further hesitation he pushed the dying monster forward, forcing the one who stabbed her to fall under the dead weight.

More noise to his side had the teen ducking to avoid having his throat slit. Perseus twisted and kicked his attacker back, only to be forced away by yet another empousa stabbing at him. Scanning the area, he noticed that he was surrounded on all visible sides.

They rushed at him together, attacking with semi-synchronized motions. Their advantage of numbers made it difficult for Perseus to take initiative against any one mistake. Valencia, in particular, caused him an unreasonable amount of trouble. The four remaining empousai pushed him onto the back-foot, swinging and thrusting their daggers with clear anger in their movements.

He took note of the fact that their emotions were displayed in each strike. It was a little surprising to know that monsters could actually form attachments, even if it was to other monsters of similar species.

Wincing as another cut was placed on his shoulder, the half-blood suddenly felt the desire to have a weapon in his own hands. It would make the fight against his enemies easier. While the battle had become exponentially more fun with the other monsters joining, he still felt something missing. There was something that still felt lethargic and unfulfilling about the entire debacle.

'A weapon… polearm… would be awesome right about now,' Perseus lamented as he rolled between three simultaneous attacks. Three glints of gold caught his eye while he dodged.

An abrupt sensation of danger washed over him, coming directly from his mouth. He quickly spat the toothpick out of his mouth and into his open palm.

The object glowed brightly and soon began to elongate. Soon, a seven-foot long spear―no, it was a Bohemian Earspoon, not just a spear―lay in his hand. A polished, deep maroon colored wood formed the haft. The head could almost be likened to a trident.

A long, tapering, double-edged blade one-and-a-half feet in length at the middle, and two sturdy lugs branching laterally from the neck of the middle blade gave the weapon a malefic air. The lugs were more akin to spikes that were crooked near their sharpened tips in the slightest of manners, bending back toward the haft almost indiscernibly.

"Oh… oh, this is nice… Oh, baby!" Perseus stared at what was in his hand, feeling just a little more complete. Tearing his eyes away from the earspoon―a ridiculous name, for sure―he glanced at the empousai, who stood and gaped at the weapon.

Not sparing another breath, the half-blood ran into motion again, this time with an advantage of his own. Even though the polearm was fairly long, his body moved with purpose, never allowing cumbersome actions to arise through his newly pressed attacks.

Perseus spun and twirled the earspoon while his enemies tried to defend. With his weapon in hand, the son of Iapetus broke through their attempts. The weight of the polearm lent it favor when connecting with something soft and pliable, having already been accelerated by Perseus' ferociously powerful swings.

One empousa raised her dagger when she realized her body wouldn't clear the blade in time. There was not a single hint of resistance as the long middle blade sliced through her gold knife. With no time to react further, the empousa was cleanly bisected. Its momentum carried the silver blade through her left arm, into her torso, and out the other side.

Even as one opponent fell, Perseus continued his onslaught. Blocking a wild slash, he disengaged with Valencia and rammed the butt of his polearm into the leader's nose. She cried out in pain as black blood spilled down her face. Once again he jabbed at her midsection, knocking her back before he spun the earspoon around and impaled Valencia. He yanked his weapon out of her heart and watched as she fell, her body already dissolving into gold dust.

The final two empousai looked at one another.

They charged at the same time, reckless compared to the previous attempts. Perseus wondered if it was their fear of returning to Tartarus or if it was something else. He supposed it didn't matter, since their weak attacks never connected. He waned and waxed in his technique, never once forgetting to retract or extend at the right moments. Never before had Perseus felt more relaxed than when the earspoon was in his hands.

Sliding around one, he managed to tap the back of her head with his index finger through her flaming hair. At the same time, he thrust his weapon forward and cut the other's chest with ease. He snapped and the final empousa went down, a hole pierced through her skull.

Perseus took time to breathe. He looked at the seven piles of gold dust that littered the lakeshore. As a breeze rolled across the area, Perseus began to feel his tiredness catch up. His wounds burned fiercely and dried blood―more monster than human―flecked his body.

'That was awesome.' He thought, rolling his shoulders a bit.

Walking to his backpack, the young man glanced at his new weapon with a raised eyebrow.

"Hm… what to do with you," he mused. "I can't just go around carrying you with me all the time. Change back… please?"

The Bohemian earspoon shimmered as it changed form, shrinking down into a toothpick once more.

"… Convenient." Perseus praised with a half-smile tugging at his lips. He placed it back into his mouth, only slightly off-put by knowing he'd used it to murder monsters only a minute prior.

He knelt down next to his bag and began to rummage through it. Pulling out some clean water, gauze, and bandages, the half-blood began to clean and dress his injuries. None of them were particularly ugly, simply being shallow cuts where he'd failed to defend himself. Some weren't even worth covering up, so instead, he rubbed a bit of water over them for cleanliness purposes.

After finishing with his dressings, Perseus stuffed the supplies back in his bag and pulled out some of his Mom's homemade blue cookies. He gently nibbled on the snack, his eyes never once sitting still, always on the hunt for another source of possible danger in the landscape. It was dangerous to eat with a toothpick in one's mouth, but Perseus didn't feel like he was at any risk.

His fight against the empousai had been invigorating. He shivered as the recollection of his skill with his earspoon―he would definitely need to find a better name for it―ran through his brain. Without even the barest hint of weapon training, he'd been able to wield the polearm with the complete and utter confidence. In that moment, the feeling of invincibility had racked his body in its cocoon of whispered promises, never allowing harm to befall him.

With the fight ended, though, the half-blood finally felt the weariness that crept into his bones.

He was tired.

Very tired.

Using his power didn't come cheap, after all. The total came to five uses during his fight: two on Samantha, two on Ameenah, and one on the unnamed empousa. It didn't help that he'd powered each of those rendings a great deal since his ability was less effective against monsters compared to other things.

From behind, a low and throaty growl cut through the otherwise peaceful afternoon air. Perseus, though worn, sprang to his feet and turned around, half of a cookie still hanging between his teeth. In his hand, the toothpick was ready to be transformed back into a weapon.

A group of five wolves left the cool shadows of the treeline, padding their way cautiously toward him. The creatures were all brown of fur, which led Perseus to think that he'd accidentally stumbled close to a den. He sighed out loud at the thought of having to fight the wolves.

He was certain that it wouldn't be very entertaining. His last opponents at least had some form of higher intelligence. Fighting instinct driven animals wouldn't give him much thrill; of that, he had no doubt.

Regardless of his feelings on the matter, the teen willed for his weapon, and it answered his call. Feeling the weight settle into his hand, Perseus finished eating his cookie before staring at the wolf group.

The young man's slight trickle of anticipation became confusion when the wolves disregarded him. They stalked right by his form, not even sparing a second glance. He turned to face them with a bit of irritation at being ignored.

"Uh… excuse me! Dangerous badass with a Bohemian earspoon here. Could you stop pretending that I'm not a threat to you?" He called out, watching as the beasts began to sniff at the golden piles of monster dust. They walked languidly, uncaring of the teen who was shaking a fist at them.

"Hey! Don't just ig―you know what, forget it," Perseus shook his head. He continued to observe the wolves as they went around to each location where the empousai had died.

Before long, the largest wolf in the pack turned away and stared at Perseus. Its eyes―a cringe-worthy golden topaz color―bore into the teen. With a growl, the biggest wolf moved away, heading for the woods once more. Seeing such, the other wolves trotted past Perseus to catch up with the supposed leader.

With confusion wrapping around his brain, the half-blood saw them disappear into the thicket, all bar the largest. Instead, it stopped mid-stride to look back. Perseus frowned when it made no further movements.

"Do you… want me to follow you?" He asked uncertainly, feeling silly for talking to a wolf in any serious manner.

The wolf gave the slightest inclination of its head.

Perseus blinked. "O-kaaayy. Can you take me to the Wolf House?"

In return, he received the same gesture of agreement.

The half-blood didn't move for a few seconds. The surreal situation gave him pause, though he shook it from his mind. Considering he'd killed seven vampiric donkey-cyborgs not ten minutes past, having a wolf understand him wasn't quite so shocking. The earspoon reverted into a toothpick and Perseus leaned down, scooping his backpack up.

"Lead on then."

[[AaMT]]

The sun was all but drowned out in the midst of the woods. The final brilliant rays of deep crimson and orange flamed through any gaps they could find, painting the ground sporadically in its hues. The wind had calmed significantly, only small wafting currents occasionally passing into the verdure. Very few trees were covered with any leaves, leaving countless bare branches to heft the weight of impeding the sun rays.

Lupa sat on her haunches, staring at the sight around her, savoring the unimpeded wrath of nature as it grew around her Wolf House. The goddess often wondered what it would be like to have opposable thumbs, if only to write down what she observed in her surroundings. As a divine being, she could, of course, change her form to suit her needs; however, she came into creation as a wolf and because of that, she preferred her natural biology as opposed to something else. It was well known that gods usually kept to their original forms, mostly for comfort's sake.

Of course, she knew thumbs were useful for more than holding a pencil. Being able to turn handles on doors, for example, truly set humans apart from other, baser, creatures. Lupa had been alive when Prometheus molded novus aetas hominibus―New Age Men―from clay, breathing into them the cancer of sentience. She still recalled how they stumbled and fell, trying to find their way in the world, more blind to it than anything she'd ever seen before. Even the less intelligent animals that roamed Gaea's crust found their purpose in simply being alive.

Humans, though, weren't satisfied with such a tawdry philosophy. When Prometheus gave them sentience, he placed on their frail, unprepared shoulders a burden that made Atlas' struggle with the sky seem tame.

In truth, it was cruel of him to let them question things. Their ability to ponder the deeper aspects of their lives led them to become embittered toward the world. Wherever they turned to look for answers, there was only disappointment. No other creature could give them the solution. Humans were truly and utterly alone in their suffering. They were never content with just being alive, instead searching for a higher purpose than to just die after their tumultuous lives ended.

The poor, hairless apes had no chance. Even for all their ingenuity, they led lives on borrowed time. And so, it came to be that humans searched for ways to become… more. As time passed, they set their sights on growing beyond the limits imposed upon them by mortality. Shortly afterward, the Titans revealed themselves to the humans in order to 'guide' the species.

Nothing came of such a bold claim. The Titans cared little for guiding humanity. Saturn's―Kronos'―main concern was with ensuring they never realized their potential. He was dangerously sharp, that Titan Lord. He could see that humans possessed something that he and other divine beings did not.

Adaptability. Flexibility. Ideological evolution.

Time passed them by and, instead of remaining in the same place, humans pushed forward faster than anything that came before them. Even the gods, for all their power, had stagnated.

Not humanity, however.

From era to era, they continued their upward growth. Even then, in what some might refer to as the 'Information Age', humans looked toward the future. All because they were so lost. It was tragic, then, that all their efforts were perhaps for naught.

'Such is the consequence of creation. Nothing can truly remain forever… can it, Lord Chronos, Lady Ananke?'

A scent soon disturbed Lupa from her morbid thoughts. It mingled, wafting through the area, settling into her nostrils and touched her tongue. A myriad of improbable sensations flashed through her body as she gleaned what she could from the smell.

'Acceptance.'

The word came unbidden to her mind when she inhaled.

'The end of endless.'

Such a phrase made her close her eyes in concentration. The sentence was lost on her when a final scent made itself known.

'Rend.'

Lupa opened her eyes, confused as to why the last word was associated with a smell. From where she sat, the goddess noticed a pack of five, moving closer to the Wolf House. She recalled that it was the same group she'd sent out a few hours prior. They were under orders to find the monsters which had moved into the state park several days ago.

Following closely behind her wolves was a young male demigod. He stood six feet tall, poisonous green eyes stabbing through the orange palette around him while he walked. His metallic-silver mixed with pitch-black mane was untamed and wild, though not very long. It seemed like he'd been running through the wind at high-speeds, even when it was clear that he hadn't.

The half-blood raised an eyebrow at seeing her form.

Lupa was not surprised or offended. When she considered that her height eclipsed his own, such a reaction was easy to anticipate.

What gave the goddess pause, though, was how irrationally ominous he seemed. His gait was steady, relaxed, unhurried and unassuming. He held himself with both hands in the pockets of his jeans as if he were uncaring for what could potentially harm him. His eyes were calm, though there was something twisting inside of them that reminded her of Bacchus. Not insanity. Perhaps a slight form of unhinged desire, though. Of course, she could be wrong.

"That's far enough, half-blood," the goddess said, allowing her 'wolf stare' to sit expectantly on the young man. His demeanor never changed, though. There were a few minute changes to his countenance, yet none of them were anything Lupa could decipher.

When he stopped moving, the goddess noticed a few scratches on his arms. His red T-shirt was ruffled, several tears in the fabric. There were multiple dark spots on both his upper and lower body. The scent came to her soon, not nearly as strong as the one he emitted naturally, though still at a level to where Lupa recognized it immediately.

Monster blood.

She began to reassess the boy instantly. It was clear that he was dangerous. Already, his eyes put her on edge. The way they never left her form, as if analyzing her for everything that she was, could only be described as eerie. The undulating deluge of caustic-green screamed at her in a foreign language, letting her feel the power that he potentially held, as well as the hazard that he surely was.

"Why have you come to the Wolf House?" Lupa asked. The answer was almost always the same, but it was part of her decision on whether a half-blood was worth her time.

The boy smiled. It was a demure thing, not unlike what Lupa had seen on young maidens hundreds of years past when the one they fancied acknowledged them. For a moment, her disappointment was nearly palpable. However, the feeling vanished quickly in the midst of her shock. He'd killed monsters. He'd seen and experienced battle, spilled blood, had his own spilled.

These truths were clear as day, spread haphazardly across his clothes and skin. She knew that. And yet…

He had fooled her.

How she had allowed him to do so was beyond her. It burned at her pride as a goddess. She had been watching humans since their conception, observing them closely, learning their patterns and societal values. Her age eclipsed his like a mountain would eclipse a fox. For all her experience, though, she'd been deceived.

It was only for a moment, no longer than two seconds at most. Lupa had seen the smile and passed him off as weak and timid. She had no use―Rome had no use―for the weak-willed. She would have fed him to her wolves, ensuring the lasting legacy of the Twelfth Legion.

Now, she was conflicted on how to approach him. The boy was clearly accustomed to manipulating how other people viewed him. Yet, he was also a warrior if the monster blood was anything to judge by. As her mind raced, the demigod decided to speak.

"I came because this is where I start, right?" He responded, his voice smooth and quite different from what his face expressed. "Unless my Mom lied to me. That doesn't exactly sound like her though, so I'll assume that this is the right place."

The goddess tilted her head down to where their eyes were only a foot apart. "What is your name?"

"Perseus Jackson." His succinct response came unexpectedly. He had confidence, his face no longer showing signs of meekness. It was clear that he'd decided a different approach would be necessary when dealing with her. "You must be… hm… I'm not sure, actually. The only giant wolf I've ever heard of was Fenrir… but he's Norse myth, not Greek."

Shifting on her hindquarters, Lupa gave Perseus a pointed glare. "I'm neither Nordic nor Greek. I am Roman. You would do well to commit that to memory, Perseus. If you are here, that means you, too, are Roman."

The boy tilted his head to one side. "Really? Alright then, who am I to argue with a giant wolf."

Lupa growled. "My name is Lupa, patron goddess of Rome; which includes all of her inhabitants and ideals. I fed and nurtured Romulus and Remus―the founders of Rome―from my own teat, giving them the strength necessary to create foundations for the greatest empire to ever exist. I am not just some random 'giant wolf' that you found in the woods."

"Oh…" Perseus chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Awkward."

"Quite."

A tense silence passed between them. Lupa noted how the half-blood refused to take his eyes away from her own. She was admittedly impressed by his nerve. She found that her stare could cause discomfort in everything from demigods to deities themselves. Even Jupiter could be intimidated if she put the right amount of vitriol in her stare.

"Your godly parent; who is it?" The goddess asked curtly.

Perseus' gaze sharpened significantly. It was the most telling part of their entire conversation, Lupa realized. He remained silent, though he moved his hand up and took something out of his mouth. She managed to catch a hint of silver.

Finally, he broke eye contact, his face tinged with the slightest of melancholic weariness. His change in demeanor was so infinitesimal, that if Lupa hadn't been so keenly watching him, she might have missed the way his shoulders dropped.

"I don't know. Mom never told me…"

A tinge of sympathy formed inside Lupa's chest at the sullen tone Perseus spoke with. Many believed her to be completely unsympathetic. However, as a creature with higher intelligence, such a statement couldn't be true. Her sympathy didn't extend far, but for some reason, demigods always managed to bring it out in her. Perhaps it was the way they reminded her of Romulus and Remus, living lives filled with pain.

The subtle gestures conveyed his embitterment, giving Lupa the first good look at who Perseus Jackson truly was underneath his well-crafted exterior. It was a picture that she knew well. So many other demigods came to her Wolf House feeling the same way, and for each that would become a child of Rome, she could feel pity regarding their plight. Of course, she only pitied them for their past, when they were children, unable to fathom what they could do if they only tried. Once they came to her, it was their duty to prove themselves.

"Very well. Perhaps you will learn in time. For now, you will rest until the morrow," Lupa said, keeping her voice as apathetic as she could. It was never her place to lament with the half-bloods. She was a fighter, not a lover. Her duty was not to comfort the downtrodden, but rather to train the next generation.

Perseus frowned. "Tomorrow? What do you mean?"

"I do not allow the weak to taint the proud tradition of the Twelfth Legion. After you've rested, I will be testing you, to see if you are worth the space you occupy in Camp Jupiter."

"Then why wait? I'm ready to party like it's 1999 right now," Perseus stated, face settling into a crooked grin.

Lupa shook her head and stood up. Turning around, she began walking toward the manor that Jack London had built. It was supposed to be his retreat―the Wolf House―but those dreams had gone up in literal flames. All that remained of the once gorgeous house were red and gray stone walls along with a few blackened beams of wood. Green moss grew off of the stone, painting the ruined estate in its natural erosion.

"While I'm sure you'd like to fight now, and while your spirit is commendable, I'd be remiss if I didn't allow you to garner your energy. I can see the signs of a struggle on you, smell it mixed with your natural scent. You've killed today, so you have earned a time for recuperation," she said.

"Well, this place doesn't exactly give me good vibes. Am I gonna be resting in the charred husk of a former mansion?" The half-blood asked, jogging to keep up with Lupa's steps.

"Is there a problem?" Lupa retorted, stopping to stare at the young man.

Waving his hand, Perseus shrugged. "Nah, no problem. I love camping. This ought to be tons of fun. Just you… me… and the stars to keep us company. Oh yeah, sounds like my kind of vacation."

For her part, the goddess couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or if he genuinely felt enthusiastic. His tone and face were undecipherable, leaving Lupa with no real option over whether to accept his response or not.

In the end, she decided not to dwell on his authenticity. There would be time to see his mettle, to test if he was what the legion really needed. He was dangerous, that much was known to Lupa. Whether or not that danger could be directed at the enemy would make all the difference.

"Then you should have no problems preparing yourself for tomorrow." Pointing with her nose, the goddess gestured to the Wolf House. "Choose a spot to sleep. There are no commodities here, so I hope you aren't hoping for a bed or a blanket. Here is where true Roman warriors are born into the modern era. You will either find yourself on the path to joining the legion… or you will die trying."


A/N: The cover image has nothing to do with the pairing. I've gotten a couple of PM's asking that. It's actually a moon of Jupiter called Iapetus. I chose it... well you already know why. Plus, it kinda looks like the Death Star, and I've made it my personal mission to fit references to Star Wars into the story when I deem it absolutely necessary.

I'm starting university again in a couple of weeks, so the next chapter for either this or BotC might take a few weeks or so to get out.