Chapter Two - The Lies Won't Hide Your Flaws

Song - Fake It by Seether [Explicit]

Percy

Poseidon sat just across from Percy, watching his son pick at the plate of ambrosia salad, mortal one mind you, on the table.

"You really believe she'd be ambitious enough to show back up in Manhattan, Alssabie?" The sea god broke the awkward silence between the two.

Percy looked up at his father, recognising the change in language. "I do."

Poseidon nodded, his green eyes watching Percy's expression. Both had the same cold gaze in their eyes and blank look on their face.

"I prefer Inmortuae, if you don't mind."

Poseidon nodded at the latin term.

Percy had many nicknames - Son of the Sea, Avenger, Destroyer, Hero of Olympus, Eye of Nekhbet, just to name a few. However the ones the media gave him were the two that he seemed to favour more - Alssabie, which is actually السابع, Arabic for The Seventh, and Inmortuae, meaning Undead in Latin. The former was dubbed on him when the Muslim community saw him defend a little girl from one of the enemies - Acrophobia. I'll leave it to you to figure out who that is. The latter… well, Percy's touchy about the subject behind it.

Poseidon cleared his throat. "What if she doesn't?"

Percy's gaze hardened. "I know she will. Annabeth, though strategic, is still predictable. She'll come to Manhattan, mostly to taunt me."

"But you're not going to tell them that, are you?"

Percy pierced his lips. "Not that part, no. But New Rome's new location, yes."

"She'll use that against you." Poseidon pointed out. Percy nocked an eyebrow up.

"Or she'll overthink it. After all, Nebraska is one of those places you'd least expect an Empire'd be built."

Poseidon stayed silent for a moment. "I once pulled that trick on Athena…"

"So I've heard," Percy stirred his Starbucks drink, watching the nectar blend in. Poseidon watched his son, suddenly remembering his connections to the wisdom goddess.

"Of course." He nodded. "I assume you two-"

"Are close?" Percy pulled his glass straw out of the cup, finishing his question. "You could say that."

"Out of everyone out there, I'd never expect that." The sea god chuckled a little. "I will not judge."

Percy's mouth twitched up a little. "I should get going, I'd rather not be late for the meeting with the President."

"Of course," The god bowed his head a little at the demigod. "Don't let me hold you down."

Percy stood up and dusted the wrinkles off my suit jacket, then straightened his blue and green striped tie.

"As usual, it was nice to see you again." Percy bowed his head at his father.

"You could just move closer to the coast."

Percy laughed, though it was a bit dry. "I wish I could, but that's a predictable move. In order to beat Annabeth, I have to beat her logic."

That being said, Percy left the Olympian alone in front of the godly Starbucks.

Not long after that, Sarah was three paces behind him as he walked along the sidewalk, deadset on making it to Times Square. Pedestrians moved for him, watching him with keen eyes.

He hated that kind of attention. He'd rather sulk in the crowd like he once did when he was 12 and 16. Now they moved as if he had the Plague to end all plagues. He was human, if only half. But they treated him like a god, more so than they treat actual gods.

Sarah clicked behind him, nodding at everyone she passed. Percy's movements were silky as he woven through cars in the gridlock.

By the time he was done humming an old tone, he was in Times Square with 30 minutes to spare.

As the saying goes: To be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late.

He sat down on the curb side, his world going black.

"No, not now." He hissed under his breath, before the black overcame him.

The campfire was unusually black, the song dead around Percy. Party favours had been thrown loosely into the pit, Hestia poking angrily at them.

Annabeth stood opposing to Percy, her eyes glittering in the black light.

"You don't have to do this," Percy's body stated. Riptide was in his hand, the bronze ready to swing at a moment's notice. His body's eyes were glued on the glowing green bottle in her left hand.

"Oh but I have to, you understand that." Annabeth told him. "Olympus is a disease."

"You sound like Luke!" Percy stated. "Stop this, Annabeth."

"Luke was right!" She said. "I mean, raising Kronos wasn't the way to do it, but he had the right idea. Olympus had been in power for too long, it's time we demigods took hold. You and I could be King and Queen."

"You're insane." Percy shook his head.

"No I'm not!" The blonde defended. "Olympus did nothing for us when you saved the bolt. When we went to get the Fleece, when you and I held the sky. They fought a single giant while we held Olympus' front. They're the reason we went through Tar-"

"NO," Percy roared. "Olympus is NOT the reason we went through Tartarus."

"If my mother never lost her oh-so precious statue, we never would have gone there!"

"Then who would have closed the doors of death?!" Percy countered. "No one would have. We'd all be slaves to the Earth if we didn't go down there."

"Or we'd be happier." Annabeth held her arms out. "We wouldn't have PTSD."

"I had PTSD before I ever met you." Percy growled. "Now stop this."

"I can't. I made an oath, Percy. Clarisse, Piper, Leo, Jason, Malcolm, Travis, and Connor have all agreed with me. Join us, Percy. We'll rule the world together."

Percy hesitated, then shook his head.

"Never."

He lunged over the fire and his blade met flesh. Annabeth cried out in pain and dropped the fire in alarm. Too late, Percy realised, that by chopping her left arm at the midpoint of her biceps would trigger the camp's destruction.

He sprinted to the Big House to warn Chiron and to sound the horn, but Annabeth was already cackling madly, green flames licking around her.

"OLYMPUS SHALL BURN, AND ALL WHO OPPOSE ME SHALL BURN WITH IT! OLYMPUS SHALL NEVER LEAN UPON US, THEY WILL PAY!"

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Cheesy, yes… I'm very new to making aesthetics but they're really addictive.

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A hand on Percy's shoulder shook him out of the Echo. A secret service agent looked down at Percy, a blank look on his face.

"Are you okay, Mister Jackson."

"Yeah," Percy lied. "I'm fine. Is Hinata here?"

"She just arrived, she'd like to talk to you before the press meeting."

Percy nodded, standing up and following the man to a black vehicle.

When he climbed into it, he was face to face with Madam President herself.

Hinata was a force to be reckon with. She had won the race by a landslide, taking more than 75% of the popular vote - more than any other candidate that Percy could think of.

Her eyes were amber gold and orange, but cold and harsh like fire rather than warm like the sun. Her hair was spun black silk that she never wore down, forever pinned into a tight bun. Her daily attire was suits, always suits. Standard black, with gold or silver undershirts. She looked like him today, down to the cuff link and the blue tie. Her eyes held a hint of humour, ensuring Percy that she indeed decided to play copy cat that day.

"Hello, Mister Jackson." She mused. Percy made himself comfortable on the other side of the seating.

"Madam President, always a pleasure to see you."

Her eyes flickered to his hands, where a gold pen topped with a simple diamond was resting. "Something wrong?"

"When is anything right?" Percy countered. "Over a thousand dead, 60 of those American citizens, 15 American militants and veterans."

She holded her hands on her lap. "And I assume you've already calculated where she'll strike next?"

"Yes," Percy said slowly. "But I will not be the one disclosing that information."

Hinata's eyebrow raised a little. "Oh? And why is that?"

"To fight a monster, you must outsmart it." Percy's voice was deadly calm. "I will tell you very specific information you will relay to the public under oath. Everything I tell you."

"And I assume this must be truthful?"

Percy's mouth twitched up slightly. "According to the public, that is."

Hinata glanced out her window, watching pedestrians pool into the Square.

"I'm listening." She finally spoke, looking back at him.

Percy's smile was cold, and he fed her the lines.