Flashback, 2 years prior.
It was a dark and stormy night. A night where you would think Zeus was angry or the clouds just decided to go full force. Whichever reason, the night was dark, with grey looming rainclouds above and rain pelting the ground and splashing a few inches off the ground in some places. In the rain stood Percy, he wore a black leather jacket, jeans, combat boots and a tuque. His pen, Ira, was currently clutched firmly in his hand as water dripped down his fingers. He knew where he was as he looked ad the torn piece of paper in his other hand which read, 15443 Walton oaks drive. He was in Seattle, up in the north where the rain would come down non stop for weeks at a time during spring and summer. He dropped the note on the ground and picked up a plastic bag next to him with certain specific contents in it that were usually mandatory for these types of missions. M1911 and m9 Berretta hand guns, both equipped with sound silencers. Tec-9 machine pistol with a sound silencer as well. A few pieces of c4 plastic explosive and a detonator. In his waist band there was a bowie knife made of Stygian iron and he had Stygian iron knuckles in his pocket. He picked up the M1911 and loaded it and slipped it into his belt before looking up at where he was. He was in a Cul-De-Sac in the middle of a neighborhood. Most of the houses around him were abandoned and boarded up, while the others were lots with no houses at all. But there was one house at the base of the road that had lights on in it. He began to walk towards the house while simultaneously priming and arming the c4. As he walked up to the house he recognized familiar smells and sounds. The smells being crystal meth, marijuana, gun powder and sex with the sounds being moans and screams. He went up to the door and knocked twice, after a few minutes a tiny panel in the wall opened to show a set of bloodshot blue eyes.
"Name?" a voice asked.
"Percy Jackson" Percy responded.
The man grunted before closing the panel, a few clicks and clacks were heard before the door swung open and Percy was hit with the sight and smell of the crack house. The walls were few and far between, some being exposed two-by-fours and some being drywall stained with pink and black from all the cooking drugs while the smell was amplified ten fold. Percy, however, was used to this sort of thing and walked into the house through the hallways. While walking he passed by the kitchen, where he noticed a young south American boy wearing nothing but a gas mask and his underwear while he worked on a folding table covered in Bunsen burners and beakers with tubes and chemicals surrounding them. The south American boy looked at him for a few seconds before returning to his work and Percy continued walking. While he walked he swiftly placed the c4 under the edge of one of the tables he walked by and heard a satisfying beep. He walked down the halls until he found the room he was looking for. He opened the door and entered the room to find a man. The man was Caucasian in his thirties or forties with a bald head. He had brown eyes and wore a simple cotton shirt and cargo pants. One distinguishing feature was a scar that mirrored Percy's own, running down his head from temple to chin. The man spoke.
"Percy Jackson, I assume you are here for the business transaction?"
"Yes" Percy said as his hand inched to his knife "a business transaction"
"Good, would you like a smoke?" the man asked, holding out a package of cigarettes. Percy pulled one out as the man leaned against the wall, propping his hand against it.
"Well, are you going to light it?" the man asked.
Percy grinned and said "of course" before throwing the bowie knife at the man's hand, pinning it against the wall. The man screamed and the door burst open showing three goons but Percy already had his gun out and put a bullet in each of their heads. Their dead bodies slumped to the floor as Percy casually walked to the man who was whimpering at the knife in his hand. Percy crouched next to him and put the cigarette in his mouth before snapping his fingers as a small flame appeared on his thumb and index finger. The mans eyes widened in fear as Percy raised his fingers up to the cigarette and lit it.
"What are you?" the man whimpered.
Percy took a long drag and then blew the smoke into the man's face before speaking.
"I am what ends scum like you." Percy then got up and walked to the door. The man reached for his own gun, seeing his chance, and shot Percy through the heart, but Percy simply turned around and put a bullet through his head before turning back and leaving the house and entering the rain again. He walked up to his car, a 1967 impala, and opened the door before stepping in and closing it behind him. He then put out the cigarette in the ash tray next to him and put the keys in the ignition and started it up before turning back to the house and pulling out the detonator before pressing the button on it. The house satisfyingly exploded and Percy began to drive away. He decided to turn on the radio and when he did the radio just kept shouting the words.
"Percy, Percy, Percy..."
