(A/N) Hello again, guys. I am so glad that you like my story. (I must've captivated you pretty well if you read this far). I know you're all excited about Percy coming in to the story, so here he is!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything but the plot.

The wind buffeted Jason as he stood crouched on the top of the Golden Swords' headquarters, pummeling him with its frigid fists and trying to topple him from his perch. His icy blue eyes scanned the buildings for any flicker of movement that may suggest an angel was nearby; it's not like angels came down in a blaze of parting clouds and divine choirs singing. They were sneaky little fuckers. Jason was trained to spot the shimmer of a halo or the glimpse of a feather from a long distance away, but it currently wasn't benefiting him as of right now, though it had in the past. Luke had been right when he'd said that most of Jason's hunts would be solitary after the group hunt, and, along with help from Leo's many traps, Jason needed his sharp eyesight to find and hunt down any unlucky angels passing by.

Jason had once needed glasses. He'd never been able to afford any, but once he'd cashed in his first set of wings he'd bought a nice pair. Cheap, but nice. It'd always been a burden for him, though; during training Luke would knock them off his face and it'd be easy to dispatch him from there, since all his blows were uncoordinated and incredibly inaccurate. None of the other members needed glasses, except for Leo who used enhanced goggles from time to time when working on new traps. The blond remembered when it'd happened. The Golden Swords had been eating in the mess hall, chatting amiably, but then all conversation had ceased when Luke had produced a large glass vial of red liquid from his jacket pocket. Everyone had looked away guiltily, not meeting Jason's eyes when Luke had offered him some, and Jason could only suppose that it was a wine of some sort, and that the members of the Golden Swords were just trying to withhold their laughter until Jason found out how potent it was. Like the naïve boy he was, Jason took a large swig, though he didn't like the cold gleam in Luke's eyes as he did so.

It was boiling hot, and he fanned his tongue, gulping down his entire glass of water. Even then, it didn't help. The Golden Swords weren't laughing, instead looking somewhat…guilty as the blond gasped and spluttered. He didn't find it funny, and nobody else seemed to be laughing either. What the hell was that stuff? Tabasco sauce? It tasted really good, but it was so boiling hot and metallic that it ruined the flavor, and he glared at Luke from over his glasses when he finally managed to calm down. Luke had only grinned in response, and the conversation trickled back to the table as if nothing had happened. Then Jason realized that he was changing.

His glasses now hurt his eyes, and he found himself seeing better without them, his vision incredible to the point that it was almost inhuman. His physical capabilities and mental strength had heightened as well, and the blond had only figured this out when he beat Reyna, the returning and undefeated champion, ten times in a row at arm wrestling. Before, he couldn't even put up a fight. He found himself pinning Luke during their spars, and holding Annabeth at the end of his sword, and then and only then did he ask Luke what that drink had been. With a wicked grin, Luke told Jason that it had been angel blood had been given to him, not a single shred of remorse recognizable in his voice. Needless to say, Jason been disgusted, avoiding Luke, who'd begged for forgiveness when he found out that the blond was certainly not on board with downing angelic lifeblood. Jason had to admit that he was still frustrated at the guy, and would forever have a chip on his shoulder; the benefits of the heightened abilities was drowned out by the sinful taint that drinking the angel's blood had left on Jason.

He'd nearly quit angel hunting, the guilt burdening him too much.

You're going to Hell. You're going to Hell, the voices in his head crowed, chanting over and over again in a chilling litany that kept Jason awake most nights. He'd been on his way back to the headquarters to tell Annabeth that he was backing out, since the leader had clearly stated that they could leave whenever they liked, but then he'd seen Thalia amongst a group of people surrounding two men who were beating each other to a pulp. He saw her make the bet on the biggest and stronger-looking one, so naïve and unknowing of the world of street fighting, and it was almost expected that the scrawnier one produced a knife from his shirt and stab him five times in the chest. Thalia had bet way more than they could give, had been so sure that the winnings would've been able to pay off their debt, but she hadn't expected that one of the fighters would cheat. They always cheated, and she and Jason were plunged so far into debt that it would take at least five years' worth of angel wings to pay it off again. Jason had been furious with her for placing a bet that she knew she could possibly lose, but then Thalia had countered that if she'd won she would've been able to pay off the rest of the debt and get them a huge mansion all at once, so it may've been worth the risk. She claimed that it was better to bet with the peril of losing than to take up Jason's unholy and satanic job of hunting angels.

She had hit a nerve, no, scrap that, she'd smashed the nerve with a hammer. Her eyes had been so cold, her expression so furious and disappointed that the younger Grace had wanted to curl in on himself and die.

"Don't come back to the house," she growled and had stalked off, her shift at the local supercenter starting in an hour that she had to get ready for. Jason had stood in the street, watching her go until she disappeared around the corner, and had waited for the better part of an hour, hoping and praying that she'd come back and hug him and say that she wanted her little brother to come home and that it'd all been a terrible mistake, but it never happened. Jason had slept at the Golden Swords' headquarters for the past two years ever since. It had officially been four years since his first hunt and still Nicolas' wails of agony and horrified expression haunted him in his nightmares, maybe as some sort of curse; a punishment for choosing the wrong path, and Jason completely and wholly believed that he deserved it. Thalia had never told him to stop sending money, so every week he left an envelope full to bursting with cash in the mailbox. It would be gone the next time he went to deposit, so he could only assume that the money was being put to good use. The loss of his sister was an open and festering wound that he could manage to ignore when he was occupied, but once he was alone with his thoughts he was nearly overwhelmed by how much he missed her.

The cold air nipped at Jason's nose and cheeks, turning them a rosy red, and his black clothes blended in with the inky black sky. The night sky was overcast, the stars hidden behind a blanket of dreary grey clouds, and the air was filled with the sharp, metallic tang that signaled an an oncoming storm. Jason, however, was not daunted the slightest, unlike others who would run for the cover of their homes. He had an odd fondness for thunderstorms, much like his father had before he left him, Thalia, and their mother to flounder; he loved watching the rain pour down as lightning crackled and thunder rumbled. It cleared his head and made him calmer in a sense. As the dark clouds rolled in, the wind picked up more speed to the point that it was battering Jason's body as if he were a punching bag.

He smiled to himself, which made the scar on his lip, which he'd earned from the nails of an irate guardian angel, quirk slightly. This was the absolute perfect weather for angel hunting. The clouds and potential rain provided shadows for him to slip in and out of, and angels were rendered unable to fly in the storm; the wind was too strong, and the rain would make their feathers damp, resulting in a slower, more labored flight or no flight at all. The angels were practically nothing without their flight, if you counted out the divine powers, and were incredibly easy to catch and fell.

Jason tensed and quickly calculated the wind speed and direction to the closest approximation, and with a might leap (and with help from the angel blood) he glided over the gap in between the headquarters and the building beside it, which was shorter only by two or three inches. He had no need to go back into the facility and go through the only exit, which was also the only entrance; that one window that Luke had shouldered him into at gunpoint all those years ago. Since then, Jason had matured and grown stronger. He was no longer that scrawny kid on the street; he was the big kid on the block, the boy everyone avoided in order to stay safe. His muscles had become thick and corded from hours upon hours of back-breaking training; from pumping iron, to treadmills, to hand-to-hand combat and fighting with weapons, Jason was prepared for anything that the angels threw at him.

He pulled on his gold eagle masquerade mask and slipped his hood over his head, which only further guaranteed his success when it came to disguising his identity. Even if the angel managed to wrestle the hood and mask off, the rain would make his hair a shade darker from dampness and distort his features as well. His plan was foolproof. As if on cue, lightning violently flashed overhead and rain began to pour down in sheets. The throaty bellow of thunder followed and the wind screamed across the city, demanding attention as it slammed on people's doors and attacked pedestrians who were running late, wrenching umbrellas from their hands and tearing at their coats.

Jason leapt from building to building, finally descending a shrieking and groaning fire escape and making his way towards Seraphim Lane, where Leo had told him he'd set one of the traps. He kept his head down, shrouding his face and mask in shadow as to not attract attention. The street lights flickered once, twice, and went out. Apartment windows closed and locked and blinds were drawn. Lightning streaked across the sky like a bullet and cast dancing shadows across the city that disappeared soon after, like awaiting demons that were expecting their next meal.

It didn't scare Jason, though his stomach twisted as it always did when he hunted angels. Even when contained, angels fought as if their immortality depended on it when their wings were at stake. He'd seen his comrades injured more than once for not taking enough caution around restrained angels. It was like going on a roller coaster; no matter how many times you went on, you still got the fluttering feeling in your stomach as you waited for the car to take off. It was really the anticipation's fault, but this time it was also the thrill of the possibly life-threatening danger.

He picked his way towards the street, checking his surroundings warily. Every crack of thunder, which normally soothed him, made him jump, and even the skittering of a rat or mouse made his hairs stand on end. His footsteps on the street would've been as if he were stomping if the night had been still, considering he was the only one out at this hour, but Jason had to admit that he was thankful for the horrible weather, for now he didn't have to be so careful about walking lightly.

Lightning split the sky once more, illuminating a dented and rather mangled sign that read Seraphim Lane. Jason slunk around the corner, his movements catlike and his eyes darting back and forth as he scanned his surroundings, his enhanced eyesight seeing easily in the dark. He didn't hear any sound of struggle, but then again he couldn't hear much of anything over the howling of the wind and the beating of the rain that poured down. He was aware of everything around him; the perilous shaking of the electrical wire above, the harsh clang as trashcans overturned, and the occasional honk of a car horn in the distance. Other than that, he was alone, or so he thought. Leo had said that he'd placed the trap in the third alley to the right, and Jason quietly tiptoed across the street.

He froze up when he swore he heard he beating of wings, but dismissed it as just the wind, even though his heart stuttered and began to speed up, blood beginning to roar in his ears as he approached the opening to the alley. He produced a long knife from his belt, which would be perfect for both defense and cutting off his victim's wings, though he tried not to think of the latter. With a deep breath in vain attempt to calm his racing heart, he whirled around the corner, his knife at the ready. He peered into the dark alley, the blackness swimming and shifting in front of him like a dark wave. He looked at the ground and saw the shimmer of a demon scale.

So the trap hadn't been sprung. Jason tried to conceal his disappointment, his jaw clenching as he ground his teeth together in mild aggravation. He knew that it would be dangerous to step any further than he was, for fear of triggering a trap set for an immortal angel and not a human boy; things such as an iron net wouldn't even hurt an angel the slightest, only restrain it. It would crush any mere mortal that was unfortunate enough to spring the trap, and it had happened in the past.

"Stop right there!" an unfamiliar voice shouted, and the feeling of what was clearly a sword jabbing in between his shoulder blades nearly made Jason stagger. Not wanting to spring the trap and get crushed, he whirled around at the person who was threatening him, his knife at the ready. He came face to face with the most beautiful angel he had ever seen, and that was coming from a guy who had it for the ladies. Seriously, he would gladly go homo for this guy. He had the looks of a Greek god; tousled black hair that was plastered to his forehead and neck from the rain, brilliant sea-green eyes that glowed dimly in the darkness of the storm, and a chiseled chest that would make male models make a run for their money. Even the straightest of men would have zero problem banging him when he saw his V-line peeking out from his torn jeans, and on top of that he was wearing combat boots. He looked like a G.I. Joe turned to modeling, and Jason could very clearly picture him in the heavenly attire some angels wore, strumming a harp or gutting his enemies. Unfortunately, Jason seemed to be one of those "enemies".

The most noticeable thing about him, however, were the two wings that spread behind him. Jason nearly drooled. They were gigantic, about ten feet each, adding up to a staggering twenty foot wingspan. They were almost certainly powerful, the muscles rippling beneath the feathers, which suggested that he was a messenger angel; they needed large wings to carry them around. They were smaller than the ones in the meeting room, but that made them no less ginormous, each feather shaking like a leaf in the harsh wind. It may have been just the rain and the darkness, but Jason swore that they were the color of shadows in the night.

"In all my years of angel hunting I have never seen an angel with completely black wings," Luke had said.

Oh, God, Jason thought. Jackpot. The angel bared his teeth and leveled his sword at Jason's throat. If he doesn't kill you first, a voice in his head added.

"What do you want?" he asked smoothly despite the fact that inside he was very much terrified. Never before had he seen an angel this aggressive; the angels he had hunted alone had always been calm and friendly up to the point where he subdued them and hacked their wings off. This one seemed to purposely want to kill him. Then it struck Jason; did the angels find out about the Golden Swords? Were the Archangels sending their minions out to kill them?

"Take off your mask," the angel growled, the sword wavering as his hands trembled. The fury and hatred in his voice was so severe that it nearly confirmed Jason's suspicions that the Golden Swords had been discovered.

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that," Jason replied, pushing the tip of the sword away from his throat nonchalantly. His blue eyes flashed venomously and for a moment a look of worry and uncertainty passed across the angel's face, but it disappeared as fast as it had come.

"In all my life I have never seen a demon before," the angel remarked, mostly to himself. So they haven't figured out about the Golden Swords, Jason thought, relieved. They think that it's just a gang of demons. I'd better play along. Use the angel's fear to your advantage. He's nervous. The only problem was that Jason knew a lot about angels but very little about demons. He'd better keep it vague, cold, and icy; not giving too much away. Then when the angel least expected it, he'd pounce. The angel continued, "I'm guessing that's yours?" He gestured to the scale that was glittering with a dark light at the end of the alley.

"Most likely. I mean, I'm the only demon around, aren't I?" Jason retorted slyly, pumping as much potency into his words as possible. To simply ruffle the angel a little, he added, "I thought you were taught much better than to talk to creatures like me."

"You are unholy and powered on sin and the suffering of others, you beast. You're lucky that I'm not attacking right now," he warned. "But I need information, and you will give it to me or else I'll hack you to bits."

"I prefer myself in one piece, thank you very much." Jason replied, packing as much sarcasm into his comment as humanly possible. The angel made a growling sound in his throat, his green eyes sparkling murderously as he raised his wings in an aggressive stance, and it took all of Jason's willpower not to run away screaming. Angels could be quite terrifying when they wanted to be. He tried to keep the tremble out of his voice when he added, "And I'm not sure what information you're referring to."

"Are all of you this snarky?" he scoffed, but Jason knew well enough that it was a rhetorical question. "May I see your scale? I need to analyze it and confirm that you are, indeed, the one responsible for all of these angelic disappearances." Jason shoved away the anxiety that built up when the angel mentioned the fact that Heaven was aware of the Golden Swords' activities, instead concentrating on the need to make a split decision. He could agree, which would be totally against demon nature and blow his cover, or he could refuse and possibly let his prey escape.

"I'd prefer you not," Jason replied icily, stepping in front of the angel, who was making a move towards the scale, and the trap. He turned, his green eyes blazing, and Jason suppressed a whimper as they bored into him.

"I suppose that you're using it to lure in the desperate mortals here? All of whom are willing to find and pawn and sell anything to make a quick buck?" he asked. Jason nearly hesitated. The angel would try to kill him over a stupid scale; why was he even doing this in the first place?

"Why, you're right," Jason replied smoothly. "You've caught me red-handed. Go ahead, bird boy." He made sure to keep a 'but I'd rather you not' hinted in the undertone. The angel snarled at the nickname and tried to get past once more, but Jason blocked his path. He knew he was making this harder for himself; that all the angel would have to do was pick up the scale and then the trap would be sprung, but he needed to stay in character.

As Luke had once said, the person you're lying to is more likely to buy your bluff if you believe the lie is true. I am a demon from the fifth circle of hell. My name is… Jason struggled to come up with a name that sounded demon-ish besides Lucifer. …Asmodeus and I have killed many angels and stripped them of their wings. I am aware that the Archangels are suspicious of my activity and therefore I must keep everything vague. Jason felt a little better after making up the story. He felt as if he had become Asmodeus, this made-up demon.

"Listen, demon," the angel hissed like a snake, and even though Jason was a few inches taller he fucking loomed over him. It must've been the wings. "For four years I have been searching for the one guilty of mercilessly and unfairly stripping my friend of his wings. I will stop at nothing to catch them and turn them in to the Archangels. They will be brought to justice." Jason nearly gulped; now that he was aware of the messenger angel's intentions, he wasn't so sure that acting like a demon was the right way to go. Nevertheless, he shrugged and stepped out of the way.

The angel approached the scale, his head on a swivel. He looked from Jason to the scale and back again, making sure that the "demon" didn't make any false moves. Jason felt the anticipation gnawing at his stomach as the angel approached the trap that would ultimately leave him wingless. He subtly reached for his gun so that he could shoot the angel if he decided to fly off. He was not leaving here without those gorgeous black wings; this angel would be the last angel he hunted, for those wings would fetch for a higher price than any of the other wings he had sold, thus getting him and Thalia out of debt and into the lap of luxury.

The angel approached the scale, looking it over carefully. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon. Take the bait. Jason thought desperately. Time seemed to drag out as the angel studied the scale on the ground and Jason noticed a little rock right by the angel's foot; the pressure activation would spring the trap if the angel just took on teeny step closer. That's when he stiffened and whirled around to Jason, raising his sword.

"Do you think you could really fool me that easily, young human?" the angel roared over the crash of thunder and bellowing of the wind. The rain seemed to pour down harder and Jason wondered whether his anger was affecting the storm or not. Was he really powerful enough to have the ability to do that? Even so, Jason was shocked; he had played right into the angel's hands. He knew he should've been suspicious and not taken up that whole act. Now the angel was on to him.

"You stripped Nicolas of his wings, fool! He was my blood brother, and for that you will pay dearly." Before the angel could even finish Jason already had his gun out and had fired two shots that were drowned out by the raging tempest. One missed by an inch and sent the brick wall splintering, but the other buried itself into the angel's side. He screamed and stumbled as blood gushed from the wound. Jason faltered; that scream had sounded so human it wrenched his heart. Perseus was just looking for his friend. He was just angry that Jason had stripped Nicolas o his wings, which was kind of creepy considering Nicolas had been his first hunt to ever successfully complete. Just take his wings and you won't have to hear screams like that anymore. Jason thought to himself. His moment of hesitation gave the angel just enough time to tackle him.

They rolled on the ground, yelling and raining punches on one another. The angel brought his fist down on his nose and a spike of unparalleled pain signaled that it was broken, considering Jason could hear for shit with the cacophony around him. He was covered in the angel's blood and the metallic tang was suffocating him, clearly bothering the angel as well, but they continued to fight.

Finally, the angel's strength prevailed as he towered over Jason, his silhouette and halo outlined by the lightning for a single moment. Jason was terrified, his heart slamming against his ribcage, and his hands were pinned to his sides, unable to reach any of his knives or swords, and his gun had slid out of reach. The angel was on top of him, breathing hard. The gun wound was still bleeding heavily to the point where it would've killed him if he hadn't been immortal. "You're angel hunting ends here," he growled and snatched the gun off the floor, pressing the barrel against Jason's head. "Any last words before I pull the trigger and your tainted soul is dragged to the depths of Hell?"

"Yes," Jason spat. The angel tilted his head to the side, a smile playing on his lips.

"And what would that be?" he asked, clearly amused.

"Your wings will look great on my wall." Jason saw the look of horror and confusion on the angel's face as he raised his knife and stabbed him in the chest. There was a moment where the messenger angel just looked tired, the shadows under his eyes more profound that before, but then he fell forwards. Pinned by the angel's weight, Jason wriggled out from under him, grabbing his gun and training it on the fallen form of the angel. He prodded him a bit, making sure that he was in that coma-like state that angels slipped into before they healed from very major wounds.

"Better get on with it before he gets up," Jason muttered to himself, the pity evident in his voice. He shoved his gun into his holster and took out his knife, studying it as the blade gleamed in the light of the lightning that flashed overhead. He began to saw through the angel's wings, despising the sound as he cut through the bone, flesh, and muscle connecting it to the angel's back. He tried to hold back the tears, but they slipped free and mingled with the raindrops on his face. One black wing fell to the ground, leaving a bloodied stump behind that continued to bleed heavily. The angel had only wanted to avenge his friend. He just wanted to find the one who tethered him to Earth so he could finally have some peace of mind. He was just as human as anyone else. The next fell, too, and with that it was over. Still crying, Jason gathered up his prizes in his arms and wrapped them in a blanket.

He turned to leave, but remorse made him took back, the remorse that came with only knowing a tiny sliver of the celestial being's story. Of who he actually was. The angel was lying on his side, unmoving. Throw a shirt on him and he'd pass as human. His face was peaceful and calm in his forced sleep, not even a single twitch of an eyelid, and his head was pillowed on one of his arms. The pity and guilt clawed at Jason as he saw the angel bleeding from the wound in his side, the stumps that were once wings, and from the knife wound in his chest.

Jason thought of what he'd be like when he woke up to find his wings missing. It would be much more horrible than when Nico was conscious and his wings got chopped off. Knowing that you had been knocked out cold while someone sawed off what made you special would really make him suffer.

Without even thinking, Jason walked over and picked the angel up, careful not to crush the wings that were also in his arms. He was so light that Jason nearly dropped him out of astonishment, but he managed to retain a grip on the angel's unconscious bleeding form. Great; first angel hunting, now taking angel hostages, what a new low, Jason thought sourly. I'm just going to nurse him back to health and then set him free, but not before I sell the wings. No talking to him. No nothing. Just business. With a sigh he began to carry the angel and the wings back to his home at the Golden Swords' headquarters, where hopefully everyone was asleep