A/N: Today is the last day of my summer vacation. Nooooo! Why must good things always come to an end? Now it is time for another 180 days of torture. Woohoo. To get us through this hard time, I present to you another chapter.

Perseus

Look, I didn't want to be a mutant. Being a mutant is dangerous. It's scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways. If you're one of the lucky ones who's managed to escape, my advice is: run, and never look back. You're a recombinant lifeform. And once you become one, you can never be normal again. They will chase you, they will hunt you down, and eventually, they will find you. Don't say I didn't warn you.

My name is Percy. Just Percy. A month ago, I woke up in a cage with no memories. I didn't remember anything except for my first name and a blurry image of a gray-eyed girl. I quickly found out that I was in a place called the School, where scientists called whitecoats do illegal experiments on humans. Take me, for instance: I'm two percent avian, which is fancy talk for bird. That means I'm your basic teenage kid, with the exception of two giant black wings attached to my back.

Surprised? Well, I was too when I found out. For some reason, the thought of having wings repulsed me, and the thought of flying… (shiver) no thanks.

There were other recombinant kids at the School, of course, but they never lasted long. First was a little six-year-old girl named Ramana, who managed to look adorable even though she was part bear. She lasted two days before dying. After her was a boy who looked barely over three years. The toddler didn't even last four hours. Finally there was another boy, this one seven-years-old. His name was Rocco, and he was part dolphin. The energetic little bugger never slept a wink. He finally died after five days.

It'd been around two weeks since I last had a prison mate. The silence had gotten so bad that I almost started chatting with the rats that occasionally kept me company. Of course, it wasn't like I was in complete isolation. I had the daily visit to the doctor's office to cheer me up. Being treated like a lab rat really brightened up a guy's day.

Actually, I would have preferred to be treated like the rats here. At least they weren't kept in dog cages and only fed one meal a day (if you could even call it a meal).

Now, it wasn't like I was scared of being alone or anything. In fact, I had a feeling that I had been a loner of sorts in my old life before the whole memory loss thing. However, being locked in a dark cage wasn't really good for the psyche. Being locked in a dark cage alone was even worse.

On the bright side, it gave me amble time to think. But on the down side, it gave me time to think.

Don't get me wrong, thinking is a good thing. (Stay in school, kids—the educational kind, not the scientific torture kind.) However, for me, thinking made me try to remember my past, which always led to a huge migraine. It was almost as if all my memories were locked behind a brick wall. An electric brick wall. One simple touch to my mental barricade and, bam, my mind gets zapped by lightning.

So, as I sat slumped in my metal crate, I tried to find something to keep my mind anyway from my imprisoned memories. However, it was hard to find something to do in a five-by-five cage. Eye-Spy wasn't very entertaining to play by myself, and the rats sucked at it. Could rats even see colors? Well, it wasn't like there was much color here anyway. Just gray, gray, and more gray, with the occasional white here and there. I swallowed a small wave of grief; Eye-Spy had been Ramana's favorite pastime.

I quickly shook that thought off. Nope. Not going there, Percy. No thinking about the past; look forward to the future!

Like the future is something to look forward to, a small voice in my head piped up. I wonder what it'll be today. Running on a treadmill 'til you faint from exhaustion? Scientists using you as a pincushion? Or how about drowning again after you refuse to fly for the umpteenth time?

Shut up, I snarled at it.

Was it a sign of insanity to have an argument with myself?

A small huff of irritation left my mouth. I was feeling antsier than usual today, which didn't help my current mood. My foot was spastically tapping against the metal floor, the sound echoing in the large room. My wings twitched every once in a while, causing the black feathers to tickle my back. I felt almost as hyper as Rocco was—or well, had been.

Happy thoughts, Percy, happy thoughts. Puppies, rainbows, blue chocolate chip cookies—

Wait, what? I tried to remember what I had just thought, but got a hammer to the skull instead. Scowling, I finally shook the thought off.

Wanting to occupy myself with something, I grabbed the Dixie cup from the far corner of my crate. Sadly, I had already gulped down all of its contents a couple hours ago. Glaring at it, I silently willed the cup to fill with water. My throat was as dry as sandpaper, and that one drink hadn't helped. In fact, I couldn't remember a time when my throat wasn't scratchy and my head wasn't woozy from dehydration. That was a little worrying. I supposed the normal human body needed more than just half a cup of water a day.

My stomach growled weakly, whining for some actual food. I glanced toward the far corner of my cage where I had shoved the Styrofoam food tray. On it was the regular School special: brown mush and a piece of moldy bread. My nose wrinkled at the smell wafting up from it. I'd already nibbled around the edible parts of the slice of stale Wonder bread, leaving behind the green bits that would probably not be good for a bird-kid to eat. I hadn't touched the brown mush; I wasn't that desperate yet. Gray chunks were mixed through it, making me wonder if they had finally found a good use for those rats.

My eyes returned to the paper cup in my hand. Honestly, the cup looked more appetizing than that gross sludge.

A sharp pain suddenly stabbed through my brain. I gasped, dropping the Dixie cup and clutching my head. An image of a bushy-haired boy assaulted my vision. He was biting on a soda can and—wait, were those horns sticking out of his hat? As soon as the image came, it was gone—locked back up behind the brick wall. I tried to focus on what the boy's face looked like, sure that it was important, but he slipped through my fingers like water.

I gave a yell of frustration and kicked the paper cup. It soared through the bars of the cage and hit a passing rat. The creature squealed and scurried away.

Before I could throw the food tray as well, the door to the kennel opened. I had to shield my face from the sudden harsh light. When my eyes finally adjusted, the Erasers were already opening my cage. There were four of them, like usual. They were all morphed out, their red eyes glaring at me with hatred, making me wonder what I ever did to them.

Okay, so there was one time when I might've insulted one of their mothers. But hey, they were half dog, so it was a reasonable assumption.

"Oh, hey guys. Long time, no see." I gave them a smirk, trying to calm down my rapidly beating heart. "What've you been up to? Catch any tennis balls lately?"

The four all snarled in unison. Ooh, testy. Perhaps they were a little sensitive about their doggy heritage.

One of them reached out and grabbed my wing. I choked back a yelp as his claws dug into the weak appendage and yanked. Not wanting to risk breaking my wing, I stumbled out of the safety of my crate. A different wolf-man stepped forward this time and slapped some handcuffs on me, tightening them until I winced. Then, I was roughly shoved from behind, nearly causing me to trip over one of the Erasers' foot.

"Move." The one who had grabbed my wing growled.

I obliged, but only after sending him a death glare. He just chuckled, shoving me again harder. I marched faster, mumbling under my breath about how he needed to work on his evil laugh.

The gray tiles were slightly warmer than the cold metal of my cage, which my bare feet were happy about. Walking sent waves of pain through the base of my skull, though. The migraine had yet to let up from when I had that flash of… what had I had a flash of again? My mind blanked on it.

An Eraser suddenly grabbed a hold of my wing, tugging me to a stop. I gasped from the stabbing pain that raced down my shoulder and back. Didn't he freaking realize that wings were not meant to be leashes?

I shot him a withering glare, but he just smirked at me. "We're here, bird-boy."

Another wolf-man opened the steel door, and the Eraser pushed me inside. Lifting my head to view the room, I gulped.

There were a half dozen whitecoats standing around doing sciency things. In the middle of the white room was a metal hospital bed with restraints attached to it. There were two tables connected to the bed, placed to make it look like a cross. A little off to the side was another small table, this one covered in medical devices that made a shiver go down my spine. My eyes widened, and I quickly backpedaled to escape the room. Sadly, the four Erasers had followed me in, so all I succeeded in was running right into their paws.

Two of them grabbed my arms, dragging me to the waiting bed. I struggled against them with all my strength, failing my limbs like a crazy person. My wings shot out, causing a few whitecoats to dive to the floor to avoid being socked by a wild feathered appendage. My triumph didn't last for long; the other two Erasers got a grip on my wings and forcefully folded them back to my sides.

They finally reached the hospital bed, taking off the handcuffs and tossing me on it. The Erasers quickly cuffed my wrists and ankles so I couldn't get out. Then two of the wolf-hybrids yanked my wings from their place safely tucked against my back and strapped them to the two tables connected to the bed. Finally, they shoved my head down and cuffed a metal strip across my forehead, effectively stopping all my movement.

I felt like one of those butterflies on a display. My wings were fully exposed, making me feel vulnerable. As I laid there, I thanked whatever god was up there for the Erasers being part wolf and not part cat.

"You are dismissed." The voice made my teeth clench. I fought the urge to try to lunge at her. The Erasers looked unhappy at their dismissal, obviously disappointed that they wouldn't be able to see me getting dissected. Nonetheless, they stomped out like obedient lapdogs.

The woman then walked into my line of vision. Her face was sharp and pointy, like a weasel's. Her slate gray eyes peered down at me haughtily. "Hello, Subject 17. Wonderful day, isn't it?" Apparently, she was the top whitecoat around here. She was also the one determined to make my life a living hell. It was her who had tried to convince me back when I was a newly amnesiac that I had always lived at the School. I had told her what a bunch of bullcrap that was. Silver eyes and golden hair were all I remembered, but it was enough to make me realize that she was lying. Those beautiful eyes, so terrifying yet full of love, could never belong in a place like this.

Swallowing the childish urge to stick my tongue at her, I muttered. "It was until I saw you."

"Oh, you wound me." She replied, bringing her hand over her heart.

"Boohoo. Why don't you go cry to your daddy?"

That was obviously the wrong thing to say. Her smug expression was immediately wiped from her face. So, the psycho lady who did experiments on children had daddy issues. Who would've guessed?

She turned on her heel and clomped off to the other scientists. I could barely see her white coat from the corner of my eye.

"Change of plans." She said coolly. "We are to test its pain response. See how high its threshold is."

"Dr. Lavelle, but what about—"

She cut the other whitecoat off. "You can move that back to tomorrow."

The whitecoat didn't argue. I felt my breath quicken and bile rise in my throat. Please don't be what I think it's gonna be, I silently pleaded.

Dr. Loco reappeared in my line of sight, along with the other five scientists. One held a clipboard as the others held various metal instruments. One of the whitecoats had a leather strap in her hand, which she tied around my head and gagged me with. Her eyes looked uneasy as she returned to Weasel-Face's side, so I guessed that she was the one who had spoken up earlier.

Seeing the fear in my eyes, a smiled twisted itself on Dr. Loco's face. Someone cut the ragged shirt off of me, but my eyes didn't leave hers. Cold air blew over my bare chest, and I couldn't repress a small shiver. Dr. Lavelle lifted her hand, and the scalpel glinted in the fluorescent light. After a tense moment where all that could be heard were my ragged breaths, the blade descended…

I stared at the ceiling tiles. For once, my hyperactive mind was completely blank. Everything was numb. I felt disconnected with my body.

I could remember everything that had happened. Dr. Lavelle and the other whitecoats had cut into me. They knew exactly where and how to cut to get the greatest response. They had the precision of a doctor, which would make sense given their occupation. I might have passed out once or twice. Toward the end, I was begging them to stop through the thick leather gag. After some time, I'd stopped screaming and begging. I stopped everything. My mind just went empty. That was when Dr. Loco finally called it quits.

It had been a while since the whitecoats had all filed out of the room. How long exactly, I didn't know. Time didn't exist where I was. It was like I was in a different plane of existence altogether, my body floating through an empty abyss.

I was still strapped down to the metal bed, and the gag was still in my mouth. That should've worried me, but it didn't. I couldn't bring myself to care about anything. I was just… empty.

The door opened, but I didn't register it. A short man appeared in my peripheral vision. His face looked horrified before he smoothed it over. Quickly—too quickly for my sluggish mind to follow—he got to work unlatching the cuffs around my wrists and ankles. Then he went to release my wings and forehead before finally removing the gag from my mouth.

After that, he left my eyesight, only to reappear a short while later with an armful of supplies. I stared at his lips as they moved incoherently. Was he trying to talk to me? My ears weren't working.

He set all his supplies down except for a bottle and some cloths. His mouth was still going as he poured the bottled stuff on a rag and moved toward me. When the cloth touched my skin, I felt a sharp sting. I sucked in a short breath, and suddenly I was vacuumed back into my body.

Agony. That was the first thing I felt. Immediately I wished for the numbness to wash over me again, but it only got worse as the man rubbed the soaked rag down one of my arms. I let out a cry of pain, trying to sit up.

The man grabbed my shoulder gently, pushing me back down to the table. "Don't move; I'm cleaning your wounds."

It was the first time I noticed that the man was a whitecoat. If not for the scientist coat he was wearing, I probably would have mistaken him for a toad-hybrid. I obeyed him, letting my head flop back against the cool metal. He continued to clean me up, moving on from my arms and chest to my wings. Occasionally, I hissed in pain, but otherwise stayed silent.

Once he was finished with the antiseptic, the whitecoat grabbed some gauze and began wrapping me up. When he was done, most of my chest and arms were covered so that I looked like a mummy.

"I can't bandage your wings, so you will just have to be careful." He helped me up so that I was sitting. Then, he grabbed a new white tee shirt from his pile of things. The shirt had two long slits down the back of it. Carefully, he maneuvered both of my wings through the slits before pulling the shirt over my head. I slipped my arms through the arm holes.

I didn't know what to think, to be honest. Here was a whitecoat, showing me kindness. That went completely against whitecoats' nature. For a second, I braced myself for the universe to explode, but nothing happened. Instead, I settled for muttering a thanks. My voice cracked, still sore from the screaming.

He nodded in reply, gathering up his things. I tried to ignore all the blood.

The man then turned to leave. As his hand rested on the door handle, his head turned back to me, his watery blue eyes boring into mine. "Everything is a test, child. Remember that." And then, he was gone, leaving me at the mercy of four Erasers.

A/N: Aaaand, done. How'd you like it? The very first paragraph of this chapter I had planned out since the beginning. It parallels the first page of The Lightning Thief.

So, can Percy's situation get any worse? Now we find out what Mnemosyne did to him: she took his memory! All he remembers is a certain gray-eyed girl (wonder who that could be). Will he ever get his memories back, or will he be cursed to be an amnesiac forever?

And man, Percy. You just had to get on Mette's nerves. Pain Response... one word: ouch. Especially when it's six qualified doctors performing it on you.

Anyway, Percy mentions three mutants that all died. In case you were wondering, I'll give you their parentage.

Ramana: six-year-old daughter of Venus. Part bear. In mythology, Aphrodite cursed a woman to have children by a bear. Now one of her kids is (or was) part bear.

Felix: three-year-old son of Fortuna. Part mole. Tyche/Fortuna is often called the 'blind mistress', due to the nature of luck, so her kid is now actually blind.

Rocco: seven-year-old son of Hypnos. Part dolphin. The god of sleep is known for, well, sleep. Newborn dolphins don't sleep for an entire month, and even as they get older they rarely sleep. So now, the kid of the sleep god can't sleep.

Also, this chapter takes place at the same time as the previous one. So, as of right now, Percy, Annabeth, and Max are all caught up to each other.

Lastly, I just wanted to point out that this story is going to be separated into three parts, and there is only one or two more chapters until the end of part one. That means this fanfic is roughly one-third of the way completed.

Au revoir,

~Wrendsor