Sired and nursed by a member of the Big Three and a Clear Sighted mortal, it only makes sense that Percy would perceive the world as it truly was. Aware of the danger that follows his every step, a young son of Poseidon makes a decision. If only he could see the monsters, then only he could kill them.
A Different Perspective By TheWrighterAnew
Rated T for Heavy Violence and Swearing.
Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and The Olympians, or any associated media.
Hope you enjoy.
The night air was comfortable when we stepped outside, a far cry from the ice box I'd been sleeping in only minutes ago. It seemed we'd gotten lucky. Just about every other day this month, the weather had been nothing but dark clouds and blistering winds. If we were going to be staying outside for a prolonged period of time, tonight was the night to do so.
Holding in a yawn, I walked in line with a herd of other sleep deprived teens, each with their own opinions on being dragged out of bed. Some of the less clever ones made their grievances known. All they got in response were shouts to shut up from the guards. Clearly, they weren't to happy about being woken up at one in the morning either. When the last guy dragged his feet out the door and lined up against the wall with us, Warden Charles made himself known.
"Good evening boys... Or, good morning I suppose." The Warden gave a short laugh at his own terrible joke. It didn't catch on. "Well, tough crowd. Alright then, onto more important business."
At first glance, Warden Oliver Charles didn't really come off as the law enforcement type. Despite being tall as a giraffe and built like a bull, he was way too friendly, too personable, too eager to try and help people. Combined with an ever present smile and a persona of sincerity, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was kind hearted man. It was probably how he'd gotten this job, convincing his employers he really cared about helping his wards.
Me, and just about everyone else who spent five minutes with the man could tell the act was a load of horse shit.
"It seems that, earlier yesterday evening, one of us regressed back to their more... "Base Impulses."" Shaking his head, Warden Charles began pacing up and down the line. "Whilst I was on my way to a meeting with the board, I made the fool hearty error of leaving the door to my private office ajar. Rather then inform me of this however, the young man who noticed said oddity decided instead to walk right on in and began rummaging through my belongings."
The Warden stopped to give us a hard stare. He wasn't quite frowning, but you could tell he wasn't kidding around anymore.
"So... Does anyone want to tell me something?" The Warden paused and looked across the line. "If you step forward now, I promise your punishment will be reduced. In fact, if someone else witnessed the intrusion and provides information regarding it, they will be rewarded for having helped in the arrest of a wanted criminal. Otherwise, we're going to have to stay out here all night until somebody does."
The idea of spending the whole night outside wasn't desirable, but we'd all been through worse. Not a soul raised their hand.
Warden Charles sighed. "Alright then, suit yourselves."
With that, he moved to the top of the line and started speaking to Pete Novak, one of the newer and more rebellious boys in our block of the facility. I tuned out of their conversation. I had a few minutes before the warden got to me, and even when he did, its not like I'd have much to say. With little else to do, I had a look at our surroundings. I'd walked this yard a thousand times since I was admitted here in December, but this was the first time I'd seen it at night.
It didn't make too much of a difference.
Even under the stars and moonlight, the backyard of North York Juvenile Rehabilitation Centre wasn't all too interesting. A basketball court with ripped nets and cracked pavement, a couple of benches scattered around the property, and a weight lifting section sans the weights. Any grass that could be found was yellow and brittle, with the few trees and bushes the grew atop it not fairing much better. Finally, we were surrounded on all sides by a tall, chain link fence. Barbed wire wrapped around the top of it, a simple but effective deterrent to us boys who could climb a fence like that in seconds. Even if you were able to hop the fence though, it wasn't like you'd have anywhere to go. A large field surrounded the facility on all sides, with nearly a mile separating us from the nearest road.
Looking past the fence, I could make out one such road lined with streetlights and telephone poles. Atop the thick cords which connected the poles, a strange figure sat unmoving. In the dark, it could've been mistaken for a well fed eagle, or a condor that had busted out of the zoo. Just about everyone I knew would dismiss it as that.
Sometimes, I wished I could be as blind as them.
The harpy was had her wings folded against her sides, balancing calmly along the wire some several metres off the ground. Her thick brown hair curled oddly around her head, it's design comparable only to a rat's nest. Oddly enough, she was wearing a faded Black Crowes T-shirt, torn at the sleeves so they wouldn't restrict her large wings. Even at this distance, I could tell she was watching me, her gaze unwavering and focused solely on my still form. Since the first day I stepped foot on the property, she and a few other creatures had been watching me like hawks. Of them all though, she was the most dedicated, the one that never left. I looked right back at her, but did nothing else. She knew I could see her. In six months of constant vigilance, it only made sense she'd have caught me staring back. Acknowledging that would only make her stronger though.
A lesson I'd learned years ago: The more you engage their world, the more they pull you into it.
Derrick Amin let out a yawn next to me, and earned the glare of a guard. Warden Charles didn't pay it any mind though, Richard Tennent and his notoriously sticky fingers being The Warden's central focus. Taking a peek down the line, I couldn't help but wonder what the other boys saw when looking at the harpy. Probably nothing, considering how far away she actually was, not to mention that it was well past midnight and pitch black out. Even if it were bright as day though, and even if the harpy swooped down and perched herself right on top of their shoulders, I doubt the boys here would say she were anything but bird. A big, mean looking bird if I were lucky.
"Mr. Jackson!" A large hand suddenly landed on my shoulder, and I soon found Warden Charles' smile only inches away from my frown. My turn had come quicker then I thought. "Did you happen to see someone hanging around my office today, or maybe notice someone was absent during suppertime?"
His smile looked sincere, and a twinkle of hope shown in his eyes. I could tell he was going to give me more attention then the other boys, the same way he always did.
"No, sir." His expression didn't so much as shift an inch.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, sir." For a moment he continued staring, but then his eyes drew closer together, and the real Warden Charles started slipping through.
"Come on, Percy. You're a perceptive guy. Reading people, spotting lies, seeing things that we all tend to miss..." For a moment he went silent, just meeting my gaze with his own. I kept my face blank, not letting anything slip through my eyes. "...If anyone would of spotted something amiss, it would've been you, right?"
"Isn't keeping track of this place your job?" The Warden flinched at that, scratching his neck with an embarrassed look on his face. He was playing it off well, but I'd seen the flash of anger in his eye before he backed off.
I'd just dug myself into a pretty deep hole, but landing a jab against The Warden like that was worth it. The snickers I got from the other guys didn't hurt either.
"You really know how to hit me wear it hurts, huh, Percy?" Reaching out his arm, Warden Charles let a hand rest on my shoulder. From a distance, it may have seemed like he was trying to make me feel comfortable, to casually coerce me into giving up a name. In reality though, his grip wrapped around my arm like a vice. It felt like my collarbone was just seconds away from being crushed, but I managed keep up my poker face. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much this hurt. Getting no reaction, The Warden's frown deepened, and he reluctantly and let go.
That should've been the end of it. But rather then walk on to grill the next guy down the line, The Warden leaned down to my ear, speaking so low only I could hear him.
"Of all the boys here, you get the most visits a month, right Percy?" I went still at that. Warden Charles must've noticed, cause the smirk which had started to form on his lips exploded into a full blown grin. "A shame too."
Warden Charles took a step back at that, raising his voice so all could hear him.
"After all, If I don't get any information tonight, I'm simply going to have to hold everybody responsible for the charges of Obstructing Justice and Harboring A Fugitive. That means that the rest of this month could introduce reduced recreation hours, extended chore time, isolation, and..." He brought his gaze back to mine, nothing but sadism swimming around in his dark brown eyes.
"Removal of visitation rights."
There'd been groans and curses when the previous punishments were mentioned, but not so many when Warden Charles dropped his supposed hammer. For me though, I felt the steel head land painfully against my chest. Everything else he'd said, I could handle. But no visitations rights?
Even if only temporarily...
"She's single now, isn't she?" The Warden brought my attention back to our one sided conversation. He'd leaned back in to my personal space, but his voice remained audible throughout the yard. "All by herself, out in the city. A women as young as her, I doubt she's got any serious career going on right now. And on top of all that, she's got to worry about her little boy getting into trouble all the way up here in North York."
His hand returned to my shoulder, gentle and reassuring. His eyes, sympathetic. His smile, solemn and without malice.
"Can you imagine what she'd think? Making the two hour drive to get here, exhausted from her work but happy to see you and just wanting to make sure you're alright, only to find out you're not allowed visits for another month all because you refused to cooperate with facility staff?"
I wanted to be angry. I wanted to focus my emotions on the warden, and not play into his trap.
But all I could think about was my mom, and the truth within The Warden's words. I'd been doing pretty alright at North York for the last few months. I didn't get in to many fights and I'd made several friends of sorts, boys my own age I could relate to. Aside from Warden Charles and the fact that it was a Juvenile Rehabilitation Centre, North York was the best school I'd been to in a while. I'd told my mom as such, and she'd been happy to know I was doing so well, If still disappointed that I was basically in prison.
So for her to suddenly show up, and see that things had taken a complete 180...
She'd be crushed.
"Come on, Percy..." I looked into Warden Charles' eyes as he spoke. "You wouldn't want to cause her anymore stress... would you?"
A chilling gust of wind blew through the backyard. I could only imagine what the others were thinking. Sure, there were probably a few looks of sympathy being sent my way. Family was a rough spot for a lot of the boys at North York, and here Warden Charles was, airing my business in a way that even had his fellow guards looking uncomfortable.
But I wasn't naïve. I'd figured out the unwritten rules pretty quickly in my first few days here.
Snitching was outlawed, the equivalent of committing social suicide. North York wasn't middle school, where being a loner meant that the IT crowd spread a bunch of nasty roomers about you behind your back. Here, being an outcast had real consequences, the kind that got you visiting the nurse's office more often then you'd like.
I shouldn't have had to make this decision. There was still half a line to go, and I knew there were other boys in here that would squeal now that The Warden was laying out the consequences. They could fess up, they could get ostracized, and I could just be another member in the pack doing my best to exclude them. But I doubted Warden Charles would let that happen. Looking at the situation now, I realized the first half of interrogations had been nothing but a formality. From the very beginning, he'd planned on weeding me out like this. Snitch, and I'd lose my position, as small as it may be, within my block. Keep silent, and I'd earn the resentment of the quiet minority, as well as ensure the next month would be one of my roughest yet.
A true catch twenty-two. I shuttered to think what would happen if The Warden put this much effort into his actual job rather then just focusing on screwing me over.
No matter what I chose, I was screwed. Even if I chose nothing, Warden Charles would come up with something to shift the blame on me. With how much work he'd put into this, I doubt being indecisive would be a strong enough wrench in his plans to get him to back down.
"Last chance, Percy." The Warden looked at me with arrogance, amusement, and a flurry of other emotions that just made me want to deck him. "What'll it be?"
Unable to look up as I did it, I nodded my head down the line, towards Randell Creight.
A.K.A. The leader of Block-C. The same block I'd just made an enemy of.
"You're a real momma's boy, aren't ya, Perc?" Warden Charles gave me a solid pat on the shoulder. My nails dug painfully into my palm. Straightening up, a look of disappointment masked the clear joy in The Warden's eyes. "Randell, would you please step forward?"
The teen in question was tall and clearly one of the older boys here. He looked down the line at me, his eyes filled with both betrayal and anger. I didn't look back.
We'd never gotten along well anyway.
With a look of resignation, Randell stepped forward and came before the patiently waiting warden.
Randell got a pretty good dressing down after that, The Warden going on about the purpose of the facility, and how the teen would now spend the next week in the detention block. It was all an act, a guise to make the rest of the group think this whole mess was about Randell and not me. I tuned out, doing my best to ignore the pained look on the older boy's face as Warden Charles gripped his shoulder. Instead, I kept my eyes on The Warden, doing my best to read him, to understand him.
He'd been after me since day one. Though there wasn't a single boy here that could say they actually liked Warden Charles, I'd always figured he was only as bad to them as any other sadistic, egotistical veteran of the Prison Industrial Complex would be. For me though, he seemed to be a totally different person. The punishments I received were always disproportionate to my actions, the chores I was slotted were always the most strenuous/tedious, and every move I made within the facility was watched and monitored like I was in a maximum security prison rather then a reformatory centre for delinquents.
Those things I could deal with however. They were just typical flaunts of power made by the arrogant and sadistic.
It was what Warden Charles didn't do that made me wary of the man.
He'd hinted at it earlier, bringing up my sight and tendency to pick up on things other people couldn't. It may have just seemed like flattery, but I knew better. He was talking about my actual talent, the ability to see the monsters. I'd never told him, and always did my best to mind myself whenever he was around, but I could tell he had his suspicions. His earlier attempt to get me to crack was only one of dozens I'd faced in the half year that I'd known the cocky warden. At the same time though, his indirect method of getting me to talk only confirmed his lack of evidence. If he truly knew for a fact that there was a supernatural air about me, he'd have made a move by now.
Just what that move would be however, well... I wasn't too sure.
Warden Oliver Charles was the biggest dirt bag I'd ever met, but I found it hard to believe he was doing something as ludicrous as working with the monsters. To be honest, I doubted he could even see them himself. But even if he was normal person, not some monster associate trying to find a quick meal for his boss, but instead an asshole trying to pick on some kid that he thought was a nut job, I couldn't afford to let my guard down and reveal the truth.
I'd done it before in the past, and it never blew over too well when I did.
Sending a hurt looking Randell off with a guard waiting inside, Warden Charles once again stood before us, smug and satisfied.
"Everybody, I believe we all owe Mr. Jackson here a very large round of applause." Warden Charles gestured towards me, throwing me further under the bus then I already was. "Providing a member of law enforcement with intel which led to the successful arrest of a wanted criminal. There aren't many public services more noble then that, gentlemen. There is not a doubt in my mind that young Percy here is right on track to a successful rehabilitation!" With that, The Warden began clapping. A few of the guards rolled their eyes and clapped along in mock support. Not a single boy in line so much as twitched a finger.
I sighed. You couldn't just go and screw over a guy like Randell Creight and not expect to face any consequences. This refusal of applause was only the beginning. No doubt, I'd have to stay on my toes for the next few weeks if I was interested in keeping my head on my shoulders.
Bidding us all good night and laying out the schedule for tomorrow, Warden Charles made his way towards the door, our line following soon after. Just as we entered the building's threshold, I spared a glance at the telephone poll across the field. The harpy was still there, the same way she'd always been, and the same way she'd always be for the foreseeable future. Not that it mattered.
As much as North York blew, the facility wasn't just good for keeping me in.
It did a damn good job of keeping them out too.
Call me a jerk, but I didn't lose much sleep over last night's events. I felt bad about selling out Randel, but I didn't regret my decision. A choice between him and my mom wasn't much of a choice at all.
Substitute Randell with just about anything on earth, and the answer would remain the same.
I woke up in the morning to looks of scorn and a couple of 'accidental' shoves in the hallway. I ignored it mostly, and made my way to the communal washroom with everyone else.
The washroom was one large rectangular chamber with toilets and urinals at the end of the room, and showers and sinks at the front. The walls were speckled with dirt, the tiled floor was chipped in several places, and the less said about the toilets, the better. The showers were separated into miniature stalls, offering each boy a minuscule amount of privacy when we bathed. What money the facility's private owner had spent on this tiny accommodation had quickly been evened out by several other factors, such as the cheap, low flow shower heads and the busted furnace that couldn't even heat a tea kettle. Not that I minded of course. Be it hot or cold, water was always a welcome element in my life.
Stepping into my stall, I turned the tap and was quickly met with the pathetic groan of the shower head. A moment later, several small streams of water began to pitter out of the faucet above. Looking behind me, I made sure my stall door was locked before placing my hand against the wall.
Behind the wall, I could feel something moving, a slow, steady stream. It flowed at an even pace. There were no blockages, no tiny obstructions to its path. It was controlled, it was precise, it was perfect.
The water was disgusted by its bogged down nature, and I could feel it. It wanted to escape, to be free of its confines and to display to the world the true power It possessed. A cheeky grin grew on my lips and I pulled at the source of the water, willing it towards me. It didn't so much as question my motive before it began to move.
Above, the faucet stopped, sputtered, and then exploded with life. I was immediately soaked by the absolute torrent of water erupting from my shower head. It covered me completely, thanking me for its freedom and welcoming me as though I were a distant relative returning home at last.
I glanced at my shoulder, where an ugly purple handprint had been left by The Warden from last night's events. I put it directly under the flow of the water, watching the mark carefully. The change occurred quickly, and I watched in both amusement and wonder as the bruise began to recede into itself. Within seconds, the large bruise was replaced with the smooth, pale white skin I was used too and I sighed in relief. I was content to stay like that until shower time was over, just enjoying the feel of the water running over me, but of course, things rarely went my way.
"Percy!" A sudden banging on my stall door drew my attention. Turning around, I looked down to see several pairs of feet waiting just outside of my door. "Open up, man! We gotta talk!"
For a moment I just stood there weighing my options. Remain in my nice relaxing shower, or have a heated conversation with Mitch. Before I could make the obvious decision however, a pair of hands gripped the bottom of my stall door and lifted up, the latch swinging up and out of the lock along with it. Sighing, I let my focus on the water drop, the shower head quickly returning to it's miserable, sputtering state. When the door swung open a second later, I was unsurprised to find an irate Mitchell Matthews standing there with his arms crossed and a glare in his eye. I matched it with one of my own.
"I could've been naked in here, you creep." Mitch scoffed at that.
"Oh, shut up, Percy. Everyone here knows you shower with trunks on." My glare deepened, but I could feel a slight bit of heat creep up my neck at his remark. At that very moment, I was clad in a pair of plain black North York issue swim trunks. Stalls or no stalls, being naked around a bunch of guys my own age just wasn't very appealing.
Still, I thought I'd done a pretty good job of keeping that a secret.
The light atmosphere fizzled out after that though. Looking past Mitch, I could spot several other boys flanking him on either side, each looking at me with eyes even more aggravated then Mitch's own. Beyond them, I could only make out the sounds of one or two other shower heads running. Even if they weren't participating, it seemed that just about everyone else in our block was listening in on this conversation.
"That was screwed up what you did to Randell last night."
"Randell screwed up by getting caught. He didn't want to get in trouble, he never should've done it."
"He wouldn't have gotten caught if you'd just kept your mouth shut," Mitch shouted, any levity he'd been ready to give me now swiftly pushed to the wayside. "What, The Warden brings up your mom and suddenly you lose your freaking spine?"
That lit a fuse.
"Screw you, Mitch, you don't get. It's not like you've got anyone coming to visit."
I regretted it that second the words left my lips. Not cause it was a low blow. Mitch had already struck beneath my belt, and I was just returning the favour. But the repercussions for that insult were not ones I was looking forward to enduring.
Mitch was only a year or so older then me, but he had a lot more sway in our block then I ever would. It was probably do to how well he got along with the others. He was the kind of guy that just rubbed everyone the right way. If Randell was the leader of our little section of North York, then Mitch was certainly his second-in-command. Still, thinking back on it, I couldn't remember a single time that Mitchell had actually gone to the visiting room with the rest of us. It seemed like he too was remembering that fact, cause the veins in his fist and temple had suddenly become a lot more pronounced.
I didn't bother apologizing. Partly because I didn't want to, and partly because we were already beyond the point of no return.
I seriously doubted Mitch had rounded up the other guys and surrounded my stall just to have a cordial conversation about my position within the gang. Insulting him like that in front of the others probably just dashed away what few misgivings he had about assaulting me in the washroom left. Two minutes ago, I probably would've gotten out of my stall with just a few bruises that could be hidden beneath a shirt. Now, well... I didn't like to imagine what a room full of angry, aggressive, vengeance fueled teenagers with criminal records could do to one twelve-year old boy in the ten minutes we'd been given to wash up.
Outnumbered, outgunned, outsized, and naked save a pair of black swimming shorts.
Yeah, considering my predicament, I think just about any military analyst would forgive my use of a preemptive strike.
I lunged forward, sinking my fist into Mitch's stomach faster then he could react. He was already sliding across the slick tiles of the bathroom by the time his scowl morphed into a pain filled grimace. His gang wasn't much better, dumbstruck and able only to watch as Mitch just about started to toss up last night's desert. This was dandy to me though, as it made upper cutting one and roundhouse kicking a second all the easier. The rest of the boys snapped out of their daze at that, quickly surrounding me and putting up their dukes.
With so many witnesses, I couldn't do anything fancy. Water was a natural part of the world, and even when manipulated to it's strangest, it remained perceivable to the human eye. Doing something crazy like flooding this room with water would only draw attention towards this facility, and in turn, myself.
Reporters and police I could handle. The monsters that followed them though...
Well, I could handle them pretty well too, but I'd rather avoid the trouble if I could.
I would have to rely on my fists to get me out of this alive.
Derrick Amin tried his luck first. He was behind me and ran forward to try a tackle. Without even looking, I thrust an elbow back just as his arms began wrapping around my waist. I hit his nose hard and he slid painfully to the ground. Bouncing it off his face, that same elbow extended and sent my fist rocketing forward, directly into the jaw of a quickly approaching Drew Whitman.
I turned my gaze then to the gangly Terrance Stenson, but before I could transfer my momentum into a blow against him, a hand gripped my ankle and sent me tumbling. It seemed Derrick Amin had a tougher nose then I thought.
I sent my heel into his face and put him down for good, but just as I made to to get up, Donald Hayley, the biggest fifteen year old I'd ever met, threw himself on top of me. I landed on my back and quickly made to get up, but Donald forced a knee into my chest, and I was made to focus solely on blocking as his fists began raining down on top of me. I was doing a pretty good job of it too, but a sudden wet foot to the face from a third party opened my guard, and I was quickly made into a human punching bag. Roars of approval quickly began echoing within the room, and I was suddenly made aware of the danger I was in.
More of the boys surrounded me and began throwing kicks and punches of their own. A stomp on my ankle, a kick to my temple, a fist to the face. The guards could probably hear us by now and were making their way towards the washroom, but as the back of my head smacked painfully against the floor beneath me, I wasn't so sure they'd make it in time.
Nothing big. I couldn't risk it.
At the same time, I needed to stop an entire room filled with boys quickly and forcefully.
I closed my eyes, doing my best to drown out the world around me. For a moment nothing happened, and I continued to feel my body getting pummeled to a bloody pulp. Then, my sense of touch began spreading across the room, as though I were in contact with every living thing within it. Connected to everything, I gripped tightly at the fabric which connected each and everyone of us. Then, securing my own purchase before I did, I gave the fabric an all mighty pull.
The floor shifted suddenly beneath us. Or, rather, the thin layer of moisture atop it did. It shot to the side, bringing the balance of everyone present along with it.
Now, I'm sure most of you have been within a public washroom before, be it at the gym or waterpark. You know how hard it is to balance on those floors without any shoes on? Well, imagine what it would be like to suddenly have what little purchase you've got on that floor violently ripped away from beneath you in what equates to a millisecond.
For the teenage boys of North York Juvenile Rehabilitation Centre Block-C, no such imagination was needed.
Meaty thwacks and unpleasant thuds echoed throughout the reverberant room. They were replaced soon after with an uneven chorus of cries, shouts and groans.
For his part, Donald Hayley and his big head had splatted against the floor just over my shoulder. Hearing as his forehead hit the tiles, I cringed, but nonetheless began rolling the two hundred pound teen off of me. Getting up with a grunt of effort, I leaned against a nearby sink while catching my breath and taking in my handiwork.
Much like Donald, some of the boys had landed head first and been knocked out. Others had only been winded by the fall and were in the process of picking themselves up. Looking over at the unconscious form of Steven-Lee Park, I noted the unpleasant angle his arm was facing and grimaced. Still though, I'd like to think they'd gotten the better deal. My left eye was swollen shut, and I could feel blood starting to leak into the other. My lip felt split in several paces, my nose was bent at a rough angle, and my breathing was still off from where Donald Hayley had put his knee in my chest.
With so many others still conscious in the room, I couldn't stick my face under a faucet and start the healing process. Even when we did get out of here, I'd still have to let my wounds heal naturally, lest I gain the attention I'd made a point of stating I didn't want.
Standing up with a sigh, I headed towards the exit to fetch the guards. It seemed that wouldn't be needed however, as a small group of them suddenly burst through the door.
I sent them a glare. Of course they only showed up once all the fighting was over.
They clearly didn't appreciate my glare though, because they quickly began to advance on me. Though I was initially confused by their aggressive attitude, a quick look at my surroundings may have explained their readiness to pin the situation on me.
A room full young teenage boys, some of them wearing towels or shorts, and some just plain old naked, lay bleeding and bruised on the floor. Then there was me, an also half naked twelve year old boy standing over top of them as though I were the victor of some grand brawl. It didn't take long to piece together a story, no matter how unfathomable it may be that I'd outslugged a room full of boys taller, tougher, and older then me.
I struggled against the guards for a few vein seconds, but was quickly surrounded and brought to the ground. My head clunked loudly against the tiled floor, and I was out like a light before they even started hauling me up.
"Yikes. Need a mirror, pal?"
Warden Charles was as chipper as ever when he walked into the questioning room. It was a small, white, windowless cube with nothing but a bolted down steel table, and a pair of folding chairs. I'd been sitting in here alone for what felt like an hour, but I couldn't be sure given my lack of a watch.
Regarding the mirror joke, it was probably due to the sorry state of my face.
The facility's doctor had given me a once over while I was unconscious, and deemed that my swelling eye, busted lip, and broken nose were more ugly then they were serious. A few minutes later, I was waking up just as we entered an interrogation room. Before I could protest, they cuffed my hands behind my back and sat me down in one of the chairs, exiting the room and leaving me alone. I was still shirtless from the showers, and had yet to hear whether or not my plead for a sweater would be met.
Pulling out a chair, Warden Charles sat at the table across from me. I expected him to come in with my file and a clipboard to record my explanation of the fight, but he was surprisingly empty handed. For a moment he just sat there, looking me over with a strange kind of pride in his eyes, like I was some sort of fish he'd caught after a great time spent wrestling it on board.
"Six months, kid..." He spoke quietly, and I leaned in trying to make out what the warden had said.
"What?"
"SIX MONTHS!" He shot out of his chair, throwing his hands in the air with a look of euphoria on his face. It was the most genuine show of happiness I'd ever seen him make. It kind of scared me. He quickly walked around to my side of the table, gesturing wildly with his hands right next to my face. "Six months I've been watching you like a hawk, and six months you've alluded me!"
His hands slapped down on my shoulders. It wasn't tight like his usual grip, but it did remind me that my own arms were still locked behind my back.
"There's no getting out of this one though, little buddy." My eyebrows rose, and an uneasy feeling filled my stomach.
"What are you talking about?"
"I know about you, Percy." The words could've meant anything, but I knew exactly what he was getting at. "You've been able to play dumb for a while now, but I don't care how you try to cover this one up. There isn't a twelve year old alive that could knock out a room full of boys twice their size without being a half-blood."
I rose an eyebrow at that? Half-blood? He kept talking though, and I was forced to put the question on hold.
"You've done a good job of hiding it. My employers back in the city said I couldn't move until I'd confirmed the bolt was in your possession, but given the circumstances, I think they'll excuse my forcefulness." His jovial tone had dropped now, and his expression had turned somber. "You can't hide anymore kid. You're cornered, and you can't keep going on pretending you're normal. You're not, now fess up."
I didn't say anything, but my gaze lowered to the ground. My feet were bare, and the glossy floor was cold to the touch.
I wasn't ashamed of being different, of having these powers. To be as strong as I was, and to see the things I saw was a blessing I'd only cursed a handful of times before.
Still, being told you weren't normal was something only the psychopathic and self-centered could relish in. For someone like me, having it pointed out just stung.
Warden Charles smiled, rubbing my shoulder and giving me a light punch on the jaw.
"Listen, kid. I know I've been rough on you these last couple months, but it's only because of the severity of the situation." The warden spoke to me, but it felt like his words were referencing something far outside the facility's walls. "If we don't get the bolt back soon, well..."
Warden Charles went quiet, and looked at the floor with a deep concentration. I suddenly felt as though this conversation wasn't just about getting me to admit my strange nature. From how he was talking, it seemed as though the warden already knew all about it.
But who were the, "Employers," he'd mentioned, and what situation was he talking about?
He clapped his hands together suddenly, switching once again to his preppy personality. Charming smile, crinkled eyes, and a hand on my shoulder as though I were his own son.
"Well, let's not dwell on a fate we can easily avoid. Now then, Percy. Where's the bolt?"
That one threw me. The way he'd mentioned the other things, I didn't feel so bad being out of the loop. They were clearly references I wasn't meant to understand. But now he was directing a question towards me, using the same unknown terms as before, yet still expecting me to answer. Warden Charles' seemed genuine for once, and I felt bad not being able to help him, but in the end, all I could say was, "What?"
The warden sighed, not in disappointment, but more a like a parent growing tired of a child's antics.
"Look, I know you're old man put you up to this." If I wasn't confused before, I certainly was now. My old man? "Probably told you that stealing the bolt would make him proud. Listen, Percy, I know what it's like, fighting for their favour, doing everything you can to get their acknowledgment. But this is taking it too far. Lives are at risk, and if you don't hand over the bolt soon, the consequences will be dire. Not just for you, but for everyone."
The warden was starting to look more tense. He'd stood up from the table now, and was starring down at me from his full height. I spoke again, but this time I could hear the pitch of nervousness within my words.
"I... I really don't know what you're talking about, sir...I'm sorry..." I could feel the desperation coming off of him. It was the same kind that I'd shown my mom all those years ago, trying desperately to convince her of the existence of monsters. It was hard to believe, but I was actually starting to empathize with the man I'd wanted to stab only the day before. I could understand what it was like, to search furiously for answers only to be met with blank stares of confusion.
"Still committed to the bit, eh?" The warden laughed lightly, but all I could hear was the dark undertone beneath it. "Alright. All joking aside then I guess."
He bent down, kneeling before me and settling his hands on my shoulders. He looked me in the eye. I couldn't make out just what his deep brown orbs held, but I felt as though I didn't want to know.
"Where's the bolt, kid?"
I was silent for a moment. I could feel that something bad would happen if I didn't tell him what he wanted know, something far worse then losing my visitation rights or being sent to the detention block. But there was nothing I could tell him but the truth.
I had no idea what he was talking about.
"...I'm sorry, but I-
Before I could finish, I felt the warden's body tense through his hands. In the next, I was thrown to the ground, my head slamming painfully off the floor.
"I'm done being the nice guy." Disoriented, I barely even registered what he said before I was hoisted up by my neck and slammed down against the table. A hand slapped my face roughly and I was finally able to make out Warden Charles' sneer above me. His hands were now around my throat. Not tight, but certainly there, and certainly prepared to squeeze if the warden felt so inclined. "We're running out of time here kid. Deadlines getting close, and if I don't get an answer from you now, upper management will be sending something far uglier then me your way. Now. Where. Is. The. Bolt?"
I struggled to get a gulp past his thick hands. "...What...Bo-
"Zeus' bolt!" Roared Warden Charles, his eyes burning with a fury I'd never seen before. The pressure on my neck increased, and I could do nothing but flail in response, my hands still cuffed behind my back. "The Master Bolt! The bolt that YOU stole on the Winter Solstice, and that your father is going to use to destroy Olympus!"
"...My...Fa-
His right hand left my throat, long enough only to strike me across the face before returning to my neck.
"Don't change the subject!" The weight increased on my throat, and even if I had anything to tell him, I doubted I'd have been able to say it. "You may think you're helping your old man here, kid, but look around! Here you are, seconds away from having your windpipe crushed, and daddies nowhere in sight! Is a man like that worth dying for!?"
I was confused, sad, angry, and every other emotion I could think of all at the same time?
My dad!? Zeus!? A Master Bolt!?
Was I seriously about to die over a bunch of shit that I didn't understand?!
My vision began to fade. No matter how I begged or pleaded, The Warden continued to press his weight down on me, his patience for an answer growing thinner with each passing second. I could feel tears in my eye and spit passing over my lips. At any moment, I was sure my neck would be broken in half. My mind was flooded with thoughts I couldn't control or make sense of, and I quickly realized the truth.
If I didn't have the information Warden Charles wanted, then there was no reason for him to keep me alive.
Another minute passed, me kicking wildly with what little strength I had left, and The Warden staring down with a blank expression, not even bothering to question me anymore, now focused solely on putting me out of my misery. Eventually, black circles began forming around the edges of my vision. I was barely conscious by this point, and could only read his lips as Warden Charles spoke to me one last time with a face full of disgust and disappointment.
"Maybe the Furies will have better luck with you."
When my eyes closed at last, memories of the past began playing out before me.
The first time I took a bath, the first time I went to the beach, The first time I went to school.. The first time I was called dyslexic, the first time I saw a monster... The first time I killed one.
I remembered the sight of a man lying bloodied and beaten in my apartment, and of my mom looking at me with eyes I'd never seen before
Eyes filled with fear.
Half-blood? Monsters? Master Bolt? Zeus? Olympus? My father?
Somehow, all these terms The Warden had mentioned were connected to me, to the twelve years of my life spent crying in the corner of a crib, spent looking out the window in fear of what awaited me outside, of killing and slaying the monsters that threatened me and my mother's lives.
For the first time ever, there existed someone who had answers to the questions I'd been asking for all these years.
For the first time ever, there existed an explanation.
And I wasn't going to die without getting it.
Above us, an emergency sprinkler began to shake. A moment later, it shot down like a bullet, striking Warden Charles' head and opening a wide cut across the back of his scalp. A torrent of water followed immediately after. The Warden was quickly soaked and disoriented. His grip slackened and he began to lose his balance, but those were only happy byproducts of the water's sudden appearance.
My eyes shot open. Strength washed over me within seconds of the first droplet landing on my skin. My fatigue was replaced with adrenaline. My arms and legs flexed with newfound energy. Though they were practically submerged by the water pouring into my face and down my throat, my lungs had never felt so relieved. I brought my leg up from between The Warden's own. My foot found its way to his chest, and before he could figure out what was happening, I launched my it forward and sent the confused warden straight into a wall.
I immediately took in a deep breath of air, my throat free of obstruction at last. I didn't stop to savour it though. I quickly sat up and rose to my feet, now standing directly beneath the busted pipe and getting absolutely drenched in the process.
It felt like a million bucks.
My swollen eye slowly began to open. My lips returned to their thin, normal shape. My nose shifted in an uncomfortable way, but that just meant it to was beginning to mend. Still winded and kneeling on the ground, Warden Charles could only watch as my wounds healed beneath the water.
If he weren't already unnerved by that, he'd be shitting his pants at what came next.
I began to pull on my hand cuffs, the metal biting deeply into my wrists and tearing at the skin. I just gritted my teeth and kept pulling. I couldn't anything so amazing as break the chain of the cuffs. The water bolstered my strength, but I didn't make me invincible. It was a passive boon to be used strategically, not some handicap I could abuse without consequence. Instead, I continued pulling until finally, my hands, bloody and gnarled from slipping through the steel loops, emerged from behind my back. The cuffs clattered loudly as they dropped onto the table. Raising my hands with pride, I showed the open cuts to a gob smacked Warden Charles, and under the oncoming flow of water, just like the wounds on my face, my wrists too began to heal.
Sitting their dumbstruck, it was some time before a hardened look grew upon Warden Charles' face. Gathering his resolve, he began to stand up. I was still on the table, and continued towering over him even when he reached his full height of 6'6 and assumed a fighting stance.
6'6. Somewhere between 250 and 300 pounds, most of which seemed to be muscle. He looked to be in his early 40's, and spoke to my block often of his more physical exploits, both in federal prisons and law enforcement. Noting the way his hands reached out and his legs were positioned, I was willing to bet he was trained in some sort of martial art that focused on grappling and restraining his opponents.
Even with water slowly filling the room, I knew this wouldn't be an easy fight.
Warden Charles lunged forward with a grab, and I leaped back. I landed on the quickly slickening floor, but managed to keep my balance. If I was gonna win, I'd need to take a page out of Ali's book.
Warden Charles put a foot on the table and jumped, landing next to me and bringing his fists down together in a move not unlike The Hulk. I dodged the attack by inches, the warden landing with a loud thud and stumbling forward from the weight of his own missed attack.
Float like a butterfly.
My foot planted firmly against the wall I'd backed into. Like a kid in a pool, I pushed off from it, rocketing forward and using the momentum to send myself right underneath the warden's guard. He hadn't time to recover from his own attack and so was unable to dodge or block the incoming strike. I punched his jaw with the force of a freight train, and I could've sworn I heard it come loose.
Sting like a bee.
Warden Charles stumbled back, swatting at my with his arm in a desperate attempt to maintain distance. I ducked below it and threw a jab straight under his ribs. It hit gold, and the warden made an unintelligible sound as he staggered backwards, one hand held up in defense, the other clutching tightly at his liver. He was huddled over from the blow, and so I threw a roundhouse kick with my left that normally would've only struck his ribs. His right hand was busy nursing his liver, and he could only just barely block with his left as my foot struck the side of his head. It cushioned the blow, but the force my leg had generated still sent him reeling to the side and into the table. Hitting his head against it with a loud smack, Warden Charles looked up at me with the same fury I'd seen only minutes ago.
Right now though, looking mean was about all he could do. He was kneeling on the floor, leaning against the table and had yet to land a successful blow. If he didn't do anything soon, this fight would all be in the bag.
Not stopping to let him catch his breath, I lunged forward and prepared to throw a knee. As I expected, he reacted offensively, jumping up quickly to through a haymaker of his own. I leaned backwards and dodged away, his left fist sailing harmlessly past my face. I would've braced my feet to move forward for another strike, but the warden leaned into his own attack and spun around, no doubt intending to follow up his missed haymaker with a spinning backfist.
Attacks like that carried lots of power, but were damn inaccurate. I back stepped once more, remaining just out of his arm's reach and preparing to counterattack when he once again he lost his balance.
A searing pain lashed across my cheek, and I found myself stumbling into the table. My instincts screamed, and I ducked just as another blow sailed over my head. Grabbing the table, I vaulted myself over and to the other side. I quickly twisted around, Warden Charles already advancing around the slab of metal. In his hand, he was now carrying a black nightstick. It must've been the collapsible kind, cause I hadn't seen it on him when he came in. He gave it another swing, and I had to throw myself into a wall just to get out of the blow's range.
With his reach now extended, the problems associated with fighting in a compact room were quickly becoming apparent.
I kissed my teeth and dodged again, now all but running circles around the table as Warden Charles chased me. Had we been on T.V., I was willing to bet we'd make a couple kids laugh with this stunt.
Keeping out of reach was no longer an option. So, if I couldn't stay out of his reach, my only option was to get within it.
The warden had paused his assault and was eyeing me critically now, no doubt noticing that I was analyzing his position. He was on to me.
I'd only have one chance.
I charged forward and ducked low. Rather then swing his nightstick, Warden Charles assumed his earlier grappling stance, intent in stopping me firmly in my tracks. The second I was within reach, his arms came down, intent on swallowing me whole.
Perfect.
I spun around, putting my back to his torso and gripping tightly his thigh and bicep. Then, just as his arms ensnared me in their grip, I pulled one of them forward and pushed his leg back, all while standing up to my full height with a roar of effort.
It was the hardest thing I'd ever done, but as Warden Charles went airborne for one, glorious second, it all felt worth it.
I threw him over me and slammed him down on the steel table, his back landing flat against it. Dazed enough from the shock of such a blow, the warden was left further confused as the torrent of water from above yet again poured down atop his head. I hadn't thrown him as hard as I would've liked. He was just to heavy for me to get the pull I needed for a proper slam. But he was dazed, and I used the small window to lay a hammer fist atop the exposed underside of his wrist. His hand flew open, and the nightstick dropped into the water below.
Realizing his situation, Warden Charles quickly came to and gripped the opposite side of the table, sliding across it and to the other side. He landed on his feet, but stood hunched over, shoulders raising and falling in time with his breath. For a moment I just watched, taking the few seconds I had to splash water on my cheek and heal the cut left by his nightstick.
He then suddenly spun around, the folding chair I'd been sitting clenched tightly in his hand. It was currently flat, and so spun viciously through the water and air as he threw it directly at my head. I ducked low, the chair sailing clean over me. But the room was small, and so as I made to stand up, the chair bounced off the wall behind me and collided with my back. It didn't hurt, but I stumbled forward, directly into Warden Charles' outstretched arms.
His hands gripped both sides of my head, and shouting loudly, he slammed my face into solid steel.
His hands left my head a moment later, and all I could make out was the sound of his heavy breathing and pouring water. His attack should've broken my nose. It should've knocked me out. It should've ended the fight.
In a way, it did.
My face had been slammed directly into the table's centre.
Directly underneath the busted water pipe.
I kept still for half a minute. Even with with water cushioning the blow and healing my injuries, having your face thrown down onto cold steel still hurt like you wouldn't believe. Letting the water run over me, I caught my breath and let my once again busted nose heal. When I was ready, I slowly stood up from the table, and looked through the falling water at Warden Charles' shocked face.
The fight was over.
I stalked around the table, walking calmly towards him. He stepped back, not afraid, but keeping a safe distance. I stopped when we were on the same side of the table, facing each other with nothing between us but open space.
He was breathing hard now, clearly favouring his right flank and running a hand along his bruising jaw. Warden Charles was a big guy, and fighters his size tended start a fight strong, but burn out quickly. On top of that, the water was now up to our ankles and was weighing down his movements. As for me, I only grew stronger as more flooded the room became, not to mention the fact I'd been punching above my weight class since I was seven years old. Compared to the beasts I'd fought, the warden was nothing but a light work out. With all that against him, it was admirable he'd had lasted as long as he did. He may not have been able to manipulate the elements like I could, but there was certainly more to him then meets the eye.
For the first time since I walked through North York's doors, I felt a twinge of respect for Warden Oliver Charles.
That didn't mean I could just walk away though.
It was time to end this.
I bent down, entering a sprinter's stance and preparing to shoot forward. Oliver Charles noticed, and brought his guard down low.
For a moment, there was no sound or movement but water slapping loudly against the steel table beside us.
I braced against the floor and crossed the room in two steps. Rather then throw a punch though, I kicked my leg up and out of the water in a soccer kick. Oliver Charles read me like a book and reached both hands down grab it. No doubt, he planned to block the kick before grabbing my leg and going for one last take down attempt. If he got on top of me now, I doubted he'd be foolish enough to let me back up.
As my foot left the water, a small geyser shot out beneath it, pushing my leg upward and increasing it's speed exponentially. The warden's fingers only just grazed my shin as my foot sailed past them. Committed to his grab and not anticipating the sudden acceleration of my attack, Oliver Charles could do nothing but watch as the top of my foot slammed against his face.
I sat back heavily against the table, noting Oliver's unconscious form amid the slowly rising water. He'd landed face first after getting knocked out, but I'd flipped him over with a strong nudge of my foot.
It seemed I'd have to wait for him to come to before I could start getting my explanations.
I leaned back, letting my head rest beneath the torrent of water yet again. It had yet to stop, and had shown no sings of slowing down. I'd hate to think what North York's hydro bill was going to look like this month.
I was content to sit their like that for a few minutes more, but the door across the room from me suddenly slammed open, a familiar looking guard eyeing me with shock. It was one of the men who had entered the shower room earlier. If the site before him then had been shocking, he must've been thoroughly befuddled by what he saw now. Before I could do anything to stop him, he snagged the walkie talkie on his belt.
"Code E-I at the interrogation block! I repeat code Electric-Indigo at the-
I thrust my hand forward, and a solid stream of water slammed against his chest. He was sent into the hallway and out of sight.
I glanced down Oliver. He seemed to know not just about me and my powers, but about a whole world separate from our own. On top of that, this world had people who were apparently out to get me, people who, if Warden Charles was to be believed, posed a threat far bigger then the monsters I was used too.
There was so much I wanted to ask him about those people, about their world, about the monsters and about my powers.
I wanted to ask him everything.
But I didn't have the time.
With a sigh, I hauled the warden up just as the water level rose to his nose and mouth. I then threw him unceremoniously onto the table and began rummaging through his pockets.
Hey, I respected the guy as a fighter, but he was still shit person.
I got away with his wallet, his keys, and a few sticks of soggy gum. I was about to take my leave when I noticed a small black cylinder in the water. Eyeing it for a second, I reached down nicked the nightstick from the shallow pool, collapsing it quickly before at last exiting the question room.
I stepped into the hallway, finding the guard from earlier laying slouched against the wall. I disarmed him quickly, tossing away his walkie talkie and unclipping the police baton from his belt. It was the kind with a side grip, functional and highly adaptable. Looking up, I noted the hallway I'd stepped into. It was long and thin, with rooms just like the one I'd emerged from lining it on each side. At the end of it was a single door, the small corridor's sole exit. I'd barely taken a step forwards before a group of six armed guards emerged from it. Looking at me and her unconscious coworker lying at my feet, a guard stepped forward cautiously, one hand held outwards, the other trying to conceal nightstick behind her leg.
"Son, you're gonna need to drop that weapon!" She shouted down the hallway. "Things are only gonna get worse for you if you don't!"
I stared her down. A tense moment passed. The guard's grips on their weapons tightened.
There was no going back. Even if Warden Charles' had attacked me first, I had assaulted him and another guard beyond the point of self-defense, and was already in trouble for my brawl in the showers. If I was caught now, I doubted I'd ever step foot in the real world again. That wasn't even to mention whatever the warden had been talking about with the Summer Solstice and the lightning bolt. If they were somehow connected to the monsters and illusions, then that meant I only had a few more weeks before something heavy started going down. Something that I was apparently connected to.
Where I'd go to find out about this deadline, as well as the people who'd set it, I didn't know.
But wherever that was, it certainly wasn't here.
I shifted into a comfortable stance, swallowing a lump and calming my heartbeat.
Even though I'd steeled myself to fight my way out, it wasn't gonna be easy. Sure, I was warmed up and could rely my natural strength and reflexes to carry me, but even then, I wasn't so sure I could fight my way through half a prison and it's entire security team.
Just then, I felt a trickle of liquid pass by my feet. I glanced downward. The water level continued to rise in the questioning room, and had now begun spilling out into the hallway. Quirking a brow, I looked up. Sure enough, the hallway was lined front to back with sprinklers along the ceiling. A solemn grin grew on my face.
Though my actions in the last few hours may have stood in contrast to what I'm about to say, I really don't enjoy fighting people. They're not like monsters. They were frail, weak. If I didn't hold back, I could seriously hurt someone with the inhumane strength my body carried. Even against the warden, I'd still be holding back, despite all he'd done to me. Had I wished, I could've flooded the room and drowned the man in seconds.
But doing that wouldn't be right. Warden Charles may have tortured me over the course of half a year, but that was nothing compared to a lifetime surrounded by bloodthirsty monsters. It was the same for the guards before me. They weren't ravenous beasts hunting me down solely for the purpose of having a good meal. They were just a normal people, doing their jobs and detaining a dangerous inmate.
Fighting them, fighting people, was wrong. The difference in our strength was simply too great.
The warden was right. I wasn't like everyone else. I didn't belong here, and I'd known it for some time.
But right now, I'd have to put my morals aside. One way or another, these guards would have to move.
I spun the baton in my left hand, lining the length of it up alongside my arm and holding the side grip tightly. As for my right, I merely flicked it to the side, the nightstick extending to it's full length with a satisfying click. Raising my arms, I spoke words that I shouldn't have known, but which left my lips regardless.
"Molon Labe."
It was time for a prison break.
And thus ends chapter 1 of A Different Perspective.
One of my biggest fears in writing this fic was that I would make Percy too edgy, or too different from the original for people to enjoy him. Hopefully, I've struck an even middle ground between writing the awkward twelve year old we all know and love, while still giving him the maturity and perspective on the world that someone who'd led his life would have.
Other then that, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and that you stay tuned for the next one.
See ya.