2011

Jason stepped out of the smoke on the opposite side of the throne room, his gladius in his hand.

Caligula snarled. "You're one of those Camp Jupiter brats, aren't you?"

"I'm Jason Grace," he said. "Former praetor of the Twelfth Legion. Son of Jupiter. Child of Rome. But I belong to both camps."

"Good enough," Caligula said. "I'll hold you responsible for Camp Jupiter's treason tonight. Incitatus!" The emperor snatched up a golden spear that was rolling across the floor. He vaulted onto his stallion's back, charged the chasm, and leaped it in a single bound. Jason threw himself aside to avoid getting trampled.

From somewhere to my left came a howl of anger. Piper McLean had risen. Her lower face was a nightmare—her swollen upper lip split across her teeth, her jaw askew, a trickle of blood coming from the edge of her mouth.

She charged Medea, who turned just in time to catch Piper's fist in her nose. The sorceress stumbled, pinwheeling her arms as Piper pushed her over the edge of the chasm. The sorceress disappeared into the churning soup of burning fuel and seawater.

Piper shouted at Jason. She might have been saying COME ON! But all that came out was a guttural cry.

Jason was a little busy. He dodged Incitatus's charge, parrying Caligula's spear with his sword, but he was moving slowly. I could only guess how much energy he'd expended controlling the winds and the lightning.

"Get out of here!" he called to us. "Go!" An arrow sprouted from his left thigh. Jason grunted and stumbled. Above us, more pandai had gathered, despite the threat of severe thunderstorms.

Piper yelled in warning as Caligula charged again. Jason just managed to roll aside. He made a grabbing gesture at the air, and a gust of wind yanked him aloft. Suddenly he sat astride a miniature storm cloud with four funnel clouds for legs and a mane that crackled with lightning—Tempest, his ventus steed.

He rode against Caligula, jousting sword versus spear. Another arrow took Jason in the upper arm. "I told you this isn't a game!" yelled Caligula. "You don't walk away from me alive!" Below, an explosion rocked the ship. The room split farther apart. Piper staggered, which probably saved her life; three arrows hit the spot where she'd been standing.

Somehow, she pulled me to my feet. I was clutching the Arrow of Dodona, though I had no memory of picking it up. I saw no sign of Crest, or Meg, or even Medea. An arrow sprouted from the toe of my shoe. I was in so much pain already I couldn't tell if it had pierced my foot or not.

Piper tugged at my arm. She pointed to Jason, her words urgent but unintelligible. I wanted to help him, but what could I do? I'd just stabbed myself in the chest. I was pretty sure that if I sneezed too hard, I would displace the red plug in my wound and bleed to death. I couldn't draw a bow or even strum a ukulele. Meanwhile, on the broken roof line above us, more and more pandai appeared, eager to help me commit arrowcide.

Piper was no better off. The fact that she was on her feet at all was a miracle —the sort of miracle that comes back to kill you later when the adrenaline wears off.

Nevertheless, how could we leave?

I watched in horror as Jason and Caligula fought, Jason bleeding from arrows in each limb now, yet somehow still able to raise his sword. The space was too small for two men on horses, yet they circled one another, trading blows. Incitatus kicked at Tempest with his golden-shod front hooves. The ventus responded with bursts of electricity that scorched the stallion's white flanks.

As the former praetor and the emperor charged past each other, Jason met my eyes across the ruined throne room. His expression told me his plan with perfect clarity. Like me, he had decided that Piper McLean would not die tonight. For some reason, he had decided that I must live too.

He yelled again, "GO! Remember!" I was slow, dumbstruck. Jason held my gaze a fraction of a second too long, perhaps to make sure that last word sank in: remember—the promise he had extracted from me a million years ago this morning, in his Pasadena dorm room.

While Jason's back was turned, Caligula wheeled about. He threw his spear, driving its point between Jason's shoulder blades. Piper screamed. Jason stiffened, his blue eyes wide in shock.

"Apollo!" the god turned around to see Meg McCaffrey thoroughly drenched, her clothes shredded, her face and arms a war zone of bruises and cuts standing on the wall; staring horrified at the sight of Jason's slumped body.

Piper was screaming, Meg was staring, and Apollo was dumbstruck.

Then Piper collapsed and time slowed.

The three fates watched from above. They were conflicted. Interfering with fate was not something to be taken lightly.

But Gaea had done it. She had sought to replace them with Thoon. And Jason Grace had saved them. They knew that Jason Grace was supposed to die. He was to die, which would mature Apollo, which would give him the strength to defeat Commodus and Caligula in the second siege of New Rome.

Jason Grace and the heroes of this generation had sacrificed more than any before them.

Maybe it was time, they were a little benevolent.

After all. What could go wrong?

Time began to flow properly again.

A flash of light temporarily flared through the sinking room, and the distinct sound of a horse whinnying and a woman yelling rang through the room.

Then there was silence.

A massive torrent of lightning bombarded the boat blasting everything in sight and knocking Caligula and his mount back. Jason Grace rose from his slumped position, eyes clear and hard crackling with lightning.

This was weird.

He'd felt Jason Grace die. The god of the Sun had seen enough death to recognize the snip of the strings, and Jason Grace's cord had been cut and somehow, instead of being dead, the son of Jupiter stood alive, as healthy as ever, his gladius blazing with lightning.

Apollo was an old god. Four thousand years of life, in which he'd done many dastardly and stupid things,but he had never crossed one of the big three.

Well, not directly.

And at that moment, he was reminded of this fact as Jason Grace looked upon the survivors of the blast with a cold, unflinchingly harsh gaze that was painfully godlike. An aura eerily similar to his father's filled the room, forcing one word into its resident's minds; kneel.

His mouth went dry as Meg sidled up to him and muttered out of the corner of her music "What's happening?"

Apollo had no filter at this point; weakened from the torture, attempted suicide, various injuries, and minor lightning burn, for one of the first times spoke to Meg as honestly as he could, without any coercion.

"Meg, you are a daughter of Demeter, and an unusually powerful one at that." Apollo said as Meg turned to him with a frown.

"But you must understand that your power will never be anything compared to a child born of the big three." he said matter-of-factly. "Jason Grace, Nico di Angelo, Thalia Grace… they keep their power buried deep, deep down so they won't accidentally let loose, but make no mistake of it… it is there."

Even in the slowly sinking boat, filled with dead enemies, and sporting an innumerable amount of injuries, Meg Mccafrey had no filter or sense of Now's not the time.

"Now hold on, my powers are plenty-" she began before Apollo cut her off, surprising them both.

"Jason Grace destroyed a mountain the last time he let loose." he said, shocking her into silence, as the words began to flow easier "Nico Di Angelo disintegrated a man, Thalia Grace held an entire bridge during the Battle of Manhattan on her own and Perseus Jackson..."

"Percy? Nah, we met him," she said, not taking her eyes off of Jason "He's a good swordsman and all, but he couldn't even beat those uglies on the freeway."

Apollo turned to her and looked her in the eyes. "Perseus Jackson held the weight of the sky on his back, longer than any mortal save Hercules, Percy Jackson has slaughtered titans and giants, and trekked through Hell itself. He blew up Mount Saint Helens causing an entire evac-"

"That was Percy? The guy with dolphin underwear?"

"Perc-"

A scream of rage echoed through the room, interrupting Apollo. Somehow, Caligula had survived though not fully intact. His face had been burnt off, leaving the scorched flesh underneath the only thing that could make him identifiable. In his hands was a single burnt horseshoe and a long spear.

"You killed Incitatus!" he screamed at Jason who showed no sign of disturbance.

"For two-thousand years, he was my steadfast companion, and you killed him. You insignific-"

"Enough." Jason said. In that moment, Apollo was reminded of a tale he had heard long ago, of a native American spirit named Iya. Iya was a destructive storm monster of the north who fought against the warm southern winds with his cold, icy breath. He brang famine and disease everywhere he went, and disturbingly in that moment, Jason Grace was reminiscent of Iya.

Caligula jumped almost ten feet in the air, spear raised to strike a killing blow, only for his spear to get sliced in half by Jason's blazing gladius and kicked into the wall with a (not so sickening) crunch.

Jason landed and marched towards Caligula's broken body and held him aloft in a chokehold.

"Gaius Julius Caesar Germanicus. You have betrayed the legion, you have betrayed Rome and you have betrayed the Gods." he said ruthlessly, ignoring Caligula's yelps of pain as Jason manhandled him.

"For your crimes, I sentence you to death." he dispassionately informed the struggling emperor.

It was at that moment, Meg's moral compass kicked in and she called out "Jason!" to the demigod who turned to her; his eyes entirely devoid of remorse or compassion, so similar to Jupiter when he started nuking people.

"You can't kill him. That's not what heroes do." she said.

In response to Meg's cry, Jason dropped Caligula.

Before bringing his sword down and decapitating the emperor in a fountain of blood that splattered upon the Son of Jupiter's face.

"Ut te requies in inferno, te turpis canis. Ego planto certus vestri damnatio memoriae, et te in aeternum, quod nulla oblivione delebitur." he snarled before spitting upon the corpse of Caligula the Tyrannical. He turned to the shocked Meg, the grim Apollo and set his jaw.

He held his sword up, and suddenly out of nowhere an armored woman on a flying horse pulled him up and disappeared through the hole in the wall.

In 2014, when Jason Grace was elected as District Attorney of Wayne County, Michigan at the impossibly young age of twenty he was faced with what many considered an inhuman task. The Gods of Olympus and Asgard, who held dominion over most of North America, had just ignored Detroit, which was consistently ranked the worst city in the United States(though Jason was of the opinion that Little Rock held that title).

After four years of excellence, Jason Grace had not only destroyed the city's crime, he had underhandedly forced the city council into passing several economic bills and laws that invited businesses back to Detroit. It wasn't technically legal, but no one wanted to deny the son of the most powerful being in the universe. The graduation percentage had gone up, the poverty rate had gone down, and the standard of living was among the highest in the country. The son of Jupiter had used his savvy politicking skills built on a lifetime of Senatorial proceedings and put it to good use.

An excessively flattering article by the New York Times, would tell people that since Jason had become DA, the median household income had gone up from $30,000 to $60,000. A feat that had left economists and financial advisors scratching their heads.

He'd actually done something good, that wasn't for the gods.

So for the life of him, he couldn't understand why he felt like such a failure.

At least the bar was cool. A low flat brick panel that looked like it would be right at home in some sort of scottish castle. The man operating it was a friendly old black veteran from New Rome named Clyde who was one of the sole survivors of Varus's fifth cohort. After Frank and Hazel took over the legion, Clyde, the resident Primus Medicus, moved back home to Buffalo and bought this bigass farm.

He ordered a glass of Negroni, his favorite drink and leaned against the bar. The wedding started at 5 and he'd definitely shown up too early. He checked his watch and sighed.

He pulled out his phone and casually scrolled the invitation list, which was mostly veterans from the wars. It was gonna be interesting to see how everyone was, since he hadn't seen anyone yet. The last time he'd checked, the Stolls had started a chain of fast food restaurants, Clarisse had become the first woman to earn the position of head coach in the NFL(It was for the Raiders which gave Jason even more motivation to root against her.), Dakota owned a vineyard, Reyna worked for Goldman Sachs while holding a Senatorial position in New Rome, Annabeth ran an architecture firm, Leo owned half the dealerships in Texas, Piper- Piper was also a lawyer working out of Oklahoma, Kahale was an all-pro edge rusher that played for the Titans, Larry was a med student, Nico and Will owned a gay lifestyle magazine, in which they wrote and documented their experiences traveling the world(One of the benefits of being able to teleport to wherever the hell you wanted to go) and countless others.

He was shaken out of his thoughts by the arrival of one harassed looking Frank Zhang.

It was unfair how much the motherfucker towered over him. And it wasn't like he was short, no- Jason was 6'6 and somehow Frank still managed to dwarf him. The groom walked up to the bar and ordered a shot from Clyde, fidgeting nervously at the sight of Jason.

"Well, he's definitely alive." Frank said, downing the shot in one and carefully placing it on the counter.

"What?" Jason asked, turning towards his friend with a perplexed look.

"Percy," Percy supplied quickly, as Jason stared at him in disbelief. "He's definitely alive."

"Damn," Jason shook his head, his lips parted in obvious incredulity. "All this time."

"Yup," Frank provided vaguely before shrugging off his dress shirt and picking out another.

"Okay," Jason agreed, still bewildered. "And is he coming back, or..."

"No clue." Frank responded frustratedly.

Leo woke up in a bathtub, naked with two girls draped over him.

It wasn't a situation he was unfamiliar with, and he wasn't ashamed of himself. But as he gently extricated himself from the two thoroughly-satisfied women and staggered out of the marble bathroom into the main bedroom of the suite where three more women lay snoring on the bed, he wondered if he should remember their names.

He glanced at the clock before swearing loudly in Greek. It was four and the rehearsal started at five! He ran back into the bathroom and practically threw himself into the shower.

After taking a quick shower he indulged in a quick group-blowjob from the five random women he had met at Frank's bachelor party the night beforehand and dashed away.

"This isn't gonna be weird… is it?"

Piper laughed, a musical sound that had been the last sound many a monster had heard before their death(or banishment to Tartarus if you wanted to get technical).

"Why? Are you scared of him?" She answered, a teasing tone permeating the words.

Shel pursed her lips.

"You know I'm not," she retorted, "but Aryan boy, doesn't exactly like me, does he."

"Come on," Piper admonished, "don't call him that..."

"I mean am I wrong," her girlfriend answered, undeterred. "He does fit the type, tall, white, blonde hair, blue eyes."

"As I recall, Shel," Piper paused to take a sip of her own wine. "You thought he was really hot, the first time you saw him on TV."

"Well-" Shelby scoffed "That was before, I found out he was an insecure dick-bag."

"He's the DA of a major city," She replied, turning to her and posing provocatively. Shel chuckled, no stranger to her more outgoing moments. "He can't just answer my calls," She continued, turning back to the vanity, pulling a particular shade of red lipstick out of her bag.

She knew how much Jason had been hurting after she'd dumped him. It hadn't made her feel any better, for those brief moment's when she'd seen him die, and regretted their entire relationship. Then he'd come back to life, because Zeus had decided to call in a favor and turn him into one of those Einherjar.

Apparently, as soon as he'd reached Valhalla, he'd been thrust into one of their "daily training exercises for Ragnarok" in which the tens of thousands of immortal super soldiers that populated Valhalla proceeded to hack each other to bloody pieces. Jason, the first Graeco-Roman demigod to ever be in Valhalla was apparently pissed and decided to slaughter his way through the hordes of vikings for eight hours until the battlefield closed.

His kill count, the Valhalla instagram account; ValhalladailyNews had reported, was almost triple the previous record at two hundred einherjar. Jason, in those eight hours had apparently become notorious in Valhalla for smashing the one-day kill record. Apparently, Romans were feared in the Norse world because of the various(countless) viking armies that fought(and lost) against the legions.

Of course she hadn't found out immediately. Apollo had decided to drop her off at her dad's house, leaving her under the impression that Jason was dead. It was only almost two months later, when the gods decided to go public, that she'd found out that Jason was alive.

It was a little hard to stomach, especially considering that Percy was missing, Annabeth was depressed, Leo was also depressed given that Calypso had left him for an older country-singer from Kansas, the camps were practically being invaded by reporters and journalists hoping to get a scoop from the children of the gods, and TMZ was stalking her. When she'd come to terms with it, she realised one thing.

She hated Jason Grace. It was an irrational, unfair hatred that everytime she thought about it, the rational part of her brain would sneer Bitch please. But it was true. She didn't know why, but she hated Jason, and Piper swore to herself that she would rather die, before Jason Grace got anywhere close to her heart ever again.

So, all in all, Shelby didn't have anything to worry about.

"Just relax." She assured her girlfriend.

"Yeah..." Shelby answered, turning to walk out of her room, "Just know that I'll be expecting one of these of our own, soon."

"If he shows up, then just know… we're on your side ."

Annabeth smiled tersely.

"Calypso," She firmly stated, "Even if Percy does show up, which we won't because he's a coward. I don't need you guys' help. We all know that he abandoned us, and I'm sure that he knows too."

Calypso sighed.

"That's good, because by we, I meant Piper, Clarisse, Katie, and me. Hazel and the boys… they want to hear him out."

Annabeth's fist clenched discreetly, even though she knew she was getting worked up for no reason. Percy was as perceptive as a bag of rocks, and there was no way he would ever find out the truth. And if she was being honest, him leaving was one of the best things to ever happen to her. She'd never really loved him; at least not in the romantic way, and his departure had created one last massive spurt of drama that she'd milked for all it was worth.

"C," Annabeth replied, "It's fine. If they want to hear him out, that's totally ok with me. But they're going to be disappointed by what he has to say."

Calypso smiled serenely and turned away.

"I know, I just wanted you to know."

"Thank you." Annabeth answered, calculating the various different ways to kill the stupid slut in her head. Calypso had cheated on Leo and left him broken-hearted and depressed, before weaseling her way into the Seven's good graces. It had taken an entire year of constant phone calls, encouragement and

Calypso waved cheerfully.

"Alright. I'd better get dressed."

"Yeah," Annabeth replied, turning back to her neatly organized suitcase. As she idly sorted through clothes and folded them sharply, she considered the last seven years, and the incoming disaster that was Percy Jackson.

Annabeth's first and foremost goal in life was to protect her family. She didn't know where it came from, maybe from seeing Thalia turned into a tree in front of her, Luke's descent into darkness. So if protecting them came at the cost of their own personal freedom; then that was a small price to pay.

She'd never been the most powerful demigod, but she was and always had been the smartest. She used her regular Athena smarts for all of their quests, but her real strength lay in manipulation. She knew what to say, when to say it, and how to say it. Annabeth was a weaver of life and cloth. She plotted and planned for the future.

Hazel and Frank had been a match made in heaven. Two shy kids pushed together because of war. It was practically everything Percy and she was, except for the fact that their love was genuine. She'd nudged them together slowly, dropping subtle hints about how Leo was out to steal Hazel from Frank, igniting a fierce jealousy in Frank's heart. Annabeth had been planning on attaching Drew to Leo, but Calypso had come along, and she hadn't really seen any reason to look a gift horse in the mouth. Obviously her judgement had been flawed, a fact that rankled her to no end. Aside from Leo, Percy was wrapped up tight, and the only threat to her secret was Piper, who she'd had no choice but to ask for help.

That left Jason.

From the moment she saw that blonde haired, blue eyed Roman she had wanted him. He was handsome and smart, something that she desired exceedingly. But he was too smart. To get Jason, she'd have to draw him away from Piper. That hadn't worked, so instead she chose to do the opposite and draw Piper away from him.

Annabeth'd planted the seeds of doubt in Piper's mind on the voyage. She'd made her question the legitimacy of their relationship, and forced her to think about the fundamental relationship of their relationship. She cared about Piper, which was why once she had Jason in her palm, she'd turn Percy over to Piper. Percy without the external influence was kind, caring and devoted, which was exactly what Piper needed.

Then the gods had decided to fuck her plans up, by revealing themselves to the world. That meant several different things, but on the most fundamental level, the gods had stripped away the mist, which deactivated the magic subduing Percy.

He'd disappeared instantly, no doubt confused out of his mind, and Annabeth had hoped that he'd died. Quickly and painlessly of course. She still loved him and all, but as the quote went "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."

With Percy gone, Annabeth had no one left to match with Piper. She could have found some random demigod with a nice attitude and a big dick that would satisfy Piper, but number one, she doubted their would ever be a demigod as kind as Percy and two, she doubted there were very many demigods with dicks as big as Percy's. She could have tried to pair Piper with a mortal, but that would have been selfish and humiliating(for Piper).

Then her problems came to a solution on their own. Jason had seemingly died(A fact that had made her destroy her cabin in rage), causing Piper to flee LA, and move to some shithole town in Oklahoma. She'd been so degraded, that she'd forced herself to enter a relationship with some mortal named Shelby. The two had been dating for seven years, and Piper seemed to be happy.

She wasn't really happy with that relationship. Shel was just a mortal, and Annabeth had some contingencies laid out.

So now that Piper was out of the way, she needed to consider Jason. Unlike Percy, she wanted a genuine relationship with Jason, and she knew that he was still hung up on Piper. At the same time, her contacts in Europe had informed her of Percy's whereabouts. And… she'd been surprised.

He'd somehow earned a Masters and a PHD in Classical History from the University of Bologna, where he'd graduated summa cum laude. In a year.

Then he joined the mafia, where he'd worked as an enforcer/hitman.

She'd seen the bodys. Bullet riddled corpses, snapped necks, decapitated heads, and tons of other stuff that Annabeth didn't think Percy could have been capable of. Her contact had informed her that he'd retired from the Mafia and now worked as a treasure hunter. A sensible profession given his natural talents. Even then, Percy couldn't stay out of trouble. He'd practically destroyed Kathmandu in a battle against an Eastern European war lord. The body count was so high, the UN was forced to send troops in. And there were stories of a lost city in the Rub' al khali, and a golden statue airlifted out of an island off of the coast of Peru.

Nevertheless. As she entered the water under the shower, Annabeth Chase had no idea what was coming for her.

Percy woke up to the feeling of getting socked in the face.

It wasn't a pleasant feeling, but after 25 years of getting shot at, punched, kicked, beaten, blown up, knifed, tortured, drowned, stabbed and a plethora of other increasingly inventive ways designed to kill him, a little smack in the face wasn't super terrible.

Still hurt though.

He opened his eyes to the sight of Kenji Nagayama's destroyed face and groaned internally. Of all the days, he thought as his hands were focused into a pair of bone-steel handcuffs. Two ginormous asian men in dark sunglasses and cheap yet intimidatingly dark suits squeezed into the car on his left and into the passenger seat.

Kenji was a member of the Yakuza. The real Yakuza, the one that worshipped an angry death goddess hell bent on killing everyone. Now, Percy wasn't a hero anymore, but killing murderous old lady's was kind of a specialty of his, so he'd taken a detour that had ended up in a shootout with Kenji and his goons, before dueling the lady, killing her and then being surprised when she wasn't dead, which led to Percy dropping a building on her.

The building had also fallen on Kenji.

Presumably, now he wanted revenge. Bad guys, man. They never learn.

His uber driver, a speckled young teenage driver named Deshaun who looked terrified at the sight of three, men in dark suits cramped into his tiny prius and was shooting him constant looks of fear as the man in the shotgun seat, casually pulled out a menacing black silenced pistol and dropped it on the dashboard.

Percy rolled his eyes.

"Did you think we would forget?" Kenji hissed "Did you think we would forgive?"

He twisted his gun and forced it into Percy's temple.

Percy yawned lazily "Hey man, you mind postponing this." stopping Kenji who looked at him incredulously "No, don't get me wrong. I respect your initiative and all. Kudos to you for coming after me in the spirit of revenge, but we got a kid here and all, and I'm actually on my way to a wedding, so if you could just scoot that-a-way, so you don't ruin my suit, that would be ni-"

Kenji's fist crashed into Percy's face, knocking him back and eliciting a squeak from Deshaun.

"You think this is a fucking joke! You think I won't kill you." he screamed.

Percy smiled thinly "If I can't kill myself, what makes you think you can?" he said, not a single trace of fear in his eyes. Kenji's mouth went dry, before he turned to Deshaun and pointed his gun at him.

"Now, are you ready to take this seriously?" he asked, as Percy's bored smile went away "Perhaps an example needs to be made." he said hatefully, closing his finger on the trigger.

In an instant Percy kicked the gun out his hands and headbutted the suit clad man on his left, hard enough to knock him out. He slammed his shackled hands into Kenji's chest, knocking the wind out of his chest and slapped him into the door, hard enough to drive him unconscious before diving into the front seat and driving his knee into the third man's groin.

He howled in pain and tried to hit Percy, who somehow managed to dodge in the limited space that was the Prius before opening the passenger door and shoving the man out of the car, and closing it. He picked up the gun off of the dashboard and pressed his face to the window.

"Shit." Percy cursed as he noticed a fleet of dark SUV's surreptitiously trailing the Prius from a safe distance.

"Deshaun!" he called the terrified teenager who was determinedly gripping the wheel and staring ahead.

"Um yeah?" the kid responded

"You're gonna have-" he was cut short by two hands closing around his neck. In the rearview mirror he could see Kenji's bloodshot eyes, shining in hatred, and without hesitation Percy unsheathed the gun that he had stolen from the henchman, and put a bullet in the man's head, with a pop.

Blood splattered on the windows and the car, soaking and drenching the passenger seats in filth and gore, while turning the windows of the car crimson.

The kid screamed "Shit!" and swerved, almost crashing into someone else.

Percy looked down and breathed a sigh of relief. His suit was alright, before turning back to him.

"Alright, change of plans. Drop me off." he ordered leaning back into the backseat to scavenge ammunition from the bodies of the men.

"What? What- no, you- you need to help me!" the kid yelled "The back of my car looks like a fucking murder scene, which it is! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get blood out of these seats?". Percy raised his eyebrows.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to get blood out of these seats?" he asked amusedly.

"Well- no, but I've spilled Marinara sauce back there, and that shit took like three hours to clean! And you forgot. The back of my car is a murder scene!"

Percy held his hands out placatingly "All right kid it's gonna be alright," he soothed "All you have to-" his plan was interrupted by a hail of bullets smashing through the back window that miraculously managed to miss both of them.

"What the fuck!" Deshaun screamed as Percy ran his hands through his hair. The kid slammed his foot on the gas, clenched his left armrest as the Prius began to rocket through the highway at a hundred and twenty-five mile.

"How far are we from Blue Mountain Lake?" Percy asked, taking potshots at the car's trailing them.

"Ummmm," Deshaun fumbled as he desperately turned on his phone to checkUh- ten miles!"

Percy cursed in a language that he couldn't recognize before turning back to him.

"What's your bank account number?" Percy asked.

"What?" he yelled over the semi-roar of the Prius's environmentally friendly engine.

"What's your bank account number?" Percy repeated.

"Why do you wanna know?" The teenager asked suspiciously.

"Do you really want to be in possession of a car, where a double murder took place?" Percy asked sardonically

"Wait… a double mur-" before, without looking Percy put a bullet into the other knocked out man in the back who had been sleeping peacefully, causing more blood to splatter on the car.

"Jumping Jupiter! Why did you do that?" he cried.

Percy waved his hand "Nevermind that, what's your bank account number?" He dismissed casually, as if they were discussing the Knicks game(That was false, people from New York didn't talk about the Knicks).

"1-1-2-... uh why do you need it again?" he asked cautiously, before flinching as Percy turned the gun on him "Alright! Goddamn, 1-1-2-4-7-1-1-1-6-2-2-1"

Percy recited the code once before pulling out his phone and tapping something quickly. Deshauns phone buzzed and he slowly took his left arm off of the armrest to the sight of three million dollars being transferred into his bank account.

He looked at Percy incredulously, but flinched for the millionth time in the last ten minutes at the sight of his client preparing to jump out of the car. The man looked back at him and yelled "Burn the car!" before jumping out.

Surprisingly, jumping out of a moving car was something that Percy had gotten exceedingly good at in the last few years. He landed on his feet and dusted off his suit, James Bond/*Insert any spy ever* style.

He ran his hands over the gun getting familiar with its shape and size. The Glock 26, customised with re-contoured grips, a flared magwell, and a dark barrel-shaped suppressor. Definitely not standard issue.

A roar informed him of the arrival of the fleet of cars that had stopped about a hundred yards away from him. He cocked the gun, patting his back pocket, which contained three clips of 9 millimeter caliber bullets.

The car doors opened with an audible clunk and four men stepped out of each car, brandishing an assortment of various assault rifles, knives, pistols and katana's.

Yup. Definitely the Yakuza. The men with the assault rifles held their weapons up, and Percy realised that they were taking aim. He ducked behind the road divider, barely in time to dodge the storm of bullets.

Once they had stopped firing, Percy stood up and went to work.

Demigods at their lowest, were on par with olympian athletes; at least in terms of athletic capability. That was at their lowest. Percy was not at his lowest. He sprinted the gap between them in six seconds; barely enough time for the men to reload which is all Percy needed.

He ripped off a car door and slammed it into a man's neck, quasi decapitating him. He pulled another into a chokehold before taking aim and unloading the Glock into the rest. Once they were dead, Percy brusquely broke the struggling man's neck and breathed a sigh. He looked down to examine his suit.

Then the distinct noise of helicopter blades cut through the air. A trio of ark menacing shapes, that Percy identified as Chinook's, sliced through the air. Percy dropped the pistol and picked one of the dead men's guns. An AR-15.

He took aim, carefully aiming for the rotor mast and began to fire, hoping to finish some of the oncoming battle before it even started. Unfortunately he was unsuccessful, and all three helicopters landed, thirty yards away.

Three men filed out of each helicopter —all of them dressed in full combat gear, including flameproof black overalls, belt kits, body armour, Kevlar vests and Mk 6 combat helmets complete with throat mics. They were carrying a variety of weapons. Most of them had a Sig 9mm pistol strapped to their thigh. One had a sawn-off pump-action shotgun. Others carried axes, knives, Maglites and flashbang grenades; and each man was equipped with the same high-powered semiautomatic submachine gun, the Heckler & Koch 9mm MP5. As they spread out across the empty street, they barely looked human. They could have been radio-controlled robots, sent from some future war.

Behind him, a man in an expensive suit strolled out hefting a wicked broadsword over his shoulder. His eyes were as dark as night, and danced with cold, dark amusement. He definitely wasn't a human, or a demigod, but he gave off a familiar vibe. Half-titan? No… this was the Yakuza.

A half-oni.

He hadn't come across very many of those. The last one he'd talked too, had been a very nice woman in South Africa who had helped him out with a job. Apparently the Yakuza, spent half of their annual income, on rituals that would comb the globe and identify oni blood. The Yakuza had been founded by an Oni, and basically worshipped the little bastards. They were quick and fast, like most with divine blood. But, like gods, there were different types of Oni and he didn't know what power this g-

The man hefted the broadsword off of his shoulders and held it to the side as it exploded into a corona of purple fire. Then he pointed his gloved hand at Percy. His soldiers moved in unison and stepped into a march towards Percy.

Well. That answered that question.

He groaned out loud. His suit was gonna be fucked.

The wedding looked nice.

Leo was pretty sure the gods had offered Olympus as a venue, which personally he would have accepted, but the outdoor ceremony on the grounds of Karlson Mansion and on the banks of the Blue Mountain Lake was more than enough of a substitute. The altar was set a against a backdrop of frosted blue water, picturesque mountains and a pair grove of orange-gold trees that somehow were still alive in the depths of the frigid New York winter. The snow came down softly, in delicate little snips of cold, that melted on Leo's naturally hot skin.

Not too shabby.

Hazel was gorgeous, in her roman-creole hybrid dress that Leo knew that Piper had to have a hand in. Frank had actually cried, for a few seconds. A fact that Leo would never let him live down.

Frank had read him and Jason, his horrifyingly sweet vows. Something about how he loved her more than the sun loves the stars which Leo was ninety percent sure, he'd heard in a song before. If Leo was naive, he would have actually fallen for that, but he knew better now.

True Love was rare; and contrary to popular opinion, not everyone could get it. Some people were just destined to be alone.

Kanye once said that "One good girl is worth a thousand bitches."

Well why stop at a thousand? Not to brag or anything, but over the years Leo had had a lot of sex, with a lot of women. The inevitable reaction of shock and delight when a girl pulled his pant's down had gone a long way to fixing a life of lingering self-image issues, even if they weren't "good". Moreover Leo had learned to love himself for who he was. His earliest demigod influence was Jason, who was tall, handsome and pulled girls without trying. Then he met Percy, may his soul be at rest, who had hundreds of girls drooling all over his bronzed body. Leo didn't really fit those, he was scrawny where Percy was lean, and he was short where Jason was tall. Then Calypso had come along, and soothed his insecurities.

Before dumping him via text, and leaving him for some country singer.

Speaking of- Leo looked up to see Calypso and Billy Joey Montana; famous country singer, known for maintaining a strong presence on Billboard's top 100 at all times, sitting stiffly on the third aisle, he noted with petty satisfaction. He was a groomsman.

Then music began to play. The wedding was supposed to have started at five, but for some reason they'd delayed it toc five-thirty. Frank and Jason had been looking around anxiously, waiting for something, but they'd refused to tell him what it was. Regardless, whatever they'd been anticipating hadn't showed up, which was honestly a win in his book.

Hazel beamed once tremulously, which instantly cleared up any tension on Frank's face. He broke out into a broad, nervous grin that made Leo feel a little less cynical.

Then the chapel doors swung open with a bang, and everything changed.

In the doorway stood one very beat up, bedraggled Percy Jackson. A man who Leo had thought was dead.

And unlike Leo, he'd been gone for way more than six months.

The rush of emotions that raged through Leo could not be quantified by any known term. It was a hot feeling like drinking lava. Then the lava supercooled and filled him with rage.

Percy, at the moment resembled Keanu Reeves from those moves- he'd forgotten what they were called. Jack Reacher- no, John Wick. Yeah. Percy looked eerily similar to John Wick, right down to the suit covered in blood and the various scratches that marred his face. Leo could practically feel three Tartara Steel bullets inside of Percy, and based off of the trio of bloody spots that stained the white of his shirt, on the inside of his shoulder, he knew where they were. He didn't understand how Percy could walk, with those in him. Also, he was holding a wicked looking pistol in his left hand. That was actually the least surprising thing about him.

Percy ran a hand through his short hair as he awkwardly stood on the threshold to the silent room.

The room was pin-drop silent, as Percy limped forward to Hazel who's hands struggled to hold the bouquet. Then he took a step in front of Jason to look at the other side of the altar towards Annabeth who looked downright murderous.

Percy looked around the room, purposefully looking over Annabeth and Piper. Then he locked eyes with Leo and grinned. Unfortunately… Leo had no sense of self control and grinned back.

Percy took that as a sign of encouragement and turned to the crowd of demigods, minor gods and mortals.

"Um… hi."

AN/ Just workin lmao. I lost twenty-five hours a week cuz of sports, so it's hard to write now.

None of this is being beta'd so if you see any errors, let me know.

Ut te requies in inferno, te turpis canis. Ego planto certus vestri damnatio memoriae, et te in aeternum, quod nulla oblivione delebitur. - May you rest in hell, you filthy dog. I will make sure of your condemnation from memory, and you will forever be forgotten.

No, there's no evidence that the Romans fought the Vikings(as far as I know). But they did fight Germans and other european civilizations that could be misnomered as Vikings.

Drop your top 5 Kanye songs pls.

Blame Game is the best song on the Album CMV.

Knicks fans, I know your good now. Doesn't mean you weren't trash for the last twenty years tho.