Percy Jackson was getting used to working odd jobs over the last four months. A weekend here, a few weekdays there, and on one notable occasion, five very strange hours at a high-end Gotham retail store. This job started just like every other job he's had in the city. He got a call from his temp agency a week ago for a three-day gig providing extra security for a warehouse south of the old Dixon Docks for an unknown benefactor.

Annabeth was suspicious immediately, and she tried for two days to talk him out of it. Percy knew he was an idiot for not listening to her advice, but $25 per hour was too good to pass up. Saving the world didn't pay the rent or for Annabeth's textbook rentals. She was mad at him for it, but she still slipped her Yankees cap in his jacket pocket before he left their apartment. So, Percy was confident the apology chocolate-covered strawberries he left near her desk would be well-received.

The first day was business as usual for what Percy could only describe as "hired-goon-work." A crew of workers carried crates off retired fishing boats, stacking them right onto the quay before another team carried the boxes into the three-story warehouse. He and his temporary partner, a scary-looking middle-aged man Percy had dubbed Bald Steve, were handed walkie-talkies and stationed near the harbor entrance watching for approaching watercraft. Bald Steve didn't say much during their eight-hour shift looking over the murky waters. Fortunately, while the man relieved himself, Percy managed to have an enlightening, yet sporadic, conversation about invasive muscles with a chatty trout named Bill. As a New Yorker, Percy wouldn't be caught dead complimenting New Jersey, but the local fish were some of the friendliest he'd ever met.

The second day was just as calm. Bald Steve, who Percy learned was actually named David, was just as silent as ever. The trout came back to say hello, but he couldn't stay long. Apparently, he had a date. Percy, reeling from learning trout dated at all, didn't question him. A part of him wanted to ask Bill about the ins and outs of fish dating, but he held his tongue, waved him off, and wished him good luck, much to the confusion of Bald Steve who came back from the toilet just in time to see Percy waving at the water.

Percy could tell Bald Steve did not like him. Bald Steve was a part of the original security team and seemed fairly high up in the ranks. He looked at Percy like he was a waste of the boss's money. It was obvious from the get-go that Percy, at 19 years old, was the youngest person on the security team. Bald Steve looked forty-five, and he smelled like Smelly Gabe. He was shorter than Percy but was more muscular by a long shot. His biceps strained against the tight sleeves of his black uniform shirt, and his shoulder muscles were so large that his neck was practically hidden behind them. It made him look like a jacked turtle that exploded out of its shell. He would be scary if not for his height and extremely reflective head.

His worst quality, in Percy's opinion, was the pistol he kept strapped to his waist. He'd rest his hand on it periodically during their shift. He looked like he wanted someone to break into the warehouse; he looked like he wanted to shoot somebody. The guy gave him the creeps, and Percy was glad Bald Steve didn't want anything to do with him.

When the third and final day rolled around, Percy was completely over the job. The eight hours of silence each day was grating on his nerves. Annabeth was far from sympathetic when he complained about it over breakfast that morning, and he had to extend his run by two miles just to get the excess energy out before he could sleep. He got to the warehouse at 10 pm irritable and on edge. Hopefully, he would have an uneventful final day of suffering, and he could put this experience behind him. Yet, when he got to the warehouse, he could tell immediately something was off.

There was electricity in the air. Bald Steve looked nervous. The mismatched extra hired hands were mingling with the primary security crew more than they ever had before. The most shocking development of all was that Bald Steve walked right up to Percy, handed him a pistol, and whispered in his ear, "The boss is coming."

Bald Steve had the thickest New Jersey accent Percy had ever heard. Percy assumed he was making a bewildered face, because Bald Steve pulled away from him quickly, and started heading to their typical post.

The gun in hand was cool to the touch. He had no idea what the make or model was; he didn't even know what kind of bullets it fired. But he did know better than to fire it. For gods' sake, he almost killed somebody last time he practiced archery. He didn't want to think about the destruction he could cause with a more powerful ranged weapon. More importantly, he despised guns. The first ten years of his life were spent in neighborhoods wracked with gun violence. He knew kids who got shot walking to school, and he once had an elderly neighbor suffer a near-fatal heart attack when a bullet went through her window. Guns did nothing but cause misery to anyone who got near them.

Holding the gun loosely, he followed Bald Steve to the harbor. The first two hours passed slowly. Bald Steve was tense, and Percy's hand clutching his borrowed pistol started to sweat. Thirty minutes after midnight, the silence was broken by Bald Steve's walkie-talkie blaring to life.

"Unit-3 respond, over." A scratchy voice shouted. Bald Steve yanked the walkie-talkie off his belt and held it so close to his mouth, practically kissing the plastic.

"Unit-3 responding." He said back.

"The Rockhopper is arriving. Move to North entrance, over." Bald Steve looked downright giddy at the news. He immediately barked back a confirmation before hastily clipping the radio back on his belt. He muttered a "stay here" to Percy before rushing through the metal door behind them.

The second Bald Steve was out of sight, Percy walked to the edge of the quay and pitched his gun into the harbor. He watched it glimmer in the moonlight before he sensed it hitting the water. Feeling a small tug in his gut, he used a little power to send it directly to the bottom of the Atlantic. Percy resolved that if Bald Steve caused a stink about the gun going missing, he'd just toss him into the harbor with it.

Percy let out a deep breath and wiped his hands on his jeans. He glanced around before sitting on the edge and letting his feet dangle just above the water. Even with Bald Steve gone and the gun at the bottom of the harbor, Percy felt tense. The air coming off the icy water stung his face and chilled his skin but sweat kept forming on the back of his neck. He should have listened to Annabeth. Percy debated whether he should bail and catch the late train back home to her. He knew Annabeth would be awake. She was probably exactly where he left her—hunched over a bridge blueprint with a half-chewed pencil in her mouth. She'd laugh and say "I told you so" but she'd also play with his hair as he fell asleep. Going home was looking better and better as far as he was concerned.

Before he could come to a decision, the distinctive sounds of a tail slapping against water filled his ears. Glancing between his dangling sneakers, he saw a familiar face. Bill's slimy noggin was peeking out of the water and bobbing with the waves.

"Bill?" Percy called. Hearing his name, Bill slapped the water even harder with his tail. Grateful for the high tide, Percy laid on the quay and dunked his head into the water. Bill was immediately in his face, so close Percy almost had to go cross-eyed to see him.

"My Lord! I came to warn you! It's not safe, my lord. You must leave!" Bill said in a panic. The fish was waving its fins erratically. The spots on his face just above his eyes made him look like he had furrowed eyebrows.

"Calm down." Percy instructed before asking, "What are you talking about?"

Bill took a steady gulp of water through his gills, "Birds and bats, my Lord." Bill said solemnly. "Dangerous mortals are coming. I heard upstream that the mortal heroes are fighting, and they're coming here." Birds? Bats? Percy thought to himself, but the pieces were already starting to click together. Batman and Robin. Fuck.

"Are you talking about Batman?" Percy asked.

"Yes, my Lord," Bill replied. Percy swore. What did Batman want here? What exactly had Percy gotten himself into?

"Thank you, Bill." Percy said, "I'll get out of here as soon as possible." Bill slapped his tail as he turned to leave, sending little bubbles into Percy's face.

Before he disappeared, Percy remembered to ask the question he'd been chewing on for the last 24 hours. "Wait! Before you go, how was your date?"

Bill looked honored Percy remembered his date. Well, as much as a trout can look honored. Bill gave a fishy grin before replying, "I think she's the one, my lord."

Percy grinned back. "Congratulations. Now get back to freshwater, dude. I'll be careful."

"Yes, my lord!"

When Bill was completely out of view, Percy pulled his head out of the water.

Percy and Annabeth had been living in Gotham for five months now. Neither one of them had a seen a glimpse of the famed mortal vigilantes. Nico, the massive nerd, knew every piece of Batman trivia ever accumulated by the public. When he learned Annabeth got accepted into the prestigious Gotham University School of Architecture, Nico unloaded what felt like a year's worth of information on him. He couldn't remember everything the son of Hades told him, but he did know that Batman was supposedly a good guy. So, if Bill was right and Batman was coming to the warehouse, Annabeth had been right from the jump. This job was shifty.

Percy groaned as he stood. He tried to stay out of trouble while Annabeth went to class, but here he was getting tangled up in the dirty underbelly of Gotham. He needed to scram before he made it on anyone's radar, but could he really leave if something dangerous was going on? The dilemma trapped him in place for a second, but the decision was made for him.
The sharp crack of a single gunshot echoed from within the warehouse making him jump.

"Ah, Styx," Percy said under his breath. In one motion he turned, slipped Annabeth's cap onto his head, and snuck through the metal door leading into the warehouse.

—

Percy was an idiot. Annabeth was kind to call him Seaweed Brain, because the second the door closed behind him, Percy was convinced the only thing between his ears was stale air.

A short, plump man in a ridiculous three-piece suit stood over a costumed child wrapped in a small boat chain. The man had a smoking revolver in his hand leveled at a spot right next to the kid's ear. His ridiculous top hat sat low over his eyes, but his hooked nose was just long enough to jut past the brim. The lighting in the warehouse wasn't great, but Percy recognized him immediately. It was the Gotham supervillain Penguin, and Percy was on his godsdamned payroll. He'd say the fates hated him, but he's the one who didn't put two and two together even after learning the boss's codename was Rockhopper. If he survived, he was never going to live this down when the camp got wind of it.

"The next one goes between the eyes, bird boy." Penguin threatened. The child at his feet stopped squirming in his chains. There was blood running down his temple and pooling at the edge of his domino mask. Percy could sense the chains. They must be from a boat of some sort because Percy's senses told him that thick chains that bound the kid's arms and legs also tied him to a rusty old 45-pound anchor hidden from view. What was in view was the murderous expression on the small masked face. When Percy finally spied the bright yellow "R" on his costume, he immediately had to fight the urge to slam his face against the crate he'd hid behind.

"Gentlemen." The Penguin said, stepping over the kid. "We seem to have an infestation of bats." Penguin slammed his cane into Robin's ribs as he walked. The fat cigar sticking out of his mouth sent large puffs of smoke airborne. The scent was strong enough Percy could smell it from his hiding place. The Penguin scanned the crowd of goons before him, and Percy let out a relieved breath when his beady eyes completely bypassed him. He owed Annabeth for loaning out her hat, big-time.

"Load the bird into my chopper." The Penguin ordered. "I want the cargo in the second location yesterday. Burn the warehouse. Leave no trace."

Bald Steve was the first to move after the order was issued. With one beefy arm, he scooped up the downed Robin and threw him over his shoulder. In his other hand, he grabbed the anchor. Five other men dressed exactly like Bald Steve stood at his flanks. They moved as a unit following the Penguin as he walked to an old cargo elevator.

Percy grit his teeth. His eyes jumping from the drops of blood Robin left on the concrete floor to the elevator rattling to the top of the building. Getting on a supervillain's shit-list wasn't a good plan. Annabeth would probably kill him. But Robin was a kid—a mortal child in the hands of a madman. Batman was coming, but Percy would be damned to the darkest corner of the underworld before he left an innocent kid's life up to the fates.

Percy moved quickly. He left his hiding spot behind as Penguin's men started rushing to move crates outside. He sent a silent prayer to the gods that the noise from the goons lifting boxes would mask his steps as he raced up the stairs. Luckily, his sneakers didn't make much noise against the metal. He was glad he didn't listen to the dress code.

Taking two steps at a time, he got to the third floor only to see a door labeled "roof access" swinging in the cross-breeze created from broken windows. Percy started sprinting. Under his feet, he could hear distant screams from below resonating through the concrete. Percy hoped it was Batman for the kid's sake. For his own survival, however, he hoped it was just someone getting a little too enthusiastic at work. Percy was technically one of Penguin's hired hands, and he really didn't want to get dropped off a building by a dude in a bat costume.

Stepping onto the roof, Annabeth's hat got ripped from his head the second he cleared the landing. He barely caught it before it went over the edge of the building. The blades of Penguin's helicopter sent blasts of chilled air slamming into Percy as it took off. Bald Steve's entourage acted as the rearguard as the helicopter quickly flew over the harbor. Percy could see Bald Steve's head reflecting in the moonlight. He was hanging Robin's head out of the side door and looking directly at Percy. Or at least that's what Percy first thought.

A cold presence all but materialized behind him, and he barely managed to duck and roll away from the hand that reached for his neck. Coming up in a crouch, Percy came face-to-face with the Bat of Gotham. And as it turns out, he wasn't alone.

On his left, a man in a black Kevlar suit with a blue bird stretched across his chest stood taut with a furious look on his face. His eyes, like Batman's, were glued to the helicopter that was becoming a speck over the harbor. To his right, Percy immediately recognized the fucking notorious crime boss, Red Hood. Percy's shitty apartment sat right on the border of Hood's territory. He knew what the man was capable of. He knew guys who knew guys that ran afoul of the Hood, and as far as Percy could tell from the angle of Hood's helmet, the man was staring right at him.

Styx. Percy hoped he lived long enough for Annabeth to kill him.