The Meeting

Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson.

Author's note: Milo and LableTHEFOURTH, thanks for taking the time to review. But I would like to remind you that the prologue was Looking4Misteria's chapter, and that all compliments towards it should be directed to her. From this chapter onwards, it is solely my writing, with the characters of Rick Riordan. I request you to read author's notes because they contain important information towards the story. While I like to keep my own author's notes short, and even if they are long, not too long, others may not and that might frustrate you. Thank you for reviewing nonetheless.

Percy stood there, in front of all the people and cameras, in front of all the politicians in his blood stained armor, his hair matted with blood, thin as a rake, not yet recovered from the horrors of Tartarus, scars covering his body. Lights flashed as the cameramen clicked and clicked until they could click no more. Silent and shocked, he fingered his pen-which-could-turn-sword Riptide in his pocket, and patted the bulk of the cards given to him Annabeth and her mother Athena. He would definitely need them.

"I say that this is ruse!" a man yelled. "An advertisement by the film companies to promote their next film. Bring in a so-called 'monster'! We'll tear off his mask and reveal him!"

His heart sank with each accusation, each disbelieving word and each glare and calculating glance directed at him. He wanted to flee, every instinct of him was telling him to. But no, he could not do that. He could not let another demigod, another friend take the burden of this task when he could. He knew that the gods wouldn't help them. When had they ever? Luke had been right. The gods didn't truly care, did they?

He squashed those traitorous feelings, burying them deep within him. No. The gods did care. Or they wouldn't have showed up at all. His dad did care.

"Shouldn't we ask his name first?" asked a brown-haired man. His blue eyes were intelligent and open. "Young man, what is your name?"

He swallowed all the nervousness, an easy grin appearing on his face as he bowed slightly. "Perseus Jackson, at your service," he said.

"Mr. Jackson," started a blond haired man at the back. He was dressed smartly in a black suit, his hair was immaculate and his shoes well-polished. "If we may ask, are the monsters real?"

"Oh, call me Percy, please," he said. "And to answer your question," his tone grew more somber, "yes, they are real."

Pandemonium. Chaos. The hall full with men from all over the world descended into mayhem and madness as all the people in it shouted, protested, saying, 'It cannot be true,'. People yelled his name, saying he must be lying.

"Mr. Jackson, Percy," the brown haired man said. He was starting to like this dude. "What are they?"

He had been expecting this question. And he had just the answer to it. "They are monsters," he said. "From the Greek myths, oh sorry," he said at the thunder that was heard. "From the stories of Ancient Greeks," he amended. "They search for demigods, children of the gods. Generally, they leave mortals alone. To stay safe from these monsters, demigods live in safe havens, two places under the guises of summer camps, Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter and its adjoining city, New Rome."

"If we may ask," asked a woman with green hair. "Are you a demigod?"

"You may," he couldn't resist saying. A smile bloomed on his face, a cheeky one that promised mischief. "Yes, I am."

"Whose son are you?"

Some random person shouted this. "Well, allow me to re-introduce myself," he said. "Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon, god of the seas, father of horses, Stormbringer and Earthshaker." He topped it off with a deep bow.

They took it rather well, all things considered. If you count gaping and opening and closing one's mouth like a fish as 'taking it well'. They didn't shout or scream or faint, so he counted it as a win.

Now came the question of 'How do you identify a demigod?'. So, he had to tell them all about a demigod's life.

"One sign of a demigod is the person having ADHD and dyslexia," he stated. "If you spot a kid having extreme dyslexia or ADHD, there is a big chance that they are a demigod. But," he added. "Not all kids that have these are demigods. Some may be legacies. Legacies are people whose parents are not a god/goddess, but are related to them in some manner. Or, it could just be an unfortunate guy," he shrugged.

"Monsters hunt demigods," he announced, his voice ringing loud and clear. "They seek to kill them. Monsters are demigods' mortal enemies, even though," he said as he thought of Mrs. O'Leary, Tyson and Ella, "there are some exceptions."

"So, demigods are brought to camps known as Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter. There they train to survive, to fight and live another day."

"Someone will probably be coming to explain this later to all of you, perhaps even me," he said. "But for now, I must take my leave. Farewell!"

And he turned tail, sprinting out of the hall into marble corridors out.

"How was it?" demanded Annabeth. The cabin counselors, and the Seven who were not such, Reyna and Grover were waiting there for him.

He smiled at her, the rush of adrenaline that had been keeping him up and running for so long leaving his body. He almost collapsed but managed to keep standing. "I'm not really sure," he said. "I ran out of the hall in the end. I think it went well."

And maybe, just maybe there would be a day when mortals and demigods and gods would reconcile, like the olden days of Ancient Greece when jerky heroes ran around waving weapons. Well, except for Perseus.

And he would be here to witness it. Alive.

Only a day late. Not too bad, is it? It could have been worse. Also, thank you everybody for the favorites, followings and reviews. I hope you like this chapter. See you next Sunday, hopefully.