He was shaken awake roughly by his foster father just as he drifted off into blissful sleep.
"Up you get," he muttered, shoving a duffel into Icarus' bare chest, "Go on, now."
"Whazzup," Icarus mumbled, trying to shake the sleep from his eyes. His eyes focused for a moment to read 1:04 AM glowing eerily from his alarm clock in the dark of his room.
"There's a couple of guys here for you," his foster father said coldly, "They told me they're here to take you to some summer apprentice training camp or some nonsense."
He instantly woke up, his grogginess replaced by apprehension. Was it those two guys with the single eye? Had they come to kidnap him?
"Who did they say they were again," Icarus asked as he pulled on a t-shirt.
"They didn't say. It's just some guy in a wheelchair and this other teenager."
Icarus froze for a breath, before pulling on his hoodie. His pajamas and wool socks would do for now. was probably the wheelchair guy and Grover probably the teenager. He was proved somewhat correct when he came downstairs, fully dressed and wide awake. sat in his wheelchair in the living room calmly gazing at the expensive chandelier lighting up the room. The teenager, however, wasn't Grover. It was a tall, lean guy with black hair and green eyes. He seemed very impatient, pouting at .
" ?"
The two men turned to look at him.
The teen raised his hand in a hello, grinning at him while smiled warmly.
" ! Glad to see you're doing well. Come along, now. Summer camp time."
Icarus was barely out the door when he stopped.
"Wait a goddamn second," he growled, "What do you mean summer camp? It's fucking winter."
didn't slow down as his electric wheelchair pulled him into a white van with a faded Delphi Strawberry Service decal. The teen turned to frown at me.
"First of all, language," he said, his voice rather deep, "Second of all, trust me, kid. You're safer there than here."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"No time to explain now. I'll tell you on the way."
He grabbed my hand and began dragging me to the van. Any sensible person would resist and cry for help. I went along.
The inside of the van was just as depressing as the outside.
"Watch your step," the teen guy called as he dropped himself in the driver's seat.
Sure enough, bronze knives and swords lay strewn over the backseat. sat beside Percy, looking out of the rearview with concern.
"We must make haste," he grumbled, "I can feel them. They are almost upon us."
"I know, I know," the teenager grumbled, shoving the keys he fished from his pocket into the ignition and shooting down the street.
"I understand you're very confused, Icarus," assured, "But do not worry. You are safe now."
"Who are you," Icarus asked no one in particular.
"I'm Chiron," admitted, " was an alias, I'm afraid."
"And I'm Percy," the teenager flashed a peace sign, his eyes never leaving the road, "Percy Jackson."
Percy Jackson was a lot of things. He was not, however, a collector. So when Chiron had reached out to him and requested that Percy come along with him to transport a demigod to camp, Percy was reluctant to comply. After convincing his mother, Sally Jackson, that he would return safely, he trudged along with Chiron in the dead of night to an upper class part of the city to get the kid. An hour later, he realized just how much of a bad idea this was.
"Swerve left," the kid yelled, jarring Percy. Nevertheless, he twisted the wheel harshly, narrowly missing another molten boulder that was hurled at them.
"What the fuck is that," the kid asked him, his voice shaking.
"That," grunted Percy, "is probably an ogre."
"Er, ogres don't have one eye, do they?"
He heard Chiron sigh beside him, and swear in Ancient Greek.
"No, child."
"Then what are they?"
"What do you think," Percy grumbled.
"A…um…cyclops?"
"Bingo."
BOOM.
Tarmac exploded in front of them, showering they van in debris. He heard the engine splutter as the van shuddered violently and came to a stop.
"That's not good," the kid commented, his voice perfectly calm.
"No shit," Percy yelled, rushing to undo his seatbelt as he plucked a pen from his pocket.
He stumbled out of the van, the tarmac hissing as the soles of his sneakers hit the ground. The ground shook under his feet as the monsters chasing them came to a halt fifty feet away from them. It was three, fully grown cyclops.
"Perseus, we must retreat! The camp borders are a hundred yards up from here."
"Take the kid. Go. I'll hold them off."
He saw the kid dive out of the back seat, the door sliding shut behind him. Percy scrutinized his appearance. He was not too short, black hair, wide chocolate eyes, pasty skin, and his dark clothes hanging off of his lean frame.
"You're fighting with a pen," the whispered incredulously, his eyes wide. Percy uncapped the pen, Riptide springing out. He nodded at the kid, then turned to face the monsters. He heard the kid gasp in surprise, then hooves leading further and further away. The cyclopses sized him up, then rushed at him. He slid under through the feet of the first one, hurdled over the fist of the second, and stabbed the third in the gut. Showered in golden dust, he whirled around to see a fist flying at him. He ducked, and stabbed upward, a groan and a spray of dust indicating another had been killed. The last cyclops remaining eyed him wearily.
"The child is of danger, Perseus Jackson," it growled.
Percy raised his eyebrows, circling the monster.
"Who sent you?"
The cyclops shook his massive head.
"It is of no consequence."
"Oh, but I think it is."
The cyclops growled, plucking a boulder from the hillside.
"Olympus is destined to fall at his hand."
A chill crawled up his spine. He chuckled nervously.
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," he said softly, not betraying concern.
The cyclops shrugged, then hurled the boulder. Percy dodged, then threw Riptide at it like a javelin. The Cyclops disintegrated even before the boulder shattered on the ground. As Percy recovered his sword and hiked up the hill, he couldn't shake the chill. Peleus, curled around Thalia's pine, woke as Percy neared, allowing him to pet the dragon. As Percy stroked his scaly head and looked over his home, he thought about the words of the monster. In the moonlight, it looked calm and peaceful. The soft wash of the moon rolled over the strawberry fields and the cabin wing, giving the place a tranquil look.
"Destined to destroy Olympus," Percy murmured, "No. Not if I can help it."
With that, he set of to The Big House.