High above the clouds, hidden by the veil of the Mist, was the kingdom of Olympus. It was built upon a disembodied mountain peak, and at the highest point was the Olympian seat of power, the throne room, the place where the gods made their decisions on how the world must be ruled.

The inhabitants of the divine city spoke softly, with meaningful glances at the throne room, because such a decision was being made now. For it was 1945, and the largest and deadliest conflict in human history had just been concluded. The second World War, fought between sons of the sky and the underworld.

Inside the throne room, a lightning bolt was slammed down onto perfect alabaster marble, brilliant azure sparks thundering and bringing the room to a quiet.

"Enough." Zeus, the lord of the skies, proclaimed, silencing the council of gods. "Your discussions can wait."

Inclining his head on his throne, Zeus turned to regard Apollo. "Why have you summoned this meeting?"

Apollo swallowed, a surprisingly human gesture from such an inhuman being. "A few minutes ago, the Oracle of Delphi issued a prophecy. It impacts us all."

Clearing his throat, the god continued. "

A half-blood of the eldest gods, shall reach sixteen against all odds. And see the world in endless sleep. The hero's soul, a cursed blade shall reap. A single choice shall end his days. Olympus to preserve or raze."

For a brief instant, for the first time in millenia, there was utter silence in the throne room, as the various gods processed this.

Then the chaos began, as each god began shouting, offering their own opinion. Surprisingly it was Athena, the goddess of wisdom, who acted first.

"Silence!" The goddess screamed.

Unused to hearing the dignified deity raise her voice like so, the room fell quiet once more, and eyes turned to her.

Athena cleared her throat, continuing. "This is a clear and present threat to our reign. We must take action. We cannot afford to be reactionary." Her gaze drifted over to the eldest gods in the room, the lords of the skies and the sea. "The last time we were reactionary, the gigantomachy nearly destroyed us."

Zeus stiffened, but nodded. "What do you propose then, Athena?"

"We take a proactive response. From the prophecy, it is clear that there will be a demigod of the eldest gods born soon, who will make a choice that will very likely result in our continued reign, or our destruction." Athena regarded the council, making eye contact with each member. "I propose we intentionally create such a demigod, and keep him with us. We can control the outcome of this to our favour."

"Ridiculous!" Hera, the queen of the gods, slammed her staff into the marble floor, cracking it. "I propose we avoid it entirely, and make a ban on the creation of demigods!"

Artemis, the goddess of the hunt, was typically silent at these meetings. She sat curled up in her throne, watching the proceedings with a baleful eye. At Hera's words, she snorted. "Yeah, that'll work."

Hera turned to her, and gave a sickenly sweet smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that, stepdaughter."

Hera's smile was sweet in the same way that a cloud of hydrogen cyanide was called sweet.

Artemis sat up a bit, brushing auburn hair out of her face. She returned Hera's mocking smile with a roll of her eyes. "Your solution is to ban the eldest gods in this room from having demigods, from conceiving with mortal women?" Her silver eyes glinted. "Surely you must know by now how ridiculous such a proposal is?"

"Are you claiming my husband to be incapable of being faithful when the fate of Olympus is at stake?" Hera screeched.

A loud guffaw suddenly rang out, before it was smothered by a hand. All eyes turned to Apollo, who was blinking tears of mirth out of his eyes. "Yes." The god of the sun said. "Yes, that's exactly what my sister is claiming."

Hera slumped down into her throne, crossing her arms in a surprisingly juvenile display for a millenia old goddess. "The sad thing is, I can't even really disagree." Hera muttered, turning a side-eye to her husband, raising a palm to her face.

For a brief moment, the council went quiet, before it was broken again, this time by Poseidon.

"I propose a vote. Those for Athena's proposal, vote now."

Surprising nobody, the plan from the goddess of wisdom was put forth. And thus, deliberations ensued.


First was the selection of the godly parent. If the fate of Olympus was to ride upon the shoulders of this demigod, he would need to be powerful. Much of the eldest gods were eliminated thusly, with Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon remaining.

Further discussion occurred. Zeus was eliminated, for his children were not as malleable or controllable, they were too prideful, too willful. Hades was eliminated, for his children were too unstable, and too dangerous, as evidenced by the world war that had just ended.

Thus, the demigod would be a son of Poseidon.

Posiedon agreed, and for the first time in centuries, a son of Poseidon entered the world, born out of necessity, rather than lust. The demigod was conceived similar to the children of Athena, a brain child between Poseidon and a mortal the lord of the seas refused to name, lest she become a target.

Hebe, Athena, and Hephaestus were then set to task. The son of Posiedon was aged up to the age of sixteen by the goddess of youth. Knowledge was implanted into the brain of the young demigod, enabling him to function, and to understand the world around him.

In less than a second, the goddess of wisdom implanted sixteen years worth of education and experience into the mind of the boy.

And then finally, Hephaestus brought his skill to bear. They could not give the demigod partial immortality, for fear of making him subject to the ancient laws, rendering him incapable of interference. But they could make him biologically 16 for as long as possible, if not forever, with the aid of Hephaestus.

Thus, the body of the demigod was modified, becoming more machine than man. Tendons were replaced by bronze wires, muscles by pistons, circulatory systems by hydraulic oil and electricity. The only being on the planet who could compare to the boy now was a son of Athena hidden in the Labyrinth.

Athena, who had suggested the idea, had the honor of naming the demigod. The goddess of wisdom dubbed their creation Perseus. Their destroyer and avenger.

Now the gods had their saviour. All that was left was training the boy, making him into a warrior.

Ares, the god of war, volunteered. And who could turn down that? The god of war himself, at the height of his power due to the recently ended second world war, offering to tutor their constructed savior in the ways of combat?

The gods accepted, unaware or uncaring as to what such training would entail.

It wouldn't be until 55 years later, where a random visit from Hestia, the goddess of the hearth, would reveal the truth.

Ares first bathed Perseus in the River Styx, similar to how Thetis had bathed Achilles, dipping him in the river of the underworld and holding him by his heel.

And then Ares sent the demigod, now bearing both impenetrable skin and an artificial body, into the world's divine conflicts. For 55 years, Perseus fought in the eternal war of pantheons, earning his title as the 'Fist of Olympus.'

Wars between dieties ran in parallel to conflicts in the mortal world, and thus Pecy fought in some of the most inhospitable environments imaginable, from the islands of the Far East, to the urban jungles of Eastern Europe.

He had been given only the basics of what being human entailed, and then he was thrust into conflict after conflict, knowing only war. If the gods had wanted an unstoppable killing machine, controlled only by them, they had gotten their wish.

Hestia, horrified by what the council had done, offered to take the boy in, to become his handler. With their grim work done, and their controllable warrior created, they had no reason to refuse. The gods agreed.


Dust rained down from a concrete ceiling, swirling on the floor of the building as it was shaken by gunfire and explosions. Men ran through half destroyed hallways, rifles held up in front of them as they came ever closer to the source of the gunfire.

A boy smashed through a solid concrete wall, an invulnerable arm guarding his eyes against the detritus. He peeked over his extended arm, and quickly ducked behind a concrete column as someone screamed out a contact report.

Rounds punched into the column behind him as the teenager calmly reached onto his chest and pulled out a grenade. Something that could've been a smirk briefly crossed the boy's face as he pulled the pin and tossed it at the source of the incoming fire.

An explosion sounded out behind him, and the gunfire went silent.

Percy Jackson stepped out from behind the column, walking calmly through the destroyed room. An old oversized US army jacket billowed around him as his combat boots sounded audibly against the rough concrete.

Cold eyes surveyed the bodies on the ground, before he shook his head. He idly brushed off an arm, removing the concrete dust. Bending down, Percy liberated a rifle from one of the fallen soldiers. He walked out of the room and down a hallway, towards a closed and locked door.

Men started to flood out of the adjacent rooms, but with inhuman precision and speed Percy opened fire, single handedly turning the hallway into a killzone. Every trigger pull was a neutralized enemy.

With almost contemptuous ease he had made it to the door. Tossing the liberated rifle aside, Percy extended his leg forth and kicked the door. His foot impacted like a breaching charge, and the door disintegrated into a shower of splinters, letting the demigod stroll through unheeded.

Cold, machine-like eyes surveyed the room briefly, before they came to rest on an overweight man cowering behind a desk. Percy examined him for a brief moment, before nodding to himself. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a pistol, levelling it at the man's head.

"You won't get away with this!" The man blustered. "I have friends in high places, they'll be coming for m-"

The sharp sound of a ringing phone pierced the air. Both the man and Percy looked incredulously at a pocket of his jacket. Percy sighed, raising the barrel of the pistol so that it faced the ceiling, his free hand travelling to his pocket.

"Hold that thought, would you?" Percy asked, pulling an old, beaten up phone up and answering it.

"Perseus Jackson, where are you?" A sharp female voice echoed from the speaker, and the boy smiled despite the situation.

He briefly looked around himself, and at the general he was sent to kill. "Urzikstan. Just wrapping things up here. I'll be home soon, Hestia."

"You better be. The council has another mission for you."

"Understood. Give me 4 hours."

"See you then. Be safe, you hear me!" Hestia's voice somehow had a warm, homey aspect to it, even through the tinny speakers of a old burner phone.

"Always, ma'am."

Percy hung up the phone, looking fondly at it for a brief second before he shoved it into a pocket. He glanced at the still cowering man, blinking briefly, as if just remembering what he was doing there.

"Sorry about that. Where were we?"

One last gunshot echoed throughout the building.


Sun shined warmly down at a typical US suburban town. Leaves fell gently from trees on the side of the small road, as autumn steadily gave way to winter. Children ran down a sidewalk, laughing and dodging around the strange teen that stalked swiftly down the road.

Percy sighed to himself, briefly glancing up and staring at the blue sky, clear and unmarred by smoke and contrails. It was peaceful.

It was also at complete odds with his existence. He was a being of war, of conflict. Ares had established that firmly within the first few decades of his existence. He was the fist of Olympus, and nothing should be left by him in this world but death and destruction.

Hanging a left, the teenager walked down a driveway flanked on both sides by perfectly manicured grass, and entered a home that was almost too stereotypically middle-class American.

He hung up his jacket at the door, and took off his beaten up leather combat boots, the domestic actions at odds with what he'd been up to barely half a dozen hours before. He walked into the living room, barely sparing a glance at the ancient Olympian deity in the kitchen and collapsed onto the couch. He exhaled roughly, a world weary sound that had no place coming out of the mouth of a 16 year old.

Percy closed his eyes, leaning back against the soft leather. "I'm home."

Footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor, and Percy cracked his eyes open to see a orange eyed child standing before him, clad in denim jeans and a plaid shirt, a strangely wholesome look for a millennia old goddess. Her form blurred and grew until a middle aged woman took her place. "Hello Perseus."

Orange eyes, eternally alight with fire, surveyed his form with an almost motherly concern. She quickly took in the concrete dust that caked his clothes, and his worn and frayed clothing. She felt a pang in her heart at seeing such clear signs of his work, but she pushed it down. "Report."

Percy sighed once more. He was doing that a lot lately, he found. "The Russian general was eliminated, as was his command staff. The influence of the West will not be stopped." His voice was montone, as he rehearsed a statement he'd said hundreds of times. He paused, briefly, and reached into his jacket, pulling out an ancient eastern European longsword. Greek dimension magics made such a thing possible, and neither of them batted an eye at the impossibility of what had occured.

The blade was made out of a strange metal, unlike Celestial Bronze or Imperial Gold. The handle was plated with some kind of bone and leather, yellowed and faded with age. Balancing it expertly on a hand, he flipped it around, offering it hilt first to Hestia.

Hestia took the sword, turning it this way and that, inspecting it. Her ease with the weapon revealed a warrior past that most would not expect from a goddess of the hearth. She brought it into the bright lighting of the kitchen, revealing an inverted triangle inscribed onto it.

Percy reached into the same bottomless pocket, withdrawing a dark, oval shaped object. He tossed it at Hestia. The goddess, still staring intently at the blade, raised a hand and caught it. She looked at the dark, abyssal black scale, before raising an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

"A god of some eastern pantheon tried to stop me. Given the context, I'm going to assume he was of an old Russian pantheon. Current theory of mine is that the deity was attempting to either halt our influence, spread his own, or both."

Hestia started, her eyes briefly narrowing. "You're sure of this theory?"

Percy shrugged. "All I know for sure is that there was a god that could turn into some monster resembling a chimera. Said he was the god of cattle." He frowned briefly. "He was astonishingly weak, for a god."

Hestia nodded. "The northern crusades wiped most, if not all of their influence. That's not too surprising. What's surprising is that there's any of them left capable of making moves at all."

Percy began to get off the couch. "Am I going god hunting again? You remember that mess in the Falklands 40 years ago, right? If we don't want to risk another incident between pantheons we're going to need to leverage a bit more firepower than just me."

Hestia shook her head, placing the sword down. "No. With the tensions rising in the Far East we can't afford to risk sparking a war with some half-dead Slavic pantheon. I'll let Zeus know to intensify the presence of wind spirits there, monitor the situation."

"You haven't said what I'm doing yet, ma'am." Percy stated, leaning back into the couch, looking into the kitchen at Hestia.

"For the foreseeable future, you're going to be staying here on the continent. We've a civil war brewing right now. The titans are stirring once more."

The demigod's eyes widened minutely at the mention of the titans, the threat he was originally made to combat, before he was drafted into the eternal war of pantheons. It was the most significant show of emotion he'd shown in the day.

"Is it time then?" Percy asked, hoping his voice was not as strained as he felt. "Is the Great Prophecy beginning?"

Hestia gave a solemn nod, and Percy sank further into the couch. He felt a strange mix of emotions. Part of him was relieved that the sword of Damocles that was the prophecy was finally released, and part of him was terrified.

"A single choice shall end his days. Olympus to preserve or raze." Percy murmured softly to himself. He looked down, staring at his hand. He knew what was expected of him, he knew that he was going to die to preserve Olympus. It's what he was built for.

Something pressed onto his shoulder, and Percy looked up to see the goddess of the hearth staring back down at him. Her eyes, alight with flames, somehow managed to convey more emotion that most humans he'd met.

"It's alright, Hestia." Percy gave a smile. "We both knew how this road would end." He shrugged weakly. "Besides, with the shit I've done, I can't say I don't have it coming."

Hestia surged forward, engulfing the invulnerable demigod in a warm hug, her godly strength easily lifting the several hundred pounds worth of divine machinery and mortal life off of the couch and into her chest. "I'm sorry, Perseus." Hestia murmured softly. "I never wanted this."

For a brief instant, Percy's arms were motionless at his sides, before they came up and clutched at what had been his caretaker and handler for the last 7 years. "For what it's worth." Percy murmured into her neck. "You were a much better handler than Ares."

Hestia's chest heaved as soft, breathy laughter escaped her. Percy continued. "Over the years, I've met a lot of people with stupid or asinine things they've considered to be worth dying for. You, Hestia, are absolutely not one of them."

Hestia set the demigod down, and Percy smiled up at her. "You are a cause worth dying for, ma'am."

Hestia smiled back. A single tear of liquid fire trailed down her cheek.

A sharp, clear chime broke the moment, and Hestia's eyes widened. She vanished into a blur of motion, appearing beside the oven. She reached into the oven, unbothered by the scalding hot metal and air, and pulled out dinner.

Percy stared at her, struck still by the emotional whiplash. Hestia smiled amusedly at him. "Eat up, Perseus. We can discuss your next mission after you have a warm meal and a full night's sleep."

Slamming his mouth shut, Percy smiled again, wider this time, and walked into the kitchen. "I say again, ma'am, you are absolutely something worth dying for."

Hestia merely laughed, levitating a plate towards him.


Percy leaned against a tree, staring up into the night sky. He frowned in distaste at the overly blackened sky, light pollution rendering the stars invisible. He closed his eyes, listening to the crashing of waves in the distance. He might be composed of divine machinery, barely anything worthy of being called organic left in him, but he was still of the sea, and something deep within his heart of hearts still longed for it.

He fell into something of a trance, listening to the indescribable hum of power than was the sea, the primordial ebb and flow of the tides. For such a powerful force, capable of carving earth and rending air, it was remarkably simple. It just was, is, and would be long after everybody was gone.

Sometimes Percy wished his existence could be so straightforward.

"Look at the boy, sleeping on the job."

"Indeed, I can't believe Milady would've allowed such a thing into our ranks."

Despite the scathing nature of their words, Percy could hear a teasing lilt to them. He smiled, opening his eyes to see two women standing before him, clad in silver parkas and cargo pants, massive longbows in hand.

"Hello, Zoe, Anna. It's very good to see you. It's been too long." Percy stepped forward, only to stagger back as he was struck by a large impact.

Anna had her arms around his torso, and she was hugging him so hard Percy was sure that if he still had a respiratory system he'd have significant problems breathing.

Zoe chuckled at the familiar sight, and Percy smiled fondly, raising a hand and settling it on the hunter's head. He remembered the girl well. She was one of his few friends. They'd first met in the streets of Hungary in the aftermath of the '56 revolution. Wars and revolutions often ran parallel to divine conflicts, and Hungary had been no different.

He'd been sent as part of an Olympian QRF, and they'd cracked down hard on an attempted incursion by several Indo-European pantheons of antiquity. Anna's family had been wiped out by monsters unleashed in the carnage, and he'd arrived on site only fast enough to save her.

They'd become inseparable in the heavy fighting, and shortly after, she'd joined the hunters. The rest, as mortals said it, was history.

"Lady Artemis felt you on her borders, sent us to welcome you. She said you'd be working with us on this hunt?" Anna asked.

Percy Jackson nodded, ruffling the hunters hair. "That's correct. Lady Hestia has assigned me to run with you all for a bit."

The demigod looked over Anna's head at Zoe, and raised an eyebrow. "That's not going to be a problem, will it?"

While he was certain that the hunters liked him more than roughly 90% of the world's population of men, he was also certain that the hunters were some of the most formidable special operatives that Olympus could bring to bear. It wouldn't hurt to be sure.

Zoe shook her head, a wry smile crossing her head. "It's not a problem at all. You've worked with us in the past. You're familiar with how we operate, and you can keep up."

Percy cracked a grin. "High speed, low drag."

Rolling her eyes, Zoe leveraged a bit of divine strength to pull Anna off of him, and the three disappeared into the woods, shadows engulfing them.

Percy looked around them in barely disguised fascination, as the darkened sky and trees blurred past them, each step carrying them hundreds, if not thousands of meters. He'd become very familiar with all kinds of travel employed by the divine in the last half century, from the shadow travelling that Hades and his kin did, to the teleportation of the gods. None of them held a candle to the travel that the goddess of the hunt employed. Kilometers disappeared under their feet with the same ease that one might take a singular step, and neither of the trio felt any exhaustion for it.

In a matter of seconds, they'd crossed nearly half the state of Maine, travelling directly up the east coast to the point that they were in danger of crossing the Canadian border. Artemis and her hunters had set up camp in a small valley. Percy frowned for a brief moment, wondering why someone would ever set up camp in the lowground, water always flows downhill, before reminding himself that he was dealing with the divine, and the laws of nature bowed to them. Artemis likely just set up camp in the first place that caught her eye.

A hand lightly shoved him, and Percy turned to see Zoe giving him a half-smile. She nodded at the centermost tent. "Report into Artemis."

Percy nodded, walking down into the camp, mindful of the eyes upon him. He could tell the veterans from the new hunters based on how they regarded him. The veteran hunters regarded him with either indifference or respect, nodding to him as he passed. They knew him from the various occasions he'd served alongside him.

He exhaled lowly, before entering the command tent. Despite having to crouch to enter it, the tent was much larger on the inside, and Percy was able to rise to his full height. Pelts of animals, both mundane and divine, lay on the floor of the tent. Various pieces of furniture stood around the tent, carved out of exotic woods.

Once again, Percy felt fascination and envy. He'd served with mortal conventional infantry several times, and the ability to have tents and bags that were essentially pocket dimensions would've been worth their weight in gold.

In the center of the tent, stood Artemis, in her usual form of a 12 year old girl. She had her back to him, and was staring out of a window in the tent, out at the coast. Percy wasn't sure why so many goddesses seemed to take the forms of children, but he imagined it had something to do with the concept of youth and beauty.

"Perseus."

"Ma'am." Percy brought his heels together and saluted.

Artemis waved a hand. "At ease, Perseus. I assume Hestia has informed you of what we are here for?"

Percy nodded, loosening his stance. "Securing two VIPS, son and daughter of Hades. Born in the late 1940s, kept in the Lotus Hotel until now." He clenched his hands tightly. "If securing them is not possible, denying them to the enemy is within mission parameters."

Artemis turned to regard him, her silver eyes emotionlessly studying him, as a lioness might judge a cub's worth. "You disapprove." She flatly stated, as if she didn't care either way. For all Percy knew, she didn't.

Percy clenched his hands tighter. His eyes narrowed, sea green orbs glowing brightly. "I'm not going to kill children, ma'am. I've done a lot of bad shit in the name of defending this pantheon, but I draw very clear lines. That's very far past them, ma'am."

Artemis glared at him for a second longer, before her expression softened into a small smile. "Very good, Perseus. Hestia has been a good influence on you."

Percy laughed bitterly. "It isn't hard to beat Ares, ma'am."

Artemis nodded. "I'm sure." She abruptly strode forward, past him and towards the exit. "Report to the armory if you are need of ammunition. Kit up. You and the hunters are on the move in 5."

Percy blinked. "And you, ma'am? Are you not rolling with us?"

The goddess shook her head. "No. I have another lead to follow. It's part of the reason you're here."

Percy merely nodded, honored that the goddess trusted him so.

"Yes ma'am. Good hunting."

Artemis smiled. "You as well, Perseus."


The undergrowth shifted to an almost imperceptible degree, as the platoon of hunters crept through it. Perseus crept alongside it, his gait perfectly matching that of the elite Olympian forces. Unlike the hunters, who were using bows and crossbows, a large sniper rifle sat in his hands.

He smiled fondly down at it. For a weapon that had been designed in a garage by three English amateur engineers, it was a marvellous rifle. The L96A1, or as it was fondly nicknamed, 'Green Meanie'.

Zoe held up a open hand, fingers splayed outwards, and all of them halted. She made another signal, a clenched fist, and Percy stalked up the line to rise into a kneeling position beside the lieutenant.

Her silver circlet glinted in the moon's light at she looked down her nose with thinly veiled distate at the weapon in his hands. Zoe spoke softly, barely above a whisper. "If you're going to bring that along, put it to use."

Percy blinked once, before nodding. "Aye, ma'am." He muttered back.

He swiftly shouldered the large rifle, and aimed it downrange, towards a courtyard in behind a building that resembled a fortress. Westover Hall, Percy vaguely recalled from Hestia's briefing.

He regulated his breathing as he lifted a hand, slowly dialing the scope in. His eyes widened as he took in the scene. He steadily panned the scope over the courtyard, murmuring to Zoe as he did so.

"Visual identification on a mortal teacher, two children of and one daughter of Athena."

"Understood." Zoe whispered back. "Remain here as overwatch, we'll pu-"

Percy swore, interrupting her. "Zoe, the mortal teacher is a manticore and is attacking the daughter of Athena. Permission to engage?"

"Granted."

Percy breathed in, and breathed out. In the space between breathes, he fired. Zoe winced, and many hunters clapped their hands to their ears as the awesome report of the L96A1 echoed like rumbling thunder. Percy pulled the bolt back, and a cartridge lept out of the weapon, a ghostly trail of smoke following it.

The manticore stumbled, a tennis ball sized hole appearing in it's chest. It staggered several more steps towards the daughter of Athena, before collapsing to the ground.

Percy observed the prone body of the manticore for several seconds, not satisfied that it was dead. Monsters were annoyingly hard to kill, especially with powerful ones like a manticore. He breathed in once more, and sent another highly customized .338 round downrange.

The round impacted the manticore's head with nearly 7000 newton of force. The equivalent of just over 1500 pounds impacted an area smaller than a dime, easily punching through supernaturally strong flesh and bone. Finally, the incendiary charge within the customized round ignited, throwing molten fragments of celestial bronze and steel throughout the monster's skull at several times the speed of sound.

The manticore's head quite literally detonated, reduced to a golden mist. It's body swiftly followed, and Percy allowed himself to relax.

"Monster neutralized." Percy muttered.

"Di immortales, Perseus!" Zoe exclaimed in a whisper-shout. "What do you put in that thing?"

As they rose to their feet, walking through the bush, Percy pulled back the bolt once more, letting another spent cartridge leap out. He ejected the magazine, handing it to Zoe for her to examine.

She tentatively took the massive 5 round magazine, each one containing rounds approaching the length of her hand. As she studied it, Percy spoke.

"Highly modified .338 Lapua Magnum rounds, each one blessed by my patron goddess, Hestia. They are tipped with celestial bronze, and each contain an incendiary charge of celestial bronze and steel, capable of burning at nearly 2500 kelvin." Percy said, discussing the rounds in a manner akin to how a bricklayer would discuss his favored trowel. They were the tools of his trade.

Zoe studied it for a moment longer, before shaking her head and handing it back to him. She smirked. "Still not as good as our arrows."

As if challenging that statement, rotors were heard, and Percy's eyes widened as a helicopter crested over the fortress that was Westover Hall.

He made to raise his rifle, but Zoe was faster. She pulled her bowstring back, whispering under her breath. "Milady Artemis, guide my shot."

Silver fire engulfed her form, and Zoe smiled. "Thank you, milady." She murmured.

She let the bowstring loose, and a shaft of silver fire speared through the air, impacting the helicopter with equivalent energy to an artillery impact, travelling straight through the helicopter and continuing heavenwards.

The helicopter crashed down ocean below, reduced to molten slag and deformed steel.

Percy looked incredulously at her seemingly simple longbow. "Did you just send that arrow into orbit?"

Zoe merely smiled at him.

A/N: Sorry for being inactive for so long. Been nearly a year now. Basic training and all the ensuing paperwork and travelling took its toll on me, but I've made it. Incredibly busy still, but I've finally made my first posting, I've got my foot in the door. Hopefully its all uphill from here.

Rewrote Fist of Olympus because I was abruptly struck with inspiration and realization. Hear me out here. Rick Riordian stated that mortal wars often parallel wars in the divine world. Does that not imply then, given how many wars the US and her allies are involved in, that the Olympian pantheon is essentially in a forever war against other pantheons and/or deities? The idea stuck with me, and I wanted to try my hand at it, despite me honestly not being all that good with writing. So here we are.