Chapter IV

The Sixth of May

The Day of the Battle of Manhattan

With Annabeth on his left and Nico to his right, Percy stood perched atop a building across the Williamsburg Bridge from Manhattan. Percy observed as a storm rolled in from the north east, the worst New York had seen in years, it seemed. The rivers surrounding Manhattan frothed in the winds. It would be far too dangerous to attempt to cross.

Below them, in a construction site covered in thick, sticky mud, was a group of almost two hundred demigods. He struggled to call them an army. They weren't ready yet; a majority of those below him had arrived at camp in just the last few months, only to be conscripted as soon as they arrived at what had once been a safe haven. Most of those below him were no older than fourteen, yet they were about to fight for a cause which they had no reason to fight for. He knew he had done much of the same, but they weren't him, and he had nearly died a few dozen times by the time he reached their age.

Yet still, morale remained high. Many of the new arrivals were eager to prove themselves. Learning that they were the children of gods had sparked a sense within them in wanting to prove themselves; believing themselves to be the same as the men of legends did wonders for their enthusiasm.

Percy didn't have the heart to remind them that those men of legends almost always died in the end. Rather gruesome deaths, in fact.

But as always, there were exceptions. He could spot a few nervous kids spread all across the bevy of demigods below him. They were the kids that had run into monsters on their way here, or been around long enough to know that life as a demigod was no easy ride. Either way, Percy could only pray they didn't make the rest too nervous. Many battles relied on the courage of those fighting them.

Percy was broken from his thoughts by Annabeth grabbing his right hand. He sent her a shaky smile, trying to comfort her. But perhaps it was more of a way to comfort himself.

"It'll be alright," she reassured, her voice wavering. He didn't believe that for a second and neither did she.

"It's time, Beth," he managed to mutter.

She seemed to understand and, letting go of his hand, she unclipped the horn that was tied to her waist. Bringing it to her lips, she blew three short bursts into it. A bit old fashioned, but it worked.

The ranks below them understood. Slowly getting into a rough formation which would barely allow them to march over the car-cluttered bridge, the demigod army started marching.

With a final nod of resignation as to what he was about to do, Percy looked to his left and locked eyes with Nico. Nico just snapped his fingers in response.

And just like that, the battle had begun. The preparations that they'd carefully laid out for the last month would finally come to fruition. Undead that had covertly replaced the workers at all the drawbridges and subways all across the island instantly received their orders.

Every movable bridge across the island lifted and every subway leading off the island suddenly stopped at their stations. Once their jobs were done, the undead destroyed any control systems which might be used to undo their work, and sank back into the ground.

Looking miles to his right, he spied a drawbridge rising, the only one in view, and he knew it was done. It was his turn now.

Percy held his left arm out to Nico, and his right out to Annabeth. He would need to be on the ground for this. Feeling both Nico and Annabeth grab on to his forearm, he felt the sensation he had experienced multiple times before. Shadow travel was always exhilarating, but he wasn't in the right mood at the moment to crave excitement, so the nauseating feeling he got only served to make him more weary. He looked to his left to make sure that Nico was still standing and found him wobbling. Wobbling, but still okay.

Percy crouched down and laid his hand flat against the ground. What he was about to do was risky, dumb, precarious, ill-prepared and just about every other word that Annabeth could come up with to describe this plan, but Percy was convinced it was the best way to make sure that as few people were hurt as possible.

Letting out a deep breath and feeling the mud beneath his hand, he focused on the wet, sopping earth. He focused on the water inside of it, mixing with it, and even lower than that he concentrated on reaching deep into the earth below. He sensed the groundwater below him, the absence of water below that, and solid rock. Then he felt it. The magma just below the earth's crust. Even attempting to exert control on lava, especially so deep, would be incredibly exerting, but he focused on just above that: the lower lip of the crust. It was the tectonic plate on which Manhattan sat. Feeling a sharp tug in his gut, he grabbed on to it, and pulled.

You know that feeling you get — the rush of blood — when you hang upside down for too long, or the exasperation of pushing against something really hard? Well, combine that with the stomach wrenching of free falling and the fatigue of running full stride for days without rest, and you get what nudging a tectonic plate feels like.

He could say without a doubt that aside from holding up the sky and bathing in the Styx, that this had been the most exerting and painful moment of his life.

Hades, at least after holding the sky he had still been able to walk fine afterward.

But his job was done. With the tectonic plate successfully disturbed, the tremors began. He had attempted to control the earthquake's size, going for about a four on the richter scale, but he was far from experienced in the field.

With blackness slowly creeping into the corners of his vision, he felt the rumbling of the earthquake he had spawned. Putting aside the resentment he currently had for Poseidon for potentially causing the deaths of mortals in the first place, he prayed to his father that he at least wouldn't kill anyone.

Weak walls began to crack around him. The oldest of buildings began to sway and crumble. The weakest of bridge cords began to snap, but overall nothing was seriously in danger of collapsing.

He sighed in relief as he internally gauged the shaking. The quake was a four, or at least close enough to one that it didn't make a difference. It would certainly scare, but no real damage would be done, and that was precisely what he had hoped for.

In Manhattan, screams continued and civilians were running about, with police desperately attempting to take control on the streets. No doubt the national guard was being alerted.

It pained him. It pained him to bring so much fright to so many people. But no major harm would be done to the vast majority of them. Not now.

Percy let the rain wash over him as he recovered. He had to wait a few minutes before he could make use of his distraction. Still gasping for breath minutes later, he was able to raise his hand to make sure Nico was listening.

"Now," he rasped out.

Nico snapped his fingers again, and there was more chaos.

Explosions rang out all around Manhattan. Plastic explosives placed by the undead on every bridge leading into or out of Manhattan were being detonated in just the right positions; giving as much warning as possible that they were to collapse.

All except the Williamsburg.

His earthquake had been designed to frighten the mortals to the point that they would get off of the bridges as soon as possible. He hoped it worked.

Still attempting to catch his breath, Percy was able to climb to his feet a few moments later. Annabeth reached out to wrap an arm around him to steady him, and he felt Nico grasping his arm to keep him from falling over.

He shot Annabeth a weak smile.

"Shall we?" Percy asked, turning to Nico and attempting to contain his fatigue.

Nico looked concerned for his health, but seemed to decide Percy was fine enough. The next thing Percy knew, he was on the Williamsburg, the rough demigod formation on his left. Nico seemed to be drawing in his breaths a bit heavier now as well, and Percy knew exerting his will on so many undead coupled with the shadow travelling could not have been light on his fatigue.

"You alright?" Percy questioned, wanting to make sure he would be able to take part in the battle.

Nico seemed to find it funny.

"Of course you're asking about me," Nico chuckled out in-between staggered breaths.

Seeing that Nico was dismissing his concern, Percy focused on the situation at hand.

The marching of his fellow half-bloods could be heard, muted by the sound of rain and wind exerting its will on the city.

Percy sucked in one last large breath before moving to join the marching demigods.


Ringing.

That's what Percy had been hearing for the last hour or so.

The plethora of gunshots did nothing to help, and after so much fighting in the streets, he hadn't heard anything coherent in a while. He was leading the demigod forces, yes, but Annabeth was doing most of the tactical directing, thus leaving him to do what he did best — fight.

Percy felt a tug in his gut as he forced the plumbing of an adjacent building to explode, throwing a squad of police officers out through the windows. They screamed as their world twisted and went black through the force of the water that hit them and sent them colliding with the ground. Seeing as the most immediate threat was dealt with, he looked slightly to his right and saw an officer doing his best to hold off the advancing disorganized demigods with a 9mm pistol. Percy charged him, his shield blocking the majority of the bullets and his armor stopping the rest. It never ceased to surprise him how effective divine metal was at deflecting such a small piece of lead moving 1500 feet a second without so much as a scratch.

Leaping over the small makeshift barrier the officer he had been using, he bashed his shield into the head of the officer, knocking him out cold.

The battle had been raging for hours, and he could feel his adrenaline begin to taper. He knew his comrades felt the same way, but likely they were even more fatigued. After all, he still had the water of the raging storm dispelling morsels of exhaustion. His friends had no such blessing.

Like most battles, their plan had failed at first contact with the enemy. Their original plan had been to strike directly toward the Empire State Building, before expanding outward with the gathered nature spirits at Central Park. However, all organization and control over his inexperienced army was lost when a strung along confrontation between a few trigger-happy police officers had led to Blake Beckett, a twelve-year-old daughter of Demeter who had volunteered to be a medic being sent to Hades. A bullet had entered her jugular and exited through her brain stem, killing her instantly.

Some became enraged and angered at Blake's death. Others suddenly looked panicked, fearful of their lives. By the time Nico and Annabeth had managed to put back together some semblance of order, resistance to their invasion had taken hold around them.

Now their objective had just been to make it to the Empire State Building, fighting through two and a half miles of resilient police officers, and occasionally the odd civilian with a gun. It was certainly not a walk in the park, even with the combined powers of Percy and Nico.

Percy, meanwhile, had fallen into combative autopilot. The leader of the Olympian armies would swing and slash and block without thought, his mind solely focused on taking down one victim after another. He was like a wraith, almost flashing across front lines of the battlefield, and his movements seemed to soak up most of the attention of the resistance that was left. Every now and then he would toss a gun to one of the older demigods, or keep it himself if his was out of ammo. None of them had any real training with firearms, and celestial bronze arrows were certainly more effective, but in a tight situation, one of the small pistols could be the difference between life and death.

Stumbling ahead of his forces, Percy peeked into an alleyway that they were about to pass, only to quickly jerk his head back. There were three officers in the alley, all ready to blow the brains out of any demigod that wanted to get past.

Taking the pistol he had gotten from his most recent victory out of his pocket, he held his hand around the corner, pulling the trigger four times, before tossing the gun away. He likely didn't kill anyone — he'd purposely aimed low — but at the very least it would distract them for a moment.

Charging around the corner with his shield up, Percy took the vast majority of the opening salvo into his shield, with one or two bullets hitting his pauldrons. He did notice, however, by the rhythm of shots that there were only two guns firing.

Letting a small, grim smile cross his face at the revelation that one of them were already incapacitated, he continued charging the officers, and was on them in seconds.

He didn't let himself think as he slashed his sword down and to the right, a sudden spray of blood Percy had come to associate with the neck telling him that one threat had been dealt with. His mind was numb as he turned and swung his shield out to the left, striking the other officer in the chest and obliterating several of his ribs. He was likely dead before he hit the ground.

Percy had stopped going out of his way to knock them unconscious about an hour and a half ago, when his slower, heedful approach had allowed Butch Walker and a daughter of Melinoe named Chelsea to be sprayed through their torso by a civilian. With Butch dead, Chelsea in critical status, the demigods' ambrosia reserves depleted, and only the barest traces of nectar left, the medics were doing all they could to save and heal with the nonexistent supplies they still had.

Exiting the alley and taking a quick glance at how the situation was developing, Percy nearly collapsed in relief. They were less than half a block from the Empire State building, and resistance had been wavering for the last hour. One final push was all it would take until they would be allowed onto Olympus for a slight reprieve.

With this in mind, Percy pushed forward, charging towards the last group of officers.

Sliding over one of the cruisers the police had been using as cover, Percy landed on the other side and jumped into action. He held his shield out to his left, before slashing to his right, catching an officer off guard and immediately ending his life.

Percy turned to his left to deal with the remaining three officers before seeing that Nico had already beaten him to it. Two lay dead, their heads detached from their body in a truly brutal display of force, while the other lay unconscious, seeing as how his only wound was the blood slowly dripping from his head.

Percy gave a nod to Nico, receiving one in turn, before turning back to where the Empire State Building was being charged by a group of demigods. One final group of police was taking shelter in the building, a group it seemed that he had missed. Sighing, Percy moved towards the entrance to Olympus at a relaxed pace. He would let the others deal with it for once. He couldn't get there before the officers were dispatched anyways, even if he wanted to.

-HR-

Percy struggled to stop himself from reaching over the desk and strangling the gatekeeper of Olympus. The minor deity disguised as a balding man in his forties, however, just stared back at him.

"And why, would you please enlighten me, is that?" Percy demanded, his hands beginning to crush the wooden desk he was gripping. Percy was pissed, and rightly so, after all, he had just been told that the forces from Camp Half-Blood would not be allowed on Olympus. Just himself.

The gatekeeper, however, seemed apathetic to Percy's obvious anger. "Big guy upstairs only wanted to talk to you," he said with a shrug.

Nearly snarling, Percy snatched the red card out of the deity's hands, allowing him to go back to reading the day's newspaper, before stomping off to the elevator, Nico hot on his tail.

Before he made it to the elevator, he was interrupted by Annabeth catching up to him. "Percy, we need to get most of the injured on Olympus now, or they won't survive. I've had the medics organize them in priority from immediate to—"

Percy would curse himself for being such a bad boyfriend later, but right now he was not in the greatest state of mind, and snapped at Annabeth. "They won't be going to Olympus. For whatever reason, the gods have taken back their word. Only I'll be allowed on Olympus, and only so His Majesty can give us more orders. So deal with what we have here while I try to deal with the gods' egos," he bit out, fully aware that the gods were nowhere near powerful enough to be observing them now, especially with the storm they had been keeping up over New York for the last several hours.

Percy didn't even spare another glance at Annabeth before finally stepping into the elevator, waiting a brief second for Nico to join him, and then inserting the red card into the ID slot on the elevator, shortly after harshly pressing the red button labelled "600" that popped up.

The elevator doors closed shut with a ding. Finally, after hours of fighting, he leaned against the back of the elevator and slid to the floor, his armor clanking and briefly filling the silent elevator with noise, before resting his head in between his clasped hands and his knees.

Percy was exhausted. He didn't want to go take some request from Zeus. He wanted to take a nap; he wanted to something to eat; most importantly, he wanted to make sure his friends would be okay. He knew Nico was the same, but he had still remained vigilant, not moving from his standing position, his posture perfect, his hand on the pommel of his sword. Percy shook his head from where he sat on the ground. Nico was certainly dedicated to him, far more than Percy felt he deserved.

After several moments where Percy regained his bearing, he noted that they were at the five hundred and eightieth floor, and so stood up, fixing his posture himself. He could not be seen to be weak or faltering, not in front of the gods.

Percy refocused as the elevator slowly came to rest at the six hundredth floor, the doors opening with a ding to reveal the streets of Olympus.

The beauty of Olympus was dulled by the circumstances, and so, for the first time he didn't pause to take in the beauty, but started rigidly making his way towards the throne room of the gods.

Passing through the streets, Percy did his best to ignore all the bowing from the nature spirits and even some minor deities, as well as all the muttering and gossip. The recent invasion of Manhattan could not have been kept secret, he knew.

The minutes he spent walking up to the throne room deep in thought passed faster than expected, and before he knew it he was staring at two enormous, bronze doors.

Steeling himself, he used both hands to shove open the heavy doors, waiting until they swung open enough so that he could walk in.

The sight that greeted him was different than he expected. Rather than a convocation of the Olympians gathered to exert their will upon him, it was only Zeus sitting in his throne, the master bolt emitting a low crackling from where it sat at his side.

Percy, for a brief moment, thought back to the many hundreds of deaths that had occured that evening, and kept his eyes on Zeus. A brief thought of treason crossed Percy's mind. It was almost morbidly that Percy realized that should he send Zeus to Tartarus here and now and not announce the existence of the gods to the mortals, that Zeus would very likely fade in his weakened state. He had the opportunity to make the most powerful being in existence cease to exist. That was jarring.

Before Percy could fully dismiss his disloyal thoughts, he reached the distance from Zeus' throne that it would be appropriate to kneel. His attention was once again grabbed by the cylinder of electricity sitting besides Zeus.

Not even considering the dozens of other consequences that he and the world would face for making Zeus fade, the master bolt was the most powerful weapon in existence. Made when Zeus and the Elder Cyclops had been in their prime, when every human worshipped Zeus far above any other deity, the weapon was not attached to it's wielder's current state of power, which is why weapons imbued with magical powers were such a boon to the gods.

It still had the power to wipe the world clean. It would make a mortal atom bomb look like a firecracker, as Chiron had once said.

And so he lowered himself to one knee, his head bowed, one hand pressed to his chest in a fist and his other arm lay horizontal on his lower back.

"Your Majesty," Percy let out, managing not to let his irritation or anger show through his greeting. Percy soon after heard a soft clanking of metal behind him, and assumed Nico had taken the same position.

"Perseus." Percy heard the low, grumbling voice of Zeus let out from in front of him. "It has become apparent that your forces are not large enough to even push a perimeter along Manhattan. The plan has changed," Zeus paused, and Percy could feel the god's eyes staring at him. "You are to utilize the broadcasting station and equipment within the Empire State Building. There you are to give your announcement to the mortals that we have returned to rule over them in our rightful place. Once this is done, your father will send his Cyclops armies onto Manhattan. From there you will continue to expand your territories as previously discussed. This will be done immediately."

There was no room for discussion. Zeus fully expected him to hijack the broadcasting station and send the message out, today. Not even just today, but the moment he left Olympus. He had a lot of work to do, it seemed.

"Will that be all, your Majesty?" Percy managed to get out past his irritation.

From Percy's perspective, he and Zeus had a sort of understanding. Percy would be a good, loyal, powerful pet in the mortal realm, gaining the gods and Zeus in particular far more power than they could ever hope to achieve without him, as they could not intervene with mortals. In return, Zeus would allow him dominion over the mortals he cared so little about. As long as Percy was able to look past the casualties and atrocities of this war, and focus on achieving power for the gods, Zeus would then able to look past whatever Percy wanted to do in the mortal realm and any dissent he may show to the gods.

Sensing the dismissive wave of his hand, Percy stood up, turned around on the spot, and strode back out of the throne room of the gods.