What is the World?

I return once more to the internet with the next installment of what seems to be the new hit fanfic, Assassin's Creed: Transcendence. At least, it seems to me that it's a hit, with over 120 reviews in just six chapters. Everyone give yourselves a round of applause at this accomplishment.

…

Done clapping? Excellent. This will be the second chapter of the First Interlude Arc, in which there is more of what basically amounts to exposition, character development, and plot-moving-forwardness. Oh, and more Bleeding Effect stuff. That's always fun. Speaking of fun, I'm a little surprised no one had any questions about the French Revolution and what I'm talking about in regards to Percy's soft face and Zoё recognizing it.

Anyway.

Disclaimer: I don't own PJO or AC

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Inspired by historical events and an over-active imagination, this work of fiction was designed, developed, and produced by a single-cultural team of one religious faith and belief, sexual orientation, and gender identity.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Percy, while making his head hurt, still dwelt on the past. Especially the part of Faris' life that involved a centaur, a girl with lightning powers, numerous children in orange robes, and a Templar with a sword. It was strange, even to Percy, how he accepted that Faris had been real (but he was not that man), accepted that von Wolff had been real, and accepted that the Templar treasure and the Assassin Brotherhood had both been real (and most likely both were eradicated at this point in time), but not the Grecian stuff.

Perhaps it was Percy's newfound deeply seated faith in Christianity that kept him from believing in the pagan gods, but whatever the case may be, all of that would change today.

Christmas had come and gone, and Percy had done something that made him feel a little warm inside: he got Grover a present. Said present being a gift card to a nearby Mexican restaurant for an all-you-can-eat enchilada special. The cripple had swooned. Percy had also mailed his mother a gift: a small cross, and a small excerpt from the Bible. Namely, a small Book of Proverbs.

He hadn't received a reply letter, but he knew that when he returned to the apartment for the summer, there would be questions. Speaking of the apartment…Smelly Gabe. Perseus would be having words with that 'man.' Calling Ugliano a walrus would just be insulting…to the walrus.

New Year's had come just as swiftly, and disappeared with greater haste. Percy's resolution was simple: continue to get better.

Yancy Academy, being a boarding school, had been supremely kind enough to give its students two weeks of break from the strenuous tenure of being a student, but now the holidays were over, the rich were expected to be back in a desk, and classes were expected to start. There was a new class being introduced this semester, one that Percy found that he had no such knowledge of asking to attend or even hinting at wanting to attend:

Latin class.

Speaking of a foreign language, Percy spoke fluent Arabic. He knew every word, every meaning of every word, every verb form of every word, every Arabic spelling of every word, and every English writing of every word. Percy did not know how, but he knew it was directly related to Faris. Seriously, the boy could climb like the man, run like the man, think like the man, believed like the man (mostly), so why could he not speak like the man?

And why not add Latin to the list?

Percy was staring out the window, eyeing the skyscraper that he scaled, wishing more than anything that he could just ditch this idiotic class and go for a run. Hidden beneath the sleeves of his white hoodie, his Hidden Blades (Pencils) were strapped comfortably to his wrists. With a casual flick, the mechanisms activated, and the left Blade came sliding out with all the sound of a feather hitting the ground. Even if there had been a loud SNIKT, the classroom's din of conversation would've drowned out the vibrations of the air.

The door to the room opened, and the teacher must've entered, because there came a deep, friendly, "Good morning, class!" followed by the harmonious "Good morning, Mr. Brunner!" of mindless drones. While Percy did not care about this class or the teacher, he turned his head just enough to where he could give the man a sideways glance.

His sea-green eyes widened.

That beard, that hair, that color, those eyes, those lines, those wrinkles, that gleam, that build…it shouldn't have been possible. It must've been just some kind of divine joke, God was just having a small bit of fun at his expense. It was not computing, it just was. Not. Computing.

How in the Lord's name was Chiron still alive!? And why was he in a wheelchair!?

Percy blinked several times, so many times, all quick and rapid times. He blinked so fast that to any who looked it would've just been a fluttering of his eyelids. With each bat of his lashes, Percy's eyes proved to not be deceiving him, because not once did the image of Chiron disappear to be replaced by some other old man in a wheelchair.

Then, Percy took a slow blink, closing his eyes real, real tight, and then he opened them…and the world was not right. Everything was tinged in blue, all the students surrounded by a dull grey aura. Then there was the teacher. He glowed blue—an ally—except there was one glaring little, teeny tiny detail: the man's lower half was not that of a wheelchair, but a wispy white Palomino horse, the legs curled underneath in a laying position.

As Mr. Brunner moved around, the horse half glided along with him as if it was a CGI image.

"Hey, Perce, you okay man?"

The demigod's eyes slide over to Grover, who was also glowing blue, but he too had something wrong with everything below his waist. Instead of seeing jeans and shoes, Percy saw wispy brown goat legs and hooves. He slowly raised his eyes back up to meet the cripple's concerned orbs.

"You okay, Percy?"

Mr. Brunner cleared his throat. "Is there a problem back there, gentlemen?"

"Um, no sir, Mr. Brunner, sir. My friend, Percy, was just spacing out, and I was, uh, making sure he was alright."

"I see. That's very kind of you Mr. Underwood. Mr. Jackson, are you all here today?" Percy couldn't help but keep staring at Mr. Brunner, his eyes drawn to the man's not-wheelchair. "Yes, I do quite fancy my wheels as well, but I do have a class I need to teach."

The words broke through the gears of Percy's mind, and the boy blinked, and his vision returned to normal. However, he was still screwed in the head at the moment, and he needed time to think and sort his thoughts once more on the subject of what was and wasn't fact, and this was not a practice so easily accomplished in an idiotic classroom.

Percy smiled coolly. "Of course, sir. I was just a bit distracted by the calling of nature. May I be excused?"

The class snickered, while Brunner smiled kindly. "Of course. Be sure to take the pass with you on your way out."

Percy rose from his desk, calm and graceful as a lion on the prowl, made his way to the front of the room, grabbed the pass, gave Brunner a sideways glance as he exited, and promptly bolted full-speed for the nearest bathroom.

Upon entrance, the boy was at the sink in an instant, his breathing calm and even despite his sprint and his roiling thoughts. Percy stared at his reflection.

"Okay, so I have Faris' Gift…I'm going to use Big Brother's-I mean, Altaїr's term for it: Eagle Vision. Because it sounds cooler. Using Eagle Vision, Mr. Brunner has Chiron's ass, and without Eagle Vision, he has Chiron's face, voice, and mannerisms. Even with it being a scientific fact that there are people in the world that look almost like you, there is no way that Brunner and Chiron just happen to look exactly the same, never mind the wheelchair-horse thing.

"Then there's Grover. Using Eagle Vision on him, he has the legs of a goat. In Greek Mythology, such creatures are known as satyrs. But, Grover doesn't have horns…perhaps he's a young satyr? Wait, why am I thinking that he's a satyr…AHH!"

Percy gripped his head in both hands, the hall pass clattering to the ground, as another migraine threatened to metaphorically split his head open. This always happened. This pain, this agony, always when he refused to believe in the part of Faris' life where the man accepted the existence of the Greek gods.

The pain subsided eventually, and Percy was left panting and sweating. He supposed the highlight of that event was that he didn't piss his pants. He stared at himself once more, taking note of the lost look on his face. This had to stop, and there was only one way to stop it, but seriously?

Greek. Gods. Real?

Percy's head began to buzz, a sure warning that another migraine was coming on, so the boy began talking to himself again.

"Alright," he breathed, "alright. They…those pagans…they're real. I believe it—I believe it as strongly as I believe in the Bible."

Immediately, Percy felt better. His chest blossomed with warmth, his lungs expanded, contracting a comfortable volume of air, the pain in his mind instantly burned away, and as a whole, Percy felt a sense of…completeness…take over him. The boy had meant what he said, of course, he wasn't just saying that in some vain hope that the words would alleviate his pain.

He had not lied, and therefore he had not sinned, and therefore the Lord had made him free of those headaches…at least, that's what Percy believed with all his little heart. But then, if Percy could accept the existence of the pagan pantheon, then did that mean that he and Faris truly were the same…?

The boy blinked once, and suddenly there was a man behind him. Percy did not fear, however, for he knew this man. Those robes, those weapons, that beaked hood, the small smile…Faris Ibn-La'Ahad.

"So…does that mean that you and I are truly…?"

The Assassin nodded once, his smile growing.

"I see, but…how?"

"He has work for us. Work than was accomplished then, and work that needs attending to today, and tomorrow."

"I'll do it," Percy said firmly. "So we can be with Altaїr again."

Faris' smile reached its peak, and the man was gone.

Percy felt a new feeling envelope him, a feeling of supreme wholeness. Accepting Faris as his past life, accepting the existence of the Greeks, still having this unshakable faith in God…it all combined to create this fuzzy feeling of comfort in Percy's chest, and suddenly, the world didn't look so pointless anymore. Now the boy had a purpose: play his part in His plan.

The hard part to that was discovering what exactly his part was.

Then another thought occurred to Percy.

He turned the knob of the faucet, causing water to come sprinkling out. He focused, putting all of his concentration into this. Percy imagined the stream of water rising in an arc, curling and looping about like a roller coaster around his person, and then draining back down into the sink. Percy's gut clenched slightly, like he had just finished his nightly set of 500 sit ups, before the water did exactly what he imagined it to.

The bathroom went silent for a moment as the water danced through the air, before sound resumed as the stream returned to the sink.

What was the story behind this phenomena? Percy wondered. Since emerging from the Hudson that night bone-dry, the boy had performed more experimentation with his apparent 'hydrokinesis,' as science called it. He had run his hand under a stream of water, not wanting to get wet, and then did the same thing wanting to get wet, with each experiment ending with the results he willed.

If he wanted to get wet, he did. If not, then he simply became wet. Beyond that, he found that, with a pinch of imagination, and a dash of desire, and a helping of will, he could bend water into shapes and constructs as he pleased. Currently, since there seemed to be no true limit to what he could do with water, baring his imagination, he had begun work on being able to 'sense' the liquid as it traveled through pipes and such.

He had met with limited success, but with each passing day did he get better.

Percy had no true explanation for this power of his, so he simply chalked it up to a gift from God and went from there.

With a sigh and grin, Percy ended his control over the liquid, allowing the stream to return to normal after the last loop of water went down the drain. Now he had a new dilemma: what to do about Brunner the centaur and Grover the satyr.

Why were they here? What did they want? What did they know? Were they here to watch him for some reason? Did they know he was the reincarnation of Faris, and wanted answers? Was there presence linked to his water powers? Was their presence linked to the strange weather patterns that stretched across the globe after the solstice?

Percy doubted that Chiron knew that he and Faris were the same person. Their faces were completely different, after all. But how to handle that? Reveal himself now and explain the circumstance? No…even if that worked, it wouldn't answer the question of why Chiron was here, and why Grover had been here for as long as he had, although it might make getting that answer much easier.

Even still, there was a voice in the back of Percy's mind telling him to remain in the dark, and to not draw attention to himself. And so Percy would listen to that voice, for that voice was his instincts.

It was important for an Assassin to follow their instincts, after all.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I'm Ms. Dodds, your new math teacher."

Percy instantly didn't like this woman, and it had nothing to do with her sneering countenance, upturned nose, beady little eyes, biker jacket, and snobbish tone, but what she looked like under the gaze of Eagle Vision. For one, she was glowing red, meaning she was an enemy (and Percy knew it was more than just being a math teacher), but just like Brunner and Grover, she was different.

As in she was a hideous bat-creature.

From the boy's knowledge on Greek mythology, he knew this thing to be a Fury.

"Percy Jackson, come up to the front of the class and solve for x, please."

Internally, the boy snarled viciously. On the outside, he just smiled, "Yes, ma'am."

Even using Eagle Vision, Percy was not cured of his dyslexia. He looked at the equation, and the numbers fluctuated, danced, vibrated, spun, and refused to make coherent sense. Percy arrived at the board, and he stopped.

"Well, Mr. Jackson? Can you not perform basic algebra?" the Fury sneered.

"I have dyslexia, ma'am. Can you please tell me what the board says, since I cannot read it appropriately?"

The teacher snorted. "I've never heard a poorer excuse in my life, honey. Dyslexia, please. There's no such thing, honey. Your mother simply failed to teach you how to read, honey."

While the sheep snickered quietly to themselves, Percy went very still. The sheep did not detect it, but the Fury did. The air pressure changed, the temperature seemed to drop, and the aura around the boy shifted. The hair on the Fury's neck stood on end as a feeling of being threatened enveloped her in an icy embrace.

A lone green orb bored a hole straight through the Fury's soul. "The equation, Ms. Dodds...please."

"T-Two x minus f-four e-equals e-eight."

Almost a full two seconds later, "X equals six."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The rest of Percy's math class carried on with Dodds rewriting algebra problems on the board, and calling up random children to solve for the ever-important x, all the while affectionately referring to each and every one of them as 'honey.' The teacher did not call Percy back up to the front for the remainder of the class, but she felt his presence.

Perseus stared unblinkingly at the Fury until the bell rang.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

On pushup 435, Percy's arms, devoid his Hidden Blades, were burning as if on fire, yet he still continued to go up and down like a machine, still trying to vent his fury at that pathetic wench who disguised herself as a human. Grover was on his bed, nose deep in a book, failing to feign interest in the literature. Percy's body was dripping with sweat from the exertion, but he refused to stop till his rage was gone.

…

This wasn't working. Percy got up, fully aware of Grover staring at his frame with no small amount of envy, and said, "I'm going to take a shower." He grabbed a towel, a change of clothes, and made a beeline for the communal shower. Whoever thought that it was a good idea to put a communal shower in a private school that included sixth grade through twelfth needed to be drawn and quartered, but at least it was not coed.

That would just be asking for trouble.

Since it was past curfew, it was 'illegal' to be out of your dorms at this time of night, but this school either didn't care that much or just didn't have the money, because there weren't any 'guards' that were patrolling the halls. That made it easy for Percy to step into the admittedly clean bathroom, make his way for a shower stall, and close the curtain behind him.

Seconds later, warm water cascaded down the boy's pant-covered body. His clothes getting wet didn't matter, since he could just will himself dry. The only reason he brought clothes and a towel was so that Grover wouldn't ask questions.

Percy had come in here to let go of his anger, and so that was what he did. As the water ran from his form, to the ground, and then down the drain, the boy's negative emotions flowed with it. Ms. Dodds the Fury could go fuck herself for all he cared. She was a dust mite compared to the power of the Lord, and anything she did to him was pointless and in vain.

Feeling refreshed, Percy turned off the water, and willed himself dry. Just like that, all the water soaking his clothes was drained out entirely. The greatest thing about this was that the water was gone, but not the temperature, which left Percy feeling like he was wearing pants and underwear fresh out the dryer.

Throwing his clothes and towel over his shoulder, the boy left the bathroom, and froze when he saw who was waiting for him outside. It was Faris, only the Assassin looked so much different. He seemed transparent, wispy, hazy, not-all-there, opposite as he was in the bathroom earlier that day. Faris looked more like a hologram than a solid being.

Percy watched as his past life calmly began to stroll down the hallway, and after a moment of light ponderation, the boy followed. Percy walked after the silent Faris until the apparition glided through the doors to the gym. A small problem arose in the form of said doors being locked, but it was a problem soon solved by Percy's lock picks, conveniently sized to where they hid in his mop of messy black hair like needles within a haystack.

The gym was huge, typical of such a space, with a towering row of bleachers immediately adjacent the door. Several basketball goals, all retractable, hung low from the high-up ceiling, with the bleachers all being pressed together against the wall. On the opposite side of the gym was a scorekeeper's table, and on the wall was a door to the coach's office, and a door for the girls' locker room and another door for the boys' locker room. While it was night, the covered windows up high still let in enough moonlight, to bathe the gym in a soft silver glow.

Percy noticed will a small sense of trepidation that he could not see Faris.

"HAAAAAAA!"

The boy pitched forward as soon as he heard the warbled war cry. He heard a warbled thump behind him, felt a strange shudder through the hardwood floor. Percy had dropped his clothes and towel midroll, and so when he looked up, he saw a most curious sight. A ghostly Templar, clad in a white tunic, chainmail armor, and a red bucket that covered his head was standing on his clothes, only not really on them, such as through them.

The Templar did not have a sword.

The bucket-head screamed again, and Percy tensed for combat, forgoing his endeavor to decipher this strange phenomenon. The Templar neared, and thrust out with a fist, and Percy's body moved. He angled his body to where the offending limb sailed past his chest, while his arms wrapped around the Templar's upper torso and back. With the position of his feet and his grip on the man, Percy used the Templar's momentum to flip him over onto his back.

With a grunt of his own, Percy reared his fist back and crushed the apparition's larynx with a single blow.

The Templar faded like a mirage.

Percy stared at the floor, his fist suspended a few inches above the ground. He had felt that impact, he had felt the cloth and the armor, he had felt the weight, and he had felt cold instinct to kill and obeyed without hesitation. And how did that make Percy feel?

Not a damn bit of different than when he woke up this morning.

The boy looked up, and saw that Faris was there again. The Assassin nodded once, seemingly praising Percy on his work. Then, literally from thin air, three Templars walked up behind Faris, all three with a different helmet color, but no different from the first Templar. The left one had a blue helmet, the middle a green helmet, and the right a yellow helmet.

Faris said no more, but disappeared from sight. Immediately, the Templars let loose a triple-voiced, "Die, heretic!" before charging. Percy met this charge head on, but when he got close, he performed an excellent seat-roll maneuver, popping up close to Blue. With a low spin, Percy swept the man's legs out from underneath him.

Standing quickly, Percy leaned to the side, dodging Green's punch. With the man right next to him, Percy grabbed the back of Green's tunic, and repeatedly slammed his knee into the apparition's stomach, before ending with a heel kick to the groin that sent Green clambering into Yellow.

Percy spun on the ball of his foot, nailing the rising Blue in the head with the middle of his shin, once more knocking the Templar to the ground, only this time his neck was at a funny angle. Wide-eyed with surprise, Percy watched the deceased apparition fade away. Did he just kill a man by breaking his neck with a sweeping kick to the head?

Just how strong had he become?

Duel cries of vigor from behind alerted Percy to the aft threat, and he spun around to face them. Green came first, attacking with a wide kick. Percy ducked underneath and quickly lashed out with a cheap shot to the crotch once more, sending Green to the ground. Yellow leapt over his fallen comrade, body angled for a spear-like kick.

Percy rolled backwards, dodging, and rose like a released spring. He was on the defensive, his arms moving with breath-taking speed as he countered the ferocious barrage from Yellow. Percy's back suddenly hit the scorekeeper's table, and he jerked his body on to it, and curled himself, before striking out with brutal force, meeting Yellow's helmet with both heels.

The Templar was knocked flat on his back, but he writhed in pain, not yet neutralized.

Green came rushing back into the scene, so Percy continued his roll across the table, putting himself and the apparition apart by about three feet. The Templar stood there, arms spread wide, body tensed. Then he jerked to the side, causing Percy to jerk to the side, then he jerked to the other side, making Percy mirror him.

Green continued trying to fake Percy out, but the boy's reactions were keeping easy pace. Then, with an abnormal juke, Green left his arm too far over the table, just far enough for Percy to latch on like a curious cub bites a waving piece of meat, before hauling the Templar across the table to where the man was no longer attached to the ground.

Percy looped his arms around Green's neck, squeezed, and put everything he had into a single jerking motion. It took three tries, but Percy broke Green's neck with a loud crunch. A twelve-year-old just broke grown man's neck. Green faded away like the non-real thing that he was.

All that was left was Yellow.

Percy found his final opponent calmly standing in the middle of the gym. So he engaged with a fervor. He sprinted forward, but Yellow did something wholly surprising: he retreated. The Templar scrambled backward to the bleachers, and proceeded to use the handrails, all conveniently stacked like the rungs of a ladder, to climb up, up, up, before jumping and grabbing onto the rafters above.

Snorting to himself, Percy sprinted forward, using his momentum to run up the bleacher, before leaping out with enough distance to grab onto the basketball goal's back. Percy hauled himself up, and then proceeded to climb the goal up to the ceiling, his hands and feet moving with deft precision. In no time at all, he on the rafters, staring at the yellow-helmeted Templar with narrowed eyes.

When a half-naked twelve-year-old stares at you like he wants to kill you, and he's killed two men already, that is cause for great concern.

Snarling, Percy jumped without a hint of fear or hesitation, and proceeded to use each row of rafters as monkey bars, swinging from strut to strut with expert level skill, skill born from years of performing such feats of parkour. When Percy got to the last row of rafters before the Templar, he began to swing himself down the row, before he swung himself across and hauled himself up.

Maneuvering himself down the line, Percy stopped within ten feet of Yellow. Falling from this height would probably hurt a lot, but would not be fatal, depending on how he landed, but also up here, movement was limited due to a tight walkway, close proximity to the ceiling, and body size. Still, Percy advanced anyway.

He had a plan.

When he got close, Yellow swiped at him, and Percy acted. He grabbed the incoming fist, and used its momentum to roll over, entering freefall. Of course, the sudden shift in forces brought the Templar tumbling down with the boy, and the already circular movement had the end result of the yellow-helmeted holy man slamming into a hardwood floor with all the added pressure, weight, and force of a 120lb young man meeting his torso.

The fall, combined with Percy, caused Yellow's ribs to splinter, peppering his insides with bone shrapnel. The Templar faded, and Percy fell the remaining five inches to the ground with a surprised grunt. Okay, that whole thing had been weird, because he had felt every impact, felt every bit of cloth, and every bit of metal, and every breaking of bone. All seemingly the result of hitting a hologram.

Percy got up, barely winded and his body not even having broken a sweat. He saw Faris standing in front of him, and the smile on the Assassin's face made Percy feel a swell of pride. The Horseman crossed his arm over his chest, and gave a light bow. The Destroyer crossed his own arm over his chest, and bowed in return.

The Assassin faded, and the demigod picked up his things and returned to his dorm.

So, on top of endurance and speed training, muscular training, and parkour training, Perseus Jackson could now add combat training to his list of secret activities.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I think it's cool that Percy's Eagle Vision can see through the Mist, and how he handled Ms. Dodds made me feel really good about myself for some reason. Now, this whole fight scene was something that stemmed straight from the Bleeding Effect. Notice how Percy, a child with an admittedly fit body, was able to decimate full-grown men. That explanation is a simple one, in that his demigod body, being half-god, is more physically capable than a normal human's.

Also, being a son of the Big Three as opposed to a minor god, Percy will have a level of physical capability superior to that of the average demigod, much like how Thalia, Jason, Hazel, Nico, and Bianca will also have. But all that comes much later.

Next chapter will be the final quote 'filler' chapter before we move into the Second Life arc, with the field trip to the museum, the exodus from Gabe's, the Minotaur, the Camp, the Capture the Flag, and the inevitable flashback to 1503, Rome.

Fav, Follow, and Review please!