Nothing is True…
It's been long enough, I believe.
In regards to Chapter 28, I did put in a warning. I literally told you what was going to happen. Yet you read on, heedless of my words, and still saw fit to bitch at me. Some of you, anyway.
To those of you that choose to no longer read this and have left, farewell. To those that have stuck around through thick and thin, enjoy the reward that is the continuation of Assassin's Creed: Transcendence. To those that have left because they were disturbed and have come back briefly to investigate, yet will soon leave, yet are also looking forward to Backup Plan: Blood War…I fear you will not handle Shin'en's tale in the Bloody Mist.
Chapter 28 was but a preview of a mere facet of the Blood War. Worse is yet to come.
As for this chapter in particular, we cover the three-month absence of Percy Jackson, his being found post destruction of Philadelphia, and his recovery after his torture. His mind cracked, but it did not break, it did not shatter. His iron will held strong through the brainwashing and hypnosis and physical events, but even iron has its limits.
Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson or Assassin's Creed
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Their arrival at Camp was rather lackluster. There wasn't a giant congregation, or massive welcoming party, though that was mainly their own fault, as they didn't announce their impending arrival to anyone.
Lou Ellen, Charles Beckendorf, Annabeth Chase, and Grover Underwood waltzed across the boundary line like they had just come back from a trip to the grocery store. The blacksmith immediately jogged off to find Silena and let her know of his safe return, the daughter of wisdom jogged off to debrief Chiron, the satyr in tow, and the witch, having exchanged found temporary goodbyes with everyone, scooped up her Husky puppy, Kira, and teleported both of them to her personal cabin hidden away in the woods and protected by nature spirits.
Immediately upon arrival, Lou put Kira down, undid her jeans, shimmied out of them, removed the tapes of her diaper, and tossed her underwear off to the side. It was dry, of course, as where Lou had no problem using her diaper if necessary, having done so dozens of times while on long car rides with her father, she still made it a point to use the toilet when she could.
With that, she disappeared into her bathroom, leaving Kira outside the door, finished her business, exited, and plopped down on her couch, her puppy quickly bounding up to snuggle into her lap, even though all she was wearing was her shirt and a bra.
Lou Ellen sighed, her discarded diaper like beacon in the corner of her eye. "I'm gonna have to put that back on tonight…"
Yes, she might have followed the same bedtime routine as a potty training toddler, meaning no fluids four hours before lights out and frequent trips to the bathroom during those four hours, and she would only wet her bed if she actually had any fluids in her, but none of that stopped her from putting on a diaper just in case.
Lou looked down at Kira, and though she knew her dog couldn't talk, that didn't stop her from talking to the puppy anyway. She just really needed to get some stuff off her chest, and it wasn't like Kira was going to think negatively of her.
"I know that millions of people across the planet wet their bed, and not just babies and toddlers and kids, but tweens and teens and adults too, but that doesn't make me feel any better about this. Yeah, I know it could be a lot worse, like Percy said, but still. Does that make me greedy, having all this power in me, with the only drawback being bedwetting, and wishing that I didn't wet my bed, or is that completely natural?"
Kira looked up at Lou with her big, round, gorgeous blue eyes, her tongue out of her mouth slightly as her tail wagged uncertainly.
"Honestly though, how petty is that of me? I've got enough juice in me to light Manhattan for a month straight. I know spells that can alter time and space. I have knowledge of magic that can overcome several Greek curses. I might even be able to fight the likes of a B-list minor god to a standstill, maybe even defeat an A-lister with ample preparation and a good enough plan, and the only true hindrance, the only true balance to all that power…is a night diaper?" Lou asked incredulously to Kira. "Come on, that's got to be at least a little petty, right?
"Then again," she continued with something of a dark glint in her eyes, "I've been praying to God for the past few nights to make it to where I wake up dry, and He's delivered on all but two nights out of enough. Who's to say He can't also give me my nighttime control? I mean, Percy said the God makes things that are impossible, possible, so who says God can't make me forever dry at night?
"Although," Lou mused, "will getting out of diapers in turn make me lose my powers? And is that even a fair trade? All my skills and abilities pissed down the drain just because I might piss myself at night? Just for the sake of sparring myself a little bit of humiliation? And then again: who cares?"
The witch shrugged. "Who cares if I wear diapers at night? Who's gonna know? What business do they have in regards to my underwear? And if they found out…okay, so what? Millions have bedwetting problems, I'm one of them, and I wear a diaper to keep my blankets, sheets, and mattress clean, because I don't want to deal with a wet bed every morning, and if you think that's funny, then go ahead and laugh. But keep in mind the fact that I know spells that can make you poop yourself nonstop for days on end."
Lou finished her monologue with a triumphant "humph." Kira bobbed her little head too, panting happily.
Just like that, Lou Ellen Williams managed to debate with herself, win against herself, accept herself, take pride in who she was and her weirdness, and boosted her self-esteem.
"I can't wait for Percy to get back," Lou chirped excitedly. "I can't wait to tell him I finally got my butt in gear and stopped self-pitying. What about you, Kira? How are you doing?"
"Arf! Arf!"
"I couldn't agree more," Lou nodded sagely.
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While everyone had been away, Chiron found the time to send an Iris Message to his old Roman friend, and see if she knew anything about a Renaissance man by the name of Virgil Cavaliere.
Chiron watched as Lupa raised one of her lupine brows. "Virgil Cavaliere was a pupil of mine during the reign of the Borgias. He was a devout Christian and a good man. His father was a general and a senator, his mother a simple weaver, and he had a younger sister, all of whom were killed by the Followers of Romulus, that bastard cult, on orders from Cesare Borgia. After his family was taken from him, I took him under my paw, trained him to be an astute killer, and set him loose on Rome to take it back from the Borgia. You may have heard whispered rumors some five hundred years ago, and surely noticed the increased economy during the early 1500s."
"Yes, I did hear things and noticed the prosperity of Rome. Virgil's doing, I take it?"
"Correct."
"I also recall fondly how Venus had taken note of someone in Rome at the time and subsequently threw a hissy fit, seemingly being rejected. Also Virgil?"
Lupa smirked. "The whore goddess took the form of a seductress. As if a common lady of the night could tempt a true servant of the Lord."
"Agreed," Chiron mused.
"What brings about such a question, old friend?"
"Oh, nothing dreadfully serious, but let me ask this: what do you remember when other men blindly follow the truth?" Lupa's eyes widened, her very core shaken. Chiron just smirked and continued. "What is permitted when other men are limited by morality or law?"
"Chiron…where did—?"
"Laa shay'a waqui'n moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine. Nothing is true, everything is permitted."
The old centaur watched as the old wolf struggled to comprehend what he had just said, the old cogs grinding and creaking. It was an amusing sight, watching all the facial tics of a wolf. Eventually though, Lupa regained control of herself, and she settled into a neutral look, eyes asking the silent question.
"Those words were spoken to me by one of my Latin students, when I was posing as a Latin teacher at a school, on his way out my door after completing his final. Not even 48 hours later, he shows up at Camp Half-Blood, and not even a week after that, he is claimed as Poseidon's child. I trust you know of Percy Jackson?"
"Impossible," Lupa muttered. "Upon his death, Virgil should've entered Heaven, not be reincarnated."
"It gets better," Chiron continued. "In the waning years of the twelfth century, my camp came under attack by crusader knights, empowered by a magical sword that gave mere mortals enough physical ability to overpower demigods and grant them resistance to our magic. We were almost wiped out that day, but our savior came wearing a white hood. After the battle, this savior, Faris Ibn La'Ahad, imparted upon me these words. What's interesting, however, is that I've only just recently been told about Virgil, where I've known about Faris since Mr. Jackson woke up in my infirmary."
"A connection between the three," Lupa gasped.
"Indeed, it seems so. A reincarnating soul, stretching from the Third Crusade, to the Renaissance, to modern times. However, I suspect that the tale of Percy Jackson does not end with that of Faris and Virgil. I suspect that there is more, more past lives."
"An incredible concept," Lupa said. "I would very much like to meet this pup."
"I'll see what can be done, but he is Greek," Chiron said warningly. "The powers at be may very well be vehemently opposed to a casual meet and greet."
"Agreed, however, there are ways around these powers. We'll figure it out, old friend."
"Indeed, we will. Now, Mr. Jackson should be arriving from his quest in no longer than three more days, and I have archery to teach. Good day, Lupa."
"Good day, Chiron."
The centaur swiped through the hologram and went to go teach his archery class.
Days after that event, Annabeth came strolling into the Big House like she was just here to grab a shirt, Grover behind her.
"Hey, Chiron."
"Hello, Annabeth." The old teacher turned the page of the book he was reading, and then it struck him. His head snapped up. "Annabeth! Grover! You've returned! Where are the others?"
"Ah, Percy went to deliver the Bolt and then he was going to go see his mom. Beckendorf went to go see Silena. Lou is off doing Lou stuff."
"I see. Come, sit. We have much to talk about. Grover, I suggest you inform the Council of your success."
"Yes, sir," the satyr nodded and left, leaving Annabeth to recount how the quest went, and all the things she had learned, such as some merits of the Bible, how strong Percy was, how strong Lou was, the witch's diaper-wearing, and how fragile the Olympians could be in the face of higher power.
"God himself," Chiron breathed when Annabeth finished telling him of Ares' apparent demise. "If He personally came to Earth, then that means that things are becoming very serious."
"Chiron?"
"Never you mind, child. Just know that Percy's birth twelve years ago heralded the unfolding of major mythological events. Just pray for a happy ending for everyone."
Annabeth's mouth set into a thin line. "About praying…Chiron, what I saw on the quest…Percy's faith, that man in the robe, the beach…I-I don't know anymore. I don't know what's real and what's not. Who do I pray to now? I've seen Him, but my mother…I don't know what to do Chiron."
The daughter of Athena was on the verge of stressful tears as she struggled to find herself in this convoluted world of gods and monsters.
Chiron wheeled himself forward and gently placed his hands on Annabeth's shoulders, grounding her. "My child," he said gently, "I cannot tell you how to live your life, for that is your decision to make. However, I can tell you this: the choice to pray to God is yours. The choice to pray to Zeus and Athena is yours. Percy makes the choice to pray to God, and honor Poseidon as his father and his father alone, as the Bible dictates."
"I don't know if I'm that strong," Annabeth whispered quietly.
"Then find out," Chiron said simply. "You'll hurt no one by trying something new."
"But what if Zeus doesn't like me praying to God?"
"Well then, I guess Zeus will have to take it up with Jesus then, won't he?"
"How do I know Jesus will protect me if Zeus decides to smite me?"
"You don't," Chiron smiled. "But if you believe that Jesus is the way, and you accept him as your savior, he will never forsake you."
Annabeth's lips tried to work themselves into words, but then a shadow crossed her face, her eyes darkening. "What makes him any different than them? We can't even trust our own godly parents to come through for us when we pray, so why should I pray to someone who's never looked after me in the first place?"
Chiron frowned. "Annabeth…you know better."
The shadow on her face lifted and she blinked rapidly. "I-I'm sorry…I shouldn't have…I didn't…that's not what I…my head hurts. I need to talk to Percy."
In his three thousand years of life, the teacher had come across religious demigods before. Always rare they were, but he had met many over the centuries. As such, he did have experience with them on how they handled their faith and their heritage, and he had experience with those that wanted to convert in the wake of these religious demigods, and he knew of that shadow across their face.
They were Greeks, hardwired with battle reflexes, inherent knowledge of how to read, speak, and write Ancient Greek. Unless taught a religion from a young age, trying to convert…didn't agree with them. The sheer act of trying to follow another religion after becoming Aware was enough to cause some magical mental damage.
What Annabeth went through was normal, and all she needed was a little bit of help.
Help that Chiron could have provided, but elected not to on account of him feeling that it was Percy's job to be the religious teacher.
"Indeed," the centaur said. "Percy is a good man. Make sure to stay friends with him, for he will carry you far."
Annabeth nodded, then she left to go say hi to Luke.
Chiron said nothing as she left, and when she was gone, the door closing behind her, and he was left alone in the Big House, he felt…dread. He felt off. He felt like something had happened, something was happening, and it spelled disaster for many.
As much as he tried, Chiron could not shake the sinking feeling of despair that engulfed him.
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That night, Percy did not return from his delivery of the Bolt, however, for the time being, doubts and worries were assuaged when Lou Ellen informed everyone that Percy was going to say hi to his mom, and then the common thought was that Percy's mother kept him for the night due to the small fact that he had been on a cross-country road trip involving some evil gods and some twisted monsters.
The burial shrouds were burned anyway, Grover's being made by his nature spirit friends, Beckendorf's by his cabin mates, Annabeth's by her cabin mates, and the last two…were rather sad, actually. Lou lived in the woods, her only company being the odd dryad, and where the nature spirits there protected it from monsters and pranksters, and she in turn helped strengthen the natural energies of the woods with her magic, there wasn't any true camaraderie between Lou Ellen and the spirits. It was a "scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" policy that could evaporate at the drop of a hat. As for Percy, he hadn't made enough friends nor enemies in any cabin for anyone to make him a shroud, even a crappy one.
Luckily, Camp Half-Blood had spare shrouds in the attic for occasions such as this, and therefore Lou's and Percy's burial shrouds were standard orange things that caught fire easily enough.
That concluded the night's festivities, and everyone went to bed.
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Against all of her common sense, not even an hour before she turned in for the night, Lou Ellen decided to splurge herself on account of making it back from a quest alive, and broke open a bottle of wine that no almost-thirteen-year-old girl should have.
But, being the daughter of the magic goddess had its perks, and Lou Ellen Williams is not an alcoholic, as she would insist. She drank the entire bottle and ate an entire gallon tub of Blue Bell vanilla ice cream. Sharing some sips and bites with Kira, of course.
In the middle of the night, Lou was sleeping peacefully, enjoying a night's rest in her own bed, when she was rudely awakened, by her own dog no less. However, before the witch could tear into her puppy for licking her nose, the sharp, sudden tug in her bladder had Lou Ellen literally teleporting into her bathroom, directly onto the toilet.
Her teleportation spell had been so sudden and rushed, that she had botched it in the fortunate way that she teleported only herself, and none of her garments.
After she was done, the witch girl walked back to her bedroom in a slight daze, and she stared at Kira. The little Husky was sitting on her haunches on the bed, wagging her little tail, her little tongue dangling out the side of her mouth, her big blue eyes sparkling.
"You…you woke me up right before I had an accident…" Lou said distantly. She was trying to make sense of what had just happened, her dog waking her up in the middle of the night, serving as an impromptu bedwetting alarm…
…huh.
"Arf!" Kira barked.
A stab of thought pierced Lou's head. Her earlier kind-of prayer, asking God to give her nighttime bladder control, her dog waking her up right before she peed herself…call the witch girl crazy, but maybe—just maybe—this was her prayer being answered.
Lou slowly donned her t-shirt, lost in her thoughts. She reached for her diaper, but then stopped. Biologically speaking, there was no need for it for the rest of the night, as she had just finished emptying herself, but that wasn't what caused Lou to stop. No, what stayed the demigoddess' hand was a leap of faith.
A leap of faith that God, through Kira, would take care of her for the rest of the night.
So, Lou donned a pair of panties and pulled up her pajama shorts, and got back in bed. Kira immediately padded over and plopped down next to her head, and Lou patted her puppy's head.
"You adorable little floof ball," she muttered. Then she leaned over and kissed Kira's nose, eliciting a short little puppy noise. "Thanks."
Kira licked Lou Ellen's nose, before snuggling in and going to sleep.
Before she reentered the land of dreams, the witch girl looked up at her ceiling with a small smile and misty eyes.
'Thank you.'
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Central Park
"We've been duped by a kid," the big man in the white hoodie grunted.
"So it would seem," William Miles mused aloud.
"What, you think he's not intentionally screwing us over? We've been here for three days already, rotating shifts. We're exposed, and that kid's just dangling us on a string. He's probably some kind of Templar super soldier."
A female Assassin by the name of Rebecca scoffed. "If he was a Templar super soldier, we'd all be dead by now because he would've ratted us out already."
"And how do you know that?"
"Because, Clay," Rebecca snapped, "women's intuition."
The Assassin snorted.
"Hey, how many times did my intuition save your ass?"
"How many times did it almost cost me my life?" Clay retorted.
"Children," William broke in sharply. "Shut up."
Off to the side, Desmond remained quiet. Something felt wrong to him, something was off. After another ten minutes of silently waiting, all eyes darting about for any sign of danger, he spoke up. "We need to check his apartment."
All three Assassins turned to him.
Desmond raised a brow. "Don't act like you guys haven't already run every background check possible on Percy, and know what preschool he went to."
"Well, yeah, we have, but…" Rebecca trailed off.
"Then let's go to his apartment. I've got a bad feeling."
"Oh, you've got a bad feeling?" Clay asked, frustration and paranoia getting the better of him. "The deserter has a bad feeling so we've got to listen to what he says? Yeah, kiss my ass."
"Clay…" William warned.
"No," he snapped, "I've kept quiet long enough about the prodigal son and his daddy getting back together and acting like none of us exist anymore. You deserted the Assassins, you left us, you have no say here."
Desmond, who had turned away and stopped to listen, turned back around. The look on his face and the light in his eye made Clay swallow. William saw his son's countenance, and didn't know whether to be proud or scared. Rebecca's eyes flitted between the two Assassins, fingering a knockout dart shooter.
Desmond walked until he was almost touching noses with Clay, and stared the man down. For his part, Clay held Desmond's gaze, despite the beads of sweat rolling down his face.
"I may have deserted, but now I'm back, and my head's in the game. Yours isn't. You're panicking, freaking out. Your jumpy and excited, chasing shadows. You're unstable, Clay. If anyone doesn't have any say here, it's you. Now you can either come with us to the kid's apartment, or you can take your happy ass back to the safe house."
Desmond didn't wait for a response. He turned around and headed for the Upper East Side. His father followed without a glance backward. Rebecca looked at Clay once, and then followed as well. The last Assassin that wasn't following Desmond huffed, and followed after his current teammates.
"Since when did you become so authoritative?" William asked lowly.
Desmond didn't break stride. "I don't know, but I've been having some weird dreams lately, and I guess it's changing me."
"Dreams? What kind of dreams?"
"Dreams about the Middle Ages, Masyaf, brothers named Altaїr and Faris, the Renaissance, Ezio Auditore, Che Si Aggira…it's all really vague stuff, stuff I barely understand, but…I'm learning from it, getting my groove back, so to speak."
"Huh…I see." William just nodded and accepted what he was given, deciding to act on this information at a later time.
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"Holy shit," Rebecca gasped upon seeing the inside of the Jackson apartment.
Everything was a mess. Couches and chairs turned over and shredded. Furniture broken and scattered. The TV broken in half. Bullet holes in the walls. Floor boards broken up. Four bodies, mangled, decaying, and stinking. And no sign of Percy Jackson, nor his mother.
"Do you think the Templars got him?" Rebecca asked.
Desmond shook his head. "Even they can appreciate subtlety. This is anything but. This is messy and loud and clumsy. These bodies wouldn't have been left to rot, and this place wouldn't be so trashed. Whoever has Percy, it's not the Templars.
"On the other hand," Desmond said as he stood, "Percy might not have even been by here yet, and this could all just be a break-in gone very wrong. His mother might be staying at a hotel somewhere, and hasn't been here in days. This could all just be a misunderstanding."
"Well, misunderstanding or not, we've got to get out of here," Clay said. "We waited for the kid, he didn't show. He came to his place, he's not here, and one of his legal guardians is dead. Looks like he's been that way for a few days now. The door was locked, and we're here. If someone decides to get nosey, we'll be compromised, and then we'll have to deal with the police. We need to get out of here and regroup."
"Agreed," William said. "Rebecca, Desmond, let's go."
While the former joined the other two men instantly, the latter lingered. Something had caught his eye, a shell casing, but more importantly, the gun right next to it. Desmond picked up the pistol, a standard run of the mill Glock, and showed it.
There were words stamped into the slide.
"Do any of you know anything about Triumvirate Holdings?"
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A day turned into three days, and then into a week, and then into a month. There wasn't hide nor hair of Percy Jackson or Sally, and the news eventually caught wind of it. The smell of the bodies had finally become enough for the neighbors to call someone, and that someone called the authorities. It garnered national attention, as Percy Jackson, suspect of terrorist bombings soon found innocent in wake of a beach brawl, suddenly went missing.
However, after another week of nothing substantial, the news coverage instantly died down as it failed to produce any decent profit.
But the word was out. The Assassins were conducting their own searches, almost desperate to find the mysterious boy. The Templars were hunting him down, frustrated at their failure, much to Nero's amusement. The demigods, the ones that were important anyway, were almost in a panic, especially Lou Ellen and Annabeth, and the gods, mostly Poseidon, were deeply concerned.
The Deliverer of the Master Bolt leaves Olympus and then vanishes? Highly suspicious, even more so considering the rise in certain happenings. Foul play was suspected, and godly investigations took place, though no ground was gained, much to Poseidon's dismay.
For three months did Percy remain missing. For three months were there searches and investigations. For three months was there crying and despairing…until Philadelphia. Until the city was destroyed in a blast of extreme power. Until all the Olympians arrived at the smoldering hellscape of a city.
They overturned rocks and rubble, until Poseidon lifted away one slab of concrete, and screamed.
Percy had been found at last, and he did not look well.
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Olympus
The first thing to have been done was dump Percy into a vat of saltwater. That took care of the burns and the cuts, but not his emaciation and atrophy. After his bath, Apollo and Asclepius, under the furious order of Poseidon, gently put the comatose demigod in the most comfortable bed ever made, and gently hooked him to an IV of nectar and saltwater.
As there was nothing physically wrong with him, not anything that could be treated without physical therapy, anyway, there wasn't anything else that could be done until Percy woke up. Asclepius tried entering Percy's mind, but found that he couldn't. It was locked tight by Percy's own subconscious, his mind locking itself down to protect it from something. What that something was, was anyone's guess.
Poseidon had also been informed by an emissary that Sally was enjoying her afterlife in Elysium.
For three days, the seas swelled due to their master's grief. For three days did Poseidon mourn for his mortal lover, and lament his failure to protect his son. For three days, Amphitrite and Triton did what they could for their husband and father, finding not the heart in them to be mad or take pleasure in Poseidon's grief, grief that stemmed from his infidelity. For three days…Percy Jackson remained comatose and inactive on all levels, unresponsive to all.
On this third day, the Fates deemed it time to begin turning the wheels once more, and they brought in help.
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Poseidon entered his son's room, and his trident was instantly brandished at the intruder in the black cloak with the red clouds, standing over Percy.
"WHO ARE YOU!?"
The stranger calmly lifted the brim of his straw hat, and Poseidon saw a red eye with three comma-like markings around the pupil. Instantly, the sea god felt so calm and relaxed. He lowered his trident and mumbled a barely audible "sorry" before trudging over to stand next to the crimson-eyed stranger. That was when Poseidon vaguely noticed that Asclepius was there. Overlapped across the healing god's eye was a hazy image like the stranger's eye.
Poseidon paid it no need as he stood there silently. He became so lost in a warm, fuzzy daze, that he didn't even hear the stranger speak.
"I've met a science experiment, a psychopath, a monster, and a kid with tentacles coming out just above his ass. A devout Christian version of me is something I never thought I'd meet, nor did I ever think I'd have to fix their head. Oh well. The faster we get this over with, the faster we can get to my sister's birthday. Now, let's see what the damage is…"
The stranger reached down and pried open one of Percy's eyelids. The red eye of the stranger glowed briefly, before returning to its usual luminance. "My, that is extensive, but nothing I haven't seen before. Honestly, this is rather tame, but I'll be generous enough to rate it at PG-13."
Asclepius raised his head asked, "What on earth does it take to be rated as R if this doesn't qualify?"
"He wasn't dissected and sewn into a meat suit styled to look like some kind of animal and then bred like said animal," the stranger stated casually, like discussing how work went yesterday.
Asclepius nodded dazedly.
Shin'en's eye spun into its Mangekyou form. It glowed brightly.
"Now then…let's get to work…"
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And so it begins, the revitalization of Assassin's Creed: Transcendence with help from Shin'en. Let it be known that I always intended to bring in Shin'en to help pull Percy back together, especially after Xenophobic, so this is not some spur of the moment decision.
Anyway, we're back on track with the story at the end of next chapter, and the rewards for completing the Trial of Job are given. I think it's high time we bring back the Assassin's Creed elements of this story, and reground its roots.
Fav, Follow, and Review!