To think that a demi-god, and one of the big three no less, would make it to that age of seventeen. By all standards, this is impressive; however, for Percy Jackson, one would think he would have made it longer. Being the demi-god of a Generation: slayer of titans, giants, and countless monsters. Hero of many, idol to more, and survivor of countless quests.
We now find him in California, making his way mindlessly to DOA Studios, the hidden entrance to the underworld. For one simple reason. He wishes to die, and what better way than for Hades, the god of the underworld himself, to do it.
It didn't matter who he bumped into, who yelled at him, what he knocked over. He can't even feel any pain, it's all just numb. He can barely think after all he did, all he sacrificed for them. It wasn't enough, not for the gods, not for- He can't even think of her name without wanting to curl up in a dark hole and just cry. Hell, he's crying right now. Many passersby look at him, some seventeen-year-old kid who looks dead to the world just walking around crying. A hero diminished to a damn crybaby.
He's not paying attention to where he's going. He's just walking. He knows it's around here somewhere. Every twist and turn brings him closer bit by bit to his death. It's so close yet feels so torturously far. He glances around, thinking he found the place. All black building. Seems right, super long line, yeah makes sense. Using the mist, he makes his way in only to realize after a few minutes of wandering around, that this is not the right place. This is some kind of nightclub. One that is currently closed. Well shit. He turns to leave before someone stops him, a voice with a lilting British accent.
"Well, well, what is a Greek doing here? Haven't bothered with any interaction with your kind in... Well, I haven't bothered to count," he says with a drink of some kind in his hand. Percy's hand immediately goes to his pocket, closing around his pen.
"Who are you, and how do you know what I am?" Percy asked, ready for a fight. Ready for anything, really.
"Easy there, easy! Going to make me spill my drink all over," the man says, putting his hands up.
"Who are you?" Percy asked as he slowly started to uncap his pen.
"Why Mr. Jackson, I am Lucifer Morningstar!" He gives a sweeping, grand, and dramatic gesture, putting his hand in the air showing off his red undershirt and brilliant black suit top. Percy doesn't overly believe him. However, the revelation that the Christian God and its stories are true at this point does not surprise him. He can barely feel anything at this point. There is no shock. No awe. Just this cold numbness.
"Hmm. Usually, that incites a reaction of some kind… Are… Are you alright?" The man asked, looking a tad bit concerned.
"What the Hades does it matter," Percy said grimly. He'd had enough of this. He just wanted to die, to get this all over with and be done. He put his hands back in his pockets and turned to walk out.
"Woah Woah Woah. Hey there, are you ok? What happened to the hero of Olympus to make him this sour?" The devil asked, now legitimately concerned for this kid. Suicide is never good and always leaves a person riddled with guilt. He knows who Percy is, what he's done, the true hero that this boy is, and the last thing he wants is him to be rotting in hell.
"Leave me alone," Percy said, trying to leave. Are those tears? What is happening? However, the devil has many tricks up his sleeve to get answers, and now is certainly the time to bust one out.
"Hey hey hey, now Perseus. Humor me, will you? What do you desire?" His voice was gentler than it usually was when he said that line, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder and turning him around to look him in the eyes. Percy can feel something worming its way into his mind, and he tries to fight it; he tries so hard, his tears are flowing, and he feels like shit, he just wants it all to end and be over, and that's when he starts talking. He tells this man everything that happened. That he wants to die, that he's not allowed near his family, or what few friends he has.
Lucifer feels something for this boy; he knows exactly how he feels, to be betrayed, and before he knew it, he was hugging this kid, and Percy was hugging back and just gripping on to him as if there was nothing else in the world still tethering him there. The boy sobs into the devil's chest. After a few minutes for each man to collect himself, Lucifer looks Percy square in the eyes and puts his hand on his shoulder.
"So Percy, tell me, how would you like to be the life of the party?" he says with a devilish grin and a glint in his eyes.
It's been thirty-two years since the end of the last war. Thirty-two years since the greatest hero to have ever been born was banished from their world and utterly vanished, and that has been thirty-two years too long. The other members of the seven, as well as various other outstanding heroes from the war, were either given minor godhood or immortality to ensure the next generation of heroes are ready for the challenges to come. So they can live the life that Percy Jackson fought, sweat, and bled to give them. The fact that he cannot be here to help the next generation is outrageous and insulting.
In response to this, the heroes had enough and gave an ultimatum to their king, Zeus. Either allow Percy back and let them find him, or they will all leave. Having his back to the wall with both the heroes and various other gods, such as the boy's father Poseidon, Zeus reluctantly revokes the banishment he instituted all those years ago.
However, finding the man has been a conspiracy and a half. They traced practically every lead available to them to find him and have come up with nothing. It's utterly insane. They know he's not dead; they've asked Hades several times. Yet no matter what they do, they can't find any trace of him. Annabeth, the minor goddess of architecture and pride has taken this as a personal offense and already has two conspiracy boards full of red yarn trying to figure out where he is.
"Annabeth, this is accomplishing nothing," I say, having enough of this idiocy. Her pride has nearly inflated to the height of Zeus' ego. Grover and various other camp half-blood members say that she seems to have regressed to a point before she even met Percy.
Over the years it's only gotten worse. We can all barely stand her but she's one of the few friends we have. Gods help us if someone questions her or tries to argue. She would never shut up so we have to watch our words carefully around her.
"But the answer has to be here somewhere! I will find him, Reyna!" Before I can retort, the door bursts open.
"We have something!" Piper, the minor goddess of charms, true love, and visual accuracy, says, bursting into the room. Annabeth and my eyes widen. A lead?
"How? From what? Where? When?" Annabeth starts asking, rapid fire.
"One of your kids! Said they ran into a man in LA! Had green eyes and black hair! He helped them find Camp and even paid for the fare there!" Piper yells, trying to gather her breath.
"Have you told the others?" I asked, feeling hope as my heart began to thud. This is the closest we have ever been, we must move fast.
"You're the last ones, everyone else's already left to search for him. Hades, Poseidon, even Lord Hermes and Apollo are helping!" Piper says before flashing out, Annabeth doing the same, leaving me alone… damn it sucked only being Immortal. Eventually, I find my way off Olympus and to LA and am instantly reminded of how much I despise this place, so crowded, loud, and dirty. City of angels, what a damn joke. The search lasts all day and well into the night. It's nearly two in the morning, and there's just nothing!
Anything?! I hear the voice of Jason, the minor god of the sky, air currents, lighting, and birds of prey, ask in all our heads.
Nada. This doesn't make any sense. How is there not even a trace of a scent? A Satyr. Grover, I believe, asked, utterly confused. I was about to call it quits. I was tired and done. I may be immortal, but running around still makes your feet and legs ache. Then I see a sign hanging outside a door surrounded by old-fashioned torch lanterns.
"That's interesting," I mutter to myself, going up and looking at the sign trying to read it… I can barely read it. It's in English, but whatever the word is, it's horribly misspelled. The place looks like a bar. On the sign are small greek letters. That's definitely eye catching, seeing who I'm looking for but many places use random greek letters for aesthetic purposes. I stand outside thinking, should I go in? Rest a bit, and have a few drinks. Not like they affect me at all.
"Ah, screw it, better than hearing Annabeth continue to rant and rave." I say walking up to the door and opening it only to immediately be hit by some kind of smoky fog. I look around. The place is beautiful. I can't place the time period or overall theme, one of the few things Annabeth would be good for, but I can deny the beauty and masterful craftsmanship. From the wood figures, tables, chairs, to the very stone that lines the walls. The bar was breathtaking. There's a band in the corner playing some kind of jazz or blues music and there's an overall very melancholy feel to the place, a shared sadness. Then I notice the sign above the bar, an actually legible version of the exterior sign.
"Myzri co… as in Misery and company. Misery loves company. Interesting" I muse to myself, finding a seat. The Mist surrounds me so completely that I go unnoticed and/or forgotten by any mortal that looks at me. It makes everything easier. Then through the crowd I see a man that makes my heart skip a beat and I feel my face flush. He stands tall, taller than anyone else here including the bouncer, who is clearly a disguised cyclops. His suit jacket is a piercing black and his undershirt is a vibrant sea green matching stunningly with his blue tie. The buttons on his jacket and cufflinks on his sleeves are a deep and glowing red that have some kind of design on them. I can't quite make it out from where I'm sitting. His face is chiseled even when hidden behind that well groomed and trimmed beard she can tell. His hair is an intense jet black with glints of red and gold tied back into a bun. But then there's his eyes, eyes all too familiar. Ones that make my heart race. Sea green eyes that seem to have some kind of fire in them. It's him. Percy Jackson.
Feelings I thought had been buried and killed off years ago begin to surface again as my face grows redder and redder. I have to stop. Wrestle control of my mind from my own feelings. He sits at the piano in the center of the room and his hands seem to just glide over the keys as he plays some kind of impromptu song. No real sense of direction, just following his feelings; it's kind of somber feeling, like everything else in his bar. I can't take my eyes off him.
"Is that really him?" I ask myself in disbelief. He's changed so much! So well put together. 'So handsome.' I shake my head at that thought, 'Focus! Need to make sure it's actually him,' I say to myself internally.
I watch as he and the band interact, holding a silent conversation with each other as he starts playing a song. His voice is so smooth, so drenched with emotions it brings me to tears. I want to hold him, tell him it's all over, that he can finally after a long thirty-two years come back home. He can come back with me- no with us. As the crescendo hits I can only feel guilt. How could I have just abandoned him like they did? Why didn't we try to get him back sooner? I feel so horrible hearing him sing, the hurt, the pain in his voice. I see the time we spent together. Even in the short time he was at Camp Jupiter I fell for him. Not as hard as I did for Jason, but I still did. I remember the heartache, the disappointment of seeing him with Annabeth. But now he isn't hers. Maybe I stand a chance with him, maybe I could finally find love?
'No no stop what are you thinking Reyna, get a grip on yourself!' I told myself. What is happening here? Is there some kind of charm on this place? Why am I thinking like this? I was so lost in my own world, my own memories, tears, and grief that I jump when the rest of the bar explodes in applause. Once more I look into his eyes and there's that beautiful, devilish grin on his face. All the emotions that he just poured into his performance were true, they were real. He is still hurt, still broken after all this time.
"Thank you LA! I'll be here all night!" Percy says in a voice that seems to have been crafted out of gold by Apollo himself. I watch as he raises a drink toward them all.
"To your health!" He takes a sip and his eyes glance over here. My face explodes and I do my best to hide it in my hands. Trying to shrink, to disappear. What is happening? I am a nearly fifty year old veteran of two wars, leader of hundreds of roman and greek demigods, yet in the span of what? Like twenty minutes? I have been reduced to a blushing crush-stricken school girl.
Percy didn't seem to notice me and my heart sinks a little as he walks away, disappearing into the crowd. I drag deep breaths in, trying to gain control of myself again. It takes several minutes for my blush to die down and even more time for me to regain control of my rapid heartbeat and thoughts that have gone wild. But eventually I do. Thank the gods the Mist was all around me and no one seemed to have noticed what just happened to me. Slowly I get up and decide it's time to confront him, to talk to him. To bring Percy Home.