Hello again,
Sorry for the delay. I was pretty brain-dead trying to write this. I swear, some days I stared at my open google docs for hours but was only able to get a few hundred words in. It's not writer's block, I just kept getting sidetracked by family vacations, anime, youtube, video games, reading other fanfictions, planning out future scenes for this story, and moving back to college.
To the guest who asked why Annabeth is around so much, there has to be a transition period. Annabeth was a BIG part of Percy's life. I wouldn't be able to sleep with myself if Percy cried once then moved on to the next girl.
"Let's just jump into it." -Philip Defranco
Disclaimer: I don't own PJO, HOO, or AOT and I'm not profiting off anything.
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Author's note
Narration
Thoughts and Internal Conversations
"Speaking, duh"
Last time
Succeeding the trial of Perseus Jackson, the Scouts leave Percy in the hands of the Military Police and begin their preparation for their 57th Exterior Scouting Mission. Back in his cell, Percy makes the shocking discovery that The Mist is present but unusable in his new environment and shortly after is once again visited by 'Monster Girl.' Confronting Annie about the monstrous nature he senses, Percy and Annabelle (the voice in his head) are able to deduce she isn't a mythological Greek monster they originally were thought her to be. Stuck at a crossroads, to move forward Percy must decide who to appease; his captors or the monster girl delivering him meals. Meanwhile, Annie secures her position in the Military Police. Her first job: leading the interrogation of this newfound crazy prisoner.
Chapter 7: God's Awful Grace
Year 850: Percy's 4th Day in Prison
Percy's POV:
…
…
…
…
"You know… considering how things have gone so far, you've actually been pretty lucky."
"Lucky? Really!? Please, pray tell me how!"
"For starters, it was lucky that they didn't strap you up with your arms over your head at the trial. With your arms behind your back, you were able to cover your weak spot."
I guess, but you're leaving out the fact that none of that would have mattered if they didn't SHOOT ME!
Well, at least things can't get worse…
Exactly. We're at rock bottom.
"Hey, look at the bright side! You would have been dead twice over now if it weren't for your blessing. When you first woke up in this world, you were in no way prepared to fight that titan. You would have died, again, if it weren't for the Curse."
But it's a Curse! Look at me! Look at us! We're starving…
"*Grrrrhhh*"
On queue, my stomach lets out a pitiful grumble, expressing its sadness.
After Annabeth and I escaped Tartarus, it only took a little over a week for our skin to return to their natural tones. Our weight and muscle, on the other hand, had a much longer recovery time. It took months of swinging swords, climbing lava walls, and running laps around camp for our legs and arms to fill out. Only up to my untimely death did I finally regain confidence in my physical ability.
In my appearance.
Feeling the oh so familiar aches, cramps, and chills of my body consuming muscle for energy, watching myself wither away back to a weakened and sapped state after spending all that time and effort rebuilding my body, and unable to do anything about it but sit in this cell, sucks.
Damn this curse and its side effects.
"*Grrrrhhh*"
Sorry tummy.
"The real question is, would you rather have drakon meat or nothing?"
"..."
My stomach goes oddly silent at the thought of that rotten green jerky.
"Hey Percy?"
Yeah?
"You do know that requiring more food is not the only thing this curse is doing to you, right?"
Yeah, of course! I mean, sure, it's making me more tired than usual but that's not really an issue right now... Helps me pass the time actually…
"You haven't noticed, have you? How the curse is affecting your head."
Mother Rhea.
Annabelle's revelation gets momentarily put on hold as a riptide of nauseousness pulls my mind to a world of sickness and pain. I turn my head to the side of the bed and retch forward, dry heaving stomach fluids over the cold floors. If I had an ounce of food in my stomach, I would be making such a mess.
Gods, am I that blind? H-How did I miss it?
Of course the Curse of Achilles would be affecting my judgement, my thoughts, my mind. It's so damn clear. All of it; brazenly revealing my heritage, snapping at the judge at my trial, brashly confronting the Scouts, shamelessly accusing Annie of being a monster… It's the curse. It's always been this damn curse! And I fucking knew about this side effect too! Gods, I'm such an imbecile!
"Being forcibly ripped away from your home and family is certainly a leading cause of your mental state and 'my' existence, but the curse certainly played a part in it as well. Who knows? Maybe you would've been able to keep everything together if you weren't dumped in the Styx."
What should I do?
"Redevelop your self-control, obviously."
Easier said than done! What does that even mean?! Do I have to do, like, anger management techniques? Because we both know how well deep breaths and counting to 10 worked against my grade school bullies.
"Try something else then."
Kinda limited on options here… but I guess I could try making a stress ball out of my mattress? Only problem is that I don't exactly know how to sew… Besides that, what else should I do? Picture people in their underwear whenever I get mad?
"That's for stage fright, dumbass."
If you have anything constructive to add then let's hear it.
"Humor is a great solution. Take a step back and try to make a joke about the situation. You don't want to get too deep under your captive's skins but once or twice wouldn't—"
"We're about to arrive at our destination." A voice outside my cell cuts Annabelle off.
Who was that?
"I don't know, but there's a lot of them."
Sure enough, a second later I recognize the sound of half a dozen footsteps marching down the hallway.
"I feel bad, must be uncomfortable wearing this thing 24/7." One of the approaching persons exclaims. "I wouldn't want to be in his shoes."
"Comfort isn't a luxury a prisoner can afford." Some female replies. "It isn't our fault he has a magic fucking sword, this is the only way to keep it off him."
"Sounds like they finally came up with a solution for your sword."
"You two, restrain his arms. Lewis and Weber, make sure he doesn't kick. Noah and I will put the belt on him." A man orders, presumably the leader of the approaching squad.
Sounds… excessive.
"Relax. They're just being cautious. It'll be over before you know it."
They could just ask me to put my hand behind my back, you know.
"We'll get his cell guards to help to restrain him too." The man continues. "6 pairs of hands should be more than enough to wrestle him down."
You know what? Fuck this.
Throwing my bed covers off my body, I stand to the side of my bed, getting as close to the back wall as possible so the chains connected to the back wall don't prevent me from striking forward.
"I thought you said you were going to try to keep a level head!?"
Don't you hear what they're saying?! I'm not going to let them manhandle me like this!
"Fighting back will just make things worse! It feels like we're finally about to get somewhere, don't put it all to waste!"
If they take Riptide away from me, I'll be defenseless!
"You have the Curse of Achilles! They can't physically hurt you!"
"And if he pulls out his sword?" Someone asks.
"If it comes to that we'll barricade his cell door and play the waiting game. Bullet proof or not, he still needs food and water to survive." The leader replies.
"Don't—"
Fuck! This!
"Breathe with Percy! In, and out. In, and out. In, and out."
I juggle the shackles around my wrists, judging their weight. They're heavy, designed to slow me down if I make a break for it. But more mass equals more force, I won't have to swing too hard to bash in their skulls.
"Don't you dare!"
As long as I don't let them grab me I have a chance! After I incapacitate them, I'll use Riptide to break my chains. It doesn't even matter if they manage to seal my door, I can find a way out!
"Dude, don't let the curse play you like a fool! Control yourself!"
This is my last chance to escape! The way I see it; it's me, or them. And I choose me! So they can all go straight to the Fields of Punishment!
"Don't blame them, they don't understand your powers. They're scared."
The Scouts, the Military Police, the King, they are all ignorant, corrupt, justless fools. They don't deserve my help. They don't deserve to be saved! I'm letting them know that I'm done being treated like some animal needed to be caged. If they don't listen and try to get in my way, I swear I'll cut off their—
"Even in our sleep,
pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart,
until, in our own despair,
against our will,
comes wisdom
through the awful grace of God"
What… was that?
"A poem, by the Ancient Greek playwright Aeschylus."
"Is everyone ready?" One of the approaching Military Police members asks, now directly outside my door.
"Ready!" 5 or so voices confirm.
"Don't hate the Scouts. Don't hate the Military Police. They're people, just like you. I know you're feeling bitterness and enmity for them, but don't take revenge for circumstances outside their control… Deep down, you know it's not right, because that's what 'I' believe."
…
"Just… Let it all go. Please, trust in me. Put trust in yourself. Believe, that things will work out."
"GO!"
Like a swat team raiding a Mexican cartel's drug stash, 8 MPs breach my room. Time slows down as my cell door flings open. One by one, the MPs rush in with faces comically frozen in various battle ready expressions. Their outstretched fingers inch for my arms and clothes at a snail speed pace while my own tensed hands, still raised, ready, and willing to take lives, fall to my waist.
Their rage extinguished by a poem read in Annabeth's voice.
I don't recall much after they grabbed me, only muffled orders to stay still and my body being jerked around by my rough apprehension. I think one of the MPs punched my head but I can't tell. It all just feels numb.
Would I have been able to feel it if I didn't have this curse?
I remember a knife then a tugging at my pants. Next thing I know, Riptide, in its ballpoint pen form, is being passed between two MPs right before me. I start coming back to it as I notice Riptide being placed into a small metal box accompanied by a suspicious bundle of chains. The box is closed and locked with a key and only when they grab the ends of the chains do I notice they are actually connected with the box. The ends are brought around my waist, tightened, and locked behind my back with another click.
"See you soon… Old friend…"
A mental image of Annabeth saluting Riptide a farewell pops into my head and I shake my head, cursing my hardwired ADHD for giving me such a painful reminder.
One of the MPs pulls out an old-fashioned stopwatch from his coat pocket and begins snobbishly counting the passing time, impatiently tapping his foot as if I'm not worth his time. My forehead begins to boil as my temper makes a slight comeback. Although nowhere near the levels it was at before, it still takes every ounce of willpower I have to not lash out against the man.
A silent (and tense) minute goes by before the MP clicks his stopwatch, stopping its timer. Then the man reaches over, grabs my newly fastened chain link belt, and gives it a good shake. The sound of a cheap ballpoint rattling around inside the box rings that this new 'chastity belt' idea of theirs actually worked.
"Let's get out of here."
The two MPs holding my arms shove me backwards into the back wall and together, all eight flee the room. I slump my back against the uncomfortable stone brick, unwilling to move until long after the MPs slam and lock the cell door behind them.
Or maybe it's because I don't have the energy to do so.
"Never again!"
"That was nerve-racking, I thought I was done for!"
"I'm heading straight to the nearest priest to make sure he didn't cast any spells on me."
"I'm gonna go take a nap."
The footsteps and conversations of the MPs gradually fade away as they make their exit, leaving myself and Dumb and Dumber to our lonesomes.
"I would've let you guys put the belt on me. All you had to do was ask…"
Pushing off the wall, I slumber over to my bed, throwing myself onto the mattress with a slothful thump.
"We aren't willing to take that risk." Dumb replies.
My stomach lets out another ferocious growl, erupting into another painful set of cramps. The only thing I can do is try to get some rest and wait for my next delivery of food to briefly repress its protests.
"Why do you have to sound like her…"
"I'm sorry."
"It hurts," I whisper out to the black nothingness of closed eyes.
"I know."
"What?" Dumb asks from outside.
Idiot, can't he tell I'm not talking to him?
"He's just talking to himself again." Dumber says.
And that's why I've dubbed my other guard with that name.
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Annie's Pov:
"Out of all people, why did Dawk have to pick me?!" Flynn complains, taking off his pair of round spectacles to wipe his sweaty forehead, parting his balding brown hair in the process.
Flynn is a slightly overweight, middle-aged man with a resume of being the transcriber for dozens of trials, aristocratic negotiations, and high-class business discourse. Handpicked by Dawk to accompany me for my newly assigned job, Flynn wasn't chosen for his quick penmanship and experience alone. He is a weak-minded man. Easy to frighten, quick to obey commands. Flynn's spinelessness is what allows him to continue transcribing confidential summits of the highest order.
"Don't tell me you let those rumors get to your head."
"I heard he uses dark magic to take over people's minds!" He cries with chattering teeth.
"If Perseus could do that, he wouldn't be held up 12 feet underground. He's more pitiful than you think."
"But—"
"We're here."
Arriving before seven-eighths inch steel bars, Flynn and I halt outside Perseus' abode. The guards standing adjacent to Perseus' door eye us up, observing the prisoner's meal for the day in my hands and the newcomer I've brought along. They turn to each other, nod, then move to unlock the cell. Flynn closes his eyes and inhales a big breath. Exhaling obnoxiously, he reopens his eyelids to a new confident facade, disguising his wimpish nature from the prisoner. Then together, we step in.
Undisturbed by the creaking metal hinges, Perseus remains aloof and under the covers of his bed. While Flynn sets up a wooden foldable chair for himself in the corner of the cell, I walk towards the foot of Perseus' bed and plop his rations down beside his legs. The nearby movement makes Perseus rustle and sluggish he rights himself up into a sitting position. As he does so, his bed covers slide off his lower body, revealing a strange metal box chained to his waist. One I hear was designed to keep that 'teleporting' weapon of his on his body.
"Oh, it's you." Idly moving to pick up his meal, Perseus' eyes only wander over to Flynn after he finishes taking his first bite to eat. "Who's the dude?"
"Good evening Perseus, my name is Flynn. I'll be your stenographer for the time being."
"A 'steno-grapher?'"
"A person who'll write down our words as we speak," Flynn clarifies.
"Oh."
Raising his bread to take another bite, Perseus engrosses himself in his meal. Even after taking a bite, his eyes stay downcasted, completely focused on his meal, unwilling to rise back up to engage with Flynn or I.
His whole demeanor has shifted since our last visit.
"I've been assigned as your interrogator for the time being by the order of Commander Dawk himself. My job is to inquire about the origin of your abilities."
Perseus grunts to let me know he's listening.
"Acts of bad faith, such as untruthful answers and omission of particular details, will be dealt with repercussions. There's no point in lying, answering truthfully only serves to improve your condition. Do you understand?"
"…"
"Alright, let's get started then."
My goal is to get the prisoner to talk about people, places, and memories he cherishes first to lower his guard and note any Freudian slips along the way. Only when the time is right can more direct questions be made, confronting him with things that don't add up if he tries to bullshit his way out. However, I can't outright ask him to divulge in his personal life.
To start I'll need to warm him up first.
"Let's begin with your hometown."
"..."
"When first asked by the Scouts, you answered that you were from Queens."
"..."
"Queens, located in a place called 'New York.' Supposedly a city with a population of 18 million and buildings so tall they scrape the sky."
"..."
"Or perhaps we should start with your powers? You claimed to be the son of a 'water god' of some sorts, care to elaborate?"
Eyes still focused on that hard biscuit, Perseus raises his provision and takes another bite, chewing it at a painstakingly slow pace. Flynn and I share a knowing glance, concerned about his unsociable behavior.
"You know, I didn't get much sleep last night." I lie with an exaggerated sigh. "Your words the other day really kept me up. Calling a girl an ugly monster; what was going through your head?"
The rim of Perseus' mouth quivers but moves no further than shifting into a frown. His lips part and close a number of times but his throat fails to produce sound.
"What gives? Yesterday you were so animated. Where's the sarcastic reply, personal jab, or off-handed remark? I had gotten the impression that you were quite the talker."
Tearing his attention away from his rations, his sea-green eyes appear dull and crestfallen. Before they seemed to glow with power and passion, illuminated even through his gloomy cell. But now they're blank. Defunct… like a child raised with the sole purpose of serving an imperialist military state.
"Don't tell me that had to do with your newfound attitude," I ask, gesturing to the metal belt around his waist. "You're like a completely different person today. Only thing to change between our meetings is that they slapped that belt around your waist. What a coincidence."
"It's not like that." the god-pretender mumbles.
"Sure looks that way to me. The exact moment we lock your weapon away—"
"It's not like that!" Perseus shouts, making Flynn jerk in his chair. "I j-just… nevermind."
"I already told you people everything you wanted to know," He mumbles. "This interview is pointless."
"Unfortunately, my boss wants to learn more."
"Sorry, but there's nothing else to tell…" He apologies with barely passable soft words.
"This is my first job. If I fail this, my career is over."
"To me, it seems like your superiors just want to hear a backstory that they can accept. Nothing I say will please them, it'll only be a matter of time before you're replaced… Like I said, pointless." He huffs with a defeatist sigh.
"If my resignation is inevitable, we might as well pass our time telling tales. Certainly that would be more entertaining than sitting here in silence. Don't you agree?"
"Don't tell me you want me to talk to me… because you want to get to know me…"
"And if I am?"
"I'd say that's a Minotaur shit-sized excuse to cover that you're doing this for your job and your job alone."
Minotaur?
"E-excuse me, if I may," Flynn speaks up. "Although it is not my job to participate in discourse, I feel the need to speak on Ms. Leonhart's behalf." He continues, waiting for my approval. I give him a nod to move forward.
"Mr. Jackson, Commander Dawk assigned Ms. Leonhart to this task because she expressed an intrinsic curiosity about your conundrum. Others asked to perform the same job turned down the offer, so far Ms. Leonhart is the sole person to willingly accept, my own self included."
"Annie, are you really not doing this for your job?" Perseus asks.
A strange shift occurs within Perseus. A trace of hope. A return to life.
"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. Everyone has bills to pay."
I feel a pang of guilt for deceiving him but I have to remind myself I have a mission.
"So are we going to talk, or are you going get me fired from my first job?"
Perseus doesn't immediately reply, opting to stare at Flynn and I as if trying to peer into our souls themselves. He shuts his eyes and winces in discomfort, scratching his head as he surely internally debates with himself.
"Gods, I thought I was done with this crap…" He curses under his breath. "Fine! I'm willing to talk but I have some demands first."
"Let's hear it then."
"I need more food and water."
"Hmmm. That's going to be a bit difficult." Flynn mutters to himself.
"Why the hell is that!" Perseus yells, making Flynn flinch from the out of the blue fury.
"I'm not sure if you're aware but our government is currently facing a major food shortage." I plainly point out. "You might think your rations are measly, but you're eating better than half of the poor in the cities."
"Well this isn't enough to keep me sustained," Perseus replies, holding up his half eaten bread as if I wasn't aware of the portions I was delivering to him.
"No need to be gluttonous. You might lose a few pounds but you'll live."
"No, I mean it's literally not enough! This curse I have—I mean, my ability to have impenetrable skin, it makes my body demands more energy."
"Can't you just, turn it off?"
"No I can't. I'm actually starving with these small dinners. I need more."
No one's truly invincible, I knew Perseus wasn't, but now I have hard evidence. Or a confession at the least. Flynn picks up on this too, rustling with his papers as he realizes he should probably start writing all this down.
"I'll see what I can do about your rations." I agree. "But I can't promise anything about water. My superiors are very strict about your intact and serving sizes."
"Why?"
"You know why." I reply, narrowing my eyes.
Perseus goes silently, sheepishly scratching the back of his ear as if that somehow eclipsed him.
"Honestly, I wouldn't use it on anybody. I just don't want to have a constant cottonmouth."
"There's no way to ensure that."
"I know… B-but if I was planning on breaking out, I would have tried something already. Wouldn't I?" He explains, looking down at the metal chain belt around his waist.
I hum to let him know I'm considering his point.
"I'll see what I can do."
"Thanks."
If food and drink are all that it takes to get him talking, I'll make sure he dines like a king if I have too.
"So what do you want to know? More about my powers? My home? My dad?"
"How about we talk about your mother."
"My mom?" Perseus asks, taken aback by the request. "Why her? I thought you guys would be more interested in the other stuff."
The Scouts before failed in that they went for a hard, direct approach with no reciprocity. Supernatural abilities or not, they should've treated him like a lost traveler first and a foreign invader second. Then again, hindsight is 20/20. No one could blame their stereotypical reckless exploratory nature for choosing the path they did.
"If we're going to be spending the next months together, I'd like to know more about the woman who raised you."
"Well, alright then…" Perseus pauses for a second to take a deep breath, loudly exhaling before continuing. "My mother's name was Sally."
"Was? Has she passed?"
"No. I just… don't think I'll ever see her again."
Is he that hopeless that he believes he'll never get out of here? Is this the reason behind his attitude shift?
"Anyway, she's the best mom anyone could ever ask for. Kind, understanding, passionate, a hard worker…" A warm smile sprouts across Perseus' face as he describes his mother.
"She sounds like a wonderful woman."
"Yeah, she is…"
"Was there anyone else in the picture growing up? Any siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles?"
"I had two stepfathers, Gabe and Paul. Paul was the second, he married my mom when I was 15," Perseus explains. "He's a good man; treated my mom right, put in the effort to build a relationship with me, and got me into a good school despite my history. Stinky Gabe on the other hand…"
"What brought about that nickname?" I ask, smirking at the childish moniker.
"I called him that because he reeked worse than moldy garlic pizza wrapped in gym shorts!"
A light chuckle escapes my throat at the absurd metaphor. But if such a man truly smelled like that, no woman on Earth would dare marry him. Or perhaps an Eldian woman within these walls would, since they live in a culture that doesn't mind body odor.
I'm surrounded by stinking devils.
"I'm not kidding either! I was told Gabe's stench was so terrible it was able to mask my demigod scent from monsters." Perseus continues, smiling in a joking manner. Then he snarls. "That's why my mom married Gabe, he was disrespectful and abusive but she stuck with him to protect me."
"I see..."
I have a theory. The 'godly' excuses Perseus' uses have sounded genuine enough so far. I doubt they'll remain as so but in the off chance they do, it could mean one of two things. A: He is a mastermind of manipulation and misinformation. Or B: this is how he makes sense of the world.
From the reports of his guards to my own observations, Perseus seems to be exhibiting signs of some sort of bipolarness and dissociation, exhibiting pronounced mood swings and reportedly talking to himself in his cell at times. To act it out while others are in the room is one thing. But to keep it up day and night when he thinks no one is watching…
Something in his head has unequivocally cracked.
"What was your childhood echelon like?" I ask, only to earn a confused look.
"I mean your social standing. How well off were you compared to other folks?"
"Oh. Uhhh well, my mom dropped out of college to take care of her sick uncle Rich. Shortly after he passed, my mom met my dad and had me. She never got the chance to go back to school and get a higher paying job." He talks in a somber tone, as if blaming himself for his mother's circumstance.
"The pay at the jobs my mom worked were never great so she had to work long hours, but she'd always go out of her way to bring home blue candy or make some time for me. The best people always get the rottenest luck..."
"When did your mom marry Gabe?"
"When I was four, I think?"
"And what income did he bring to your family? What was his occupation?"
"He was the manager of some electronics store down the block."
Electronics?
"Probably made twice as much as my mom. Or even more, which is infuriating because he lounged around all day while my mom was always working more than one job."
So his mother is a laborer and his first stepfather is a store owner. The way Perseus talks about his mother and stepfather, it's clear she married him to protect Perseus. But to protect Perseus from monsters? That excuse flowed out from his mouth like a late summer's night breeze but it's not the truth. Perhaps the truth is something Perseus is unwilling to see. Or unwilling to accept.
Sally married that man for the financial support he could provide.
His mother's story is one heard a thousand times before; a woman abandoned by the father of her child struggling to support said child with no support, and Perseus didn't hesitate or stammer a wink as he recited his past. But in the middle of this ordinary scenario he spits that absurd line, "she married him to protect me from monsters", and continues as if he is unable to see how preposterous such a line is.
"And what of your birth father? You told the Scouts you didn't know who he was until you were 12 years old?"
"Yeah, that's right. I never knew who he was—what he was until after I had turned twelve. My mom always told me he was lost at sea. Never dead, just lost."
The sea! That settles it.
"The sea?"
"Yeah, that's what my mom always said whenever she would take me down to the beach she met him at. She'd explain that he was a rich and important man and that their relationship needed to be kept a secret." Perseus casually explains, unaware of the artillery shell of a revelation he just dropped.
"I hated him." Perseus continues, furrowing his brow and frowning his lips. "I knew my mom was lying about him being lost at sea. If he truly loved me and my mom like she said, he wouldn't have abandoned us before I was born. I blamed him for taking my mother's heart one summer and running away with it and abandoning us in the shit hole of a situation I grew up in."
"But I always had this strange feeling that my dad genuinely never wanted to leave. No matter how much the thought of him made my blood boil, whenever I tried to picture what my dad was like in my head, I would get this nostalgic warm glow feeling… like he visited me after my birth without my mom's knowledge against whatever shitty situation pulled us apart."
Without a doubt, it is clear that Perseus is from overseas. Not only did he just casually reveal that he is aware of the concept of a sea, but previously he showed he knew about electricity; a technology the backwards devils of the walls have yet to discover. Digging further into what technologies he has knowledge may be able to help me pinpoint which region of the world he came from.
The real issue is all this 'monsters and gods' nonsense.
He sounds genuine, too genuine, for this to be a fabricated story. At this point, I'm running under the assumption that Perseus honestly believes he is the son of a god. The worrying absence of his father in his childhood seems to be playing a part in this. Perhaps he was led to believe his father was a god to explain the strange powers he holds? And if he claims to have seen these monsters and gods he speaks of first hand, I'm not sure what to think. Does that mean he has a form of visual agnosia or some other visual/perception-related disorder?
Perseus might just be the nightmare that inhabits the minds of practicing psychiatrists.
For now, I'll just ask the guards to keep tabs on his behavior and play it by ear.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Perseus. That'll be all for the day."
"What? That's it?"
"I'm appreciative of your enthusiasm but yes, that's all," I confirm, holding my hand out to take the now-empty food tray in Perseus' lap. "Dawk wants to take a slower approach this time. Actually listen to what you have to say this time instead of just pulling the trigger."
"Yeah, let's not do that again." He winces, handing out his ration plate.
Taking it from his hands, Perseus' expression changes, now resembling that of an abandoned puppy with his light-deprived pupils and a dejected look on his face.
"I'll bring you more food next time."
"Thanks."
Nodding to Flynn to let him know we're finished, he tucks his notebook and pen under his coat and moves to fold up his chair.
"Hey, Annie?" Perseus asks as I make my way to the cell door. I turn around to address him.
"Please, call me Percy."
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(Sometime after midnight)
Percy's POV:
"Hello? Anyone awake in here?"
Urgg… leave me alone.
"Damn, he's asleep."
Come on Annabelle, quit it...
"That wasn't me."
"Younger than I expected too."
It's the middle of the night, I'm trying to rest.
"That wasn't me!"
"Sorry kid, orders are orders. And well… I've killed for less."
Yeah… So it turns out Annabelle was right. As far as I know, she's just this voice in my head. There's no way she could manifest a physical body to shake my mattress, grab my shoulder to pin me down, and slice some sharp metal blade across my jugular.
"Huh?"
With a racing heart, I spring to defend myself, landing a solid kick into my assailant's chest. But it only gives me a millisecond of peace as before my sleep-crusted eyes can tell my brain what's going on, I find my arms swinging up and to my right, unconsciously parrying another strike at my neck.
Metal grinds on metal creating an eruption of sparks and through the illuminated sprinkle of inflamed particles, I'm only able to catch a glimpse of my attacker's dark fedora hat before they make their next move.
The assassin breaks off, slipping the knife's silvery razor edge off my cuffs and pulling back. The knife flips in their hand, now poised to jab, and plunges towards my chest with the speed of the Chimera's tail. I swing my hands to my right, throwing the chains connected to my wrists across my body to tighten its links. Just in time too, the knife rams into the chains, its pointed tip sinking directly into one of the iron hoops, stopping it from reaching my body. I twist my cuffed wrists, attempting to rip away my attacker's weapon by wringing the metal links, but their grip remains firm and unyielding to my attempts.
My assailant yanks his knife free and this time I quickly roll out of bed. Still dazed from the abrupt awakening, I find myself once again relying on my demigod instincts to dodge a bombardment of stabs.
My body twists out of the way of the first jab, side steps to dodge a second strike, swings my hands to the right to block the third, but is unable to respond to the fourth thrust. The knife lands squarely into my stomach, indenting into my skin but failing to piece it.
Have to give him credit, he did manage to tear a hole in my grubby shirt.
"What the hell?! I could've sworn I just tapped you then."
I blink. The assassin is a middle-aged man, with long brown sideburns and almost shoulder-length hair, a thin bearded jawline, and adorning a set of savage piercing gray eyes bordered by crow's feet. I don't remember what Charles Luciano looked like but with his black fedora hat and tan trench, the man easily pulls off the look of a 1920s New York street gangster.
"Hey!" The old man yells. "What's your deal?!"
"What's my deal?! What's your deal!?" I shout back.
"Why haven't you died?!"
"Why are you attacking me?!"
"Why won't you die?!"
"WHY are you attacking me?!"
The old man grits his teeth and rushes forward once more. The godly coding imbued in my DNA makes every cell within my body scream to dodge and fight back. But to their protest, I keep my feet planted, baring my chest and allowing his knife to strike my heart.
"CLING!"
The tip of the assassin's blade breaks on impact; his arm jolting by the unexpected stoppage of his attack.
"SHIT!" My attacker curses, cradling his wrist. He may have sprained it. "So the old man was telling the truth… A kid with a body as hard as Ultrahard Steel…"
"So how did you do it?" He asks, looking up from under his fedora with a newfound fury in his eyes. "HOW did you gain such power!?"
"By bathing in the River of Styx."
"Seriously!" the old man whines. "I've been searching for a power like this for years and you're telling me you got it from skinny dipping in some stinkin' water?!"
"You don't have to be—"
"So how could one find this 'River of Sticks,' huh? Assuming you're not lying through your teeth."
"Why would I tell you?"
"Damn it kid, help a fellow out won't you?!" The man asks, holding his left hand out and clutching his chest with his right in a pleadful-like manner.
"You just tried to kill me! I don't even know who you are!"
"Ah, accuse me. Where are my manners? Name's Kenny." Sarcastically introducing himself, he charismatically takes off his hat and does a half bow. "Kenny the Ripper."
"Like Jack the Ripper?"
"Huh?"
"Uhhh, never mind."
"Listen, I don't have time for your games! Point me the way towards this river and I'll make your death quick."
What's this guy's deal? And why did my cell guards let him…
"Your guards left."
Yeah, I can tell that now! Olympus above, does this mean—
"This Kenny guy was hired by the government."
"I mean, feel free to try." Pulling on the collar of my shirt, I bare my neck, inviting him to strike at it again.
"You must think you're all safe with that protective coating of yours." Kenny sneers. "Tough luck for you, I've seen people get killed in a hundred different ways. And if none of those work on ya, well, I'll just have to get inventive then, won't I?" He threatens with a feral grin.
"It won't work on you."
"Huh?"
"The river, you won't get its power."
"Why the hell not?!" He yells, brandishing his damaged knife.
"You wouldn't survive the process. I know your type, your chances would be slim to none."
"Well, well, well. If you're claiming to have already made a psychological profile on myself, you should already know I'm willing to take that risk." Kenny replies, smugly shaking his head side to side.
"So tell me, kid, where's the river? I gotta know, I'm dying over here." He exclaims, giddily grinning like a mass murderer closing in on his next victim…
Which I guess isn't too far off.
"Fine."
"Since fingernails aren't technically skin, first we'll see if they can be— Wait, seriously? Just like that?"
"Yeah, why not?"
"...What's your game?" Kenny asks, the crow's feet on the sides of his head shrinking together as he squints in suspicion.
"All you have to do is answer this question and I'll tell you everything you need to know."
Tucking his knife away in his trench coat and stepping back, out of the reach of my chains, Kenny crosses his arms and leans his back against the cell wall opposite of me.
"Go on. If you're not playing, hit me with it."
"What makes you mortal?"
A flurry of emotions flies across Kenny's eyes as he thinks, finally settling with frustration.
"Lack of power, I guess? Wait, what type of shitty question is that? And don't you even think about going off on some religious tangent shit! Cause I'll swear to your daddy, I will find a way to free your intestinal tract!"
"What keeps you tied down to the mortal plan—or erhh, what keeps you grounded to reality? You know, what makes you human?"
"Power. My answer's the same. My purpose is to obtain that godlike power."
"That's not good enough."
"The HELL do you know?!"
"Only three people have ever survived dipping in the River of Styx. For me, my mortal point was my soulmate, my other half. Annabeth." A stabbing pain ignites within my chest at her mention.
If only it were a knife instead.
"The thought of her face alone is enough to pull me out of any nightmare. I'd give my life for her, deny godhood for her, destroy the entire world for her. She's what keeps me human."
"I didn't come to listen to your sappy love story."
"Can your search for power do the same? Will your mission continue to pull you out of the darkness long after you achieved it? If you lost your memories to the point you don't even remember your name, will you still be able to remember your quest? Do you think your passion for 'power' is enough to prevent the Styx from destroying your body? Your very soul?"
Kenny doesn't immediately say anything but he's clearly troubled by my words.
"Tshhh! I should've known. Of course there's some method behind your powers, you're just too damn crazy to get any sense out of it." Although verbally rejecting my opinion, deep down I know Kenny the Ripper must have realized it too.
"Anyone willing to reject the powers of a god is a fool." Dipping his fedora to cover his eyes, Kenny pushes himself off the wall.
"Your girl ain't around anymore, is she?"
"What? How do you—"
"I can see it in your eyes. They aren't searching for her."
I brace myself as Kenny sticks his hands in his pockets, expecting him to pull out his knife and give me another swing. But he keeps them tucked and turns towards the door instead.
"Everyone's got something to keep pushing them on, but not you… You've lost that something for good."
"I—"
"And you haven't gotten yourself a new purpose either."
"… h-how could I?"
"Tshh! Only an imbecile lets themself get drunk on something they could lose so easily."
Remembering Annabelle's lesson from early today, I bite my tongue.
"But what type of person refuses to find a purpose in their life? No one living, that's who. So why? Why keep moving on to the next day if you're already dead?"
The room goes blank. Everything's silent. Everything's numb. My mind shatters.
Kenny leaves the room. I can't tell exactly when.
I took a chance to fly
Crossfire filled your skies
I want no role in your altercation
Call me alumni
"Breath Percy, breathe! Don't listen to his words!"
He's right! Damn it, Annabelle, he's right! Gods—
Innate behavior wins over the force of will when my mouth autonomically opens, kicking my lungs to gasp for air.
I feel panic arise as rhetoric voices are feeding back again
Blocking out vitriolic accusations: Was I listening?
"You shouldn't listen to the words of some serial killer, especially one who just tried to add you to his tally."
But he's right… I don't have any purpose. I lost everything. Annabelle, why are we still trying?
"To live."
It's pointless. We've been struggling for nothing.
"Then do it. Take his advice. Kill yourself."
Because I want to be better on the inside
I want to be better on the outside
I want to be better on the inside
I want to be, to be
What?
"Just end it."
Why… Why are you… What are you suggesting?!
"The old man is right, you don't have a purpose. The gods ripped that away from you. This whole time you've been kidding yourself. The gods would never let you see Annabeth again."
You… don't know that.
"Stop lying to yourself! Annabeth is gone for good. Why won't you accept it?"
B-because if I do, I-I can't…
"We should have just let Lady Styx dissolve our soul! It would have been better if we just stopped existing."
I fall asleep, in the vestige I once called my home
Monolyth; paralysed standing stone
I pray for, you abide with the hopeless
Your war, desecrates magnum opus
"Kill yourself."
It's quiet. Too quiet. My absent guards have yet to return since stepping aside to let Kenny do his thing. The familiar squeaking of mice is also gone. Hades, I can't even spot a roach scurrying around. It's as if all living things were able to sense Kenny the Ripper's presence and fled the scene.
Leaving me alone.
Annabelle I… I can't.
"Why not?"
Because I can't!
"Why?! Not?!"
Annabeth! My mom. My friends! They put their trust in me! After everything they've done for me… I can't do that to them!
The pious haunting now at ground zero
Ringed blockades around a tableau
Regretting the choice but I can't turn away
Hearing the voice; no sense in what they say
"That! That right there is exactly what is wrong with you!"
What?
"Percy, you can't keep living for other people. You need to live for YOURSELF."
B-but!
But what?!
I don't know HOW!
"… What was your goal? The goal you had before the gods ripped away from you."
I… wanted to go to New Rome. I wanted to goof around at college while Annabeth got her degree. I wanted us to spend our days there; creating a family, raising our kids, and eventually growing fat and gray. It was perfect! It was going to be perfect…
"Why New Rome? Why that place specifically?"
Because it was safe. Safe from monsters. I felt like we could… live a peaceful life there.
Built by the grace of a god
Destroyed by the pantheon's rage
The modern synthesis compels me
to start again
"To live a peaceful life. That's your goal. Your purpose."
I… I don't think I want… I can't do that without…
"Are you willing to fight for that life?"
I'm tired… so tired… of all this fighting. I don't want to fight anymore.
"You've always had this goal. Since the day you discovered you were a demigod, since the day Gabe first moved into your life, ever since the first day you went to school. You've always strived to escape the ire of gods, monsters, and your classmates. To live a normal life."
…
"Your story doesn't end here. Continue your quest, and find yourself a new New Rome."
I—
"If you won't do it for yourself, do it for them. Do it for her…"
The solution sequestered in the myth
A new New Rome…
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This chapter was 7.7k words long.
Back in February of this year, my professor in Greek Mythology showed us this really moving video of Robert F. Kennedy giving a speech after announcing the death of MLK. He shared that poem by Aeschylus, pleading ppl not to respond to MLK's death with violence and hate, and I knew right away I had to include it in my story somehow.
The song lyrics at the end were from 'Processor' by Area 11, go check them out. 'Euphemia' is my personal favorite from Area 11 but that song fits Eren better. I always enjoyed trying to match song lyrics with stories/scenes so I thought I'd try it out. Ngl, a little cringe, but I enjoyed doing it (and will probably do it again). Also, looking between the lines of the lyrics might give you some hints about the direction of my story.
A sadge Percy but finally a Percy with some agency. This whole time Percy's been reactionary, just responding to things thrown at him, but now he's found himself a goal: to find a new New Rome.
I am a bit worried about dragging the 'prison arc' out too long but do want to give it more attention and detail than I did in my first attempt. I'm sure a lot of this stuff sounds trivial but I don't want to do a massive timeskip without fleshing out Percy and Annie's relationship first. Also, Percy and Annie aren't falling in love at first sight (as you can tell), my goal is for them to develop a sort of pseudo-friendship by the time Annie cocoon's herself up.
Last Note: I'm kind of at this point where I can't promise accurate release dates anymore. This story is still on my mind, like everyday, but I need to spend most of my time and energy on school/work right now. Every month I'll post quiet updates on the progress of the next chapter. If you're dying to know how it's going in between updates, don't be shy, send me a PM!
Till next time,
-Unbred
Stats for nerds: 27,626 views, 596 follows, 466 favorites, 287 reviews
Originally Published on 9/10/2021
Next update dropping 10/15/21!