A/N: There will be heavy, heavy gore in this chapter. I'm not marking it up to M because for the most part, there's only violence (which is standard for an evil/dark Percy fanfic), but I just want to warn you that there is a fight scene, and there is blood.

Anyway, enjoy!


The dark-haired boy walked closer, his shoes clicking off of Tartarus's rusted floor, subdued a bit in speed. The boy's chin was up, confident in his presentation, but his bottom lip trembled, revealing fear. Percy felt his mouth go slack.

It was Ethan.

It was Ethan standing in Tartarus, his face as pale as a ghost's. The place where Percy had sliced his neck held red, raw scratches (there was some kind of vindictive glee in observing Ethan's injury, but Percy's shock swallowed it down). It was Ethan who walked nearer—and nearer still—his face expressionless. Percy Jackson imagined a million scenarios of fighting different monsters (he wouldn't even be surprised if Kronos himself had marched out), but this was...unsettling. Uncalled for. Strange.

Watching Ethan alive and well march to him disgusted Percy... He felt a revolting sort of guilt but also a building resentment.

Percy's thoughts collided. One side told him, You shouldn't have killed him... Another, He should stay here in Tartarus for eternity, wasting away. That's what he deserves. Percy wanted to say something. Not an apology, not something as stupid as "I'm sorry for killing you. No hard feelings?" He wanted to snap something spiteful and rude, then spit in Nakamura's face for good measure.

Then beat him in this stupid duel.

Ethan edged nearer and nearer, and he faintly trembled. Percy wet his lips.

"How've you been, Nakamura?" Percy tilted his head with a smirk.

Ethan was still quietly assessing Percy with those emotionless black eyes. Percy felt himself twitch; Ethan didn't even bother to respond. The man was a whole 'nother genre of "pathetic," all right.

"The fight shall commence on the count of five," Kelli stated happily. Her hungry eyes were itching for a fight, Percy could tell. "One..." she began, dragging it. Percy widened his stance, steadying himself. Ethan's expression was as blank as an untouched canvas. "Two..." Ethan walked closer. "Three..." Closer.

Before "four" could even pass the empousa's lips, Ethan leveled his fist and slammed it against Percy's jaw. Spit and blood fell from Percy's mouth, and he let out a gasp, then a groan of pain. It was like a slow-motion punch from a movie... Percy was there, but he also...wasn't; it was an out-of-body experience, and Percy was furious.

It wasn't fair: Nakamura hadn't even waited for Kelli to finish. Then Percy realized this was Kronos's army, and they were monsters. They never played fair.

Ethan stared at his fist, then hit Percy again, but before impact was made, Percy caught his arm. Bloody liquid was still making a run from his mouth, and it slipped onto Ethan's skin and clothing, making Ethan prickle.

"I'm going to enjoy this, you know," said Percy.

Percy grabbed Ethan's arm and twisted. Hard. He heard the crack-crack-crack of bones, as Nakamura's arm was twisted this way and that, roped around like flexible string. Etan retaliated by trying to push at Percy's chest, but Percy only dropped one arm and swapped with the other. Malice glinted in Percy's eyes, and Ethan finally gave Percy verbal confirmation with a loud screech.

Percy, with the upper hand, tried to analyze the fight. Ethan's shoulders were broad, his physique muscular (he'd grown from his teenage years), while Percy's was lither, but Percy had excellent control over his entire body. Ethan was handicapped without a full pair of eyes. Percy tried to continue his train of thought...but Ethan finally pulled away, panting for air, as both his arms sank to his sides. Percy did not offer a single second for Ethan to think, to surrender.

Percy aimed for Nakamura's eye. Percy had forgone his morals a long, long time ago.

Ethan pushed back, and he was just as ferocious as before.

This fight was different from Percy brandishing and wiping the floor clean with Riptide...there was no rhythm.

Only hitting and kicking and punching and bleeding.

When Ethan reached for his hilt, Percy realized something: Nakamura had a fucking knife.

A sharp cry of pain wrenched from Percy's throat, as Percy was subject to an intense cut of pain from the knife. Ethan finally gave Percy a wide, cruel grin, as he watched Percy crumple a bit, flailing. Ethan balanced himself, and he studied Percy from side to side.

Percy's vision was going smoky all over the place... Ethan muttered, "My mother was right. Vengeance really does taste sweet."

Anger filled Percy up in a way no other feeling could. Percy growled, but it was futile. Ethan was a cheater... Did he really expect Percy to win while Ethan bent the rules in every which way he saw fit?

It was utterly unfair, bringing a knife to a fist fight, but Percy couldn't dwell.

"You think me unfair, don't you, Percy?" The knife dug deeper into his gut. "And yet, you sank your pretty sword into my neck."

"And I don't regret it."

Ethan laughed, and more blood flooded out. "Oh, Percy... I'd respect you if I didn't hate you so much."

Percy tried to claw at Ethan's face, but Ethan swiftly dodged his attacks. Percy felt something ache in his bones, his flesh, his very soul. It was the echo of defeat because even though Percy had lost countless battles against Kronos's army, he'd never been brought down like this... Monsters jeered in the background, as Percy clutched Ethan's shoulders for balance, ironically driving the blade deeper into his chest.

The words from the voice played in Percy's mind: Do you need help?

Percy thought about it, or tried to. It would do a number on Percy's pride, but him being dead wasn't exactly the better option.

"I..." he choked out. Ethan eased the blade there, waiting, anticipating. The words were impossible to get out, and Percy didn't know if it was because of his foggy mind and hoarse throat or because of his stupid heroism.

Percy needed help.

He needed to be saved.

He reached out in any way he could, any way that wasn't verbal, and he tried to push his body off of the knife. Safety 101 told Percy that as soon as the knife was out, more blood would seep out, and he'd die, but Percy didn't care. He needed it off of his stomach. Nothing was working; pain lanced across his stomach, across his skin. It hurt to think, but Percy sent a prayer up above. Percy didn't know which god he'd prayed to, but he needed to put a cork on the blood.

Blood.

Percy could feel running, red, liquid blood. Everywhere. On the floor. On his body. In his body.

And he felt blood in one other source.

Percy prayed silently again, this time to Poseidon. He didn't try to manipulate the liquid by gritting his teeth in pain and holding his hands out; instead, as if Percy was a snake-charmer, he whispered a quiet command.

"Stop," he said to the liquid running in Ethan's veins.

The blood obediently followed Percy's commands. It stopped. Ethan collapsed onto the floor, and Percy could only watch in cold detachment.

He pulled the knife from his ribs, and it hurt so painfully. Percy felt half-dead, but he commanded the remaining blood in his body to stay. To let him live for a little while longer, just so he could extract this revenge on Nakamura.

Percy stood shakily. Ethan was writhing, and Percy forced the blood to gravitate to the ground. Fiendish laughter rose in Percy's mouth, rolling out in cold, cruel sounds. Watching Ethan like this...weak, powerless, unable to move, bested was probably the most addicting feeling in the world.

Percy concentrated on the blood again, and he told it, "Escape. Be free." And the blood eagerly did, escaping through Ethan's neck. Percy should've felt traumatized, or unhappy, or sickened, or pitying, but he didn't, not really. Ethan was the one who'd cheated! Percy was simply evening the grounds.

You don't have to kill him, Percy reminded himself. You could always just throw him out of the ring.

But Percy, without enough blood in his head, wasn't in his right mind. He couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop.

Eventually, when enough blood had drained out of him, Percy used his foot to toe Ethan's face. He didn't get a response, and Percy knew what that meant: Nakamura was dead again. He went wherever dead demigods went in Tartarus, possibly he was stuck in limbo, eager to be reincarnated back into Tartarus. Percy tried not to dwell on the fact that Ethan would return, instead focusing on his victory.

Percy had won, and he'd discovered another of his gifts from Poseidon. The ability to manipulate blood. If Annabeth had been here to witness it though, Percy knew she'd be shocked and ashamed of him. She'd ask him to "Never do it again," and tell him, "That was wrong." Annabeth would never understand Percy in that manner, but Percy didn't feel regret on her behalf. He was...excited to find this power. He could save so many lives with it. He could help so many people—

Kelli screeched dramatically, "That...that, like, wasn't supposed to happen!"

Tammi's nostrils flared, and she was glaring at Percy menacingly. Percy couldn't be deterred, though; being able to control blood made him...excited. Thrilled. Not even death itself could bring Percy down from his high.

"He will be soooo disappointed," Kelli whined. "Ugh..."

Percy clutched his bloody chest, putting pressure on it. He tried to force more blood back in with another quiet, sweet command, but he knew that it wasn't going to help. He needed medical attention, and he doubted a monster could help him in that regard. He didn't know if anyone in Tartarus could.

"I won," said Percy, tasting the two words. "I won... I won... I..." He broke out of his trance-like state, and he turned to Kelli, his bloodied and bruised face scrunching with determination. "Now, give me the adamant."

Kelli smirked, and Percy half-expected for a big plot-twist to reveal itself. For Kelli to say something like, Good try, and order the monsters to lunge and attack him again. But the time never came.

She simply walked over to Percy, avoiding Ethan's remains ("Don't want to get my shoes dirty. Ew."), and handed him the fifteen-pound chunk of adamant, without any tricks involved. Percy felt his eyes widen because that was...unexpected. Completely welcome, of course, but it was too...easy.

Percy gestured for Riptide as well, sure that the trick was going to come, but Kelli only politely reached into her pocket, handing him pen-Riptide. He double-checked to make sure it was Riptide, and sure enough, it was. The thoughts in his head were loud, confused, but one word rang through: Why? Kelli and the monsters weren't intimidated by Percy; he'd fallen easily to the miniature army, and his newly discovered blood powers wouldn't work against monsters.

"You can thank me for your enemy's...kindness," the voice said softly. "Though that show of power was impressive, Perseus. Color me surprised."

Percy felt an unexpected rush of pride.

Then when all was well, when Percy almost jumped for joy at his victory, a Titan made its way into the clearing.

Bob's eyes were as wide as dinner plates, as he stared from Percy to Nakamura's dead body. All he said was a soft, curious, disbelieving "Percy?"


"I always thought insanity would be a dark, bitter feeling, but it is drenching and delicious if you really roll around in it."

- Kathryn Stockett


Reyna distraughtly yelled at the centurions, "Go! Go! Go!" They filed out, and groups of eighty marched out, their spears and swords out. Massive, eight-foot-tall Titans approached Camp Jupiter, their footsteps nearing the banks of the Little Tiber. Reyna's heart shuddered in her chest, but she ran forward. She would be the first line of defense; she would not let her soldiers take the first fall.

Reyna barely offered a glance in Hylla's direction. She raised her Imperial Gold sword, and she knew she was ready to die for Camp Jupiter.

Unsure footsteps rang behind her, as her troops tried to remain silent. She still made out voices mumbling anxiously and the sound of ear-shattering screams rang out from New Rome. Reyna pushed through, though her heart ached. She had no time to lead her people out of Camp Jupiter; she would leave that to Julia.

Reyna needed to focus on defeating the Titans...

And what a job that would be. The Titans were huge and towering, and an army of demigods wouldn't land a scratch on them. Reyna needed a miracle to win...and she didn't even believe in miracles.

Nico ran to the front, and Reyna's dark eyes narrowed. "You are breaking formation, soldier."

Nico yelled, "Reyna, we need to back off! We can't defeat them!"

Reyna felt herself march faster, and she swallowed at his words. "Do you see any other option?"

"Yes!" Nico said frantically, getting in front of Reyna. The whole army stopped abruptly, watching the son of Pluto level out his ideas. "Reyna...we need to leave now! Escape from the back-end!"

"They will get us from behind," Reyna hissed, and she avoided Nico's stance in front of her, going forward still.

The Titans seemed to mimic Reyna, and they were getting nearer and nearer to camp grounds.

"I can... I can do something," said Nico. "I can shadow-travel us all out of here." A stupid statement, for the boy was powerful, but he was no god. Nico easily passed out if he shadow-traveled by himself; how could he take hundreds of people with him? His voice was a staple of desperation. He repeated again, "I can do something. I can..."

Reyna didn't entertain his delusions with a response. She had hoped Nico, despite being quite foreign in Camp Jupiter, would be a good asset to their militia, not a setback. She was proven wrong, time and time again. The fourteen-year-old boy was less a soldier and more a...well, fourteen-year-old boy. She filed past him.

Nico's frantic, wide eyes met Hazel's, and there was a moment of begging. He didn't want to lose his sister, which was understandable, but Reyna's empathy at the moment was running dry at the moment. The more troops she had, the better, and she wouldn't let Nico shadow-travel his lucky pick out of the warzone. It would doom the rest of them.

"Hey!" the son of Pluto continued. Hundreds of demigods surged onward, and he screamed again, a piercing sort of cry. A plea, almost. "Reyna...please! You're leading our troops straight into a massacre!"

She murmured something like "So be it."

Reyna's heart felt heavy. They walked onward still, and Reyna's sword was raised, her military armor glowing golden in the fiery sun's rays. Her hair was in a tight bun, not a strand of hair avoiding her precise vision; she watched her hungry troops file behind her, their hands holding volatile weapons, their faces scrunched in anxiety and pain.

Her troops and the three Titans' army were on opposite ends of the Tiber, and they only bided their time, their eyes squinted, for the first move to be made. Reyna gestured for them to wait with an open palm. The Titan in front, a figure that radiated both light and strength, walked closer, moving at a leisurely pace through a bridge running across the Tiber.

Reyna let out a battle cry, and her comrades charged through.

Nico was right.

It was a massacre.


"The scariest monsters are the ones that lurk within our souls."

- Edgar Allan Poe


Dressed in drab, dark apparel, Poseidon started with, "His name was Percy Jackson."

His name is Percy Jackson, Annabeth corrected in her head.

"He was my son."

Is, she pressed on, fighting back tears.

"He was a fighter until the very end. A hero that all of the Olympians can attest to," Poseidon continued in a calm, smooth tone. Staring, Annabeth noticed Poseidon's appearance danced the line between casual and ethereal, but Annabeth couldn't see a hint of genuine sorrow. Had he cried off his tears already? "We may not have agreed on everything, but Percy was, is, will forever be my son."

Claps were heard across the pavilion. Annabeth's heart sunk into her stomach, descended into her feet, and melted into a puddle onto the floor. At least, she was sure it was so, but no one else bothered to care about Annabeth's stupidly sad, bitter heart.

Their put-together funeral looked odd and inappropriate. Demigods wore their old casual clothing, or bright-orange Camp Half-Blood shirts. They couldn't exactly go out of their way to leave camp just to buy black clothing, so they had to make do. They'd tried to scavenge whatever black and dark grey clothing they could to honor Percy, but only his closest friends wore black. Connor Stoll had spray-painted his CHB shirt black just for the occasion. Annabeth's eyes darted around, the tears in her eyes making it hard to make out details.

Clarisse sniffled. The tears she'd cried this morning still stained her cheeks. She wiped at them, and tried to grit something out like, "Punk." It came out as a choked sound. Rachel stared at the floor, her hands pulling at her frizzy red hair, mumbling something. Everyone's expressions were sad and dissonant, their eyes bleached of emotion. Even the mischievous Stolls only sat there stilly, a line in the place of their typical identical smiles.

Annabeth was sick to her stomach. This reminded too much of her speech after Mount St. Helens had blown up.

But there hadn't been a body then. There is one now, she thought to herself, staring at Percy's dead body, rage eating away her insides.

"We see this is a time for mourning," Poseidon continued, gazing across the demigods, the nymphs, the satyrs, and the gods. It was all eerie and silent: silence from Percy's close friends, silence from the demigods who only knew Percy professionally in battle. "We recognize your sorrow and pain. We empathize with your worry and doubt. We understand...but we also have some news to deliver."

Annabeth's ears perked at this, worry washing away her anger. She knew what was coming.

Poseidon sat down, and in his stead, Zeus took to standing. Zeus's eyes were dark as he surveyed the room.

"My father," said Zeus in that commanding, booming voice of his, "is only growing more powerful. A dark age has fallen across the mortal world, and I'm afraid this camp will soon follow suit."

Annabeth stilled at this. It wouldn't do any favors for Camp Half-Blood's morale to sink below sea-level, before they'd even gotten a proper fight in.

"Olympus has done its best to protect all of you," Zeus continued, and Annabeth's eyebrows furrowed. Zeus was obviously bullshitting them (and possibly getting away with it); Annabeth didn't exactly hate Zeus, but she wasn't in favor of most of Zeus's actions. Annabeth thought of Thalia with a gut-felt pang. "As so, there are secrets we've kept to keep this camp safe."

Annabeth's eyes narrowed, her heart beating faster, faster. This had to be it, what she and Chiron had talked about...

"There is a second demigod camp."

The gods seated in the pavilion had blank faces and stone-like expressions, anticipating this revelation.

A few gasps rang out among the demigods. Mumbling and muttering soon followed, but Zeus's heavy, burdensome gaze quieted them down. Making the king of the gods mad was like asking for a death sentence to the campers. Annabeth's mouth twisted unpleasantly.

"It is called Camp Jupiter," Artemis said, standing up. "And it is located in Oakland Hills, California."

Hera stood as well. "We believe this camp...this Roman camp...will aid us in the coming war."

Zeus stared at Hera with fierce eyes. "My son is the child of the prophecy," Zeus said. "He will lead us into victory."

There was a slight shift in Zeus's expression, like a glitch. In that mere second, Annabeth spotted a salt-and-pepper-haired man with a calm, stoic expression and golden-plated armor. It was a short moment, but it was noticeable. Annabeth looked around, but the campers seemed blissfully unaware, their eyes wide at the mention of Zeus's son.

They'd only known, or had heard stories of, Thalia. The daughter of Zeus, the girl who'd escaped the prophecy's sharp talons.

Zeus nodded once, and in the pavilion, a blonde-haired boy stood. He was relatively young, only a teenager, and had been unclaimed, put into the Hermes cabin.

When Chiron had pulled Annabeth back one archery session, he'd told her all about the two camps... He'd told her about their turmoil and fighting that'd occurred between them in past times, and Annabeth had only listened patiently, silently. She remembered the day vividly. Chiron had begged her not to tell Percy, who often acted as Annabeth's confidant. "He won't understand," said Chiron sadly, and when she pushed for a better answer, he only gave her a furrowed brow and a look that said, Annabeth, fill in the gaps.

However, Annabeth had never outright met a Roman demigod, much less a son of Zeus...no, of Jupiter.

She had never expected there to be one in their midst.

The boy had blond hair, light sky-blue eyes, and a slight cut on his lip. He looked around fifteen, no more than that, and he wore the standard orange shirt. There was an aura about him that was...brave, strong, sacrificial. It reminded Annabeth of Percy, and her heart clenched at the thought. This boy couldn't raise an arm to Percy's feats. To everything Percy had to offer, everything Annabeth's hero did offer.

This boy would only be a pale, pathetic imitation.

How could they forget about Percy so easily? Replace him with a carbon copy? Replace him with a son of Zeus?

Didn't Percy deserve better than this?

Didn't Annabeth?

"My name is Jason," said the boy. It was obvious he was Jupiter's son. His voice was both light and sharp, the voice of a leader. A commander. "I am the praetor at Camp Jupiter." A few unsure glances were passed at the word praetor, but Jason continued, his tone thick with confidence: "I have led multiple attacks on Kronos's forces, including an attack on Krios at Mount Othrys."

Annabeth thought of Percy for a moment: Percy who'd attempted fighting Titans too. Who attacked like a born killer, who'd tried to lead Camp Half-Blood.

She couldn't help but draw thick comparisons from Jason to Percy, even if it was unfair.

Jason breathed out again. "I want to reunite both camps, and together, I believe we stand a chance against Kronos."

There was silence. Only wide, wide eyes looked back at him. Haunted, scared, afraid, tense, nervous eyes met clear blue ones. Jason swallowed.

Zeus easily took the reins of the situation with a heavy, loaded stare.

"It will not be easy," said Zeus with a defiant tilt of his chin. "But when has war ever been?"


A/N: The last part was hard to write because I knew what I wanted to write...but it didn't quite translate the way I expected. I hope it isn't too bad...lol. Sometimes, I just want to write about Percy for the whole chapter, and then I realize I need to set things up in the camp(s), so there's that. More Percy-focus next chapter. Tell me what you like/hate/want to see! (Chapter's not edited, so forgive any mistakes.) I might set a poll for pairings later, but for now, I feel like Percy is already unstable enough just by himself.