Hey there! It's me, Mel :D I told you I would come back with a few stories before I'll update The Fool and I'm here to keep my promise.
I'm on to write two prompts and a story for the Camp Councelor collection by my friend and beta for this fic vll8586/percyheartsannabeth on AO3! I hope I can finish all of this stuff tho :s
Anyway, I've split the fic into two parts for a better reading experience. I'll upload the second chapter later.
You can also find the entirety of my fic on tumblr as I'm also thejudgingtrash there :D
The Golden Age
i.
"Absolutely not," Detective Annabeth Chase crossed her arms and shook violently her head. The blonde curls nearly escaped her bun. Her partner Detective Luke Castellan was surprised. He had never seen Annabeth reject a direct command.
"We need his statement, Chase," said Sergeant Charles Beckendorf. "It's his M.O. The drugs, the paintings. Either he's operating from prison again or someone's copying him. We need to put a stop to this nonsense once and for all!"
"Even so, we're busy with the robberies in Chelsea." Annabeth didn't want to pick this case up again. The case that made her famous, the case that changed her life forever. For the worse.
"Stoll will take over that with his younger brother. Chase, you don't have a choice. You will talk to Perseus Jackson. That's an order," Captain Dougenis commanded. He had the final say. Luke nodded, Annabeth did nothing.
"Don't you think we haven't tried to get him to cooperate earlier? He said he only wants to talk to you. The person that put him behind bars," Beckendorf explained.
Fuck Annabeth thought. She did not want to face Perseus Jackson again. She wanted to forget him and move on. The looks from her two superiors said that they would deny her wish. Jackson was a cunning manipulator. She knew how he worked and what he was. A criminal. A thief. A criminal.
"When will I speak with him?" she sighed. A battle that was lost quickly.
"In two days. Should give you enough time to study the case files," Dougenis said.
Off to a great start. The sound of footsteps echoing in the hallway muffled as the prisoner was placed into the interview room two days later. He sat down and the cuffs fell from his hands. He rubbed his wrists. A little bit of freedom regained. Orange was a hideous color, but he actually managed to make it look good on him.
He and Annabeth were separated by the thin layer of the one-way-mirror. His sea green eyes scanned the plain fake wall in front of him. They tried to find her as he knew he was being watched. The piercing stare actually caught her eye directly. Annabeth sighed. He couldn't hear her, but a smirk found its way onto his lips regardless. He knew her.
"You'll be fine in there?" asked Luke who would stay outside of the interview room. He had been a part in arresting that monster. The condition that Jackson gave them was that he wanted to speak with Annabeth – alone. Annabeth nodded. Then she stepped into the small room. Tension laid in the air.
Four years had passed since he had been locked up. Perseus looked good. His hair was grayer, the beard had been trimmed recently. He looked like he exercised on a regular basis. Annabeth's eyes spent two seconds engraving the picture of his brown biceps into her memory.
"Perseus Jackson, 38, born in New York City, arrested due to art theft and extortion. Twelve years. You've managed roughly a third so far." Despite her marvelous work, they never were able to charge him for drug trafficking directly. The witnesses had remained silent. Annabeth took a seat in front of him.
"Annabeth, you know me," Perseus pouted. A contrast to his deep voice. "Call me Percy," he winked.
Her neck felt hot. "It's Detective Chase for you!" she hissed. Amusement sparked through his eyes.
"Okay, Detective Chase." How was he able to make her name sound so… dirty? So profligate?
"The woman that I have to thank for my new cozy home needs my help now all of a sudden. The tables have turned. I like that." And Annabeth did not like one bit how his mocking tone sent shivers down her spine. The way his tongue flicked. The urge of standing up and fleeing the room was prominent, but she was a professional and had a job to do:
Make Perseus Jackson sing.
"I need information." Annabeth's mouth was pressed to a thin line.
"Straight to the point, Detective, huh?" The attractive man leaned forward. "And what information do I supposedly have?"
"Your family never stopped your business," Annabeth spat. Perseus shrugged and his fingers tapped on the desk. An annoying habit.
"Someone is operating with the same methods as you. Art gets stolen and drugs follow the leads. Either you're behind it or someone else has been recruited to fill your place. We need to find that someone." She opened the case files and showed him pictures of missing paintings and locations as well as new collecting points for drugs on a map.
"Oh?" Jackson made and tilted his head. He faked interest and glanced lazily over the pictures.
"I'm pretty sure that I don't have the time in my precious little cell to run all of the things that you've been accusing me of. Everything comes at a price, Detective," he then smiled.
Sea green met light gray. Annabeth swallowed. Memories came back.
ii.
Two years. Annabeth had spent two years on that fucking case and barely made any progress. The smuggling of paintings to cover up or be used as payment for drug operations just didn't make any sense. Her partner Luke got undercover into the business as a small middle man, but the rules were different for women. Sexism ruled yet once again. Detective work had narrowed the window down and came to one person: Perseus Jackson. He was invisible. He was a phantom. He had been swallowed by mother earth, never to be seen again.
He was part of the Greek syndicate that ruled with an iron fist over the East Coast. Not even the Italians, Chinese, Egyptians or Russians had that much power. Chrýseon Genos. The Golden Age. A fitting name for a bunch of pieces of shit that found joy in ruining people's lives and making New York unsafe each and every single day. Everything was coded and followed the basic principles of Greek mythology. After Konstantinos Olympianidikis, otherwise known as Kronos, died in the 1970s due to a raging war with his own brothers, his three sons split the legacy and entire empire into three sections:
Adrian Olympianidikis. Hades. Racketeering and money laundering.
Petros Olympianidikis. Poseidon. Theft and drug trafficking.
Zacharias Olympianidikis. Zeus. Prostitution and human trafficking.
All these crimes were tied to the Golden Age and the police forces couldn't do anything. Witnesses vanished or remained silent. The little evidence they had left was either compromised or disappeared. Everyone in the Golden Age had their little specialty. Everyone passed missions and power onto the next family member in the hierarchy. So did Petros aka Poseidon do the same thing with his sons. One of those sons was Paris. His youngest. The only pieces of information that Annabeth had of him were a 17-year-old picture that showed Paris shoplifting with some of his cousins and a diploma that showed that he had studied art history. A picture of him as a boy and proof that he had a college degree. Wow. Compelling evidence.
Annabeth took one final look of the teenage boy. The picture had been taken in the year 2000 hence the quality of the security camera of Macy's being complete shit. Despite seeing a long mop on his head and awfully baggy clothes there was next to nothing that was useful for Annabeth in the year 2017. Hell. Who knew what Jackson looked like now as a grown man? The probability of him running around like in the early 2000s was next to none.
"And?" Annabeth asked Luke as he returned from a meeting in the syndicate.
"Poseidon is willing to speak to you," her blond colleague nodded. The scar under his eye had proved his loyalty. A near fight for life and death. The other person had remained in the hospital for a while but was fine and dandy by now according to Luke.
"Okay."
"Only you. Not anyone else. I'll drive you." Annabeth nodded.
The townhouse in the Meatpacking District did not look much like most of the houses in the area. The real luxury laid within. The house was filled with two kinds of people: security guards and young models. Annabeth felt uncomfortable and underdressed as she was following a young girl's lead. Barely a woman. Not only did Poseidon enjoy his life at the fullest, no, he was also rich as fuck. Young women served drinks and cooked in the kitchen. Bikinis, shorts and cocktail dresses so short that they nearly gave Annabeth whiplash. A young thing named Lacy brought Annabeth to the garden where a mini pool party was going on at its fullest.
Despite being in his 80s, Poseidon looked good. He looked young and was full of life. He looked like he was in his solid early 50s. The hair and the bushy beard were so white that it seemed to have been dyed. The tanned skin was healthy. A friendly face. The only indication of his age were the neck and his hands. Had Annabeth been into older men, she had to admit that she wouldn't have said no to Poseidon from the visuals alone.
Poseidon enjoyed his book and the giggling girls in the background as Lacy caught his attention with the new arrival. "Ah!" he said, and his eyes twinkled as he put the sunglasses away. Girls were swimming in the pool or playing volleyball, music was blasting, and food was served.
"Detective Chase!" Poseidon stood up and shook her hand. A firm grip. He spoke with a soft Greek accent.
"What can I do for you?" he asked friendly.
"More like how can you help me speak to one of your sons?" Annabeth smiled.
Poseidon laughed. "Which one? I have many."
Yes, you do you horny bastard the blonde thought. Poseidon had twelve sons in total. Or twelve sons that he publicly claimed. All by different mothers of course. All of them had joined the family business and most have paid the price with their lives.
Proteus. Triton. Khrysomallos. Pegasus. Arion. Polyphemus. Bellerophon. Theseus. Orion. Sciron. Chrysaor. Paris. More than half of them were dead, less than half of them were alive. Tryfon aka Triton, the son Poseidon had when he was 19, had been killed by his cousin Iraklis also known as Hercules in 1974. Orion had been twelve when he had been shot in the street by Antonios and Phoebe aka the twins Apollon and Artemis in 1986. Assassinated by his own cousins. The trend of getting killed by your own family members was fairly present in the Golden Age.
"The youngest," Annabeth answered which made Poseidon laugh.
"Ah, my boy Paris. What did he do?" Curiosity swung in the words of the old man that referred to his son in his codename.
"Sorry, confidential," Annabeth deflected and pouted.
"Of course, of course. Ah the police. Friend and helper. As you can see-" Poseidon pointed to the precious gardens. "My son isn't here."
Annabeth nodded. "Well, if you happen to see him, tell him to give me a call."
She gave him her card. Poseidon studied it. "Of course, I will Miss Chase." Another friendly smile.
The blonde nodded and then left. The smile of the old man vanished for a split second only to appear as one of his young helpers gave him one of the many burner phones of the house.
"Thank you, Drew!" he said before pressing a number into the small device.
"Yes?" asked the tired voice of a man on the other side.
"Can you explain to me why a certain Detective Chase from the NYPD came to my home to talk about you?" The old man sounded cold and amused at the same time.
"What?" Now he was wide awake.
"I thought the woman would introduce herself as your fiancé! Something that would actually make me proud," complained the old man and nodded to another young thing that handed him a drink.
"I will take care of it."
"Yes, you will."
The line was dead.
And Annabeth continued to work for another two weeks without any other results. Her shift came to an end but at least the desk was clean. She didn't drown in mountains of paperwork like Castellan did.
"See you tomorrow!" said Connor Stoll as she crossed ways with him in the hallway.
"See you!" Her mood had reached its lowest so far. It was time to visit her best friend since childhood and his bar The Grove. As soon as Annabeth stepped out of the police department, it started to rain.
"Great." Her steps got faster.
Fortunately for her, The Grove was within walking distance. The pouring sky distracted Annabeth so much that she didn't realize neither a black Lexus parking around the corner nor the footsteps that had been following her. The leather jacket and the blonde curls were wet but nothing that would worry bartender and owner Grover Underwood all too much. He had seen her in fairly worse states.
"What can I do for you, Annabeth? An Old Fashioned like usual?" His friend nodded.
"Have you eaten something?" The dark-skinned man knew Annabeth and her habits. Overworking herself and forgetting to eat lunch were her favorite deadly combinations.
"Well, I wouldn't mind something to snack on," she confessed.
Grover only shook his head but gave her a glass full of pretzel sticks. A delicious Old Fashioned stood on the counter a few moments later. The door behind her opened and closed.
"What can I do for you, sir?" asked Grover and looked to the door.
"Whiskey. Double." A rich baritone. Pleasant to the ears.
Annabeth heard the squeaking of the barstool next to her. She turned her head to the right and nearly fell to the ground. A man sat next to her that was a younger copy of Poseidon. Paris Olympianikidis also known as Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon. The man she had been searching for since forever randomly decided to appear. Her talk with Poseidon must have sparked something and Annabeth hated the stupid rule about women not being in the family business unless they had been born into it even more. Precious time that could have been used for undercover operations had been wasted.
Perseus looked… good. Good didn't even describe it. His salt and pepper hair had the same streaks in the beard. He had a chiseled face with a straight nose. Wrinkles around the eyes showed that he loved to laugh and smile. He seemed to enjoy his regular exercise; the way his shirt shifted whenever he moved a muscle made it seem like it was about to tear apart. His skin was of a rich brown, and his lips were curled into a devilish smirk. The sea green eyes were a direct copy of his father's. He had won the genetic lottery. He had nothing in common with the shoplifting boy from the year 2000.
"A little bird told me you were looking for me," he winked.
Why did her chest feel so heavy? Why weren't her lungs functioning normally?
Percy had to admit. His father had been right. Annabeth Chase was his type. Her body had a beautiful shape from what he had observed in the past few days. A firm ass that did Pilates on a regular basis in a class not far from her shithole of an apartment. A heart shaped face and a slight tooth gap that made her look only more adorable. Blonde princess curls that seemed to be fairly taken care of with expensive products. But her eyes… an interesting gray that told him one thing: she had a flaming spirit that was blessed with intelligence. Or was it cursed by its burden?
"Your father," she commented.
The whiskey was served, and Percy took a swig. He was pleased.
"Do you mind?" the handsome man asked as he grabbed a smoke. Annabeth turned to Grover who ignored the antics of the new customer. The bartender placed an ashtray in front of him instead. What in the fuck is going on?
"I usually don't smoke," he confessed and lit the cigarette regardless. Annabeth pulled a face. Where was the logic in that?
"And you do now because…?" The interest was honest.
"I only smoke when I'm having a good drink-" He raised the glass to Grover who nodded and appreciated the compliment. "And am sitting next to a beautiful woman," Perseus winked.
Annabeth didn't know whether she wanted to blush or strangle him. She was 29 and acted like an insecure school girl for fucks sake! She nearly laughed.
"So, I have the honor of finally meeting you, Annabeth." The way he said her name. So smoky and dark. He belonged in prison for that.
"It's Detective Chase for you!" she hissed. The criminal next to her only raised an eyebrow.
"Bossy. Kinky. I like it," he smirked and enjoyed the redness of her face as he pulled from the cigarette and blew the smoke.
Grover in the corner tried to hide his laughter with a cough. Annabeth turned to her best friend with a murderous rage. "Annabeth and kinky. Yeah right."
"Grover, shut up!" she commanded. Jackson next to her was more than just amused.
"Now I'm interested." He tapped some of the ashes off.
"You really want to know the details of her love life?" Grover asked.
"Oh, I definitely bite," Percy smiled. Yes please. Annabeth wanted to smack herself.
"Could we come to the more pressing matters?" the woman groaned.
"Sure," Jackson shrugged.
He lifted his drink, she lifted hers. They met in the middle and both felt a spark immediately.
"I need information." Chase cutting the chase.
Percy smiled. "Everything comes at a price."
The fact that Annabeth had spent another hour next to him and had let him pay for all of her drinks made her stomach churn in hindsight. He even insisted on paying for the Uber that picked her up.
As Annabeth returned to her apartment, she started searching through it high and low in her semi drunken state. The stupid Greek syndicate had to have bugged her. Her already chaotic apartment was even more disheveled. At least she would be forced to properly clean up once the weekend hit. The worst part was that she found absolutely nothing.
What's worse? Being wrong or being crazy?
iii.
"I'm pretty sure you got the wrong person," Percy said and grabbed the glass of water in front of him. The interview room looked sad. "I know nothing."
"I'm pretty sure we've got the right person," Annabeth retorted and leaned forward. Her hand grabbed the edge table so tightly that the vessels nearly popped. He had to give her something.
"You're the key. You were the blueprint and now someone's running off with your legacy. And you're more than okay with that?!"
"Mmhh," Percy made. As if he had seen the most delicious thing in his life. The fact that he didn't lick his lips was a wonder. Annabeth's eyes followed his gaze right into her cleavage. Two buttons of her blouse that had been left open. Boys will be boys.
"Are you fucking serious, Jackson?" she spat.
The prisoner leaned backwards into his chair with a grin that quickly vanished. "It stinks in here," he sighed.
Annabeth halted her movement. Her eyes widened in shock.
"No," she whispered.
His beautiful sea green eyes told her one thing. Yes.
Well… that's it for so far. Let me know what you think ^^