.

In a certain dimension, in a certain universe, in a certain galaxy, in a certain system, on a certain planet, on a certain continent, in a certain country, in a certain state, in a certain city, in a certain building, in a certain room, in a certain bed.

A certain man… was still asleep.

This is a story about the kid next door.

Lol.

.

.

As always, my eyes opened at dawn.

It took mere moments for my eyes to adjust on the cream coloured ceiling and my mind to get into working gear.

I gulped to wet my slightly dry throat and I was ready to get going.

I didn't though. Not yet.

For I was frowning.

I can't remember why.

A dream most likely, perhaps a prophetic one, perhaps just another nightmare... but the stirring in my gut and residue warmth in my chest suggests it was probably a prophetic one.

I was now frowning at the fact I was frowning.

My eyes aren't wet so at the very least it wasn't "Level Five".

My throat was dry so I may have been making noises; whimpers, groans, moans, gasps… perhaps I talked?

It could just be because the room is warm and dried out my throat, but then again, maybe not.

'Sleep-talking… The most inconvenient way to make predictions.'

I doubt I shouted or screamed, those are usually accompanied by a feeling of terror even if I do forget them as I wake.

Those would also usually wake me in the night, breaking my sleep, today I woke naturally.

Not to mention had it really been on of those, my sleeping companions would be curled up to me much closer than they are now…

So not level Five or Four.

'Probably a level Three.'

Had it been level One or Two I would have at least remembered some of it, but as I haven't, it was most likely a dream beyond my grasp.

My frown deepened.

'There's been a notable increase of those lately…'

I breath out through my nose and let my frown ease.

Disconcerting it may be, I'm rather used to it now.

I have acknowledged something happened and the effects of the dream will make itself known when time is right.

Not much else I can do.

Sitting up, I can't help but smirk at my companions abysmal, yet oddly symmetrical sleeping habits.

Percy was to my left hugging his blue pillow, not sleeping on it, and slightly skewed of to the side with his legs over my lap, he was drooling.

Domi to my left mirrored him, hugging her wolf print pillow and with her legs over my lap under the covers, she was chewing on her pillow.

'Adorable.'

Myself, the only normal one, remained in the centre sleeping on my dollar bill pillow.

'Though personally I miss the pound-coin print pillow of my other life, this would do for now.'

Shuffling out from under my friends legs and the frankly gigantic shared duvet, I backwards roll off onto the floor.

Grabbing the recorder by the bedside I silently pad out of the room.

'Time to clean up and make breakfast.'

.

.

Unfortunately the recorder was a bust. Not unusual.

The majority of noises it picks up are mainly just farts and such, in fact ever since I bought it there has only ever been a single instance in which it picked up on some useful sleep talking.

It was shortly after I bought the thing (which was on a hunch) and the few words it managed to pick up were rather useful in the coming days, but other than that?

Nada.

But oh well, I've bought it now. Better safe than sorry.

'The amusing sleep-mumbling of my compatriots are amusing enough to keep it anyhow.'

Even if it does cost way too much to replace it's batteries every few days…

Going through the recording whilst cooking breakfast has become a pleasant habit.

Though me cooking breakfast does depend on the season.

I wake with the sun so in Winter I'm rather slow getting up, but during the summer my days begin annoyingly early.

It being Autumn now, I've awoken at a decent six thirty-ish.

Today I'm making a hearty full English breakfast; mushrooms, eggs, toast, beans, sausage (for Ma and I), and bacon (for Domi and Percy).

Cooking such variety for four takes some time, plus I need to time it properly so it's still hot when everyone comes to eat, but I have practise now.

Cooking is a skill entirely acquired in this new life.

My repertoire in the other life consisted of toast, pasta and pot noodles.

'No lie.'

In this life however I enjoy mixing things up as much as I can and have attempted various breakfast dishes to varying success.

Homemade dosa, naan bread, haggis, homemade croissants, homemade pancakes, miso soup, tofu and fish, even tried making noodles from scratch that one time...

Cooking is a pastime I now enjoy immensely.

The eggs, bacon and mushrooms ready to serve, sausages waiting in the oven, toast buttered and jammed to person preferences…

I nod in satisfaction.

Stepping back I look at the clock.

7:02

They should be getting up in a few minutes.

But so that the food doesn't go cold...

I clench my hand in front of me… and do motherfukin magic.

Light coalesced.

The dawn beams blearily peaking through the full wall window behind me bent. Curving towards my half clenched fist.

The rays of light at first looked solid, but then they began to "fray". They looked like millions of light-gold semi translucent threads of silk, light and soft. Barely even there.

But then they clumped.

Parts of light travelled faster, parts of the thread clotted, parts of the beams fractured, parts of the rays intensified.

The threads became dust.

Motes of dawn light.

The specks of light swirled around my half clenched fist like a whirlpool.

The dawn dust motes coalesced on my palm. Hovering a few centimetres above the skin in the vague form of a sphere.

Intense yet soft, it did not shine but glow, it was precious, something to be treasured. It evoked the feeling of a newborn, like looking at a baby.

It was heart-stirring.

But there was no emotion, instinct yes, but it was skin deep. It was simply light. A herald, the first cry of a new day.

That was dawn-light.

Any prejudice or label we give it are simply due to our own perspective. Neither good nor bad, it was just... new.

Receiving from the steady stream of light gold "silk-thread", the dawn-light ball in my palm was about the size of a golf ball.

'Like a tiny rasengan.'

I ceased bending light, allowing the beams to snap back to their original destinations and returning the room to it's natural lighting.

Except now there was a lightly bobbing ball of golden light in my palm.

It was honestly a beautiful sight, breathtaking even. Like a glowing baby chick of gorgeousness…

I crushed it.

Fully clenching my fist and smothering the chick to death, I ground it corpse to bits within my hand.

I felt the ball solidify under the pressure, then promptly crumble.

This wasn't like dawn dust motes, it was more physical, like what I imagine fairy dust would look like.

Glittering and gaudy gold.

I clenched harder and brought it to eye level.

It looked like I was holding a torch in my hand, you could see the light illuminating my flesh.

I closed my eyes, breathed deep and focused.

"Hnnnnnnn-"

I imbued it with my purpose.

"Nnnnnnnn-"

My intent.

"Nnnnnnn-"

My determination.

"Nnnnnn-"

My resolution.

"Nnnnn-"

With iron will I formed the spell-

"Nnnn-!"

And cast it with supreme poise.

"Nyah!"

With a deft flick of my hand, the desecrated remains of a baby chick flew out over the food, settling as domes over the pans and plates of our breakfast.

"Umu." A job well done.

I rub my nose in pride, I'm the best. Go me.

Truly, my magnificence knows no bounds.

"Bwahahahahaha!"

The thin, near invisible, layer of "fairy dust" would... keep the food warm.

A victory dab is performed.

.

.

"""Bye Ma/Ms Ishraq~"""

Our ritual is conducted.

Myself in the middle, Domi on the right, Percy on the left, our little arms encircle the waist of my most important woman.

We hug her tight.

I nuzzle into her stomach.

In reply there is the usual kindly and gentle laugh as hands brush over our heads with love.

I can feel the vibration of her voice through her body.

"Goodbye children. Be safe."

Smooth and warm and motherly and gentle and dating and serene and light and-

I could go on.

Tightening for one last squeeze we let go as one.

There were identical smiles on Domi and Percy as we looked up at her before heading off.

Over the years Ma had become a second mother for the two after all.

But still Ma bends down to give me a kiss on the head as usual.

Only for me.

'I'm still her favourite.'

I puff out my chest.

"Be safe son."

You jelly?

You should be.

.

.

Awhile back, I gave Percy an ultimatum.

This was a few years ago, before we met Domi and we were only nine. Percy and I had only met each other under a year ago.

But...

"For now, believe my lies."

But I told him thus.

"Ignore them if you wish, but know that in doing so you put your mother at risk."

Looking back, my speech was probably a bit too sophisticated for a child to fully grasp, but Percy got the gist.

He had a choice; he could accept it, or not, and put his mother in danger, which really, wasn't much of a choice at all.

While not quite on my level, Percy was also a "momma's boy" of some renown.

In the end, I was going to lie to his face without remorse or shame and expect him to accept it.

Not only that, but I'm blatantly telling him beforehand and using his mother as a way to stem the flow of complaints before it starts, effectively blackmailing him into compliance.

Percy nodded "okay" without a second thought.

"..."

I sighed in exasperation. It was expected. Yet I couldn't help but roll my eyes and look to the heavens in askance.

Loyalty truly is his greatest strength and weakness.

'... Well, whatever.'

I run my hand through my hair and wonder what the heck I was getting worked up for.

Now that he had accepted the terms and conditions, I squared my shoulders and looking straight in the eye.

"Aliens exist." I told him. "And the majority of them are trying to kill us."

He blinked. He didn't laugh or smile, the same serious (adorable) frown remained on his face. He understood the gravitas of the situation.

Be it by my voice, the look in my eye, the fact I went out of my way to tell him this when we were alone and secluded, or perhaps just his instincts, he understood the basis.

'We are in danger.'

He nodded.

From what he told me, Percy attracted enough monsters by himself as it was, but with another demigod in the mix, encounters have rocketed over the past six months.

Demigods have a scent, this attracts monsters. The stronger the demigod the stronger the scent.

Percy is a son of Poseidon, one of the "big three" and thus has great potential, he attracts more than what I assume is normal.

However.

Percy is still young and thus weak, thus his scent is not what it will be in the future, not only that but he doesn't know he's a demigod.

This lessens the stench considerably.

I aim to keep it that way.

However he needed to know.

I had a prophetic dream, an inkling on what may come to pass should Percy remain unaware.

Or completely unaware anyway.

It was my fault.

Percy had it bad enough as it was, but add in the stench of a self aware demigod?

This was my fault.

So I lied.

"We are what are known as clear-sighted mortals, a rarity. There are not many of us and most are too weak to do anything."

Sorta.

"Aliens have infested the world. The aliens can not be seen by normal people, 'mortals', because of something called the mist that covers their view, only the few, us, can see them clearly."

It's bullshit. Perce is lapping it up.

"The invaders have taken on the forms of our myths and legends, the forms of monsters."

Percy looks like he's trying to remember something he'd thought was unimportant.

"They take on different forms around the world, generally sticking to themes of sorts. Here, in New York and it's surrounding areas, the aliens are inspired by Greek mythology,"

He looks confused.

"From now on I will teach you of them, and how we will defend ourselves from them. "

He nods.

"We will fight them together as comrades. Do you agree?"

He nods.

"Good… For now that is all you need to know."

He nods.

"Do you have any questions?"

He nods.

"Yes?"

He opens his mouth, then closes it. He frowns, his brow furrows, unsure on how to articulate the question.

Don't blame him.

He is only nine.

That was a lot to take in.

Eventually he decides on what to say.

"What the fuck?"

"... Where'd you learn that word?"

"You."

"Shit,"

"..."

.

.

My apartment is pretty swanky,

Situated on the twentieth floor of a twenty-two story high-rise apartment building in New York, it's large, it's comfortable, it's rent is also suitably expensive.

Now you may wonder how lil ol' me and ma went from living in rundown apartment blocks and jumping between empty, unheated and unused defunct holiday homes, to this deluxe design, family sized, ritzy palace (I may be exaggerating)... well.

'Allow me to enlighten you.'

[Play the Godfather theme song]

Crime pays.

…

…

I'm kidding.

[Stop playing]

'Mostly.'

But no, I have not needed to pickpocket or break the law in order to make ends meet of late.

'Needed to anyway'

No, for you see; Art pays, a lot. And just like sex, age pays too.

When I was eight, and still living back at Montauk, I had scraped together some money to buy a canvas and some decent quality paints.

You see I was excelling in art at school, not ridiculously, I wasn't putting much effort in after all, but far beyond what a pre-teen should be doing.

It was around this time that I had won my first art competition, the first of many, that mum had entered me in. In celebration she got me some kiddy paints and a nice paintbrush.

I tried out some stuff casually and realised there may be potential for money.

I got a bit serious,

I went outside and set up my equipment. I started to paint landscape.

It gathered a crowd.

I didn't mean to, there were actually quite a few painters lined up looking out over the ocean which gave me the idea in the first place, but it gave me an idea.

Busking is illegal for those under fourteen, a fucking pain in the ass law, but could use the crowd as advertisement.

I stepped up my game.

I started doing recreations.

I entered more art competitions.

I started talking with fellow artists.

The ray of light I was waiting for came.

One day, when I was painting near the beach (way harder than you'd think due to the wind) a man approached me.

Not unusual, it was common for there to be two or three people watching me work, sometimes from a distance, sometimes they would talk to me.

I display the works completed that day by my side for people to view as well.

However this one was different from the usual joggers or strolling couples.

He was dressed in a suit, had slicked back hair, a straight and proper posture and a frickin jewel topped cane.

The guy was rich.

He also had a full tooth grin and a slightly mad light in his eyes.

The guy was eccentric.

A pretty lady in heels and a smart, slightly less expensive, looking suit came up wobbling behind him with a slight frown.

The guy had a secretary.

'I want a secretary…'

"I want to buy your work."

The guy was an art enthusiast.

I was understandably suspicious. However the secretary woman, us being in a public place, and the fact we were in broad daylight assured most of my worries.

He probably wasn't trying anything dodgy.

I was still a bit confused though. Yes, this was my ultimate aim, making money off of my art, but I expected it to happen in an order.

I was socialising (spit, spit) with fellow painters in hopes they may recommend me to a gallery or exhibition where I may display my work, or spread my name to those who could.

From there others might take notice of said works, and maybe drawn in by my young age.

Then, maybe, I could entice them into buying my artwork. It didn't matter for how much, but it would allow me to get my foot in the door to the artworld.

However soon my confusion became understanding with the new arrival of yet another.

One of my "friends".

It would seem my plan had worked far better than I thought.

She had forgone recommending me to a gallery or whatever, and went straight to one of her patrons.

I had just skipped a few steps.

"Please, please, please, please, pleeeaassee~"

I was both mildly disgusted and somewhat impressed.

For an older guy, his puppy dog eyes were half decent.

Unfortunately for him, I tend to despise anything cuter than me and male.

"Nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars." Now he can haggle it dow-

"Sold!"

"…"

I asked my Ma to sell it.

Thus an A4 recreation of the Mona Lisa I made was sold for almost a grand.

The guy also wanted to buy my other work for the same price but his secretary shouted him down.

In the end, my best A4 works sold for twenty-five dollars apiece, and the few A3 words I considered up to standard were sold for forty dollars apiece.

I sold the majority of my stockpile.

I earnt nearly three grand in a day.

The guy said he would like to buy any more I make.

I'm pretty sure my eyes were $ signs.

Shorty after, we moved to New York and I became aware of my possible parentage.

I continued to sell to the guy, now of NYC skylines, iconic landmarks and portraits.

I had also begun (with permission from the owner) setting up outside Sweet on America (stupid name) to draw passerby for a price.

It's not busking, but also not strictly legal due my age, however it's also not something most people are really willing to call you out on.

Thus I got some nice pocket change and attracted more customers for the shop.

I no longer needed to steal. I no longer had to endure those looks Ma gave me when she caught me sneaking money into her purse.

Around a year after we were living in NY, a few months after I informed Percy we were hunted by aliens.

The guy informed me he wanted me to be the artist spotlight at an exhibition he was hosting.

I agreed for a cut of the entry fee.

Those three nights the event was hosted, I earnt a total of six thousand dollars, with further eight hundred dollars in the following two week.

The six grand came from the upfront cut of the entry fee, and patrons buying some work at the end of the day. The further eight hundred were buyers contacting me over the next few weeks.

My name was now out there. In some capacity, my name was known, my art was wanted.

From there…? Well. Private commissions, competitions, tournaments, advertisements, my work was even getting auctioned.

'Art pays. Age pays.'

We bought the condo when I was ten. By then I was getting money from commissions and tournaments in a semi-stable flow.

I still sold the majority of my artwork to the guy though.

I had forgone A4 pieces and focused on larger A3 or A2 paintings, I could afford to have a pretty high standard at that point so most work I didn't allow to sell, but 4/5 of the ones I do go to the guy.

The remaining are kept for a rainy day, to display exclusively at certain events or to sell to one of my growing number of patrons I've attained through said events.

Ma still works at Sweet on America (stupid name) part-time but is now also continuing her art course at university.

Between Ma and I with our usually frugal lifestyle and my free schooling, the condo rent is our biggest expense, and entirely manageable.

'Art. Pays.'

And that's how lil ol' me went from winter days huddled up in the dark without heating to a bright, roomy and warm family sized condo in one of the more expensive parts of the American capital.

Not bad eh?

.

.

Monsters are pretty dumb... Generally.

The smarter, more "sentient" monsters are generally the named ones 'Medusa, The Furies, Agrius and Oreius', or just old 'Elder Cyclops, Elder Giants and such.'

It's not like you get named monsters just popping out the woodwork or anything, they are a rarity.

Knowing this, you should not be surprised to hear that the majority of monster encounters are… completely bloodless.

The monster, being dumb as a brick, would only realise the demigod had passed them after the encounter.

Especially here, in New York. The stench of mortals is overwhelming, monsters can only smell the general area of their target. They only ever find the target if the victim panics or out of sheer dumb luck. Or so I'm told.

Not to mention, this is the residence of Olympus. Monsters simply can not form groups or stay in one area without attracting unwanted attention.

Most monsters in the heart of New York travel alone or in pairs and no larger, never staying in one place more than a couple of days. As a result of this nomadic lifestyle, humanoid monsters more often than not appear as the homeless, and animalistic monsters simply appear as large strays.

Not only is this a result of their constant relocation, but also because it places them closer to their staple food source. That is to say; the homeless and strays.

With this in mind is generally pretty easy to avoid monsters all together by simply avoiding shady areas. However sometimes, that's just not an option.

Like now for example.

"... Arayan, that injured girl just ran into a very shady looking alley to run away from that giant scorpion didn't she?"

"Yeah."

"... Arayan, that girl had a glowing toothpick."

"Yeah."

"As in, really, a giant needle…"

"Yeah."

"No one else could see it."

"Yeah."

"... We gonna save her?"

"... Yeah." I gave one last mournful look at my falafel wrap. "Yeah, let's go."

Quite casually we jog over to the shady-looking-alley-you-should-really-avoid to chase down the giant scorpion and save the distressing damsel.

Percy is a bit confused at my seemingly indifferent actions.

"You take pont." No he's even more confused. I almost never let him take point.

Looking back at me he searches my face for any give on the abnormal situation, only to see general boredom.

Percy eventually nods his head, assured by my bored looks I had things under control. He took it a face value; I was in control, I was letting him take point, the girl was not in danger = this was a test.

He was correct on all accounts.

Ignoring the abnormalities and worries assured, Percy put his game face on.

I am honestly impressed at how a twelve-year-old could have such an intense glare.

I'm told mine is even more fierce, but I wouldn't know.

He pulled out a glowing bronze, switchblade stiletto knife, only about 20cm long pummel to tip. When folded it took on the form of a playable harmonica.

On his off hand he held a small circular "mirror". It had no frame or decoration and indeed to me it looking like a grey slate not reflecting anything, not a mirror at all. However the mirror was a bit special, it was enchanted after all.

No one but the one holding the mirror would be able to see its reflection, to all else it was just a grey slate.

Percy had positioned himself to the side of the entrance to the alley, it was already dusk and street was fairly out of the way as it was, so there was no one else about.

He held the mirror facing down the alley, using it to peek around the corner. Because it was enchanted there would be no reflection of light to alert whoever may be down there.

A good use of an otherwise useless trinket.

The harmonica/switchblade was allegedly created by a scallywag son of Ares who often found himself incarcerated. Unlike most of his siblings, it would seem this one had some sense of humour.

'Or perhaps it was just ironic pragmatism?'

Percy, from his crouched position, tilted the mirror this way and that, despite the imminent rescue mission he was relatively calm, thoroughly gathering information.

'Good.'

From early on, I exhaustively pounded some lessons through his bedrock-thick skull.

'Caution does not mean cowardice. Panic causes tunnel vision. You can't save them if you're dead.' and perhaps the hardest lesson; 'Your life is more important than theirs.'

I think I did pretty well with all but that last one. Something I'm not all that displeased about to be honest, but Percy needs to know that there are people waiting for him. He may not believe that last lesson himself, but at least the thought may be heavy enough to curb some of his recklessness.

'I can only hope.'

Confident that the path is clear, Percy lets loose his instincts.

A demigod's instincts are a strange thing, but from what I could tell when comparing Percy to the few others we have encountered, we concluded his are probably topnotch.

'Be that due to his restless status as a son of Poseidon, Percy's natural talent or something else, I cannot confirm. Most likely it's a mixture of reasons.'

With speed and practise unbefitting his size or age, Percy whirled whirled round the corner and down the alley in a half crouch. Keeping low and alert without sacrificing speed.

I had beat into him his size can be both a weakness and advantage. He has come to use it effectively in recent years.

Moving briskly down the narrow passage, flanked by red-brick estate flats and occasionally jumping the odd knocked over bin or boxes, we follow the scrape and scuffle marks left by the oversized scorpion.

Eventually we emerge to the sound of struggle.

An area completely boxed in by drab estate flats, grey pavement lined the space with a playground erected as the centrepiece.

A pen tiered with drab dying grass and worn rubber, it had a single yellow slide, two sets of swings and a roundabout. It was horrifying to my eyes.

A testament to just how soul crushing human expansion could be; when placed before the setting of tax-paid civil prisons, the yellow plastic of the slide was almost mocking, the seats of the swings were chewed and the roundabout covered in rust.

Even the grass seemed dull and listless,

There was no joy to be had here.

The place seemed to ridicule all those who looked at it. It possessed a bitter spirit. When I think what might go through the minds of those who live in these flats, those who look down from their balconies at this monument of failure, my fists clench.

I am once more reminded how lucky I am.

Currently the girl we had been tracking was putting the place to far greater use that the playground had seen in all its existence.

She was using the roundabout, placing it strategically between her and the scorpion, the scorpion unable to climb over or move around the obstacle quick enough was instead attempting to rip its way through the plaything.

Utilising its front claws it would snap and tear at rusted metal, steadily moving forward towards the girl on the opposite side.

However the girl was also smart. Using her giant needle and superior mobility she was constantly taking chances to (ahem) needle the leopard sized scorpion.

Whenever the monster got to deep into the roundabout she would move round the side and poke at it's tail base or claw, then either quickly move back to the opposite side should the scorpion back out, or spin the roundabout best she could to dislodge the monster should it continue to claw through.

At this time the plaything was already half destroyed, it could no longer spin and the scorpion has systematically destroyed the centre and corners best it could. Now the girl could not use the roundabout width to her advantage but should she stay directly opposite the scorpion would sooner or later just claw through.

From the look on her face, she understood this perfectly.

Percy rushed in.

Without a battle cry (beat that into him) or any warning, Percy ran at the baby slide. Running up the "slide" part he used the height advantage and jumped from the playthings peak, using it as his springboard. With nary a dagger and the clothes on his back, my friend sailed through the air to his destination.

He had timed it perfectly.

The girl had just had her needle assault parried by the scorpion's front claw, her arm and armament temporarily thrown back, the scorpion was centred in the scrap remains of the plaything, tail and stinger poised to strike, when from the sky…

Percy's foot, backed with his full body weight, planted itself into the unguarded back of the scorpion. The monster buckled. There was a crunch.

With another stride, carried forwards by his falling momentum, Percy reached his true target. His stiletto knife sinking neatly into an unprotected neck.

'Good lad.'

Mist dissipated, revealing the three sets of beady pupiless eyes of the "girl." One pair set in normal human placings, but the other two taking their place on her forehead. The "girl" suddenly revealed a receding hairline, black hair becoming withering grey, youthful flesh becoming wrinkled, with lumps of chitin layering her jaw and mouth.

If they could, the "girl's" eyes would widen with shock.

There was a short pained gasp, revealing the pincers half hidden in the girls mouth, as Percy withdrew his knife. He then used it swiftly to cut of the arm "holding" the golden needle in one smooth motion.

A final gurgle accompanied the telltale sound of dust exploding. Both "girl" and "scorpion" suddenly unable to hold form, collapsed into golden dust like sand in the wind.

In a matter of seconds, there nothing but the cut off arm held by Percy and a few items of children's clothes on the floor left of them.

Percy looked to me in askance.

"Good job." I nod at him.

.

.

"When did you figure it out?" I ask Perce as we walk home.

"Well you letting me take point and the lack of worry was my biggest clue. You usually take things like that way more seriously." Under the dimming light of sunset we conversed.

"Yeah, that was a big giveaway." I was pissed at leaving my falafels…

"But other than that?" I nod. "The arm and the way she was fighting mostly." He admitted.

I motion him to continue.

"The was she was holding the needle was weird. There was pretty much no manoeuvrability, not even when she was 'thrown back.' It was abnormal. Like she wasn't holding the needle, but the needle was part of her arm…" He held up his spoil of war, "which it was."

Indeed in his hands was a needle like blade, no edge only a point, at the base of the blade there was no handle, but instead strings of flesh still half attached.

I was mildly impressed at how quickly Percy had gotten over the common squeamishness for this type of stuff.

"Then there was the way the alien was fighting," oh yeah, almost forgot about that lie, "she was moving good, skilled but pretty week, yet it was like she was aiming for only the most heavily armoured parts of the scorpion."

Mmm. Although I said she was aiming at the claws and base of the tail, it precisely at the most armoured parts, always narrowly missing the uncovered weak points and joints.

To do that consistently she was rather skilled, but as Percy said, she was also weak. Even if she did hit a weak point it was doubtful she would do any real damage.

"Those were the two main things that went "ping" for me." He tapped his head. "There was also the way she was moving and looking about. I mean yeah it could be she was looking for help, but she was ignoring the scorpion way too much. Instead of looking for help, it was like she was waiting."

Correct. Although you couldn't tell with the mist created eye illusions, she was certainly keeping an eye on her surrounding. I'm not sure if Perce realised but she even saw us when we got there, yet chose to feign ignorance.

Perhaps she might have been choosing to focus on the enemy before her and not give away our position, but on the other hand when we arrived she all of a sudden showed signs of "tiring." Becoming slightly more sluggish and subtly panting harder, giving the skilful impression she wouldn't last much longer.

'Hurry the hell up.' Basically.

"And that final 'strike' confirmed it." Percy said. "When it got parried, her arm flew way back. Too far back. It's not like the scorpion claws would have a great range of movement or force behind them for anything but snapping, so that was obviously fake."

Yeah. When she was "thrown back", it also "conveniently" put her in position to do a full spear thrust. Should her incoming "savoir" had solely focused on the scorpion; for example instead of goomba stompin' on it and instead used their weapon to drive down on it, they would be temporarily immobile.

With their weapon in the back of the scorpion and momentum from the jump killed, they would make a fine target for the "maiden fair" who they had just so dashingly "saved."

An excellent bait and kill.

"And finally," Percy began grandly, "was my instincts warned me something was up."

"Good job listening then."

"Well I doubt I would have realised sumin' was if you didn't act so weirdly in the beginning… also you always said to trust my instincts." My friends pointed out.

"Yes. I did. It would be unwise to ignore them."

We continued in silence for a bit. Coming to more populated areas.

"By the way, was there any other gives?" Percy asked. "And I think I can already guess, but how did know it was an alien in the first place?"

"... Eh. There were a few minor clues, but they could all also be explained as genuine signs of distress." I chew on the thought absently. "First off was the scratch marks that lead the way in the alley."

Percy was paying close attention, I'm proud of how far his focus had come in recent years. Giving him a smile I start.

"How does a single scorpion make that much of a mess? Much of the scuffle marks, scratches and gash marks probably were from the scorpion, but what we passed was a bit too exaggerated." As we meet a more crowded street I manipulate the ambient mist into making the severed needle-arm look like a baseball bat.

"The 'girl' had made many of those marks. She wanted to let people, us, know where she was heading. The knocked over bins and crushed boxes along with the 'natural' mess from the alien wasn't enough. She had to be certain." So any possible 'rescue' wouldn't waste time trying to figure out where she went.

"Of course that could have also been a sincere plea from help from one of our fellows, saying 'I'm here, this way', but if she has enough strength, or a good enough weapon, to make those marks in brick wall, why couldn't she just have killed the beast already." She scorpions was scary looking sure, but it didn't seem that strong. Get on it's flank and it would be an easy enough kill.

'But that may just be my perception of strength out of whack.'

"Second was, why the fuck would she run down a dark alley by herself stupid?!" Demigod 101; avoid dark alleys. Actually that's more like a general rule for children no?

"Yesss, it might have been because she hoped the tight space would slow down the alien, or perhaps just dissuade it from following her all together, but if so… why didn't she pick the even smaller alley on the other side of the rode?! Not ten fukin meters away, goddamn!" Ugh, that was sooo blatant.

'But monsters are pretty dumb. I shouldn't really be wishing for smarter monsters anyway. I'm just annoyed 'cause I just know there would still be idiots who would fall for it.'

"... Why you starin' at me like that man?"

"Nothing." At least he's improving. Not to mention he's only twelve... I'm being too harsh. "Nothing, don't worry bout it… anyway, from a monster perspective, quiet secluded places, or places of apathy where no one would help even if you cried out are best. You see someone in need of 'help' rush straight to one such place, alarms go off."

"Hmm, yeah. I feel pretty dumb not seeing that now…" Dammit, I just scolded myself for being to harsh as well.

"You're not dumb." I say firmly, putting my hand on his shoulder. "You ran to someone who, at the time, you thought in need. That's not dumb, that's natural... No, that's heroic." You are a hero Percy.

"... Thanks." We continue to walk, Percy's head a tad higher.

"Anyway, third was I knew from the start anyway." Before the start in fact.

"Knew it. Dream?"

"That too, but also my sensory abilities have improved recently." I boasted proudly. It was something I was pretty happy about.

"... Sensary?" Ah, a bit advance I guess.

"Means I can see things better," and hear and smell, "I could actually partially see through the mist disguise when we saw her running in the first place."

"Oh... Oooooh." Percy's eyes widened appropriately.

I smiled at him. Not that he realised fully, but it was quite the achievement after all. That monster's bread and butter was trickery and mist disguise, if not the bait and kill tactic would be completely ineffective.

Mist was what she survived on... and I just completely invalidated it. A dull being but one far older and more experienced than I was seen through.

I think that's worth something.

"That scorpion was also a doll, well more like a golem I suppose. It had a core, but the flesh was just an incredibly robust and lifelike mist construct." Once more I felt a little giddy at seeing through such a skilled mist user. Percy didn't really get it but looked suitably amazed so I ruffled his hair.

Smirking as his futile attempts to fend of my indomitable brotherly love, I continue.

"Along with that, I could tell she was only faking panic. The stench of lies stuck out like porcupine at a nudist colony. That was big give away." I wait for Percy's snickers to die down.

'Kids.'

"But yes, I also dreamt it." A few times in fact. My favourite was the most recent, I got it napping this afternoon; It played out me finding a grey box containing a scorpion guarding a porn magazine. On the front cover it depicted bunny girls, but after I squished the scorpion and took my prize it only contained a frame by frame artist rendition of "2girls1cup."

'The horror.'

Of course I had gotten a few other dreams at night depicting the scene in a much more coherent manner, but when I combined it with the dream I got in my midday nap, I was more or less prepared.

Lo and behold, we witnessed a scorpion chasing a pretty "girl" down a dark alley into an boxed in area not even a few hours later.

'I had a vague idea what was going down.'

This was pretty normal for me, not sure how it is for other Apollo kids though.

I didn't even need to draw my weapons.

'... Well one is always 'drawn' I suppose.'

I looked at the cane that had been ever present by my side for the last year and a half.

'I won't be caught off guard again.'

"This one was a goldie huh?" My slight brooding was interrupted.

Percy was looking over the severed arm thing. Indeed it was golden.

"Different from the bronze guys." He blinked. "Hey I've just realised! The ones who carry any bronze tend to be stronger one-on-one but these goldies," he frowns, "are a lot more tricky…" he smiles, "still weaker than the bronze dudes though."

I blink

'... Patriotic pride?'

It's dug into demigod genetics apparently.

Those "bronze dudes" are any monster that carries Celestial Bronze armaments, "goldies" refer to any who carry Imperial Gold.

They are Greek and Roman respectively by the way.

'The heck.'

"Hehehehe." Percy's got a pretty sinister smile right now as he stares at the severed limb of his fallen foe. I think I'm a bad influence.

'... Well whatever.'

"So do you know what monster the alien was imitating?" Percy asked me.

"No," I shook negative, "It's not like they only choose famous ones… there are tonnes of unnamed monster tales that didn't survive the passage of time. The aliens have been here far longer than us and know a lot more."

"Hmm."

"Let's get back quick. Domi's probably getting tired of waiting."

"Yeah."

We head back, our two figures blurring with the masses of flesh that infested the streets.

Neither of us mentioned it.

We both tacitly neglected to mention the ragged children clothes left behind by the monster. The dirty rags I now carry in backpack. They didn't disappear with the monster.

They didn't belong to the monster. They once belonged to a little girl.

A name was sewn on the inside of the collar, now caked in sweat and grime. A name I recognised from the newspaper. A missing child ad.

We both neglected to mention she would stay missing a while longer.

We both neglected to mention the "sweat and grime" was probably not just that.

We both neglected to mention the glances of suppressed hate we sent the arm.

Because if we did, we wouldn't be able to take another step. We would be unable to move forward. We would be unable to save anyone else.

So we kept a smile. Under this putrid sun, surrounded by slowly rotting flesh and cold stone, we just plastered on a smile and wandered home.

...

'Well that's how I feel anyway. I doubt Percy is quite so depressing.'

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AN: Not really how I wanted to end the chapter, but frankly I had put it off long enough.

A whopping 37 pages, 7000ish words, I sincerely apologise for the wait.

To those of you wondering what I've been doing in the meantime since the last post, check out my signature or profile page.

There's probably more than a few typos but bare with me, I'll correct them in time.

I do hope you enjoy the chapter. Once more sorry for the wait.

Leave a review if it pleases you.