Percy was escorted down the long, white, cold, and empty hallway.
The doors hissed open and a black Rayune was dragged out, his body limp. His eyes were devoid of hope, like his entire life was crumbling around him. When they met Percy's, a spark of something lit and died so quickly it almost looked like a trick of the light. Percy tried to look back at him, something about the alien familiar. The guards whacked his head. "Eyes forward."
They walked him into the room and pushed him forward, taking positions by the door. Temenok sat behind his desk, fingers steepled. Supposedly, this very office was the one destroyed in a tempest of fury by Percy himself. All repaired and polished like it never happened.
Temenok stayed silent, simply watching as Percy stopped just a few feet away. The young man stood tall and strong. Despite his amnesia, the normal-ness about him, the ever-lasting confused look on his face; he almost appeared godly still. He knew what had to be done. Temenok left him no choice. The Warden's eyes were predatory in nature. He won, he knew.
"I'll do it." Percy simply said.
Three Weeks Later...
The heavy doors groaned as they rose. Percy strode out into the arena, unstoppable. He turned and raised his hands, urging the crowd to cheer harder and harder until the entire stadium vibrated with the energy of ten thousand beings.
It only took two weeks for his career as a fighter to take off into the clouds above. In the week following the beginning of their partnership, the Warden built a brand new stadium on his newly conquered world. Thousands flocked to the Arena to watch the charismatic young fighter as he destroyed anyone in his way to the top. Today was special, however. Today a notorious fighter ferried across a sea of stars would go head to head against Percy Jackson.
The sands and dirt scattered into the sky as a starship descended onto the open air arena. The transport hovered several meters off the ground and a tower of muscle dropped down. The audience lost their minds. As Percy eyed his opponent, the sheer size of the guy, the massive horns protruding from the sides of his head, the way the ground cracked as he landed, the anaconda-like tail screwing up the air currents as it swished back and forth, he began to reconsider this fighting gig.
Nevertheless, Percy squared his shoulders and stepped forward as they introduced him to the people.
"Our first fighter, taking the galaxy by storm, Percy Jackson! The Quasar Tsunami, nicknamed for his unbelievable output of mass destruction, stands just meters away from the warrior who may well prove his match; you all know him and watched his career for years. With a deadly 102-7 win to loss record, Alkalim Uropa, the Razzian Dragon is all business like always. We shall soon see which of those numbers will go up: the 102 or the 7."
From up in the box, Temenok stared down at the standoff. He had been in negotiations for this very matchup since he saw Percy's first fight. A few hiccups later and it was set. This event would propel his Gladiator Arena to new heights. If this didn't put Rayune on the map, nothing would.
The horn sounded. Percy took a deep breath. "Easy, buddy. Nobody needs to get hurt here."
The Dragon ignored him as he should, immediately beginning a slow but purposeful march, tail swaying side to side, his demonic eyes fixed on him. Percy didn't shy away, jumping forward and landing a blow to the side of his thick hide. Uropa made to backhand him but Percy already danced around him, his fists flying as they found their target. "Where's your soft spot, big boy? Is it here?" Percy hit the small of his back, dodging the thick but agile tail. "Nope. How about here?" He karate chopped the tail. Alkalim roared and brought his hammer fists down onto empty space.
"Bingo," Percy muttered to himself. The Dragon was remarkably fast for someone of his size. He could easily fire off a dozen punches in a second as he quickly proved. Percy figured he would outmaneuver the beast until he tired like all the other hulks. Negative. Percy was the one who found himself trying to catch his breath. He pushed hard off his right foot and somersaulted through the air, landing on the Dragon's neck. He wrapped an arm around both horns and had himself a joy ride. "Damn it, A.U. Work with me." He said through gritted teeth. He had a strange case of deja vu as Uropa bucked about. Somehow he knew, he had done this before somewhere.
Uropa reached up and grabbed hold of Percy, tearing him away and slamming him onto the hard-packed sand. Percy grunted, tiny little solar systems dancing throughout his line of sight. That was nothing compared to what came next. The Dragon took both his legs in one hand and his arms in the other, raising him to chest level; he took a massive bite out of Percy's side. Percy released a guttural scream as a mist of red blood spread into the air. Alkalim tossed him aside, chewing loudly.
"FIGHTERS REMEMBER! THIS IS NOT A DEATH MATCH! ABIDE TO THE RULES OR YOU WILL BE SENT TO EMERGARST FOR JUDGMENT! Also you won't get paid."
Percy squirmed in agony, flashes of distant memories surging through his mind: Holding up the weigh of an entire world, Being encased in a shell of white hot steam, lava, and compressed air as a volcano exploded and covered half a continent in ash and fire, bathing in a river of acid, walking a living breathing hell, standing before a black hole personified by a silver being in a black suit...all forgotten the moment he remembered.
"Keep talking, scum." Alkalim turned and pounded his chest for the crowd and they went wild.
Percy tried to cope with the feeling of pain. It was just so fresh to him. So few times he had experienced it in the past month of his memory. It felt like a fire coursing throughout his body, not allowing him to think. He lay there for a full two minutes as the Dragon paced around him, taunting him. As he shock wore off, his anger started boiling.
Temenok watched anxiously. "Get up, Jackson!" He growled.
"Come Mr. Quasar. Let's put on a show for your fans. Oh, I'm sorry, they were your fans. Let's put on a show for my fans." He snickered, his voice like five boulders in the middle of an orgy.
Percy sprang up like a viper, uppercutting the villain out of this world. The Dragon stumbled back five steps as Percy danced away. The Zorum and Rayune in the audience made the stadium vibrate, the replay cams replaying the footage in a frenzy.
Percy struggled to stand upright. "It's not over yet, Europe. Let's go." He slurred, the blood loss impairing some of his functions. "I'll dog you 'till you're out cold."
The Dragon snarl-laughed. "That's the spirit!"
Uropa walked towards him as before. Percy used the ten second delay to think. Even in his delirious state, he still was able to analyze the situation. Here was an opponent who overwhelmed him in strength yet matched his speed. Who could take punishment but also deal it out. How could he proceed?
Percy barely dodged a jab. Jumped over a tail swipe. Rolled under a double-fisted hammer. He didn't know what life experience enabled him to survive the onslaught from the Dragon but he was grateful for it. He saw double as Alkalim moved like an afterimage. So fast, Percy's body was acting on instinct. His five senses could only keep up so much. The roars from the audience. The smell of his own blood and sweat. The scorch of the sun. The sight of a humanoid dragon on the prowl. The taste of fear for the first time in weeks.
But deep within Percy fought against himself. Trying to hold onto the will to fight. Yes, his side was split open. Yes, he was slightly outmatched. But not all was lost. He was the Quasar Tsunami.
You could hear the announcer's excited breaths over the speakers. "This match just might be over before the weapons are even released into the arena. But your money was not wasted folks. This was a short but incredibly sweet one! However, you may still sponsor your fighter of choice should you wish."
If Percy was allowed even a few more minutes, he could heal and hopefully even the odds with a weapon but the Razzian Dragon did not let up for a second. His offensive arsenal was extremely effective. Percy could only dodge and roll, every movement painful. He snuck in blows when he could but they were few and far in between.
He pressed Percy back, turning in circles as he incorporated his tail into the attack. Percy had to spring backwards to avoid the tip and tripped over his feet. He rolled away and scrambled to his feet but one kick to the chest sent him sprawling. Percy sucked in air like a broken A/C unit. Uropa grabbed his head with one hand and yanked him into the air. Percy screamed as the Dragon palmed his skull so hard he thought it might break.
"Shame I can't impale you on my horns like the others. Just surrender and we can finish this outside the arena." His pupils, Percy realized, were shaped like exploding supernovas. A fiery orange that promised destruction.
Percy tried to reach for the damned horns in between screams, kicking away at whatever he could connect with. The hide was too thick to have much effect. But his feet had other purposes. He wrapped them in between the horns and pulled with all his might. Alkalim's bellows were the first hints of what was next. With a crack heard across the arena, his beautiful black spikes were forced to depart from his skull.
Percy somersaulted to the ground and retreated. The effort he used to do that reopened his wound and he began losing blood again.
The audience sucked in a collective breath. The Razzian Dragon's pride was taken from him forever. The Razzia couldn't regrow their horns. And in their culture, losing those was like a human being castrated. You were no longer a man. You were an outcast.
"And the tables have turned ladies and gentlemen." The announcer said softly, as if not wanting to draw the Dragon's attention. His voice did little to hide his child-like joy.
Alkalim roared more in fury and humiliation than pain. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"
Percy spat out a tooth. "Call it even."
His eyes were murderous and he heaved in breaths like a bull which was ironic. "You're not walking out of here alive, Jackson. Fuck the payday. I'll do this one for free. Those horns will be replaced with your skull."
"Ooh, scary. But I hear Razzia horns go for a lot on the black market. I think I'll beat you fairly here; take the payday and the bonus and I'll finish you off outside."
The announcer looked to Temenok, the question on his face.
Temenok rubbed his chin. How long could Percy last without a weapon? Not long, he decided. He gave the guy the okay.
"And the sponsor screen has just been opened folks! Any weapons, armor, or extras you want to send into the arena can be ordered now! The 30 second window opens as I speak!"
A dozen cylinder chambers all over the arena popped out of the floors, delivering swords and axes and bows and armor plates. A couple med kits and even a firearm were scattered throughout. The two locked eyes and dove for their chosen weapon. The real fight had begun.
...
Or so the people thought.
No time passed in between the Razzian Dragon turning with a massive broadsword in hand and the four precise shots piercing through each of his limbs, severing them all.
Silence in the crowd. From above, Temenok thought his blood vessels would burst.
Percy tossed aside the smoking blaster and walked up to his fallen enemy. Alkalim lay in a fetal position on his side. Percy picked up the broadsword and slowly twirled it about, creating gorgeous arcs of light.
"Do it." He spat. "You've taken my pride. Why not my life?"
"Sorry, Europe. Taking your pathetic soul isn't nearly as exciting as humiliating you forever. It's just showbiz." Percy brought the sword down, slicing his entire tail off. The only thing left was a tiny little stub to prove it had once been there. Percy stabbed the sword into the sand inches from the Razzian Dragon's neck. From now on, he was Alkalim Uropa, the Mutilated Dragon.
The crowd slowly began cheering and the announcer began speaking at full speed and volume. Percy could care less what they were saying. He won. His reputation would skyrocket after this. That's all that mattered. He collected his horns on the way out, paused, and went back for the tail. He left with Alkalim promising him his gruesome death, the crowd lusting after him, and Temenok burning holes in the back of his head.
Kragamir
30,000 light years away, a heavy mug slammed on the bar counter. The cloaked drunk muttered a curse, foamy drink trickling down into his beard.
A rival snickered as he set down his own cup. "Pay up, hunter! You lost." He extended an open palm, grinning ear to ear.
The man slapped the hand away angrily. "I'm empty."
The smile faltered. "The pockets of you scum never stop singing. Your kind always carry metal."
"Yeah. We do." He snarled.
The warning flew over the guy's head. He grabbed him by the shoulder and flung him around, almost tearing away the cloak. "You don't scare me, Jeux."
The tension in the bar began to rise, almost unnoticeable. Even drowning in alcohol, the people of this planet had lived plenty of tribulations and could sniff trouble in the air.
The bright eyes within the cloak narrowed to slits.
"Yeah, I know exactly who you are. Your fighter lost; spanked like a child by the Quasar Tsunami. So you either pay up or suffer the consequences." A small schink sounded as the hidden blade sprung out of his wrist.
The cloaked drunk let out a small sigh. "Here we go again."
The trigger snapped and an electric blue bolt of concentrated plasma raced from down below, tearing half of the aggressor's temple away.
The bar grew lethally silent. No one moved to intervene. This was not their business until he moved against an 'innocent' bystander.
Jeux stashed away his weapon and calmly looted the corpse. The hidden blade, a couple hundred achyma, and a strange device was taken. He stood and drained his cup before picking up his kill's cup and claiming the leftovers as well. As he lowered the mug, a blaster powered up right next to his ear. The barkeep looked almost bored.
"You're picking up both tabs, son."
The bounty hunter scowled. Both him and his dead friend had racked it up pretty high. In nearly any other bar, the bill would've been taken care of the moment the other guy dropped. Not here. Resistance would be met with the entire bar turning against him. Their favorite drinking place would not descend into a lawless hole of anarchy.
Jeux tossed the looted money onto the counter and turned.
"And the other items as well." The tender called out.
The cloaked drunk ignored him, shoving the doors open. The spoils went to the victor. Not ten seconds passed before the bar's atmosphere returned in full force.
"Jackson," He snarled. "That shit was rigged from the start."
A thousand hover cars roared by the gargantuan impoverished City of Lights. The galactic center of trade was not pretty up close. It was a smelly and dangerous place to even lay your eyes on. And that was if you looked at it from the pirate-infested space surrounding the planet. Imagine living on it. Jeux tolerated it however. He had to. Kragamir was the money tree. Opportunity was everywhere. It was incredibly easy to find a job, whether legal or otherwise. A paradise for the scum and saints of the galaxy.
Jeux hailed a taxi and watched its descent. A barely audible ping pulled his eyes to his wrist screen. Jeux read and re-read and re-read even as he got into the vehicle. "Interesting," He murmured quietly.
"Where to?" The driver puffed out a cloud onto the already fogged up windshield and scratched away at his stubble.
"Ikar's Plaza. Southside."
The driver raised an eyebrow but nodded. He wiped the glass clean and stepped on it, cutting off a fellow taxi and almost crashing into another.
Jeux barely noticed. He stared out the passenger window, calculating fuel costs, journey time, and time spent. Not worth it. It would be more self-indulgence than anything. He sighed in disappointment.
Another ping sounded, updating the bounty price.
...
Now it was worth it. "Hey, turn this thing around. Peledon Isle. ASAP." He would need his souped-up spacecraft for this.
"Gotcha, bossman." He cut across no less than seven lanes and five levels of traffic, all with the e-cigarette drowning the windshield in strawberry clouds.
Jeux's eyes widened as new updates refreshed the screen. And more and more. He tossed an achyma bar onto the dash. Before it even landed, the driver caught the money with one hand, slammed the other on the thruster boost, and exhaled another breath. "Gotcha, bossman." He repeated, now blowing past traffic like a bullet.
Once the price got into the millions, his body was vibrating from excitement. Something about this gave him lucky vibes. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe not. But as a bounty hunter, this was a once in a year opportunity. He already knew the competition for this guy's head would be everywhere, swarming like vultures. It was almost tragic. But if your name was known to even a single person in this galaxy, a price could be attached to it. That was the golden truth for bounty hunters everywhere.
And Percy Jackson was about to learn that lesson the hard way.
"What's the big deal?!" Temenok repeated in a rage. He paced back and forth behind his desk, his back to the wide window overlooking the arena where another fight was taking place. "Besides you breaking the clearly established no-killing rule, you removed any possibility of a rematch! You humiliated and maimed one of the galaxy's most beloved, electrifying, and profitable fighters. Do you have any idea how much heat this will bring upon you, me, and my arena?"
Percy rolled his eyes. "Cry babies, all of them. They're salty because there's a new guy in town. Someone stronger and younger. Look, I barely know a thing about this galaxy. But one thing I learned: it's all about the money. Fame and reputation is an easy path to take. And if all I have to deal with is an angry rabid fanbase, then I can handle that."
Temenok slammed the tablet onto the table. "Think you can handle that?"
The image of Percy's roster with eight figures above his name flared to life. Percy cocked his head. "My point exactly. If people are willing to pay that much cause their favorite fighter lost, imagine how much they'll pay to see their favorite fighter win?"
The Warden raised a hand and slapped the ever-loving shit out of him.
...
Or that's how it played out in Percy's pre-cognitive mind. In reality, Percy grabbed his whole arm and yanked him belly first onto the heavy table. He proceeded to kick that same table with enough force to lift it off the ground and into the glass behind. The Warden tumbled head over heels off the tower and down into the arena. The cameras just barely captured the exact moment when Temenok slammed into the sands and his precious desk landed right on top, completely covering him.
Percy watched the whole thing from the lip of the precipice. Green blood squeezed out from the edges of the desk, painting the sands emerald. The screens changed to images of the hole in the tower and zoomed in on Percy.
"Fuck," He said. A thousand regrets coursed through him. He just killed the one person who knew a damn thing about his past and where he came from. He clenched his jaw. What's done was done. Percy gathered his saliva and spit onto the scene of the crime.
Alarms blared to life and the door behind him burst open. Percy tensed up and swiveled like a cannon ready to unleash its fire. A dozen plasma bolts made a mad dash for his head. Percy somersaulted to the side, quickly debating whether to jump out the window or take on the threat directly.
Someone made up his mind much faster than Percy did.
Another blaster joined the fray. This one taking out Percy's attackers. Before the guards even realized what was happening, they were all dead. Percy remained on alert. His mysterious savior swept his gun from side to side and then behind. He faced Percy. "Genius idea, buddy. Thanks for simplifying matters."
"Who are you?" He demanded.
The masked assailant permeated the air with an aura of sarcasm. "Your worst enemy. You done asking stupid questions? Let's get outta here."
He turned on his heel and walked out of the room. He paused and looked back. "Let's go!"
Percy blinked. Maybe he should take his chances with the window idea. He peered over the edge at the dozens and dozens of enraged bodies swarming the squashed Warden. Then again, the serial killer over there looked just a little bit friendlier. He raced after him, only slowing to pick up a fallen rifle.
They turned the corner down the emergency chute just as the tablet chimed from the ground. A new bounty refreshed the page. This one uploaded from the Galactic Law.
A/N:
Hello hello. Guess who's back?
I finally found a promising plot device to move the story forward. Just what I was looking for. It seems every time I open the document editor, I can't figure out what to do to get Percy where I want him to be. But I like this route. A lot of different ways it can go. Sorry for taking so long. I'm busy blah blah. I'm just very bad at finishing things I start. I do it all the time. If you knew how many books I've bought that I got a quarter into before putting back on the shelf. Or video games I've downloaded and never even got half way. For example, Witcher 3. I still don't know what happens to Geralt and Ciri ! And god of war ragnarok; I'm gonna catch a spoiler at some point. Smh.
Regardless, I've been thinking. After I finish this, I want to start two new stories: one about the aftermath of Percy's disappearance at Earth. By that I mean, how the gods and the halfbloods go to war with Coeus as an actual team. And getting to write more deaths! Oh, I want to kill so many of our beloved characters! And the second about Annabeth, Queen of Monsters down in Tartarus and her rise to power.
Believe me when I say I have so many ideas. I just wish I was rich so I could focus on writing instead of paying my bills.
Anyhoo. Let me know what's up by leaving a follow/favorite/review. God of wrath, you're the man. Everyone else who's not reviewing, y'all need to step it up. You have one job!
Just kidding do what u want, idc. Ciao! ;)