A/N: Welp, here with are at the second chapter. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and all those who gave me a favorite. Also, am I the only person that enjoyed the Son of Neptune (only because Nico was there). In any case, I enjoyed writing this chapter because of the characters I was able to work into it. Thanks to my Mission to Marzipan and my personal assistant for helping me out. Enough of the frivolous conversation, enjoy.

Story of Dead Man

January 2, 1945

Decker opened his eyes and found that he was sitting in a large black cage with bars on every side of him. He extended his hand out to touch one of the bars and instantly yanked it back because of the jolt of electricity that rocked through his entire body.

With a low groan he sat up and tried his best to ignore the pain that shot through his body when he did so. His eyes shifted from left to right as he took notice of the large chains that were connected to the four edges of the cage — he followed the chains all the way to the walls that were helping hold up his prison. It became clear that his captors didn't want him to be on the ground so they had his cage hoisted up into the air. He glanced down below his cage and found that there were four soldiers resting below him, each one wearing a blue uniform.

A rather annoying voice spoke to him and helped clear up any confusion he was having. "You were captured."

"I never would've guessed that, can you tell me where I am?"

"An American Naval ship somewhere outside of Germany.I told you that leaving that leaving the army would end up biting you in the ass."

The son of Hades ignored his step-mother because he wasn't in the mood to admit she was right. Right now his first priority would have to be getting the Hades out of his cage. He reached down to grab his revolver only to find that it was missing and let out a loud groan because not having his weapon would make this entire thing a lot harder.

Seeing as how he was hovering above the ground it would be impossible to summon any shadows because the soldiers would know about it. A light bulb went off in his head and a grin slowly began working its way onto his lips. His left hand extended out a few inches and very slowly started to tremble — he closed his eyes before exhaling a calm breath. Suddenly he was able to hear the moaning of the dead; it didn't take long for the moaning to turn into laughter. All that he had to do now was sit back and enjoy the show.

John Parker exhaled a cloudy breath before tossing his cigarette onto the ground/ He stomped it out and glanced around at his soldiers; he could tell from their expressions that they were dreading this just as much as he was. If it were up to him, he would've been at home with his wife enjoying the smiles of his daughter — instead he was stuck on a ship filled with mortals and demigods that seemed to always be at each other's throats. Had it not been for the fact that he got to fight Decker again, the entire trip would've been for naught. His eyes shifted up to his prisoner and he arched his brow because of the strange expression that the son of Hades wore — it wasn't a look of discomfort or anything. That son-of-a-bitch was wearing one of his demented grins. John glanced around trying to find out what was causing his sense of glee; he understood why when he heard one of his men yelp in surprise.

Captain Parker turned to find his soldier trying to fight against a skeleton soldier — the undead warrior wore a tattered Roman toga and held a gladius in its hand.

John's eyes shifted from the first skeleton onto the other three that had started to rise out of the ground; then he placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and barked out a command. "Don't focus on the soldiers! Make sure the prisoner doesn't escape."

Decker heard the command and chuckled aloud — no matter how well-trained John's men were there was no way they'd be able to concentrate on him while the skeletons were hacking away at them. A plan had long since formed in his head; he raised his left hand and very slowly his shadow coiled around his body, cloaking him with darkness. All that was left now was for John to think he had escaped.

Down below, the fighting had become deadly — thanks to the undead soldiers being, well, undead there was no way to kill them.

John was very slowly starting to become agitated. He kicked a soldier in the chest and glared over at Andy, a son of Hecate. "I want these things destroyed, now."

The son of Hecate nodded before clapping his hands together and chanting. Green energy began to swirl around the skeletons and in a matter of seconds they were collapsing into themselves. Captain Parker sheathed his sword and immediately proceeded to lower the cage down to the ground. Once it was within his reach, he inserted the key and yanked the door open with a fierce growl. "Where is he!"

"Sir," Andy started. "I can still feel his aura coming from inside of the cage."

John was about to open his mouth and was forced to stop when a fist rammed into his face. Everyone took a step back in surprise as Decker stepped out of the shadows of the cage — that is everyone except John, who was busy holding his nose and trying to stop anymore blood from gushing out. His lips were formed into a half smirk when he saw Decker's face. "That was clever, never expected someone like you to actually use tactics."

The son of Hades nodded in agreement. "I expected more from you, Herr John." With that being said, his left arm extended out and a black portal opened by his feet — the hilt of a sword rose up out of the ground.

Decker gripped the hilt before pulling the wicked black sword out; it was composed entirely of Stygian iron. It was a blade that Decker had made himself during his training in the Underworld — a weapon that would one day become the trademark of another, future son of Hades who was, right now, just a babe in arms.

He utterly hated using the sword because he felt it should've only been used when fighting against an immortal; nevertheless he figured John would admire his sword skills. When the first soldier ran in Decker was there to meet him half way. He ducked a slash and sent the blade right into the poor kid's torso. A light blue covered the sword as it proceeded to absorb its victim's soul — very slowly the blade seemed to get sharper as he pulled the blade out and allowed the soldier's dead body to fall at his feet. "So much for him."

If there was one thing that got under John Parker's skin it was losing a comrade — he gritted his teeth and rushed in towards his prey. When he was half way there he felt something coil around his leg; he glanced down briefly to find that his shadow was slowly starting to swallow him whole. His eyes shifted onto his soldiers to find that most of them were suffering a similar fate. Decker ran past them and waved as he charged for the door.

John gritted his teeth, placed a finger into his ear, and spoke with so much venom it would've killed a king cobra. "The prisoner has escaped; I want this entire ship under full lock down!"

Every speaker boomed with John's words and every soldier armed themselves with a sword and an enchanted flashlight just in case Decker decided to summon any shadows.

While Decker's enemies were preparing for battle he was just trying to find a way off the ship. He turned a corner and was greeted left and right by soldiers. He managed to escape most of them without killing them and eventually found his way to a flight of stairs that lead to the top of the ship. If he could make it off the boat he might be able to find his way to Berlin and give living a normal life a chance. "You'll never have a normal life."

Decker walked up the stairs and was greeted by the sight of about five other Navy ships. The sound of footsteps echoed in his ears and he turned around to find a familiar face holding a gun in his direction. His body turned to meet the figure and a wide frown crept onto his lips. "Marcus, I really don't have time to deal with you. What is it?"

Marcus was a twenty-three-year-old soldier (if we're going simply off appearances, add about eight hundred years if you want his real age) with shaggy brown hair and a pair of light brown eyes. In his hands he held a long sword (that would've made Ares jealous) and a shield in the other. His jaw was clenched in a mixture of aggravation and displeasure — he really didn't feel like being awake at almost three in the morning to hunt down someone that had been evading him for almost three years now. However, he was a soldier first and he would accomplish his mission without a complaint. "Your head mostly, I owe you for what you did to Zoë back in Russia."

The son of Hades glanced at out the large river that rested beside him — if he could make it into the water he might have a chance to escape. But he could tell just by looking at Marcus that running away wouldn't be an option at all so, with that in mind, he spun his sword and motioned his opponent forward.

Marcus rushed towards him before aiming the tip of his sword right at Decker's head; his foe quickly brought up his sword and blocked the attack. If he had to pick one thing that he hated about Marcus it would be the simple fact that, unlike most fighters in the mortal army, he used a shield — now Marcus slammed his shield right against Decker's body and sent him sliding backwards.

Once Decker was far enough back, Marcus rushed forward and raised his sword up over his head with the intention of either slicing Decker's head open or knocking him out; whichever he chose it would give his opponent a splitting headache when woke up.

Decker brought his sword up and blocked the attack again; this time, however, he thought it would be best to call in a few friends to assist him. He stomped the ground and shadowy hands slowly began to edge their way up Marcus' body.

"You dirty son-of-a-bitch! This is why I hate children of the night." Marcus brought his shield up and pushed away Decker's sword; with a loud grunt he stabbed his sword into his own shadow and watched as the hands vanished off his body. He glared up just in time to see Decker slash at his shoulder blade — when the sword made contact with his body he felt as if a piece of his essence was ripped away.

Decker gave his sword another spin and smirked at the dim glow that was covering it, which was starting to cover his body. Stygian iron was the best weapon ever created — not only did it get sharper with each slash it made in anyone with soul, it also helped to replenish the user's body if they were experienced enough to manipulate it.

Now that he had a small ounce of his energy restored Decker figured that it was time to call in some help from beyond the grave. He stabbed his sword into the ground before snapping his fingers — boney hands began to erupt from underneath his feet and slowly crawled out of the ground. His fingers gripped hold of his sword and his smirk grew wider as five soldiers crawled out of the ground and stood around him.

"Looks like I've got you beat Marcus. You can let me go now and I'll forget about this entire thing."

The young Sergeant Major glared at Decker before gripping hold of his sword and yanking it out of the ground. "Fuck you."

Decker sighed before shrugging his soldiers and nodding to his soldiers. Each of the undead ran forward and started slashing away at any part of Marcus they could find. For a brief second the son of Hades thought he was in the clear — he had every intention of hopping off the boat until a loud clap of thunder echoed in his ears. His face dropped instantly when he saw a shield slam into the body of one of his soldiers. The familiar sound of footsteps echoed in his ears and he turned to find a blonde haired male standing behind him in a blue captain's suit. Almost instantly his eyes softened and he bit his lip.

Patrick Sterling stood silently in front of Decker with a solemn look on his face. Sparks of electricity danced over his clothes — he yanked his hand backwards and his shield flew back to his hand. Marcus growled in frustration. "Next time you fly in and save someone try not to aim your shield at their head."

Pat glared at Marcus with his good eye before returning his attention to Decker. He returned his shield to the position on his arm before moving in with a loud scream; Decker ducked down and managed to avoid the punch that was aimed at his head before sending the tip of his sword up towards Patrick's stomach. A strong wind picked up and sent the son of Jupiter sliding backwards. Decker stood to his feet and the two seemed to be having an old- fashioned stare down while Marcus was busy trying not to cut by a skeleton. "It seems you've actually learned how to manipulate the winds. I'm proud."

"After you ripped out my eye, I figured pouring my anger into controlling my powers would be the best thing to do. Lupa always said anger was power."

The two rushed in at each other and clashed with everything they had. Each time Decker's sword clashed against Patrick's shield, Aegis, tendrils of yellow energy seemed to simmer through the air. Neither of them seemed to be giving an inch at first, but then Patrick finally managed to get the son of Hades right at the edge of the ship.

Decker flashed a wild grin. He kicked his foe back before jumping off the ship and plummeting towards the wide mass of water below. Both his hands came together and he tried to focus on the earth that rested underneath the water — after a few seconds of concentrating (and praying to his father) a column of black rock erupted out of the ground. He landed with a thud before glancing up at Patrick who was currently standing on the edge.

"This is where I take my leave. Nice seeing you gentlemen again." Shadows curled out of the black pillar and started to coil around Decker — he would've made it away had it not been for the lightning bolt that struck him in the chest and sent him flying. The son of Hades landed in the water — his body had smoke curling off of it and there was blood pooling up in his mouth. He was pretty sure that his clothes were singed which really pissed him off because he loved his suit.

His eyes shifted up to the sky where Patrick was flying and it became painstakingly obvious to him that he wouldn't get out of this without a fight. With that in mind Decker moved underwater to avoid getting hit with anymore lightning.

"What exactly are you planning?"

"I'm not at all sure, any suggestions, oh-wise-one?"

"You could ask for some help."

The thought of asking his step-mother for help made his stomach curl. Instead of begging like a dog he extended his hand towards the river floor and forced up another column of rock. He took in a few solid breaths before pulling his sword out of the water — he didn't have a clue on how to take down Patrick because the bastard was flying and could summon lightning to strike him down whenever he pleased.

That was when this deviously genius idea popped into his mind; if he couldn't take down Patrick he could at least destroy all of his comrades. Both of his hands extended out and his body began to tremble — his eyes rolled to the back of his head as all of the color drained from his face. Each ship seemed to get simultaneously struck by a thick wall of rock; some of the rocks shot straight up from the bottom of the ship while others shot out from the sides.

Patrick glanced back in shock as he watched his ship slowly begin to sink. He glared at Decker who was already starting to disappear in a veil of shadows — he flew down towards him in attempt to catch him only to get there a few seconds too late. Electricity sparked around his shield as he slammed it down into the column and sent sparks of lightning arcing through the air. Not only had he let his foe escape but he also let everyone inside of the ship drown. His eyes glanced up at his ship and he sat silently watching as people jumped into the water for safety. Pat had never felt like more of a failure. There was no way in hell that his father would be proud of him now.

Decker resurfaced inside the town of Ypres and immediately collapsed. Overusing his powers had nearly killed him.

The familiar sound of footsteps rang clear in his ears — he glanced up to find the tip of an arrow being pointed directly at his forehead. His eyes widened when he recognized the person that was gripping the bow for dear life and the group of people that stood behind her. "Oh this is just fanfuckingtastic!"

The person that was holding the bow was none other than one very pissed off Zoë Nightshade.

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