IV
Trash, waste, whatever you call it. Almost like taxes and death, this problem is almost guaranteed. A by-product of everything, this stuff just sits and sits, wasting space until it turns to rot. At that point, it's still trash.
And it has to go somewhere. The genius solution of collecting it all into one pile was a great idea until the pile needed to go somewhere. The next best step was to burn it or make it someone else's problem.
Look no further than the streets to see how much of a mess this place is. The City pays those boys in white, but the city keeps their pay. Little waste is responsibly disposed of. The rest go into the rivers, naturally poisoning the water and clogging up important flow ways.
That last bit is problematic. You see, the rivers are great at transporting bulk goods along their industrialized banks. With enough money, you could ship an entire zoo without the port authorities noticing. Of course, things go overboard, sometimes by accident. Sometimes.
I remember my first body just off the Hudson. Fish picked flesh to the bone but remains of Eastern silk and imported wears remained. The boss told me to toss it back, saying it wouldn't sell for anything. I sold the body to the police.
Dredging craft swarmed the Hudson the next day, the police asking me to show them where I fished my catch. At the end of the day, crews recovered a missing barge owned by one of those Green Houses. It carried cages, supposedly for exotic animals.
These ones held domestic bodies.
No one expects a Hunter to show up. Percy didn't expect a Hunter to show up. A flashback runs through his mind as it occurs to him that the Hunter knows everything about him and he doesn't know anything in return.
Duh, of course he should've expected the Hunters!
Percy heard rumors about the Hunters. The one in front of him is insane. Put them together and you get a walloping wacko with an annoying habit of deadly force.
His hunter persistently held him at gunpoint whilst he put on worn riding gear, a set pitifully thrown in once the seller realized Percy had nothing equivalent. She made comments on how dashing he looked and if he'd considered posing for the Army. She wasn't off there.
Thankfully, the end of that personally intruding ordeal led to the next.
"Wow…" For once, Percy managed to impress the Hunter. "This piece of shit still works?"
Come on Percy, hit her with something hard!
"He'll easily tow youse to the scrappa's," Percy shot back.
"P~lease, mine's got double the power and speed. Face it, that thing's a relic."
Ouch, she's well-armed. Return fire!
"A relic that lived!"
"Because it was so ugly, it didn't know it was supposed to die!"
A wave of pain rolled through their heads, and equal groans of submission sprouted as they realized useless arguing took them nowhere. For some reason, the feeling was deja vu, despite Percy not ever meeting her, much less knowing her name.
"Whatever! Mount your thing and follow me!" Thalia hissed, growing impatient. Or was it annoyance at the other-worldly experience just then?
Regaining composure, both polar opposites staggered to the respective rides, followed by the distinctive sounds of progress.
The first started with a few dreadening whumps, followed by a startling roar that scared anyone unaware of the raw power a Pierce-Arrow V-12 could make. Deafening at the start, it eventually calmed into a smooth, purring beast, hungry to make itself known on the streets. Yet inside the sparkling gray interior, the driver sat content, relaxing to the muffled vibrations of a healthy machine.
The second started with a man's grunt. Although Blackjack was damned near invincible, Percy still had to entice the beast to run. Curses of coffee and sugar cubes marked his start as Percy spun the hand crank as fast as he could. Clanks and clutter were drowned out by the sound of the modern engine, but Blackjack had something to say in return. Once Percy found his position on the crank, all it took was one half turn and the old straight-four sputtered to life, clacking out a steady rhythm with emphasis on the first beat.
Noting the coughs of the elderly, Thalia eased into first and made headway for the main path, taking care to keep the Model 52 from ditching in the dirt by following packed snow tracks. Meanwhile, Percy slammed the column into gear, slamming himself back into the seat and nearly falling out. Rough as it was, the all-terrain Blackjack happily rolled over the lower snow that plagued the loud luxury sedan, easily keeping pace in Thalia's face.
That all changed once country dirt gave way to cobble and pavement. Now on habitable grounds, Thalia sped away with all gears, maintaining a screaming engine as she raced towards Hunter HQ. Poor Percy could only watch as Blackjack refused to go faster than a speeding bicycle.
Then Thalia realized she was supposed to lead him. Percy endured an hour of Thalia's colorful cussing, pleasantly surprised he could hear her through her sound-proofed car, over the rushing wind, and the ambient noises of heavy winter traffic. He swore that the girl was louder than a ship's horn.
The odd pair rounded the corner to a boarded-up row of flats. The shop was a famous hunting goods importer. Was because it no longer looked like one. Solid gates pocked with dents split the facility twain, the entrance watched by eyes that peeked through the closed blinds.
Guards hidden behind the entrance let the Pierrce-Arrow through but not the foreign Mack. Percy swore he never saw guns trained so fast as he slammed the brakes and shot his hands up. He also realized he just stalled the cantankerous engine, so great going Percy!
At least the breaks weren't broken. Yet.
"Who are you?" The obligatory question asked by the obligatory guard.
"He's with me," Thalia obliged, stepping out of her beloved machine to restart Percy's thing. She cranked it in one go.
They rounded another corner, hiding them from the main street view and presenting a very expensive row of various silver luxury cars. Thalia pulled up to a stand while Percy assumed the space marked with cones was for him. Then a chunk of the roof fell into the space.
"Welcome to HQ!" Thalia announced as Percy paled, handing her keys to the valet.
"Thalia, that isn't something you can just tell people," a copper-skinned woman scolded. Will the housekeeper mentioned his shotgun came from a place called the Hunting Quarters.
Hunting Quarters. HQ. Ugh, acronyms.
"He's trustworthy," Thalia countered, standing tall, close, and arms crossed. She talked to win.
"He is a boy."
"Eh, doesn't matter. We dispose of some from time to time." That did not raise Percy's already downed spirits. A polite refusal might get him out alive.
"...You claim him capable. He's your responsibility once Artemis meets him."
Artemis? The Artemis?! Percy realized, mentally slapping himself. HQ, Head Quarters. Of course she was here. He won't die, but he would welcome death over the next few hours.
"She'll be fine with it. Come on, Perce!" Yay, a nickname.
The copper-skinned girl retreated indoors. Thalia marched ahead. Percy the almost-popsicle shivered his way down the steps, a layer of white frost coating him from head to toe. He thought about dusting off the ice but didn't want to stay wet underneath.
But underneath those layers he could smell the problem. What he thought was the scent of residual gunpowder from Thalia was exactly that mixed with smoke and a seasoned blend of various industrial gasses, only to a much stronger degree.
Then he walked in.
The sight was one to behold. One shouldn't be able to tell what open section was once a room or hallway. That's how badly shot the interior structure was: a battlefield on every vertical surface, not counting the wreckage above and below.
The lack of basic structural soundness meant the complex had no insulation. The whispers of wind winding through reminded everyone that they were exposed to the elements despite the roof over their heads. Large portable gas heaters kept weary Hunters warm, but Percy was not invited to share the heat.
"What happened 'ere?" Percy wondered, removing the snow-soaked riding mantle.
"Dynamite and heavy machinery," his hunter summarized, mimicking a wrecking ball with her hand. She clearly didn't expect to act like one as the hand tore down a wall.
Stacked boxes worked to get the group up to the next floor; the elevator was stuck below the floor. The second story had less damage and Percy had less confidence. Given time, it was either fall to his death from above or get crushed to his death from below. To prove his point, Percy's foot punched a hole through the wood deck. He nearly fell through, but the Hunters caught him. As hostile as they were, they wanted him alive.
Meandering to the third floor, this time they climbed a ladder made of planks nailed to the exposed frame. Percy was sure this was a joke, but changed his mind when Thalia jumped on and stomped her way up.
In Percy's opinion, there were too many doors. The lack of doors on the preceding floors meant not only was this floor better off, but they had something to hide. The more he thought about this, the more he was sure he stepped back into a 'Green House.'
Now traversing a labyrinth of modern construction, as opposed to the unsafe ones below, they arrived at a guarded door after Percy failed to spot
"Right, a few house rules—"
"Doan speak unless allowed to, maintain eye contact with whoever's speaking to ya, doan stare at anyone, and doan lie," Percy listed, coming to terms with the terms of mafia.
All Hunters were surprised. This male perfectly recited every Hunter meeting protocol they used. Facial expressions varied from complete shock to distrust, but they had to give the boy a modicum of respect.
"Yeah…ok, we're ready."
For a boss meeting, Percy expected a little more. Everyone in the room had a choice between a crate and a barrel to sit on, everyone except him. Tables were made out of planks and plenty of nails. Candles provided meager substitutes, but the glow from Thalia's eyes certainly helped.
Then he noticed the pair of moons staring at him from the other end of the 'table,' adding to his arrogant Hunter's brilliant blue lighting effect.
"Perseus—"
"It's Percy." Two guns aimed for two words spoken, not a bad trade.
"...Mr. Jackson, thank you for coming on such short notice. I do not like owing others, but we can demand recompense later," Artemis seethed, waving her hunters down.
Oh Percy remembered those soul-piercing silver eyes. He doesn't work for tips, but Artemis in particular is the most demanding client he's ever worked with. Strange men that wore a silver gatsby emblazoned with an arrow shadowed Percy for a month after he finished a remote contract for her. A subtle club collection, but after losing them all to an old dodge, it wasn't hard for him to guess who hired the henchmen.
She never changed after all.
"You called the wrong guy, Beckendorff's head of repair." Muzzles rose again.
"We called and he understands a clean-up crew is preparing the worksite." Percy bit his tongue. The Hunters weren't supposed to know their operational methods.
"We…we'll make sure the place is ready." Cold wind made its way around, affecting only Percy as colder stares froze him.
"You should be familiar with many of your coworkers downstairs. You have until noon to prepare the place. If you need something done, ask my lieutenant."
A Hunter's hand grasped his shoulder and spun him around. Percy expected a boomstick, but received a broomstick instead.
"Well? Getcha's chores done!" his Hunter exclaimed. Off they went back the complex way through the complex.
Once he managed to not die on the way down, he found his fellow housekeepers waiting for him.
Katie knew her plants well, but more importantly what type of pottery was dangerous to handle. Lou Ellen could find anything out of the ordinary and hide it too. Nyssa could fix anything all bits-and-bobs or completely fabricate a makeshift replacement out of nowhere.
There were others Percy didn't know names to, but the way they stiffened up and tidied themselves told him he was their leader.
All eyes were on him, just the way he hated it. The soon his interruption was dealt with, the sooner he could get back to paid vacation.
"Girls," Percy started, "Let's, um, clean up?"
Meanwhile...
Thalia participated in meetings, joined commission groups, and attended operations. However, Thalia feared the debriefing.
"Thalia, what's rule one?"
"L-loyalty to the pack, strength within the Hunters?"
"And rule two?"
"Take no interest in outside parties?"
Artemis pulled out a hunting relic and placed it on the cobbled desk. It was an old revolver, used by daring officers and breastplate cavalry alike. Thalia didn't know the story of this gun, but she always saw it during debriefs.
Her captain (in rank) displayed the emblem to her, a simple arrow carved into the bone grip, then flipped it around to display the tick-marked side.
Relief washed over Thalia when she saw the empty chambers.
"I've had this one for a time. It's not bad. Show me yours," Artemis said, sliding it into an aged holster.
Thalia displayed hers and placed it on the table for Artemis to examine. While not as old of a collector's item, her trusty reliable was built with recent firearm technologies. She took pride in its ability to quickly and consistently put down her targets. It showed in her tight maintenance schedule.
"Good workmanship…where did you get this one?" Artemis asked, peering inside the contraption.
"The Houston's."
"Pardon?"
"Erm, Hephaestus."
"Ah, those tinkering tyrants. You know we pride ourselves on solidarity." Artemis handed the old reliable back to its caring owner.
"What about that meeting earlier? Even Zoe was surprised you agreed to outside help!" Thalia's arms went wild, her hand ghosting the trigger as the business end passed her captain's way.
Stoic as she is, even Artemis flinched from her outburst, "Please watch your tone. And yes, even I have to admit our rules must be broken. Are you informed of our moving?"
"We're moving?"
"Yes. We're…dialing down for now. I'm having this place cleaned for rent. The budgeting team insisted."
"We have a budgeting team?"
Artemis ignored that one. "Zoe will visit our importing personnel. I have allies to negotiate with. You, for your love of action and that silly spawn of the Seaman, will go hunting."
"Really?! Wait, do I have to cross to New Jersey again? I'm not sure we still have those barges from that one time—"
"We will not be in contact for a long time, Thalia" She passed the holstered relic to Thalia with an elegant powder horn and a tube of… fishing sinkers? "I hope this will complement your growing arsenal. You may add to the count if you so choose."
The tick marks. Did a mark mean a shot fired or one for the tally?
"The city will need a report from your male friend."
"Oh, Percy? I just found him with the rats."
Artemis' mouth twitched up, "Good. You are still the Thalia I know."
"Please, as if I would swoon over that catch so quickly!" Thalia replied, hugging her colleague.
"Tally-ho, Thalia. Happy hunting."
And the hammer has cocked another notch. The standard suggestion is you should leave a review. Nothing wrong with that, right?
Anyways, that's it for the pre-written chappies. Y'all might get another one next week between superficial planning and this.
Oh, and thanks Jojo. Us Perlia fans always stick together.
Cheers!