The third time Percy heard a low, slithering hiss pass the office door, he felt a tug on his shoe and looked down to find a small snake with its fangs buried in the leather, trying to pull it along. Annoyed, Percy knocked it away with his foot and stood up, giving in to the inevitable.
"Taking a walk," he said, when Sally looked up at him with concern. He glanced down and gave the persistent snake another kick, and her gaze dropped to follow. Her lips pressed together, and she gave him a nod.
"Be careful, and be back soon," she said, as perfectly even as though she'd seen nothing.
Following the hissing, Percy ended up in an alley behind the office building, lined with trash cans and garbage bags. There, the low rattle seemed to echo slightly, making its source difficult to pinpoint.
He leaned over, getting on tiptoe to check inside one of the dumpsters, and it struck. Percy barely dodged its strike, but the next moment, Riptide was uncapped and his eyes were on the snake.
Percy couldn't identify the exact monster that was rattling its spines at him with a dozen of its tiny snake monster babies, but it looked familiar enough that he was sure Annabeth would have known it. As it was, though, he figured the rules of the fight were simple enough: don't let it bite you, and cut its stupid head off.
Percy was lucky that his reflexes were good, because the snakes struck quick and hard, and his shield was still out of commission, so he was stuck fending them off with his sword. Mama Snake turned out to be able to breathe fire, too, and he ended up with a nasty burn halfway up his arm when he was forced to choose between fire and fangs.
Finally, Percy was able to punt its head like a baseball, stomp on its tail, and sever it in half. The head rolled away, mouth still gaping, and the baby snakes scattered as if dispelled.
Alone in the alley, Percy took a moment to catch his breath, still jittery and amped up after the focus the fight had demanded. Percy loved his mom, but gods above, there were too many damn monsters in the mortal world.
He was still contemplating whether a snake head was a trophy worth keeping when something knocked him hard over the head, and his vision went dark.
Waking up from forced unconsciousness never got any easier. Percy was pulling a face even before he registered what was happening, with a low ache pulsing in his head and a tight band around his temples. The burn on his left arm throbbed with pain. He squirmed, but his hands were bound, though his feet weren't.
He hadn't even gotten to trying to open his eyes when a large hand cradled his head, tilting it up from where his cheek had dropped nearly to his shoulder.
"I heard that you wanted to speak to me, Mr. Jackson. Now is your chance."
Percy furrowed his brow, and then forced his eyes open, blinking blearily to focus on the face in front of him. A bald man, tall and broad- Percy didn't recognize him in the slightest. It was another minute before his words finally registered, and Percy's senses sharpened, coming to attention.
"...Wilson Fisk?" he asked, voice coming out hoarse. The man smiled.
"The one and only."
Percy clenched his jaw, and it took effort to shake himself the rest of the way out of his daze, at least enough to lash out.
"You're trying to make Mom give up our apartment," he said at last, with only a hint of his wrathful fire making it into his voice. Fisk nodded patiently.
"It's such a classless place compared to what it could be," Fisk said. "Now, wouldn't you rather live in a much nicer complex than what that place is now? It barely has functioning electricity."
"Fuck you," Percy said with feeling, flexing his wrists to test his bonds. Only a little give. "It's the first safe place we've had in years. I don't care what it looks like."
Something glinted in Fisk's eyes, but it was gone in a moment. He smiled, and Percy only had a moment to stiffen before the blow came, a hard knock across his face that made him taste blood, head spinning like a top.
"Fortunately, I never expected a child to see the greater purpose of my work," Fisk said, while Percy was catching his breath. "May I be truthful with you? The only reason that you are here is to bait the man in the mask. I owe both you and him some payback for what was done to my dear friend."
Another blow, going the other way, meant that it took a minute for Percy to connect the dots between this man and the one who had come looking when Percy had asked around about Fisk. Percy growled halfheartedly.
"The one that looks like he came from a photocopier, or was that a different two-bit lackey?" Percy asked, and grunted in pain when he was struck again, his ears ringing and his neck sore from being jerked around. The rope rubbed against his burn, making his breath catch.
"Don't you ever talk about Wesley like that!" Fisk snarled at him, as if Percy gave a shit what this asshole wanted. Percy snarled back on instinct, yanking at his bonds.
"Wesley? I thought we were talking about his evil twin, Mesley." Percy yelped as the next strike connected, and kicked out blindly, though he couldn't get the leverage to land a solid hit. "Guess you get them mixed up too, huh?"
Percy waited for the next hit, but it didn't come. When he peeked up, Fisk was pressing his palm to his head, breathily heavily.
"Mustn't lose my head," Fisk muttered, and shook himself off like he was dusting his rage off his jacket. "There's no reason to engage the child further, the trap is already set. Within the hour, the devil will be contained and another plot of land in my possession."
Percy bared his teeth, but it was a largely empty gesture; something else had caught his attention.
There was a tub of water a few feet behind him, looking out of place in the current setting – looked like a lobby, now that Percy thought to wonder. Like an old abandoned motel's.
"There's our boy," Fisk murmured, and Percy looked up. He caught a flash of shadow in one of the windows, and Fisk chuckled. "He's wary of coming in – as he should be. Should I give him incentive, boy?"
"Do I actually get a vote?" Percy asked. "Because I vote no."
"No," Fisk said. "You don't."
Then he seized Percy by the collar of his shirt, giving Percy just enough time to realize he wasn't actually tied to the chair, and shoved him headfirst into the tub, submerging him nearly to the shoulders.
Under normal circumstances, this wouldn't be a problem for Percy. It wasn't like he was gonna drown, and in fact, the water was already getting to work soothing the ache in his cheekbones, sealing the veins before they could bruise. He was still breathing heavily, a fact that Fisk was sure to notice at any moment. But despite all of that, there was still a high, terrified whine echoing through his head.
Fisk was pinning Percy down with all of his weight, and he was at least three times Percy's small size. Percy could feel it bearing down on him, somehow heavier than the sky, and Percy's fists clenched and unclenched in panic. Fisk's arm fell across Percy's shoulders like a steel bar.
Percy froze.
"Get off me!"
Percy's gut lurched. Something cracked, groaned, and snapped.
The next thing Percy knew, Fisk's weight was gone, and the ceiling above them had sprung leaks all over, gushing water like blood from a wound. Percy squirmed upright, not even wet, but found himself still breathing hard, like a wounded animal. Water twisted and wove around him, swirling down from the ceiling like silly straws, if silly straws funneled water with the force of a firehose.
With another flex of will, Percy used the deepening water to force himself to his feet. Fisk was holding up one arm to protect his face, scowling and squinting through the spray, and Percy silently cursed the fact that his hands were still bound. He wasn't used to fighting with just his powers, but it looked like he had no choice this time. And Fisk was mortal, too – it wasn't like Riptide would work anyway.
"Hey!" Percy shouted, forcibly drawing Fisk's attention back to him. "Big, tall, and thug-shaped! You scared of getting wet?"
Fisk looked more baffled than angry; Percy must be losing his touch. "What the-"
Percy stuck out his tongue. "You want your stupid condos, don't you? Too bad your bait is getting away!"
That did it. Fisk lunged, charging to seize hold of Percy again, and it was easy to take the water under him and shove. Obviously, the water tripped him, but to anyone but Percy he looked like he slipped and fell like an idiot, hitting the ground with enough force to rattle the furniture.
"Argh!"
"Yeah, my bad, forgot to put out the 'slippery when wet' sign," Percy called out. Fisk drew a gun, and Percy dove aside, skating across the water and into cover. "Whoa there! Haven't you read the manual, man? You don't shoot the bait! That kills people!"
Despite his flippant words, Percy's heart had stuttered at the sight of the gun, and he was suddenly a lot less confident about his ability to take Fisk on with just his power over water. He heard Fisk grunting and huffing as he got to his feet, and chanced peeking out of cover long enough to make him slip again. His roar of anger made Percy wince.
Something shattered, and the lights went out. Percy let out a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping a little. The Devil had finally entered the building.
He waited for the clatter of the gun on the floor, which came within seconds, and then crawled back into view; he'd lost his footing when he'd skated into cover. With a thought, he pushed the gun to the farthest corner of the room, and then jerked his head. The calf-deep water rose up and yanked Fisk back down as he was trying to rise again, splashing into the froth for the third time.
"Godforsaken little metahuman brat!" Fisk swore, rolled over, and got yanked back down before he could do more than push his upper half out of the water.
"You know, this makes my job a lot easier," the Devil said conversationally, and then planted his knee into Fisk's back, grabbed his head, and slammed it against the floor – once, twice, three times before Fisk went limp. There were a few seconds of heavy silence, just the sound of more water pouring into the inches-deep flood, and then the Devil finally addressed Percy. "You're some kind of trouble magnet, you know?"
"Believe me, I know," Percy muttered. "You should turn him over before he drowns."
The Devil did get off Fisk, then turn him over. He stared at Fisk for a moment, expression unreadable past his mask, and then he crossed over to kneel by Percy. Percy took a moment to figure out what he wanted, and then shifted to give him better access to Percy's wrists. A minute of fiddling later, the ropes fell away, and Percy sighed in relief.
"Thanks," he said, leaning down to submerge his hands. The rope burns, just shallow scrapes really, healed first, and then the power crept up into the forearm that had been burnt in the fight against the snake monster. He shut his eyes for a second, relaxing as the pain faded to a dull soreness. "Gods. What a mess."
"You can say that again," the Devil said dryly, sitting beside Percy. He tilted his head up. "You have powers over water?"
"Among other things, yeah," Percy agreed. No real point denying it now. He looked up and let go of the water flowing from the pipes, and it slowed to a trickle, just gravity letting the damaged pipes leak. "Sure hope these people weren't planning on coming back."
The Devil laughed. "Smells like no one's been here for at least six months. Should be fine."
Percy managed a smile. "Sorry you had to save my ass again. I know you probably have better things to do, like your day job."
"How do you know I have a day job?"
"I don't think vigilantism pays the rent."
"It really doesn't," the Devil sighed, and offered Percy a hand up, which he accepted. "You get yourself home, okay? I'll take care of this." Pause. "Actually- can you do me a favor?"
Percy tilted his head, frowning. "Uh, sure? I owe you one."
"Can you run down to the police station and report that you were attacked by Wilson Fisk?" he asked. "Ask for Brett Mahoney. Most of the force in Hell's Kitchen is being paid off, but Brett's clean, he'll look after you. It'll be a good excuse to detain Fisk, and set a good foundation for the case against him too."
"Sure, I can do that," Percy said, surprised. "I dunno where we are though. Give me a minute to search the desk. You gonna guard him until they get here?"
"Yep," the Devil confirmed, as Percy went to rummage through the abandoned motel desk. "If anyone asks, you can blame me for the pipes too. I mean, I figure you don't want people knowing what you can do."
Percy winced. "It wouldn't be the end of the world, but it sure would raise a whole lot of questions I don't wanna answer," he said ruefully. He found a stack of business cards and pulled one out. "Okay, got the address. Which way is the station?"
The Devil gave him directions to the police station, and Percy shook out his shoulders and started to head out the door. Another call from the vigilante made him look back.
"Hey," the Devil said. "Does your mom know?"
"Yeah," Percy said without hesitation. "I got it from my dad, and it was kind of a given I'd inherit his power. Mom knew what I was before I did."
"And what are you?"
Despite himself, Percy smiled. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
The police station sucked. It could have been worse, Percy supposed – Brett Mahoney was quick to come out when Percy asked for him, and he looked annoyed when Percy explained, but he also let Percy call his mom and stayed with him until she arrived.
"Oh, Percy, I've been so worried," Sally burst out as soon as she saw him, hugging him tightly. He hugged her back, embarrassed but pleased.
"Sorry, Mom," he said sheepishly, letting go after a few moments. She brushed his hair out of his face, giving him a worried look, and he continued, "It's okay, I'm not hurt or anything. The mask guy showed up pretty fast, and you know I can take care of myself too."
Sally must have rushed inside the station once they arrived, because over her shoulder, Percy could see Foggy just coming in, looking professional and a little harried. Percy flushed. Oh, he'd caused trouble again.
"What are you doing here?" Brett asked Foggy, visibly bemused.
"Mostly helping Sally and Percy navigate the legal system, I think," Foggy said ruefully, and gave Sally a swift kiss on the cheek.
"Oh, this is Sally," Brett said, in the universal tone of people who had heard quite a lot about their friends' significant others. "I didn't realize. Pleasure to meet you, ma'am, even if the circumstances could be better."
Sally laughed lightly, pushing two chairs close together and tugging Percy down with her. "You as well, Mr. Mahoney. Now, what do you need from us?"
"Just a statement from your son," Brett said, producing something from under the table. "Would you rather write it out or have it be recorded, Percy?"
"Well, I'm sure as heck not writing it," Percy said, crossing his arms on the table and resigning himself to being stuck in this little room for a while. He bounced his leg. "Uh. I've never given a statement before."
"I would hope not," Brett said wryly, and then started to explain while Foggy settled nearby.
It wasn't as bad as Percy had pictured a visit to the police station being, although that was probably because Percy was usually imagining himself on the other side of the equation. He explained sheepishly about asking around for Fisk, had to backtrack to the veiled threat that had driven them out of their apartment, and then skipped forward to the 'walk' that had taken him out of Foggy's office.
"And then I got knocked out, didn't really see who did it," Percy said, squeezing his mom's hand apologetically when it tightened around his. "Woke up a while later – uh, I'm guessing less than an hour – and Fisk and I were in some kinda motel lobby. He said I was bait for the man in the mask."
Foggy inhaled sharply, but didn't interrupt.
"Did he say why?" Brett asked, and then, to the tape recorder, "Mr. Jackson has provided a business card that he took from the lobby in question."
"Nah," Percy said. "I mean, not really. He kind of, uh... when I was asking people about Fisk before, I eventually ran into this guy. Looked like he'd walked out of an office and into a low-budget mafia flick. Fisk called him Wesley. The man in the mask showed up to save me from that guy too, and Fisk was pretty pissed about that, so I think that's why."
"Why did you say you didn't know?" Brett asked, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "That seems like a reasonable assumption to me."
Percy shrugged, self-conscious. "I mean, it doesn't explain how the mask guy knew where I was or why Fisk was so sure he'd come to help me. I didn't think it was that helpful."
"It is," Brett assured him. "I'll put you with a sketch artist later, you can describe Wesley more thoroughly then. What happened next?"
"Um," Percy said, drumming his feet restlessly on the floor. "The mask guy showed up but he didn't really want to come in – didn't know what he was walking into, I guess. So Fisk decided to try and drown me to encourage him or whatever."
He winced when all three adults made noises of horror and disapproval. Sally's hand squeezed his painfully tight, and Foggy had gone pale and sickly. Even Brett twitched, the muscles of his face tightening to keep his expression mild.
Percy looked over to give Sally a sheepish grin, trying to reassure her. "It's okay, Mom. I'm really good at holding my breath, remember?"
Sally didn't look comforted, but she leaned over to press a quick kiss to Percy's temple anyway. "I know, sweetheart, but I don't want anyone trying to hurt you."
"I'm okay," Percy repeated, and then, to Brett, "so that was when the mask man came in, got his gun away from him and stuff." Percy glanced away, flushing guiltily even as he said, "The front desk was pretty close to where he'd tied me, so once the gun came out I hid behind that until it was over."
"That was the right thing to do," Brett said firmly. "And then?"
Percy shrugged. "Told me to come here and ask for Brett Mahoney. He should still be there, by the way – he knocked Fisk out, but I think he wanted to make sure he didn't wake up and leave."
"I am not Jim Gordon," Brett grumbled, but he gave Percy a nod. "I'll set you up with a sketch artist, but I should probably go collect the guy myself." Pause, and a shadow passed behind his eyes. He glanced at Foggy. "Don't leave them alone."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Foggy said lightly, as if he didn't look just as uneasy.