He stole the car.
Well, not really. He took the keys from Rachel's dish by the front door and drove the car up north, getting as far away from the city as he could chasing a lead that he was sure was going nowhere.
The thing he stole was Clint's SHIELD badge.
He'd seen it in the movies: when questioning passersby and shopkeepers, the ruggedly handsome protagonist drops open the leather badge and shows his credentials. Instantly, information spills forth.
Besides, Clint's photo wasn't even on it. He could pretend he was Clint Barton for the day. He even drank coffee direct from the pot— they were basically clones.
Percy never really had to reassure himself that what he was doing was the right thing before this: he either had the gods ordering him to shoot first and ask questions later, or he was already assured of the morality of his actions. But Clint— being with Clint, truly giving himself over to someone who treated him kindly, who had his best interests at heart— changed it. His stark black and white world was being filled in with shades of gray.
He was pretty sure that Clint would forgive him for this transgression. Maybe. It depends on whether or not he found anything.
According to those at camp he wasn't pointedly ignoring, the quest group had a lead going somewhere up north of the city, in the darkness of the trees and the forest. A dusty memory scratched at the edges of his brain; it was something that kept him up the night previous.
That cabin. Those mountains.
The ones who never came down.
He wasn't sure why he didn't remember that training, but remembered those mountains. If he could just find where they were and what they'd done, perhaps it would stop tormenting him. There's a small part of Percy that knows none of this adds up, the measurements off kilter by an unknown hand tipping the scale.
What Jason had said to him in his dreams… it sent a shiver down his spine.
He's several hours from the city, finally out of the sprawling suburbs and climbing into the mountains at a lumbering pace, when he reaches the last known location of the group.
It's a small diner and convenience store on the side of Route 32 heading into the Catskills, worn down by decades of visitation and the tall trees that boxed it in on all sides. Percy nearly missed it while he was driving, taking a dangerously sharp turn to park in the nearly empty lot to the side of the building.
Mountain air hits him when he gets out. It's almost nice if he forgets why he's come here and pretends he's on holiday instead.
Percy places the badge in his suit pocket, righting his suit as best he could. Maybe one day he would get used to wearing these things, and on that day he'd probably have enough money and wherewithal to buy one that actually fits. He cracks his neck and steels himself before entering.
The store itself smells of gasoline and fry oil. A few customers sit in a far booth picking at a stack of pancakes that's seen better days. A cashier lazily flips through a magazine behind the till and doesn't look up until Percy approaches him.
"Afternoon," Percy says, assessing the cashier. He didn't seem to be a threat, but he wasn't about to let his guard down.
The cashier lifts his head. Everything about him droops: from his cheeks to the bags under his eyes. He gives Percy a nod. "How's it goin'?"
Percy puts his hands on the counter, sticky with gum and strewn with loose cigarettes. An ash tray sits to one side, filled to the brim.
"Have you seen three teenagers recently?" He asks. "One is quite tall, curly blonde hair, skinny, and a shorter boy, brown hair. They're traveling with a girl around the same age, fifteen or so."
The cashier looks Percy over with an equally drooping gaze. "Depends. Who's asking?"
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the badge, letting it flip open just like they do in the movies. It's almost embarrassing how cool it makes him feel. "Me, that's who. Clint Barton, Agent of SHIELD."
"Huh." The cashier sits up a bit straighter. "What'd those kids do?"
"So you have seen them?" Percy sounds a bit too eager and he makes a mental note to reel it in.
"Maybe," the cashier shrugs.
"They're part of an investigation," Percy says. "I can't tell you more, but I can make the information worth your while. That is, if it's any good."
The cashier looks around him as if they're being watched. "Yeah, I think they came in three or four weeks ago. We don't get many kids traveling on their own, you see."
"Where did they go?"
"Dunno. They ate some, but couldn't pay for everything. Nearly had to kick them out until some trucker paid for their food."
Percy feels a rush. Finally, he was getting somewhere. "What did this trucker look like?"
The cashier shrugs, going back to his magazine. "Like a trucker. Average height, average build. Red baseball cap. He offered the kids a ride and that's the last I ever saw of them."
Percy exhales through his nose, thinking to himself as his jaw pops. He slaps the counter as he turns to go. "Alright. Thanks, you were a big help."
The cashier shouts, "Hey! What about making it worth my while—?" But Percy was already out the door.
He leans on his knees when he exits, thoughts reeling. If those kids got into a truck with someone, the chance that they're the killer or related to the situation was high. That, or the trucker knew where they were going next and he can take the investigation from there.
A sound startles him out of his rumination mid-thought and his head shoots towards it.
Something behind the dumpster rustles softly, almost too softly for mortal ears. Percy tenses. It could be a small woodland animal, a raccoon or a squirrel, but his instincts said otherwise. His hand goes for Riptide in his breast pocket, right next to Clint's stolen badge, as he creeps towards the dumpster.
Another rustle; someone trying to stay very still but they can't. Percy can see a small flash of clothing as he rounds the dumpster, attempting to stay as stealthy as he possibly can. He'd encountered a number of monsters on his travels— people, too— and he thought he was fairly well-equipped to deal with the threats thrown his way.
He was not prepared for a small demigod to launch themselves at him from the top of a dumpster off Route 32.
Percy hits the ground with a grunt, attempting to put his arms around whoever it was. They wriggled in his grasp.
"Stop moving—!" Percy grunts out, tightening his grip as they kick and squirm. "I'm— ow!"
They bit him. The fucking child bit him.
He shakes off the bite and gets to his feet just in time to block some very ambitious kicks, dodging a few others. The demigod appears to be a girl of about fifteen, a feral thing that fights like she has nothing to lose.
Flora. It has to be.
"Fuck—!" Percy takes a punch to his chest. "I'm trying to help— ! If you could— stop it—"
His words fall on deaf ears as he grapples with her. Now the so-called rescue mission had more of an air of kidnapping about it. Is he really about to subdue this kid the way he used to with Jason? He exhales through his nose and cracks his neck.
If it ain't broke, don't fix it.
Percy grabs her around her middle, pinning her arms to her sides. All he needs is to have his arms on her for a second to get the job done, and a second was all he had with her tenacity. He cocks his fist back and lands it square on her temple. Immediately, she goes limp.
Percy sags with the effort, his adrenaline ebbing now that the fight is over. He hefts Flora over his shoulder and walks back to the car with her.
Fuck. This was going to be harder than he thought.
—
Percy slaps the dashboard of the car as it roars to life, the old air conditioning rattling as air is pushed through. He fiddles with the knobs and the radio begins to wail with metal music. It takes a minute before he can coax it onto the street, but they're soon on the road.
The girl sleeps in the passenger seat, her hands duct taped together; more for her own protection than for Percy's. The last thing he needs is a defensive teenager trying to run him off the road the minute she wakes up from the mother of all knockouts. He's driven a lot of demigods home the same way, but normally they knew he was the good guy. He couldn't be so sure now.
Something happened to her, that's for sure. Her hair is knotted with twigs and debris from the forest, her clothes covered in dirt. Underneath the dark smudges, he finds he recognizes the hoodie she's wearing; the drab purple of it and the loose fit.
She was the intruder in the Stark server room.
The realization makes him grip the steering wheel. The more the disparate pieces of this case string themselves together, the less Percy likes the picture they're forming. She either aided the killer or was doing her own investigation into it. The latter was the most likely, seeing as she appeared to be of the same age as Julian and Topher, and he knew firsthand what lengths demigods are willing to go to protect their own.
He still feels that sometimes, a twinge deep in his gut that he's been trying to quiet for years.
She awakens with a gasp, her hair flying in every direction. It takes a moment before she realizes her hands are restrained and she struggles against it.
"Mierda," she mutters to herself.
"Can you quiet down?" Percy asks. "This is the best part."
He gestures to the radio, where the metal song is blaring. She glares at him.
"Chúpala" She says with venom and spits in his direction. It lands on his ear.
"Gracias," he says sarcastically and wipes at his ear with a grimace. "Usually people thank me when I rescue them from becoming one with the forest. If you hadn't fought me, I wouldn't have needed to knock you out."
She glares and stares straight ahead.
"I'm Percy." He turns the radio down. His voice is attempting to sound friendly, but he was never really good at that.
She barks out a laugh. "So you're the pendejo they keep talking about at camp."
"Language," he says in warning without even realizing what he's doing. "Wait— they talk about me at camp still?"
"Oh yeah," she snorts. "Like you're some kind of king. Or your boyfriend… that blonde one. They talk about him too. I'd love to get through one summer without someone monologuing about all your accomplishments."
"Jason." He grits his teeth. "The blonde one was named Jason."
She glances at him and licks her lips, settling down a bit. "Will you take these off? I won't try to escape out the door, I promise."
He chuckles to himself. "Can't trust you with that one. I've had my fair share of bolting from moving vehicles myself." Percy looks at her out of the corner of his eye and then back to the road. "I might take them off before we arrive if you can answer one thing: what's your name?"
She stews in sullen teenage silence for a minute before mumbling, "Flora."
Percy processes this and his heart nearly stops. "You're the quest leader. The heraldic rod quest."
Flora presses her lips together. "Yes. So you can see why I need to get back to that—"
"Absolutely not," Percy shoots back. "Two of your questmates are dead; I don't want it to become three."
She looks like she's going to reply, but thinks better of it. "Where are we going anyway?"
"Camp."
They were maybe two hours from camp; a bit long to keep a testy demigod in his passenger seat, but he could always tune her out. It was easy enough back in the day when he hung out with Leo.
"No." Her reaction is immediate, her spine ramrod straight.
Percy sighs. "You cannot go back out there without backup. There's enough monsters—"
"Don't make me go back to camp." An edge of fear tinges her voice. It wasn't all teenage rebellion and a push against authority, and it made him pause.
He grips the steering wheel and tries his best to keep his voice measured. "Why don't you want to go back to camp, Flora?"
She swallows, sitting back in her seat. "Something's wrong. About all of this: Julian went missing first, then Topher in the blink of an eye. I tried IMing people back at camp but no one was picking up and—" She shakes her head. "I don't know. I've got the worst feeling about it. I don't care where you take me, but not back to camp. Not right now."
It was a fight to breathe normally. She sounds exactly like Annabeth did those days ago and it chills him to the core.
"Alright," he concedes. He can see her visibly relax in the passenger seat. "Describe it: this bad feeling."
Flora looks down at her fingers and picks at the edges of the duct tape absentmindedly. "It's… I don't know. When we started the quest it seemed like a simple retrieval, but as it kept going—" She worries her bottom lip until it's red. "I don't think it was an accident that the rod went missing."
Percy clenches his jaw, but lets her gather her thoughts before he speaks.
"I think…" she works through her mind in halting pauses. "I think it was on purpose; Julian and Topher going missing, I mean. I think he picked them, but— he didn't pick me."
Percy exhales. "What do you mean?"
She furrows her brows. "The killer. He let me go."
—
Flora falls asleep halfway into the ride back to the city, snoring softly as her head lolls to the side against the car window. She looks so young, it makes Percy want to break the steering wheel in half. To think that when he was that age, he was tasked with saving the world— a child with the weight of the world on their shoulders.
He wants to burn it. Burn it all to the ground.
Bzzt.
His phone rings, flashing Stark's name over and over. With a sigh, he answers it.
"What is it?"
"It—" Stark pauses. "Did you just run a marathon? You sound dead."
Percy rolls his eyes. "You can't see it, but I'm rolling my eyes at you."
"Ha, ha, Aqualad, very funny. You really get me with that impeccable sense of humour of yours."
"Stark. Talk."
"Fine. Is there a reason why I'm currently looking at CCTV footage of you knocking out and kidnapping a teenager?"
Percy swears under his breath. "Yeah, I have a present. How did you get that so quickly?"
"I have a Google alert set up for you. Well— my version of one, which is much more thorough than theirs."
"Did you delete the footage?"
"Of course. Who do you take me for? I did keep a copy for my personal files, however."
Percy grunts. "Is that file called blackmail, by any chance?"
"No, it's for when you and Barton get married. I'm thinking about having FRIDAY make a movie montage."
Percy takes in a deep breath to prevent an oncoming migraine. "I'm around an hour outside the city. I'll be taking her to a secure location. She didn't want to go back to camp, and I want to figure out why."
"You can always bring her to the Tower."
"Speaking of which, she was the intruder in your server room, so maybe that's not the best option."
Now Tony swears. "Make her give back my personnel files. She stole two of the drives with that info on it."
"Huh." He wonders why. "I'm planning on questioning her later, but she needs rest, some medical attention…a full meal not fished out of a dumpster. And I'm not letting you near her until I can be sure she won't attack you."
"I can handle it. She's what— fifteen?"
"She's a biter. Look out." Percy glances at Flora, asleep in the passenger seat. "Listen, I've gotta jet. I'll try to update you tomorrow."
"You better, Aqua—"
Percy hangs up before Tony can talk any further.
—
He takes her to Rachel's. It's the best idea he has so far; Clint's would be a bit too vulnerable, what with the tracksuit-clad mafiosos currently patrolling the area, and the Tower was too high-profile.
Besides, Rachel has a habit of taking in wayward demigods. It's better than nothing.
His mind drifts to Annabeth and where she might be staying. She could have some insight into all of this, maybe help Flora to open up and help the investigation. Flora has that stubbornness that reminds him of Annabeth when she was that age. It'd make him smile if it weren't so annoying.
He nudges her awake as gently as he can, but it still makes her jump.
"Wha—?" She blinks as she comes to in the darkness of the parking garage under Rachel's building.
"We're here." Percy gets out a pocket knife and cuts away the makeshift restraints he put on her.
"Where's 'here?'" She rubs her wrists, a glower in her back pocket if he tries to pull a fast one.
He sighs. "Somewhere safe. No one knows you're here but me and my roommate. You can lay low for the time being."
"Roommate?" she snorts. "I can't believe the great Perseus Jackson has to have roommates."
"It's Manhattan," he says as way of answer. "You try getting a one bedroom at a reasonable price."
The elevator, newly fixed and still as rickety as he remembered, groans and rattles as it brings them up to Rachel's floor. They stand stock still, not speaking to each other.
"So…" Flora starts, looking around the hallway. "Your roommate got money?"
Percy cracks a smile as he fishes out his keys. "Yeah, something like that."
Flora nods appreciatively. "Good on you for finding yourself a sugar daddy."
Gods, this was going to be torture, wasn't it?
He opens the door to Rachel's voice coming from the living room. She lounges on the plush sectional, her hair spilling over the cushions in a fiery wave as she hangs upside-down, messing with some kind of yarn-based Rubix cube.
"Percy, if you're going to take the car out all day, you have to at least leave a—" She looks up and notices that Percy has a decidedly demigod-shaped shadow in tow. "Oh. Hello."
"Rachel," Percy says, gesturing to her as she rights herself, the yarn abandoned. "Flora. Flora, Rachel."
Flora gives him a look filled with such teenage vitriol that he feels it in his bones. "The Oracle ?"
He makes a gesture for her to continue. "And?"
"I tell you to not take me back to camp and instead you take me to the Oracle's apartment?" Flora flung a hand out towards Rachel.
"Hey, I know I'm not the best company—" Rachel is cut off by them bickering.
"She's safe to be around, Flora. Rachel would never hurt you," Percy says as he switches into Spanish.
Flora crosses her arms, arching one eyebrow. "She could tell them. She's pretty important back at camp."
Percy sighs, massaging the bridge of his nose. "Trust me, she doesn't like what's going on there any more than you do."
"Trust you? How am I supposed to fucking trust you when you knocked me out and kidnapped me in your creeper van? " Flora gestures wildly.
"Language, Flora!"
Rachel watches them go back and forth with rapt attention, despite the fact she barely speaks any Spanish.
"Stay here and we can investigate together, or go out there and get yourself killed." Percy was going to develop an ulcer because of this case. "Those are your choices."
She scoffs, crossing her arms across her chest and turning away from him. "Wow, such good options. I can hardly pick between staying at the apartment of a mass murderer and his psychic roommate and going out into the great beyond and getting snatched up by a serial killer. However will I choose? "
He levels a look at her. "Sarcasm won't keep you alive."
She sticks her tongue out at him. Percy throws up his hands and turns away in defeat.
"Flora…" Rachel pipes up. "Would you like to take a shower? I think I have some clothes that would fit, if you don't mind a few paint splatters on them."
Flora picks at stray threads on the edge of her hoodie, looking between Percy and Rachel. "Um.. maybe. But just a shower. Then I'm leaving."
Percy sighs. "Be my guest. The shower pressure is great."
He can see her contemplate it, especially considering the showers she was likely used to at camp were absolute shit.
"Okay," she concedes. "I'm taking my sweet time, though."
Rachel leads her to the bathroom and throws a look over her shoulder at Percy, as if she knows they've gotten themselves in deep.
Flora knows she's not supposed to trust Percy Jackson of all people, but in a world where everything has been upended, where she can't tell friend from foe, throwing her lot in with the former golden boy of Camp Half-Blood seems like a good way to go. If anything, she can steal something expensive from this ridiculously fancy apartment that is so desperately trying not to look expensive.
She wonders who the Oracle paid to shabby up the chic she'd purchased.
At least the shower was good: the water hot and the pressure just as nice as Percy said. She emerges from the bathroom in Rachel's clothes, a bit too big for her but better than the hoodie she'd been wearing for weeks straight. The trash in the bathroom was filled with various leaves and sticks she'd picked from her hair.
She barely recognizes herself in the fogged up mirror. Dark hair, tan skin, dark eyes… it was all muddled in the waves of the mirror. She worries at her bottom lip and turns away. There wasn't time for this.
It'd all be over soon. Even if Percy Jackson can't help her, she'll find a way.
