It begins as it always does, in darkness.

Percy shoots up from where he was sleeping, grasping at his chest as it heaves, his lungs working overtime. His eyes dart from side to side before the pieces fall into place and he recognizes where he is.

Soft sunlight filters in through tattered curtains, illuminating a table littered with discarded cartridges and the bright glint of copper. His rifle is slung across the back of a chair, his pistol under his pillow, already wrapped in his grip on instinct. There's fast food wrappers dusting a floor that was already packed down with old newspaper and shredded cardboard.

The air that moves through the room is stagnant and humid, but it tastes sweeter than anything Percy's had before. He's grateful for the dingy hideout they found themselves in this time, better than the last and thankfully warded more against stray monsters.

He collapses back onto his bedroll with a sigh, easing his grip off of his pistol. Percy runs his hands through his hair, shaggy enough that he should be braiding it to get it up and out of his face just in case they get ambushed.

The front door opens and he tenses, but a familiar blonde head pokes his head into the room and he relaxes. Jason has his hand dangerously close to the gun Percy knows he has hidden and looks at him with concern.

"Nightmare?" Jason asks.

Percy stifles a sigh and nods, his eyes fluttering closed. "Yeah. Bad one, but I can't fucking remember, so…"

Jason shrugs, taking his rifle off his back and laying it on the table. He removes his other gun, the smaller one that Percy knows he favours in the death-defying moves he's prone to. It almost makes him smile; he does love that stupid drama queen.

"Shake it off, Perse." He sets about cleaning his gun with a pile of rags left on the floor. "Caught the trail of a monster— big fucker, too. We should move when night falls."

Percy bends his neck to the side with a loud crack. He nods, getting up and joining Jason at the table with a weary sigh. His own rifle is begging for a cleaning and he resigns himself to it, mirroring Jason's actions.

"Get me one of those, will ya?" Percy gestures for the rags.

Jason throws it directly at his head. Percy closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

"Very funny, Grace." The rifle clicks as he checks its components before diving in.

"I mean, you're only with me for my humor." Jason grins. "Admit it, I'm funny."

Percy shakes his head. "You're hilarious."

Jason tilts his head to the side, looking at him. "Hey."

The weight behind that word makes him look up. Sleep still claws at the edge of his consciousness and he wonders if he's imagining it.

"Come here." Jason indicates him with his chin. He pushes his rifle away and widens his stance.

It makes Percy roll his eyes, but he can never say no to Jason even in the worst of times. He places his rifle next to Jason's and stands, moving to straddle Jason.

"Happy?" His fingers toy with Jason's hair at the nape of his neck.

Jason's arms wind around his waist, interlocking his fingers and settling them in a way that quells the roiling anxiety in Percy's gut. He smiles up at Percy as if he knows something that he doesn't, searching his face for more secrets he can keep.

"Yeah." He rubs circles into Percy's spine. "You good, little fish?"

He's ready with a pithy retort, but it lodges itself in his throat. He tries to swallow past it and ends up just nodding, his hands coming up to rest on Jason's shoulders. "Yeah, I am."

"Mmm?" Jason hums and nuzzles Percy's collarbone. His hands travel upwards to tug at the locks of hair that had grown too long. "We're going to need to do something about this."

Percy tilts his head back to the touch, his eyes slipping closed. "Next time we see clippers, you can give me a high and tight."

"Yeah? You want the jarhead treatment?" He grins against Percy's skin. "My little Marine. I suppose, it fits with your powers."

That earns him a chuckle. Percy rotates his head to nuzzle at Jason's temple. "Looking like I'm about to get shipped off works better for fights than the mop that's currently on my head."

Jason lays soft kisses on Percy's neck. "I happen to like that mop."

"Remember that when I'm shit at an assist because the wind blew my hair into my eyes and you end up getting stabbed by some D-list monster not even worth the sweat to fight it."

Jason's hands spread across his back and he leans Percy to get a better look at him. "I guess it has to go, then. But I'll be even happier when it grows back."

Warmth spreads through Percy. Jason's love was always contagious— everyone wanted to be close to the golden boy, and he felt a little rush of satisfaction that it was him that managed to actually succeed.

"J…" Percy finds his mind gravitating towards something else. His demeanor changes so suddenly that it gives him whiplash. "Do you remember the day on the mountain?"

It wouldn't be correct to say that Jason stiffens— no, it was subtler than that. He sits back a bit and plants his hands on Percy's hips. "Why do you ask that?"

Percy himself can't figure out the answer to that. "I dunno. I was just— I was reminded of it."

"Nothing happened that day but an accident." Jason shakes his head. "Don't torture yourself over it."

"Yeah, but…" Percy tries to grasp at the wisps of information darting across his mind. "What kind of accident? I can't—"

Jason presses a soothing hand to Percy's chest. "Shh, it's fine. It was a long time ago."

Percy nods stiffly. He knows that isn't right— that Jason's explanation was half-baked at best— but his own memory was smoothed over, as if by another hand.

"Hey." Jason nudges his cheek with his nose. "Think happy thoughts. We're going to kick monster ass tonight."

Percy leans his forehead against Jason's, smiling. "Hell yeah we are."

They kiss, soft and languid, knowing that they won't have much time for that later. It's Jason who pulls back first.

"Alright, here you go." Jason presses a bottle into his hand, uncorking a similar one. He clinks his against Percy's, winking. "Cheers. Bottoms up."

The bottle swirls with colour, and as it goes down it stains Jason's lips a deep, dark red.

Percy Jackson wakes up on the couch, his clothes from the night before still on him, shoes discarded somewhere else. A kind Samaritan had found it within them to cover him with a blanket and he curls into it. A few yawns and stretches later and he discovers that it's dawn— never could stop that demigod internal clock.

He stands, padding to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and sleepily get himself something that resembles food. He'd passed out so hard that he didn't even get the chance to have the munchies and his stomach grumbled stubbornly.

It's not until Rachel leaves the comfort of her room hours later that he notices something is amiss.

"Jesus—" Rachel pauses in her doorway, clutching the door jamb with one hand while the other curls into a fist in an attempt to stifle her laughter.

Percy gives her a look. His tone is stern. "What?"

"Um—" Rachel licks her lips and very carefully composes herself. She goes to her bag by the door and digs out a compact mirror, placing it in his hand with a new eruption of giggles. "Here. It's best to experience it yourself."

He scowls, taking a glance at her before angling the mirror up to look at himself.

Upon Percy's face was the drawing of a penis.

Several penises, actually. Whoever the artist was, they were very prolific— and photo realistic.

He snaps the compact closed as a roar builds in his chest.

"Flora!"

He (very altruistically) opts for not wringing the neck of the wayward demigod in his care. Instead, she's put on food duty with him that morning after he spent twenty minutes scrubbing at the permanent marker on his face very, very vigorously.

"Is this what people eat here?" Flora pokes at a bag of blue Takis.

Percy snorts. "Yeah. You've never had those?"

She drops her hand. "Not the blue ones."

He looks over his shoulder at her, then returns to the shopping. The handcart was getting heavy, but it was better than running drills or being sequestered in the Tower.

"How long have you been at camp?"

She shrugs. "Since I was five or six. I forgot to keep track sometimes."

He tries his hardest not to pause at that, even if his body wishes so desperately to. That meant something happened to her mom when she was young; being raised at camp wasn't the worst thing, but it isolates the kids it happens to. He wonders if she ever got to have the childhood he was afforded. It hadn't been the most stellar, but he still felt loved. He still felt human.

"Your mom—?" He lets the question hang in the air.

"Car crash." Flora runs her hand over a row of boxed crackers, inspecting the packaging. "Or so I'm told. Not sure anymore— nothing is that simple when you're a demigod."

Percy huffs a sigh. "Ain't that the truth."

He puts the blue Takis in the cart.

She trails him as they meander around the market, touching things as they go, but remaining uncharacteristically by his side. Percy looks back at her out of the corner of his eye, but doesn't press the issue— it's better for him to take little victories when he can get them.

"What about yours?" Flora catches up to stride side by side with him.

"What?" Percy says, inspecting a few cans that have dents in them.

"Your mom." She shoves her hands deep into her pockets. "What's she like?"

He thinks to himself for a moment. "Classic Latina mom. Almost beat me over the head with a chancla when I didn't call her for months. Catholic, great cook—" he smiles to himself. "Loves the colour blue. It's kind of our thing."

Flora perks up a bit. "Where is she from?" Then, hastily, "If you don't mind answering."

Percy shakes his head with a chuckle. "Nah, it's fine. She's Guatemalan. Me, too, I guess. It's not easy to bring up the fact you're half sea god in conversation."

She seems secretly pleased by this. Flora brings up her sleeve-clad hands to rub them together. "Mine, too." She clears her throat. "My mother was from Guatemala."

The warmth he feels in his chest is unexpected, but he lets the easy smile grow over his face. He may never get through to this girl, not enough to get any information that could help them, but he could at least help one demigod where he couldn't help the others.

"If this goes on any longer, I'll take you to see her." He reaches to a top shelf. "She'll feed you food until you explode."

Flora laughs under her breath. "Yeah, uh— I'd like that. Better than camp food, at least."

Percy likes seeing her smile; she'd looked so haunted until this moment. He nods, a sentimental smile on his face.

"C'mon," he gestures for her to follow. "I think we have enough for the next few days."

"Catch!"

Percy launches a bag at Flora as they walk back to the apartment. She catches it deftly: it's a small package of dangerously blue Takis.

"Fuck yeah," she says under her breath, opening the bag.

Percy doesn't even admonish her for swearing this time.

They stop by an alley for Percy to reorganize the bags they're carrying and for Flora to have her first taste of what he considers to be the worst flavour of Takis. He busies himself with the bags, sneaking peeks up at her face every so often.

"Hmm." Flora looks contemplative, blue dust stuck to her fingers. "Not what I was expecting." She looks at the bag, scanning the ingredients. "I can't tell if I love it or hate it."

Percy's laugh is delayed a second as he brushes his hands off on his knees. "Yeah, that's kind of how it goes with stupidly blue food. C'mon, gimme."

She holds the bag out of his grasp. "Nuh-uh. You got these for me. They're a gift ."

"Yeah, and gifts have a tax. Hand it over." He gestures for her to give him the bag and she begrudgingly does.

"This is child abuse," she mutters.

Percy stuffs a whole Taki into his mouth. "Who're you going to report that to? Chiron?"

Their shared smile is more rueful than it is amused.

It shatters a moment later, almost in slow motion, as a claw reaches its way out of the alley and strikes against Flora's cheek.

She swears, whipping around, pressing her back to the brick of the alleyway in time to see a monster going in for the kill.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Flora fumbles for her dagger with numb fingers. It was taking too long, it always took too long.

Percy immediately slips into a fighting stance, shoving the monster back as he grabs Riptide from his pocket, uncapping it. The sword gleams in the relative darkness of the alleyway, light bouncing from his face to the snarling maw of whatever monster thought they'd try their chances with two demigods.

Flora manages to pry her dagger out of its sheath and readies herself for a fight. She launches herself at the monster's exposed underbelly, sliding along the asphalt, but it was all for naught as Percy plunges his sword down its throat.

It explodes into a shower of golden dust, covering her as she laid prone on the ground.

Flora glares at Percy. Percy looks back, his gaze impassive, and holds his hand out to her.

"I had him, you know." Her jaw is set, anger thrumming through her.

Percy gestures for her to take his hand. "I know."

She glares at him for a second longer before putting her hand in his. Flora lets him haul her up; she lets him brush the dust off of her jacket and inspect her wound. She thinks about biting his hand off for the injustice of it all, but realizes she probably needs him on her side, hand included.

"Are you alright?" He says in a low voice, a voice meant just for her. It invited vulnerability, shedding the bravado that demigods were often encouraged to put on.

She gulps. "It attacked me. It should have been my kill. I can do it on my own."

He tilts her chin to the side. Rage swirls behind his eyes as he sees where the monster's claw had clipped her; if she hadn't turned, she would have been dead.

"I know," he repeats. There's something sad about the set of his mouth, an unending melancholy as he retrieves a small med kit from his bag. "But you shouldn't have to."

Her shoulders sag a bit at this and she complies this time. This stupid man, the hero that camp drilled into her was one of the best of them; he was so startlingly different from what they created him to be.

"I'm not a kid anymore." Her voice is small, as if she doesn't even believe herself.

Percy sighs. "I know that, too. But please, pretend for my sake. Too many of us don't get the chance to be kids anymore. You should get to… before all of this goes to shit."

She winces when he cleans the cut with an alcohol wipe, chewing at the inside of her cheek. He bandages her cheek expertly and she wonders for a moment why he didn't use nectar on it.

"Thanks," she mumbles. She steps away from Percy and looks up at him in trepidation. "So…. what do normal kids do after getting attacked by a monster in an alleyway?"

Percy runs a hand through his hair, thinking. "I dunno. Ice cream, maybe?"

"Hm…" she pretends to contemplate that. "I could go for some ice cream."

The corners of his eyes crinkle. "C'mon. I'm paying."

"Yessir."

Groceries put away, cuts properly tended to, and ice cream eaten, the only other thing on their list for the day was something he was dreading. At least he seemed to have a better grasp on Flora's behaviour now, and he's earned a modicum of her trust.

"Fuck…" Flora looks around the lobby of Avengers Tower in reverence.

Percy scans his consultancy ID to get past the turnstiles. Flora just hops them, much to the chagrin of the security guards. He shakes his head at them, indicating that she's under his protection.

"I assume I don't have to tell you that you shouldn't swear like a sailor when you're around the rest of the Avengers, yeah?" Percy presses the shiny chrome button on the elevator.

She shrugs. "I'll try. No promises."

He sighs and unbuttons the front of his suit jacket. The elevator arrives just as he's about to give her a lecture just this side of patronizing— a blessing, really. He would hate to turn into Chiron.

The elevator is thankfully empty and he lets the door close before opening his mouth. Right before he can, Flora reaches a hand out for the shiny, chrome buttons glittering at her from the side.

Percy slaps her hand down and fixes her with a stern look. "No."

She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms.

"FRIDAY, take me to Stark," he says towards the ceiling of the elevator.

A light voice like tinkling wind chimes responds: "Of course, Mr. Jackson. Boss is in the Avengers common room. Shall I tell him you're arriving?"

"No," Percy says. "Let's surprise him."

It's a bad idea— horrendous, even— but after the morning they had, he needs something to laugh about. That is, if Stark and Flora don't go at each others' throats. He hadn't seen him interact with kids, let alone teenagers, and his hopes aren't high.

The elevator opens on an argument Clint and Tony are having about something that barely matters, Natasha cleaning her knives off to the side, listening with half an ear. They don't lift their heads until Percy leaves the elevator, Flora trailing behind him.

"Stark. I have something for you."

Tony narrows his eyes and looks behind Percy. "I hope it's not a kid. My halfway house is open to wayward adult vigilantes only. Spider-kid and his type go somewhere else."

Flora snorts and rolls her eyes. She wanders over towards the table and waves. "Hi Clint. Natasha."

"Hi trouble," Clint replies with an easy smile. He locks eyes with Percy and gives him a nod, then turns back to Flora. "What happened there?"

Her hand goes to cover the bandage for one self-conscious second but bravado blossoms in her smile, taking over. "Monster attack. Killed the fucker, as always."

"Flora." Percy warns her.

She scoffs. "Fine. Killed the pendejo. That better?"

He sighs, his hand going to his forehead. "We were attacked in an alleyway. She's fine. It got her Takis, though."

Tony looks at Natasha. "Should they fill out an incident report on that?"

She shrugs. "Not sure we have a category on that for being attacked by a mythological Greek monster."

Tony nods, rubbing his chin as he thinks. "Is this the kid who broke into my server room?"

Flora turns bright red. She exchanges a nervous look with Percy. He gestures for her to go on.

"Sorry, Mr Stark," she manages to bite out. "I should not have broken into your secure facility."

Percy nods. "And?"

She presses her lips into a thin line. "And… I will give you back those drives I stole."

Percy nods. "Good girl."

Flora punches him in the arm.

"Huh." Tony leans back in his chair, observing them interact. "She yours?"

Percy blinks. "Be more specific."

"As in," Tony's eyes move between them. "Did you participate in her birth?"

He chokes. Flora turns even redder than should be possible.

"You— you think this is my kid?" He almost laughs. "She's fifteen, Tony. No, she's not my kid. This is Flora and besides the drives she stole, she has some evidence we need analyzed."

Tony doesn't seem convinced, but concedes the point and stands, holding his hand out for Flora to take. "Nice to meet you, kid. Anyone who can slip past my security is a friend of mine. Or enemy. Depends on how it all shakes out."

Flora snickers, taking his hand. "Cool." She stares at him. "You're shorter than you look on TV."

Percy chokes again. At this rate, Flora was going to get him killed through sheer force of will alone.

Tony lets out a chuckle. "Not bad, kid. What can you do? Are you like Aqualad here?"

She shakes her head. "Kid of Hermes. We kind of— well, we have some powers, but they're not as obvious. One thing I'm pretty good at is… uh, taking things that don't belong to me."

"Which you will not do when you're in this building, right?" Percy gives her a knowing look.

She sighs and looks to the side. "Which I will not do while I am in the Avengers Tower." Her fingers were crossed behind her back.

"Stop that," Percy mutters to her in Spanish, tugging on her crossed fingers. She scowls at him.

Tony claps his hands together. "Alright Tweedles Dumb and Dumber, what do you need me to analyze?"

Tony's lab is vast, vaster than Percy had expected, and he gives Flora his most stern look in an effort to prevent her from touching things she shouldn't. He wasn't going to push her out entirely— she was involved in the thing they needed to analyze, after all— but the bright, glittering machines Tony had attracted her like a magpie.

"Kid." Tony approaches her with a box. "Your keeper over here refused this weeks ago but something tells me you'd enjoy it more than him."

Flora takes the package from him and her eyes widen. "A phone? A Stark phone?" She looks at Percy. "Can I even use this?"

"In the Tower, yeah," he says. "It shouldn't attract too many monsters here, and the place is warded. Be careful in the city with it."

"Cell phones attract those things that keep attacking you?" Tony asks.

"Yeah. Most demigods have to go off the grid because of it. Goes double for a kid of the big three like me."

"Huh… maybe I could help with that."

Percy crosses his arms. "What do you mean?"

Tony turns towards his lab equipment and boots it up. "Maybe put like… a demigod damper in one of the phones. I gave Thor one that works through galaxies, I'm sure I can tackle one that doesn't attract monsters like flies to honey." He swivels in his chair and holds a hand out. "Now, gimme."

Percy exhales and reaches into his bag to retrieve the vial. The elixir seems alive the moment he touches it, shimmer crowding around his fingers through the glass. He holds it up to Tony who immediately snatches it out of his hand.

"What is it?"

"Not sure. That's why I need you to analyze it."

Tony looks at the glass from all angles, tapping his fingers against it as he twists and turns his body to analyze what he's seeing. The elixir doesn't respond to him the same way it does to Percy and Flora, the liquid settling into its ruby red colour.

"Where'd you get it?" He looks at Percy, then hones in on Flora.

Percy gestures with his thumb to Flora, who was in the process of setting up her new phone, thoroughly distracted. "You're looking at the only demigod taken to the killer's lair who managed to escape. She took it from somewhere he was keeping her."

Tony nods, humming all the while as he stares at the vial again. He holds it out to Percy. "Touch it again."

"Why?"

"Humor me, Jackson. I want to see something."

Percy resists the urge to roll his eyes and touches his fingers to the glass. It immediately springs to life, swirling with colour. Tony nods in satisfaction.

"Just as I thought. What's so special about you?"

He grits his teeth. "Either it's because I'm a demigod or—"

Tony raises an eyebrow. "Or?"

"Or it's because I've taken it before."

He blinks. "You drank the Flavor-Aid at a serial killer's hideout?"

"No, it's—" Percy exhales. "Back in the day, when I was doing stuff for camp, we had this special training. I can't really remember it that well, but— we drank something that I think looked like this. All red and… alive."

Tony holds the vial up to the light. "Alright. I'll run it through my systems. Not sure it will detect anything if it's of magical origin."

"Anything you can find out will be helpful for the case."

"Get out of here. This is going to take a while." He flicks Percy away. "Take the kid to your training gym or something."

Flora perks up immediately. "You have your own gym?"

Percy really wished he hadn't said that.

"Yes," he says, not without effort. "Mr. Stark so generously built me a training gym I never use. There's a reason for that, Tony."

"Can we go?" she asks.

"No," he says flatly.

"Oh come on," she groans. "I've been cooped up for days, before that I was living in the damn forest. Let me have a little fun. I bet it's cooler than camp's training grounds."

Tony leans to the side to talk to her. "It has a water tank. And swords. I know how fond he is of swords."

"They're not even the right kind of swords, Stark." Percy sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Fine. If it'll get you to analyze this faster, we can go train."

"Yes!" Flora punches the air. She immediately hops up, phone in hand. "Thanks for the phone, Mr. Stark."

Tony leans back in his chair, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Anytime, kid. Anytime."

The gym looks exactly like it had the day Tony had shown it to him, the pristine water tank looking as if it was waiting for him to return. It's enticing, knowing that this water was out of his father's domain. A space all his own.

Percy drops his things by the door, shedding his jacket and shoes as he goes. He looks up at the tank: it had to be ten feet tall, the side clear for others to see what was happening underwater, and for him to see out.

"Nice." Flora nods in admiration. "Go on, cerote. Show me your synchronized swimming routine!"

He raises an eyebrow at her. "I didn't bring a swimsuit."

She scoffs. "From what I've been told, you don't exactly need one."

He rolls his eyes and takes his shirt off, rolling his trousers up so they wouldn't be a hindrance. Percy goes to the ladder on the side and climbs up to the lip of the tank.

"Do a flip!" Flora shouts from the mat with the worst grin imaginable.

Percy flips her the bird and Flora gasps dramatically.

"You can't flip me off. I'm a minor, Perseus." She holds a hand to her chest.

"Don't piss me off and I won't have a reason to flip you off." He shakes his limbs off and looks at the water, placid and serene. He cracks his neck and readies himself to do a flip despite wanting to annoy Flora.

He doesn't hear the sound she makes when he breaks the water. The tank has ample room for a moderate dive, the water room temperature and free from any tugging currents. It felt odd to him when he was so used to swimming in treacherous waters, places where he always had to watch his back.

Percy blinks and he can see clear through the glass. It takes some effort for him to remember how to breathe underwater, his lungs stuttering to life like an engine in a car left idle too long. It startles him how easy it was to fall back into his old powers after refusing them for so long. It didn't necessarily feel good, but it felt… satisfying in some way.

Flora approaches the tank and gesticulates wildly. Percy can tell she's shouting instructions, but he can't hear it through the thick glass. He shoots up, leaning over the tank with his hair dripping.

"What?"

She sighs, exasperated. "I wanted you to do a barrel roll!"

Percy rolls his eyes. "Leave me alone, gremlin. Go play on your new phone or I won't show you any tricks."

She scowls but does as she's told, collapsing into an overstuffed bean bag chair stuffed into the corner. Flora pulls the new phone out and continues setting it up, scheming to take covert photos of Percy in the tank as long as he doesn't catch her.

Percy dips back into the tank, sinking down to the bottom and crossing his legs. He used to always start with this in the lake back at camp, a quick meditation as he tries to figure out what to do next. He lets the clean water rush in and out of his body as easy as breathing.

Fatigue melts away from his tired limbs, his mind becoming more alert than it has been in weeks. He feels near boneless, floating in his own personal bubble, away from his worries in the world. It takes a minute, refilling his cup like that, until he opens his eyes and gets to work.

Drills are something comforting to him, something he could do in his sleep if he had to. It had been years since he did his underwater drills, and they never happened in something this small, but it was easy enough to modify them for the space.

Thrust. Parry. Dodge. Repeat.

He torpedoes through the water, his hands pulling the water to him like whips. He creates currents that would drown even the most experienced swimmer. Water sloshes over the top of the tank and onto the floor, but he doesn't notice as he pulls out all his old tricks; exercising them like one would old muscles.

It feels… exhilarating. He would never let Stark know that; giving him the power to fuel a smug, satisfactory smile like a Cheshire cat made his blood curdle. But Tony had been right, as much as Percy doesn't want him to be. This could give them an advantage against the killer; he could be their advantage.

He discovers the spar mode in the tank by accident, hitting the button with one of his water whips. Lights begin flickering underwater and a panel retracts to show missiles poised to be launched. Percy only has seconds before they're heading straight for him. He dodges and they disappear into a matching hole on the other side of the tank.

Huh. Stark was more clever than he gave him credit for.

When the next round comes, he practices bobbing, weaving, all the defensive moves he can. When he exhausts those, he starts up on offensive moves, using the water to push and pull them off their path. He directs them around him and back into the hole.

Whatever powers the settings in the tank can tell it's becoming too easy for him and speeds up, adding smaller projectiles into the mix. He twists away from them, using his momentum to make them scatter.

It was almost fun. It was fun. He felt a giddiness spread through his chest as he pulled out all the stops to evade the machine. Percy shoves a particularly large projectile out of the way and it ricochets off the glass. The force starts a crack in the glass and he pauses, swimming up to observe it. The machine powers down.

Oops.

He touches the crack lightly. It doesn't splinter under his fingers— which brings him a small amount of relief— but he sees now that through the glass he has an audience.

Flora is still on her bean bag, her phone held up to film him. Clint, Natasha, Tony, Steve, and Bucky are watching him from the mat with different levels of shock and awe evident on their faces.

Percy stifles a sigh and uses the water to push himself upwards. A small wave deposits him into the floor, dripping onto the puddles he'd put there earlier. He shakes out his hair.

"We had a deal, Stark," he says. He shakes out his limbs, delightfully sore from the workout. "That door is supposed to stay locked. Especially for you."

Tony shrugs. "I was curious. I'm impressed you managed to crack the glass, by the way. I need to reinforce it next time."

Percy scoffs, running a hand through his hair. "And delete that video, Flora."

"No way!" she says with glee. "That was the coolest fucking thing I've seen in my life."

"Florita." He groans. This girl would never learn.

Steve crosses his arms. "Why didn't you show us something like that after the gala? It's much cooler than an arm wrestling contest."

"I didn't think we had a massive tank of water available for me to swim around like your prized goldfish."

"That's pretty cool," Bucky says with an appraising look. "You have a unique set of powers; could be an advantage on missions."

Natasha laughs. "He won't join the team. Percy's a one man army. Remind you of someone?"

Steve gives her a look. "I hardly think he's the Punisher type."

"You don't know him like I do," Natasha says simply as she walks away to inspect the rest of the room.

Clint is the only one who hasn't spoken. His eyes never left Percy from the moment he saw him in the tank. The pure athleticism, the way his body rippled in the water— it made his throat dry. He gravitated towards him without even realizing it.

"Hey there, tiger." His quip comes with a suggestive waggle of the eyebrows.

Clint catches Percy's hand in his, drawing him close to place a kiss to the open palm. Heat climbs up Percy's neck, suddenly aware of how public they were. Well, public relative to the Avengers.

"I'm going to get you wet," Percy mumbles. His body is inches from Clint's.

Clint's grin is animalic. "God, I hope so."

"Fuck off, Clint. A kid is present."

In the corner, Flora is deeply engrossed in the new Stark phone Tony gave her. The others are a little less forgiving.

"If you're going to continue whatever you've started, could you have the decency to warn us first?" Natasha says as she swans past.

Percy hangs his head, his forehead dropping down onto Clint's shoulder. He breathes in and on the exhale makes the water on him evaporate. He's sure that it made his hair look absolutely demonic, but at least he wasn't dripping onto Clint's t-shirt anymore.

"Any news, Stark?" he asks, lifting his head from Clint's shoulder and taking a step back.

"Yes, that's what I came here to tell you before I and everyone else was distracted by your, frankly terrifying, underwater combat prowess."

Percy gestured for him to continue. "And?"

"Uh—" Tony grabs his arm and looks around the room. "Let's talk about this in the lab."

When they arrive in the lab, someone else is sitting, pouring over data on one of many screens. He swivels in his chair to face them and Percy immediately assesses him. Medium height, medium build, brunette, glasses. Innocuous in all areas, but Percy knows who he is.

"Bruce Banner." Percy greets him with an indication of his head.

"Wish I knew your name, but I've been out of the loop for a bit." He chuckles uncomfortably.

"Percy Jackson. I'm consulting with SHIELD on a serial murder case."

"Ah, you're the man with this… potion," Bruce nods.

"Potion?" Percy grabs a chair and sits next to Bruce. The screens mean nothing to him, but he looks at them regardless.

"For lack of a better word, yeah." Bruce bobs his head in a nod, fiddling with a piece of paper. "It doesn't have any properties that I can really quantify the way I would something from this world."

Percy hums in agreement. "It's an elixir that was given to demigods. I don't know what it was used for in particular but—" He clenches his jaw. "They gave it to me back in the day. I have… hazy memories of it in training, and then again when I was on missions. I think it's meant to enhance our fighting skills, help us zero in on the enemy, get us ready for a fight."

Bruce takes this in as the wheels turn in his mind. "That tracks, in a way. What I was able to get out of the sample you had were compounds related to enhancing anger, and some for adrenaline. But what it actually is, I really couldn't tell you."

Percy swears under his breath and runs his hands over his face. "Okay, okay… We'll just need to pivot."

Bruce tilts his head to the side. "You said your memories were fuzzy. Why is that?"

He blinks at Bruce. "It's just how they are. Sometimes things demigods undertake are too much for their mind, the memories get… blurred over, I guess. It's a way of keeping us sane."

"Someone purposefully took your memories of this?" He looks at Percy above his glasses. The gaze is admonishing, almost fatherly.

"It's not—" He curls his hand into a fist. "Yeah, I guess. They left the ones of me killing crystal clear, though."

"Have you ever tried to unlock those memories?"

He shakes his head. "Can't do that. I had memories erased by gods before and only they can give them back to you."

Bruce hums in thought. He exchanges a glance with Tony over Percy's shoulder.

"Have you ever tried?" He asks.

"Sorta. But there's something blocking it."

"I can help you, if you want," Bruce says. "There's some techniques I have when it comes to the big guy that could be of use. But you have to agree to really work on it, or we'll get nowhere."

Percy inhales. His gaze is caught by the glass vial that holds half of the remaining potion, dormant as it sits on a dais where Stark had placed it. It seemed to by lying in wait, poised to strike should the wrong person approach it. He exhales.

"What do I need to do?"