"Stop! Please, stop! I'm sorry!" A young girl in flowing white robes cried out, her voice trembling with desperation.
Around her, a scene of chaos unfolded; a paradise shattered by destruction. Towering above the fleeing crowd, a massive, red-skinned humanoid monster rampaged with terrifying fury, its every step shaking the ground. The peaceful figures dressed in similar white robes scattered in panic, their serene haven reduced to chaos and ruin.
A gnarled, red hand the size of a building shot towards the girl, his fingers plucking her off the ground with ease.
She stood frozen as the screams of her people filled the air, their harmonious sanctuary now reduced to rubble. The skies above her, once clear and radiant, churned with dark, fiery clouds. Lightning crackled, illuminating the monstrous figure of a colossal red beast as he unleashed his wrath upon the city. His four burning eyes locked onto the girl, and she could feel the oppressive weight of his gaze pressing against her very soul.
"Stop.." she cried out, her voice nearly inaudible. Her arms were limp, but with a strangled cry, she forced them up. Dark energy flickered at her fingertips. Weak, sputtering like a dying flame.
A thin blast of dark energy shot forth, crackling and unstable. It barely cut through the force holding her, the power around her fraying like a tether. She staggered back, gasping for air as his grip loosened just enough for her to wrench free.
Her knees buckled, but she caught herself, her arms trembling as she stared up at the towering figure.
"Raven," his voice boomed, low and menacing, as though it reverberated from the depths of the earth itself. "You cannot hide from me. Your destiny is written in blood and fire."
Raven clutched at her temples, overwhelmed by the sheer force of his voice. She staggered backward, but her feet felt glued to the ground. Around her, fragments of buildings floated as if gravity itself had succumbed to the monster's will. One by one, the massive stones began to collapse into an infernal abyss that opened beneath the city.
"NO!" she screamed, her voice breaking as she extended her hands. A wave of dark energy erupted from her palms, forming a protective barrier around the remaining survivors. Yet the energy trembled and cracked, a stark reminder of her inability to match the monstrous force that loomed before her.
"Is this the best you can muster, my daughter?" The beast sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "This futile resistance? You were born to wield my power, not defy it."
The words sent a chill through Raven, piercing her like daggers. Around her, the robed figures continued to run, their faces twisted in terror.
"No," she whispered, barely audible. Then louder, "No! I won't let you control me!" She threw out her hands again, a massive surge of dark magic cascading outward. It collided with the monster's form, momentarily obscuring him in a haze of energy.
For a brief moment, there was silence, hope flickering throughout the entire realm. But the haze cleared, revealing the beast unharmed, his eyes glowing brighter than ever. He stepped forward, the ground beneath him cracking under his weight.
"You can never escape me, Raven. You are mine."
Raven's hands trembled as she pushed more of her energy into the barrier. "I am not yours!" she cried, her voice defiant but strained. The words echoed with conviction, yet there was a fragility to them, a hint of fear that she couldn't mask. The barrier shimmered, holding for a moment longer before it shattered into fragments of dark energy.
The robed survivors behind her screamed as they were engulfed by the void, disappearing into the abyss below. Raven collapsed to her knees, her strength spent, her breaths ragged.
"No," she whispered, tears streaming down her face as the weight of her failure bore down on her.
The demon's massive hand swept down, engulfing her frail form with ease, as if she were no more than a fragile doll. "Your defiance ends here," The monster growled, his voice a seismic rumble that shook the crumbling remnants of the realm.
His gnarled fingers closed around her, tightening like the jaws of an inescapable trap. "Let the realms bear witness," he sneered, his tone dripping with malice, "and remember the day Azarath dared to defy the might of Trigon.".
Suddenly, Trigon paused. His burning gaze shifted, his four eyes narrowing as if he'd sensed something else—someone else.
"Well, well," Trigon rumbled, a sinister grin spreading across his grotesque face. "A dream walker. How amusing. I didn't invite you here, mortal, yet you linger. Tell me, what business do you have meddling in the affairs of gods and demons?"
Percy tried to respond, but his throat felt constricted, as though the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He could only stare as Trigon's massive hand began reaching for him, the distance between them collapsing in an instant.
"You should not have come," Trigon sneered, his voice a crul whisper that echoed in Percy's mind. "Let me teach you the folly of trespassing in my domain."
The moment the gnarled, fiery hand closed in on Percy, the dream fractured like a shattered mirror. Everything exploded into shards of light and shadow. Percy felt himself falling, tumbling through the void, his heart racing as the oppressive heat gave way to a cold, suffocating darkness.
He woke with a gasp, his body jerking upright. Sweat drenched his clothes, and his heart pounded against his ribs like a war drum. The familiar sight of his surroundings greeted him; no crumbling city, no fiery demon, just the quiet stillness of his room.
He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. Almost dawn. He sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. The dream felt too real—Raven, Azarath, Trigon. That giant, monstrous demon had been so vivid, like a nightmare trying to pull him into some kind of twisted fate. And then, there was that voice, his voice, chilling him to the bone.
But there was no time to linger on it. He needed to focus. Percy swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the cool air hitting his bare skin. He didn't have much time before the day's training started, and he could feel Lady Shiva's words hanging over him; this wasn't just about fighting. It was about control, precision, adaptability.
Stretching his arms above his head, Percy took a deep breath, focusing on the present.
Forget about the dream. He thought to himself, It's not real. His heart rate slowed as he centered himself. The ghosts of Trigon's voice still reverberated in his mind, but he had no choice but to push them aside for now. There were real challenges ahead.
The sun was just starting to edge over the horizon, casting soft rays of light through the window. It was still early, and the compound was quiet. But the League of Shadows didn't wait for the day to start. Neither would he.
Sliding his feet into his shoes, Percy grabbed a t-shirt from his drawer and threw it on, a quick nod to the fact that he wasn't in the mood to look "presentable" for anyone today. Just because Lady Shiva and the rest of the League might be training him didn't mean he had to look the part. He'd figure that out later.
When he stepped outside, the chill morning air hit him, invigorating him. The courtyard where he'd initially faced off against Cheshire, Hook, and Black Spider a few days ago stood silent and empty, but he could sense the energy from that day's encounter lingering. The space was alive with the memories of the battle, and it made him feel oddly energized.
Shifting his focus, Percy walked over to the large stone pillar that stood at the edge of the courtyard. There was a thick rope hanging from it, and the metal training dummies scattered around the space looked like they were waiting for someone to take a swing. The area had been meticulously set up for the League's combat training, and it was clear that every tool had a purpose.
Percy tightened his grip on the katana, the cold steel gleaming faintly in the early light. Its balance felt slightly off to him, not because the weapon was poorly crafted, but because he wasn't yet accustomed to its weight or the precision it demanded. He gave it a couple of experimental swings, the blade cutting through the air with a faint whistle, before returning it to the rack.
The weapons rack stood like a monument to the League's mastery of combat. It held an array of armaments: elegant curved swords, brutal axes, finely crafted spears, and even some unconventional tools of destruction like chains with spiked weights and strange, clawed gauntlets. Percy scanned them, his fingers brushing over the various hilts as he contemplated his next choice.
A pair of nunchaku caught his eye. He picked them up, their wooden handles smooth but sturdy in his hands. He swung them tentatively at first, the movement awkward and uncoordinated. The weapon had its own rhythm, and Percy could feel it mocking him as the chain twisted against his wrist. After a few more clumsy attempts, he sighed and placed them back.
"Not my style," he muttered to himself, his gaze shifting to a sleek bow perched on a stand.
The bow was simpler, but unfamiliar. During his month awake, Percy hadn't once tried a bow. He picked up the bow and strung an arrow, the feel of the taut string leaving a fuzzy feeling on his finger. He drew it back and aimed at a distant training dummy, exhaling slowly as he released.
The arrow shot forward in a wild arc, veering far from the intended target and embedding itself, barely, on the ground several feet to the left of the training dummy. Percy stared at it in dismay, his fingers still tingling from the vibration of the bowstring.
"Well," he muttered under his breath, lowering the bow, "that was... embarrassing."
He glanced around quickly, silently praying that nobody had witnessed his spectacular failure. For a moment, all was still. Maybe he got lucky this time; no Cheshire lurking in the shadows, no Lady Shiva watching from some unseen perch, silently judging him.
Then came the slow clap.
Percy froze, his heart sinking. He turned to see Black Spider leaning against a tree at the edge of the courtyard. Although his face was completely covered, Percy could just feel the smug grin plastered on his face.
"That," Black Spider said, sauntering forward with exaggerated swagger, "was the single worst shot I've ever seen. And I've seen a guy try to fire an arrow backwards before. You sure you're not secretly working for the Justice League? They love missing their mark."
Percy rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to snap back. "Didn't know you were such an archery critic."
Black Spider stopped a few feet away, folding his arms across his chest. "I'm a critic of anything that might get you killed, Rookie. That was pathetic." He jerked his thumb toward the arrow. "If that's what you call aiming, I hope you brought a first-aid kit. You'll need it when the real arrows start flying back at you."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Percy said dryly, setting the bow back on the rack with a bit more force than necessary.
"Hey, don't take it personally," Black Spider said with a shrug. "Not everyone's cut out for a bow. Some people are just better suited for, I don't know, holding the target."
Percy narrowed his eyes. "You wanna try that again in a sparring match?"
"Careful, Rookie," Black Spider said, wagging a finger at him mockingly. "Cheshire's not the only one who plays with sharp objects. Besides..." He leaned in slightly, his tone sharpening. "You're not ready for me yet."
Percy opened his mouth to respond but thought better of it. Taking a deep breath, he shoved his frustration down and turned back to the weapons rack. A quick, dismissive glance toward Black Spider sent a silent message: You're not worth the argument .
"Smart move," Black Spider said with amusement, seemingly backing off. "Don't worry, though. If you ever want tips, I charge by the hour."
Percy ignored him, picking up a pair of tonfa from the rack. Percy gave the tonfa a few experimental swings. They felt balanced and intuitive, the simple design making them easier to handle than the other weapons he'd tried.
They moved with the flow of his strikes, not resisting his motion the way the nunchaku had or demanding as much precision as the katana. Still, something felt off. The solid weight of the tonfa in his hands wasn't satisfying. It was too basic, simplistic, and frankly Percy doubted they'd be very useful in an actual fight.
"Better," Black Spider's voice cut in, amusement audible in his tone. "But not by much. You look like a kid trying to figure out how to hold a wrench for the first time."
Percy turned slowly, the tonfa hanging loosely at his sides. "Don't you have better things to do than stalk me?"
Black Spider leaned lazily against a nearby tree, casually spinning a knife in one hand. "Stalk? Nah. Mock? Absolutely. This is way more fun than my morning drills. You're like free entertainment."
Percy sighed, turning back to the rack and replacing the tonfa. "You've made your point, Spider. Congrats. You win the award for Most Annoying Shadow."
"Aw, c'mon," Black Spider said, pretending to sound hurt. "Don't be like that. You should be thanking me. Criticism builds character. You'll thank me the next time you don't accidentally stab yourself in the foot."
"Right." Percy took one last glance at the weapons before shaking his head. "Forget this."
He started walking toward the compound's mess hall, ignoring the sound of Black Spider laughing behind him.
"Quitting already?" Black Spider called after him. "Didn't think you were the type to give up. What's next? Breakfast? Hope they've got training wheels for your cereal bowl!"
Percy pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the island's main building, the cool interior offering a stark contrast to the brisk morning air. The scent of incense and old stone greeted him, a reminder of the League's ancient roots. The dimly lit hallway stretched before him, its silence a welcome reprieve from Black Spider's incessant taunts.
He reached into his pocket, pulling out Riptide in its pen form. The familiar weight of the celestial bronze object brought a small sense of comfort, even if it couldn't match the chaos swirling in his mind. Holding it up to eye level, Percy tilted his head, studying the unassuming pen like it was some kind of rebellious pet.
"Why can't you just stab people like a normal sword?" he muttered, his tone laced with exasperation. "You know, stay out all the time? Make my life easier?"
The pen, of course, didn't answer. It sat there in his hand, utterly indifferent to his complaints, as if mocking him with its silence.
Percy sighed and flicked the pen's cap. Instantly, Riptide extended, transforming into the familiar celestial bronze blade. The weapon gleamed faintly in the dim light, its sharp edge promising power and precision. Percy swung it experimentally, the fluid motion feeling far more natural than any of the weapons he'd tried in the courtyard.
"See?" Percy said, addressing the sword now. "You're perfect like this. But no, you've gotta play the hologram act every time I slice. What, you get bored of being a sword?"
The blade, predictably, offered no retort.
He let out a frustrated breath, the tension from the morning bubbling to the surface. "You're lucky I can't stay mad at you."
Percy sheathed Riptide with a flick of his wrist, returning it to pen form and sliding it back into his pocket. The sound of his footsteps echoed softly as he continued deeper into the building, heading toward the mess hall.
The League's headquarters always felt alive, even when it appeared still. Shadows seemed to shift in the corners of his vision, and the faint murmur of whispers kept him alert. It was as if the entire compound were testing him, just like its inhabitants.
Rounding a corner, Percy pushed open another door and stepped into the mess hall. The room was sparsely populated, a few shadowy figures scattered across the tables, eating silently. Lady Shiva was nowhere to be seen, which was both a relief and a disappointment. He wasn't sure if he was ready for another round of her scathing critiques, but part of him hoped she'd show up just to give him something to focus on.
Grabbing a bowl of rice and some tea from the serving area, Percy sat down at an empty table near the back of the room. He poked at the rice absentmindedly, his thoughts wandering back to the dream.
Raven. Azarath. Trigon.
The images were still vivid in his mind: the towering demon, the crumbling city, the sheer power and terror of it all. And then there was the way Trigon had seen him, spoken to him like he wasn't just an observer in the dream but an active participant.
Percy's grip on his chopsticks tightened. What did it mean? His mind told him that it was just a nightmare and yet he had a feeling that-
The sharp clatter of a tray hitting the table pulled Percy from his thoughts.
"Bad dreams?"
He looked up to find Cheshire sitting across from him, her arms casually folded and one eyebrow arched in mild curiosity. Her tone was light, but the glint in her eyes hinted at something sharper beneath the surface.
Percy shrugged, taking another bite of rice. "Something like that," he replied
Cheshire smirked, her sharp green eyes glinting with amusement as she leaned forward slightly, resting her chin in her hand.
"You know, you're not exactly what I expected when Lady Shiva said we were getting some new blood in the League," she said. "You're... different."
"Different how?" Percy asked, keeping his tone even, though he could feel her words poking at the edges of his composure.
Cheshire grinned. "For starters, you're missing the sadistic glint in your eyes. That thing most assassins have. You know, like they're thinking about fifty different ways to stab you while they're smiling." She tapped her fingers idly on the table. "So, spill it. What's your deal? Got bitten by a radioactive goldfish or something?"
Percy paused, raising an eyebrow at her. "Radioactive goldfish?"
She shrugged. "Hey, you never know. People have weirder backstories. Figured I'd start there."
Letting out a small huff of amusement, Percy leaned back in his chair. "If you really want to know, it started when I crash-landed on Earth at a fourth the speed of light. No memories, just me and some water powers."
For a moment, Cheshire just stared at him, her expression amused. "You're serious?"
Percy smirked. "Dead serious."
"Alright, Water Boy," she said, her smile widening, "I'll bite. What kind of water powers are we talking about? The 'splash around in a kiddie pool' kind or the 'summon tsunamis' kind?"
Instead of answering, Percy extended a hand towards his cup of water. Cheshire watched as the water moved with an almost hypnotic grace. It hovered, glistening in the light, before splitting into smaller droplets that danced around his fingers like tiny planets orbiting a sun.
Cheshire's eyes widened slightly, though her grin only grew sharper. "Impressive. So, you're like a waterbender?"
"More or less," Percy replied, letting the water flow back into the cup. "I can control water, breathe underwater, heal myself with it... stuff like that."
Cheshire tilted her head, intrigued. "And what about ice? Can you freeze it?"
Percy shook his head, a wry smile on his lips. "Nope. I can control ice if it's already frozen, and turn ice into water, but freezing water? Not happening. It's like my powers hit a wall there."
"Huh." Cheshire leaned back, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "That's oddly specific. Like someone forgot to include that feature in your power set."
"Tell me about it," Percy muttered. "But it works well enough for what I need."
Cheshire's grin turned mischievous. "Well, if you ever figure out how to freeze water, let me know. Could come in handy when you're fighting guys like Hook. He's not exactly fond of slippery surfaces."
Percy chuckled, imagining the brute slipping on an ice patch like a cartoon character. "Noted."
"And here I thought Black Spider had the weirdest shtick with all his creepy bug metaphors. Guess you just raised the bar."
"Happy to help," Percy said dryly, taking another sip of his tea.
Cheshire leaned back in her chair, arms folded loosely across her chest. "So, you crash-landed, lost your memory, and now you're here, hanging out with the League of Shadows. Quite the resume. Lady Shiva must've seen something interesting in you."
"Guess so," Percy replied, though his tone was casual, his expression darkened briefly.
Cheshire noticed but chose not to press. Instead, she smirked again and said, "Well, don't get too comfortable. You're still an amateur in my book. But hey, at least you're not boring."
Percy chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Glad I could keep you entertained."
The dynamic between them felt strangely easy, despite the bizarre circumstances. Cheshire might have been a trained killer with a sharp tongue, and Percy had only been in the League of Shadows for a day and a half, but her humor and curiosity made her surprisingly decent company.
When Percy polished off the last of his rice and set down his bowl, Cheshire was already on her feet, stretching languidly like a cat preparing for a hunt.
"Alright, Water Boy," she said, smirking as she slung her mask over her head, letting it rest around her neck, "time to stop playing nice and get back to work. Let's see if you can keep up without embarrassing yourself too much this time."
Percy rolled his eyes, pushing his chair back as he stood, the faint scrape of wood against stone echoing in the mess hall. He stretched briefly, rolling his shoulders to loosen up as he braced himself for the rigorous training ahead.
The courtyard buzzed with activity as members of the League of Shadows gathered for their morning training. Percy followed Cheshire, who led him toward a large, open, area where a group of Shadows sat cross-legged, practicing their breathing and focusing exercises.
Cheshire stopped abruptly and turned to Percy with a smirk. "First up: katas. Hope you're ready to look like a flailing octopus."
Percy rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
The session began under the watchful eye of a lean, wiry instructor. He barked out commands in rapid succession, demonstrating precise, flowing movements. Percy did his best to mimic them, but it quickly became apparent that his best wasn't nearly good enough. His stances were off, his transitions were clunky, and his balance faltered more times than he cared to admit.
One of the older Shadows beside him glanced at Percy,
"Your foot, Rookie. Move it, or you'll fall flat on your face." He hissed.
Percy shot him a glare but adjusted his stance. The correction didn't help much. By the end of the session, what remained of his pride was shattered like glass. Each movement had been a battle against his own body, leaving him feeling more like a flailing fish than a disciplined warrior.
Cheshire, of course, didn't miss the opportunity to tease him.
"Not bad, Water Boy," she quipped, grinning. "If the goal was to invent a new dance craze."
Percy exhaled heavily, dragging a hand down his face as he left for more training. The day was far from over, and he could already tell it was going to be a long one.
"Come on Percy." He muttered to himself, "One lesson down, six to go."
Conditioning
Percy stood at the edge of the training pit, his gaze fixed on the glowing coals that stretched out before him in a searing path of fire and heat. The embers didn't just smolder, they flared, their bluish flames licking the air with a fierce, hypnotic energy. The pit radiated waves of oppressive heat, warping the air above it like a mirage. Around him, his fellow trainees shifted uneasily, their faces etched with grim determination as they prepared to face the trial under the watchful eyes of Sensei, an elderly man whose weathered face betrayed decades of mastery.
"Begin," Sensei commanded, his voice sharp and cutting like a blade.
One by one, the trainees began their agonizing walk. Although none of them faltered, their faces contorted in pain as the heat bit at their feet. When Percy's turn came, he stepped forward, confident yet cautious.
The first step was a surprise. He felt the heat, but it didn't burn. By the third step, he realized the truth: his heat resistance made this absurdly easy. Suppressing a smirk, Percy walked across the coals with a relaxed stride, his steps deliberate yet casual.
When he reached the end, he glanced back. Several Shadows were still struggling. Sensei's eyes lingered on Percy for a moment before he gave a curt nod.
When he reached the end of the pit, he glanced back. Several Shadows were still struggling to make their way across, their fluid movement made slightly jerky by the flaring fire beneath their feet. Sensei's gaze flicked toward Percy for a brief moment before he gave a curt nod of acknowledgment.
"Your body is stronger than you believe. But your mind is your greatest enemy," Sensei said, his voice calm but firm.
Percy paused, taken aback by the words, then nodded slowly and began walking off, his mind swirling with the unexpected insight. What did he mean by that?
Cheshire's voice cut through his thoughts. "Guess superpowers have their perks,"
Percy turned, finding her leaning lazily against a nearby pillar. "Yeah," he said with a shrug. "I guess they do."
Hand-to-Hand Training
The next session placed Percy in the sparring ring. Lady Shiva stood at the center, her presence commanding and unyielding. Her sharp gaze swept across the group like a predator selecting prey.
"Pair off," she ordered.
Percy squared up against a lean, wiry Shadow who moved like liquid. The bout began, and Percy relied on instinct, dodging and striking with surprising agility. His opponent was skilled, but Percy's reflexes and sheer physicality gave him the upper hand. He managed to land a solid hit, sending the Shadow sprawling.
Before Percy could even savor his victory, a voice sliced through the air like a blade.
"Jackson!" Lady Shiva's tone was sharp, cutting through the murmurs of the group. Her eyes pinned him where he stood, unblinking and intense. "Step forward."
The victorious smirk faded from Percy's face. He straightened, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead before stepping into the center of the ring. The air around Lady Shiva seemed to hum with an almost predatory energy. She didn't move; she didn't have to. Her sheer presence commanded attention, her body poised like a coiled spring.
"That display was... adequate," she said, her voice dripping with deliberate indifference. "But instinct can only carry you so far. Let us see how you fare when the stakes are higher."
The Shadows standing in a circle around the sparring ring drew back instinctively, their faces a mix of curiosity and dread. Percy inhaled deeply, squaring his stance, his hands raising slightly as he prepared himself. This was not a fight he could take lightly.
Lady Shiva didn't wait for a signal. She launched forward, her movements fluid yet explosive, her strikes precise and devastating. Percy barely had time to react, twisting his body to avoid a knife-hand strike aimed at his ribs. He countered with a sweeping kick, but Shiva was already gone, her body moving like a shadow through the gaps in his defense.
The sound of their movements echoed through the room, sharp breaths, the scuff of feet on the ground, and the occasional grunt of effort. Percy's superhuman reflexes kept him just ahead of her attacks, his body twisting and turning as if by instinct. He managed to block a flurry of blows, but only just.
This isn't working.
Percy's mix of brute strength, basic skill, and supernatural speed was barely enough to keep up. Every time he thought he saw an opening, Shiva closed it with almost preternatural precision. Her strikes weren't just fast, they were calculated, each one designed to disrupt his balance and sap his momentum.
"You rely too much on what you are, not what you can do," she hissed, her voice steady even as she struck. "Speed will not save you. Power will not save you."
Her words registered just a second too late. She feinted a high strike, and when Percy moved to block, her leg swept low, hooking behind his ankle and sending him crashing to the floor. His eyes shut for a moment as the impact radiated through his body. Before he could roll away, she pressed a knee into his chest, pinning him thoroughly.
"Skill, Jackson," she said simply, her gaze boring into his. "Not instinct. Not brute force. Skill."
The ring was silent, the Shadows watching with wide eyes. Lady Shiva stood, stepping back and allowing Percy to rise. He pushed himself up slowly, his pride stinging more than his body. She hadn't just beaten him; she had exposed his weaknesses.
"You have potential," she continued, her voice as unyielding as steel. "But potential is nothing without discipline. Learn to think. To anticipate. To adapt." She turned away, dismissing him with the flick of a hand. "Pair off again. Jackson, watch this time."
Skill, not instinct.
Percy was paired up once again, this time against a different Shadow. As the bout began, he forced himself to focus. Not on the speed of his opponent or the instincts that had carried him so far, but on the movements themselves. He watched closely, noting the subtle shifts in the Shadow's stance, the slight hesitation before a strike, the faintest hint of intent in the way his weight shifted.
This wasn't about outpacing him. This wasn't about overwhelming him with force. It was about understanding. Observing. Adapting.
The Shadow's first few attacks were fast and fluid, but Percy saw them coming now, felt the rhythm of his movements. He dodged with purpose, not just reacting, but anticipating. As the Shadow lunged forward with a low strike, Percy countered with a quick sidestep, using the momentum to sweep his opponent's legs out from under him. The Shadow hit the mat with a thud, and Percy stood over him, chest heaving slightly as he let the moment sink in.
Percy turned to another shadow, a slight smirk on his face. He was no master, but he was definitely improving.
Weapons Training
Percy joined the group at the weapons rack, his eyes scanning the deadly array before landing on something unexpected: a trident. The weapon's sleek design caught his attention, its three prongs gleaming under the sun. Though the trident was an unconventional choice among the League's arsenal, its weight felt natural in his hands, as if it belonged there.
Lady Shiva's sharp gaze didn't miss the choice. "A bold selection," she remarked, her tone neutral but edged with skepticism. "Let us see if you can wield it without embarrassing yourself."
The training began in earnest. Percy faced off against Shadows armed with more traditional weapons such as katanas, staffs, and daggers. Initially, the bouts were chaotic, with Percy relying more on raw instinct than strategy. As the matches progressed, he began to find his rhythm. Prodding at opponents and parrying strikes with natural precision.
During the throwing weapon drills, Percy exceeded expectations. With a flick of his wrist, the trident sailed through the air and struck distant targets with uncanny accuracy.
"Interesting," she said, her voice measured. "You show promise with this weapon. But promise without discipline is meaningless."
Percy's confidence grew as the session continued. By the end of the training, he wasn't just holding his own. He was standing out. Though far from mastering the trident, his natural connection to the weapon was undeniable, hinting at untapped potential that the League of Shadows couldn't ignore.
Marksmanship
Percy stood in front of the shooting range, his hands gripping a standard-issue handgun. Black Spider, of all people, was overseeing the session, his smug attitude as unbearable as ever.
"Alright, Rookie," Spider drawled, "let's see if you can hit something smaller than the side of a barn."
Percy aimed at the target, exhaled, and fired. The bullet struck the edge of the paper, barely making it onto the board.
"Wow," Spider said with mock awe. "You're a natural. Natural disaster, maybe."
Percy shot him a dry look. "You've been dying to use that line, haven't you?" he snarked before lining up another shot, which missed just as badly as the last one.
Gritting his teeth, Percy adjusted his stance and tried again. By the end of the session, he had managed a few solid hits, but his accuracy left much to be desired.
"Stick to throwing water balloons," Spider said as Percy walked away.
Archery
If gun training had been rough, archery was a complete catastrophe. Percy stood at the edge of the range, a bow in hand and a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder. The instructor, a grizzled old Shadow with a perpetually sour expression, watched him like a hawk.
Percy nocked an arrow, drew the string back, and loosed it. The arrow flew wildly, embedding itself in a tree far from the target.
The instructor groaned audibly. "Do you aim, or do you just pray?"
Percy ignored the remark before trying again. The results were no better. After his umpteenth attempt, the instructor threw up his hands.
"Stick to close combat," he barked. "You're a liability at range."
Percy sighed, slinging the bow over his shoulder as he trudged away.
Meditation
The final session of the day was meant to be a reprieve. A quiet moment to unwind after the physical and mental strain of combat training. Yet, Percy had his doubts about the whole concept of "calm."
The room he was in was far from what he imagined a meditative space to be. It was a lower level inside Infinity Island's main building, far from the hustle and bustle above. The space felt... different. Almost like a spiritual sweet spot, though the air was thick with a strange energy. Dozens of Shadows sat in perfectly aligned rows, their postures straight, eyes closed, completely serene.
Percy could barely keep still.
The instructions were simple. "Clear your mind. Focus. Breathe." But for Percy, every second felt like an eternity. His legs itched, his mind raced, and his ADHD made it near impossible to sit still. His thoughts were like a runaway train, every time he tried to silence one, another rushed in to take its place.
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, like they told him to. It was no use. He couldn't shut off the flood of thoughts. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Trigon's towering form, Azarath crumbling around him, and the whispers of chaos in his dreams. Percy inhaled and tried again, letting the air fill his lungs and then slowly releasing it. It didn't help. His mind was like an unruly storm, crashing waves of distraction.
The stillness around him only seemed to amplify his restlessness.
Just when he was about to give up and tank the consequences, he realized something. The feeling that filled the room, it was just like the one he felt around Ra's al Ghul. It was faint at first, like a whisper in the dark, but it gnawed at his awareness, pulling his attention downward. Something felt wrong, something familiar, something he couldn't quite place.
His heart skipped a beat. He couldn't help himself. With a subtle shift of focus, he extended his powers, reaching out to tap into the moisture in the air, feeling the pipes and hidden water sources that ran beneath the building. He hadn't had to concentrate this intensely since his training sessions with Luthor, but something about this felt crucial, like it couldn't wait.
The sensation deep below him felt like water, but not exactly like water. More like a pressure building, an energy that pulsed in a way that made his skin crawl. The further he reached, the more intense it became, until he felt a distinct, dark presence. It was like the feeling he had in his dream. It was the same sinking feeling he got when Trigon's hand reached out to grab his dream-self.
Percy's breath caught in his throat.
His eyes flew open, his pulse racing. He gasped for air, feeling the cold sweat bead on his skin, but quickly masked it with a sudden cough. The last thing he needed was to draw suspicion.
The other Shadows around him didn't stir. They were as still and serene as ever, as if they hadn't felt a thing. But his instructor, a sharp-eyed man with a strict, no-nonsense demeanor, immediately noticed the shift.
"What's this?" he snapped, his voice cutting through the quiet room. "If you can't focus, leave. This is a place of discipline, not distraction."
Percy quickly straightened, wiping his mouth and giving a quick, embarrassed shrug. "Sorry, just a little cough. It happens sometimes."
The instructor glared at him, eyes narrowing in suspicion, but he didn't push further. Instead, he returned to his position at the front of the room, his annoyance palpable.
Percy swallowed hard, trying to steady his breath. His head was swimming with questions, but he forced himself to sit back, closing his eyes again. The strange sensation still lingered, a dark thread weaving through the edges of his thoughts.
As the meditation session came to a close, a single chime echoed through the room, signaling its end. The Shadows rose fluidly, their movements precise and disciplined, like they had rehearsed it a thousand times. Percy stayed seated for a moment longer, his gaze darting subtly around the room. He was looking for... something. Anything.
His eyes fell on a far corner, where the seamless lines of the wall gave way to a faint outline of what could be a door. It was almost imperceptible, but now that he noticed it, it stuck out like a sore thumb.
It might lead to a stairway. I could get in there and find out what's underneath. The possibility made his heart race.
"On your feet," the instructor barked, snapping Percy from his thoughts.
Quickly, Percy stood and followed the others out of the room. He forced himself to blend in, his stride matching theirs as they filed into the main halls of Infinity Island. He kept his face neutral, even as his mind churned with plans. He'd figure out how to get back there later, when there were fewer eyes watching.
Dinner was uneventful.
Apparently, ninjas are too good for lunch, so most Shadows were inhaling their food gracefully .
Percy, however, could barely focus on his food. The strange presence still clung to his thoughts like a shadow, but he forced himself to act normal. He sat with a group of Shadows who were chatting quietly, their conversations carrying an edge of calculated politeness that Percy still wasn't used to.
After dinner, Percy headed back to his quarters. He waited until he was sure the hallway outside was empty, then locked the door behind him and drew the curtains over his small window. The room was sparsely furnished, just a bed, a desk, and a chair, but it would do.
Percy placed a bottle of water he brought on the desk, before uncapping it.
His hands hovered over the water, his focus sharpening. The quiet of the room was a stark contrast to the whirlwind in his head, but he used it to channel his energy. Slowly, he willed the water to heat, forcing the water molecules to bounce around at extreme speeds. At first, it rippled faintly, the surface trembling as though unsure of itself. Then steam began to rise, and Percy grinned.
Alright, step one down.
He focused harder, pushing the water to boil. The bottle was small, but the energy it required still tested him.
Beads of sweat formed on his brow, but the satisfaction of seeing the water bubble was worth it. Slowly, Percy lifted his hand, guiding the vapor upward, twisting it into delicate spirals. It was harder to control than the liquid form, but he gritted his teeth and kept at it.
The steam twisted and coiled in the air, forming delicate spirals as Percy guided it. He took a breath and shifted his focus, drawing on a deeper part of himself.
This time, he willed the air to move with the steam, coaxing it into a controlled swirl. A faint breeze stirred through the room, carrying the vapor in graceful arcs without dispersing it entirely. The effort tugged at his core, a dull ache blooming in his gut as he held the wind steady.
It wasn't the first time Percy had tapped into this part of his power, but it never came without a cost. The first time he'd discovered his ability to control air, he'd lost control completely: nearly leveling one of Luthor's training facilities with a hurricane. The memory still made him wince. Every time he tried to summon something smaller, something more precise, it felt like he was holding back a raging tide. Like he was defying the natural order of his abilities.
The controlled breeze continued to spin the steam, dancing in tandem with the vapor. Percy gritted his teeth, pushing past the discomfort as he tried to maintain the delicate balance. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress.
"Not bad," he muttered under his breath, though the ache in his core lingered as if to remind him of the cost.
Percy took a deep breath, feeling the lingering ache in his gut as he contemplated his next move. The idea of cloaking himself with wind and vapor seemed promising, a way to blend into his surroundings, unnoticed by the prying eyes of the League of Shadows. Determined to push his limits, he decided to give it a try.
Focusing intently, Percy willed the steam and breeze to intertwine, creating a subtle veil around his form. He envisioned himself fading into the shadows, becoming one with the air currents swirling around him. Slowly, he felt the temperature around him drop as the vapor thickened, the gentle gusts wrapping around his body like an invisible cloak.
"Come on, Percy," he whispered to himself, drawing on every ounce of concentration. He extended his hands outward, guiding the wind to flow seamlessly with the steam. The air around him shimmered slightly, and for a fleeting moment, he felt a sense of accomplishment. Perhaps this was the breakthrough he needed.
But as he pushed harder, trying to maintain the delicate balance, the pressure in his gut intensified. The wind began to howl unpredictably, the vapor swirling out of control. Percy struggled to keep the elements in check, his focus wavering as the strain became almost unbearable. The intended cloak started to falter, dissipating into erratic gusts that whipped around the room.
The bedsheets whipped violently in the air, twisting and thrashing like restless phantoms. Percy's chair scraped against the floor, pushed back by an unseen force as the room filled with a sudden, chaotic energy.
"Enough," Percy muttered through clenched teeth, lowering his arms sharply.
The storm within him wavered, the winds beginning to calm. With a final, deliberate motion, he pushed his hands downward, willing the chaos to subside. The air stilled, the vapor dissolving into nothingness as the room fell silent once more.
Percy exhaled heavily, his heart pounding in his chest. "Get a grip," he whispered to himself, running a hand through his hair.
The chaotic energy in the room ebbed, leaving Percy drained. His body felt heavy, his thoughts sluggish, but the mess of vapor he'd created still lingered faintly in the air. He groaned, rubbing his temples, and focused on pulling the dispersed vapor back together.
He reached out with his powers, feeling for the traces of water in the room. It was in the air, clinging to the bedsheets, and even settled on the walls. Gathering it wasn't easy; his concentration wavered as fatigue tugged at him. Slowly, though, he willed the moisture to coalesce, droplets forming midair and trickling toward the desk. Bit by bit, the scattered remnants condensed into a small pool on the desk, shimmering under the dim light.
Percy stared at the water, the gears in his mind turning sluggishly. Boiling water is just making it move faster... maybe freezing is just the opposite? Just make it... stop. He focused again, his hands hovering over the puddle, willing it to still. The energy within the water resisted at first, quivering like a restless animal, but Percy gritted his teeth and pushed harder, forcing it into submission.
The result wasn't what he expected.
Instead of forming ice, the water solidified into something stranger: a liquid that seemed rigid, holding its shape as if under immense pressure. Percy blinked, bewildered. He tapped the surface with a knuckle, and it rippled outward like normal water, but the ripple itself was stiff, moving slower than it should. It didn't shatter or splash; it simply... was.
"What the—?" Percy muttered, knocking on the surface again. It felt solid under his touch, yet still maintained the fluidity of water. A bizarre hybrid of states, neither liquid nor ice, it defied all logic, yet it made complete sense to his powers.
"Huh," Percy muttered, knocking gently on the water. The sound echoed faintly, soft yet resonant, like tapping on a tightly stretched drum. "That's... new."
He sighed, waving a hand to will the solid water back into its liquid state. With another flick of concentration, he directed the water into the bottle, sealing it with care. The effort left him tired, his limbs heavy as lead.
"That's enough experimenting for one night," Percy muttered, running a hand through his damp hair. He climbed onto the bed, pulling the thin blanket over himself.
As his eyes drifted shut, Percy promised himself he'd explore this new ability further. But for now, sleep pulled him under like the tide, and he let it take him.
A/N
New chapter!
Thank you to everyone who commented. Percy wielding a trident seems to be what most people want(mostly in AO3), so that's what you all will receive!
I've read every comment and review, and kept all your ideas in mind.
Raven finally appears(in Percy's dreams), and Percy detects Trigon's moist pits of immortality.
Trading monsters from Tartarus for demons from Hell—does that count as an upgrade?
Right now, we're at July 7th in the story, two days after the pilot episodes. However, Percy's presence has accelerated things quite a bit, and Dr. Desmond isn't the only one who got a divine makeover thanks to Percy.
This chapter was a difficult one.
The montage was not only difficult to write, it's also visually displeasing. Luckily for you all, I probably won't be doing one again.
For the second Percy vs Lady Shiva, I had Kid Flash vs Black Canary in mind. If Kid Flash had more strength and was less cocky.
Lady Shiva is pretty underrated in most PJO/YJ fics IMO, especially since one of her first appearances was killing a guy with functionally the exact same power set as Aquaman.
If you enjoyed the story, let me know in the reviews. Your support means the world to me.
If you didn't, let me know in the reviews. Tell me why, tell me what you want to have change. I'm open to criticism!