Chapter 34

It had been 2 weeks since the funeral, and Percy had watched Hazel very carefully in the meantime. But she did seem to be doing better. After the funeral she had seemed pretty down, understandably, but she had managed to get herself up and out of bed to carry on with her life. Not for the first time, Percy found himself comparing her to him. He had been so much of a wreck after he'd lost Annabeth and his mother, that he'd basically shut down. Hazel on the other hand, was walking, talking, and living her life.

Percy, still trying to assess Hazel as a potential recruit for Chaos' army, brought her on more and more raids on the terrorist safe houses he found. He still did the tougher ones alone, unwilling to risk her life until he was absolutely sure of her capabilities, but she was handling herself like he would expect from a seasoned veteran, so he decided to take her on one of the tougher ones.

He had found a safe house in Liverpool, which would probably be pretty difficult. The fact that it was an urban area made things complicated. The sound of gunshots in the UK, especially after the terrorist attack in London which Percy had failed to prevent, would send the police and SWAT to the location within minutes. They would have to keep things quiet.

Percy and Hazel flew to Liverpool and went to a hotel near the safehouse. Percy wanted to do the actual raid at night, and it was currently mid-afternoon, so they had plenty of time. Percy wanted to spend that time reconning the area. He felt it was important.

So, they left the hotel to put eyes on the safehouse and get a feel for it. As Percy and Hazel walked around the city, he started noticing some odd things. Just little stuff. A van on the side of the road with the engine idling. A guy sitting in a cafe holding a newspaper which he wasn't actually reading. Surveillance.

"I think we have eyes," Percy whispered to Hazel, "I'm going to lag back a step. Keep walking, don't look around; keep your eyes front."

Percy slowed his pace, so that he was walking behind Hazel rather than side-by-side. Maybe if they knew his face and saw him, they wouldn't realise that she was with him.

They were still a block away from the safehouse itself, so maybe they were there for something else. It was technically possible. But Percy sure as hell wouldn't put money on that. It would be quite a coincidence. But after the attack in London, Percy wasn't just about to walk away. He needed to confirm that they were surveiling that specific house, at least.

They carried on, Percy behind Hazel, and by the time they walked past the safehouse, Percy was absolutely sure that someone was watching it. There were nearly 2 dozen groups hanging around for no apparent reason. Percy's jaw tightened. This was a massive operation. Much bigger than this particular terrorist hideout warranted. Did they know he was coming? Were they here for him? They knew he'd killed about 200 terrorists so far; if they were going to try to take him down, they'd want all the resources they could get.

He sped up a little bit, and as he walked past Hazel he said, "Abort. Meet at the hotel," moving his lips as little as possible.

Immediately, he peeled off to the right, and crossed the road. He felt their eyes on him, and a few of the more mobile lookouts started following him. But no one was following Hazel, so that was good. She was clear. He went down an alley, trying to put some distance between him and his pursuers.

And to their credit, they stayed back. They weren't sure if he had made them or not, so they didn't want to tip him off in case he was unaware. That made enough sense, but he worried that they had some other means of tracking him.

He cast his senses upwards, and felt them there. UAVs. He counted 4. They were tiny, only a meter or 2 wide and across. He never would have known they were there if he couldn't hear the mild buzzing, due to Chaos' first blessing. That made things far more complicated. Losing a UAV was damn near impossible. The only hope you had, was to wait until it had to recharge, and then hide while the replacement was on its way. But in this case, there were 4 of the bastards, and they would likely make sure there were no less than 2 of them watching him at all times.

But there was one way for him to give them the slip. And seeing as this was the UK, it wasn't particularly hard.

He walked for 2 more blocks, and then he found what he was looking for the. The subway. Or, as it was known in the UK, the Tube. He smirked to himself. It felt too good to be true.

Because it was. Within moments of entering the underground station, he noticed 4 guys peel off from the wall, and start trailing him, keeping a distance, but maintaining a line of sight on him at all times.

"Shit", he thought with a sigh.

He was in the Tube, so he might as well get on a train. It was a crowded station, so his pursuers wouldn't try anything in there, which meant he at least had some time to think, and plan a way out.

A train arrived just as he got to the platform, so he got on the last carriage. And stood as casually as he could. He had a minute to think.

What did he need, and what did he need to get, to accomplish it?

He needed two things. The first, was to get Hazel a long way away. The second, was to do what he had come here to do, and eradicate the terrorist cell. In that order. There was a higher chance of something happening to Hazel, than the terrorists doing something in the next few hours.

So, what did he need, to accomplish those two? To get Hazel out, he needed a phone. He needed to explain what was going on, and tell her how to get out of the country. She certainly had to get out of the hotel. Foolishly, he had checked into their hotel room under his real name.

His only hope, was that they didn't bother checking his hotel, because they were following him at the moment. No need to waste resources watching a place your target might go, when you have eyes on them. So, Hazel was safe for the time being, but he had to make sure they didn't lose a visual on him for too long, otherwise they might decide to go to his hotel, and wait for him there. And if they did that, they might see Hazel, and realise she was there with him, either because the hotel staff would say they were there together, or because one of them recognised her from earlier in the day. Admittedly, the odds on either of those weren't great, but he wasn't betting her life on it.

Yes, for the time being, he needed a phone. The fact that every phone had a password or a biometric, made that more complicated. He needed to see someone unlock their phone using a password. It was no great hardship to watch someone's thumb move across the screen, and determine which keys they hit. Ditto for a shape they had to draw. There was no way for him to get into a phone with a thumbprint or a face-scan.

Once he'd spoken to Hazel, he could safely lose his tail. Once he lost his tail, he could go about his business, and kill the terrorists, and then get back to the US, where he would disappear into the shadows, invisible to any government agency that seemed to be hunting him.

With a plan in mind, a vague plan, but a plan nonetheless, Percy scanned his compartment for the right mark. He didn't want to be too much of a dick by stealing someone's phone if they couldn't afford another one, so he wanted someone wealthy enough. There was one guy in the next comperatment wearing a pretty expensive-looking suit. Admittedly, Percy was no connoisseur of fine tailoring, but it certainly looked pretty pricey. And the watch on his wrist looked and sounded expensive too. Now, Percy just had to wait for him to pull his phone out to check a message or something.

That happened about 3 minutes after they started heading towards the next station. The guy pulled out his phone and entered a code. From what Percy could see, and what his enhanced senses could pick up, the code was either 13895, or 13595. Either way, it would be simple enough. Now all he had to do, was swipe the phone.

The guy in the suit checked the message he got, or looked at his calendar or whatever, before slipping the phone back in his left pants pocket. Percy started moving towards the other carriage, and switched over. He carried on towards the other side without breaking stride, making it look like he was going all the way through. As he walked past the suit guy, Percy reached into his pocket with the index and middle fingers of his left hand, and simply slipped the phone out, without glancing towards the action or even slowing down at all. It was as smooth as possible.

He changed carriages again at the other end, and kept going, wanting to put some distance between him and the guy whose phone he had taken. The train finally reached its destination and Percy joined the throngs of people disembarking. A quick glance at a map told him exactly where he was, and he recalled where the hotel was by comparrison. He wasn't too far away, which wasn't great. Ideally, he would have preferred to be on the other side of the damn city, so as to keep the bulk of the attention off of Hazel. But there wouldn't be any cell signal in the tunnels, so he needed to get topside as soon as possible.

As soon as he got out of the subway, he tried the first potential combination. 13895. No luck. He tried the other one. 13595. The phone unlocked. Percy breathed a sigh of relief. He dialed the hotel's number from memory, and asked to be connected to his and Hazel's room. The woman on the other end agreed politely and the dial tone clicked and beeped for a few seconds before a breathless voice answered.

"Hello?"

She had just gotten back, most likely.

"Hazel, it's me."

"Percy, what the hell is going on?" she demanded.

He waited a second before answering. He moved closer to the cars going by, hoping it would drown out his voice a little bit, in case the people following him had parabolic mics. He didn't want them hearing what he would tell her to do. To the same end, he moved his lips as little as he possibly could as he spoke, in case they were prepared enough to have a lip-reader in the area.

"This job is finished. The safehouse was being watched. They were waiting for me. They don't know you're here though, so you're in the clear if you move quickly. You need to get back to the US. Go to the airport and get on the next plane leaving the UK. Leave all your gear in the room, I'll deal with it later. You're going to leave the hotel, walk 2 blocks south, and get in a cab from there. Don't let the cabbie know you're American. Try to fake a british accent as best as you can. Once you're at the airport, get on the first plane going anywhere. Once you're out of Liverpool, you can catch another plane to Vegas, and have someone pick you up from there."

"What about you?"

"I'll wrap things up here and follow you."

She hesitated, "I don't know about this. I don't want to leave you here alone if there's people after you."

"Hazel," Percy said in a warning tone, "Remember the conditions you agreed to before I let you join me on this. I say run, you run."

The call was silent for a few seconds before Hazel huffed out a deeply frustrated sigh.

"Alright, fine. There's one problem with your plan though."

"What's that?"

"Percy, you're the one with the credit card. I can't pay for the cab, let alone the plane ticket."

He cursed under his breath.

"Do you have a map?"

"Umm. Give me a second… Yeah, I've got one here."

"You see where you are, at the hotel?"

"One sec… ok, yeah, I've got it."

"Alright. You're going to leave the hotel, and go 2 blocks south, just like I said earlier. I'm going to go to a store, and buy a few things. I'll leave a clear plastic shopping bag on a bench on that street. The credit card will be at the bottom of that bag. Wait 15 minutes for me to leave it there, and then lead them away. Once you have the card, get out of the country as fast as you can. Understand?"

Hazel was quiet for a few seconds. It took Percy a while to figure out why that was. Then it came to him. He was trained for this. This, specifically. Hazel was trained to fight and lead, but this kind of thing required an entirely different mindset and skillset. She was processing everything he had said, trying to remember it all. He had gone rather quickly, he admitted.

"Ok, I think I understand," she finally answered.

But Percy shook his head.

"I don't need you to think you understand, I need you to be absolutely sure."

He heard her take a deep breath.

"I'm sure. I'll do it."

"Good. I'm ditching this phone now. Remember, 15 minutes, and then come for the card. Clear plastic shopping bag on a bench.

"I understand. See you in Vegas."

She hung up, and Percy started figuring out what to do with the phone. He couldn't just drop it. The call could be traced if one of his followers picked up the phone, and he wanted the hotel to be clear for as long as possible. He considered taking out the battery and the sim, but he couldn't be bothered, so he just wrapped a thin layer of shadows in his palm, and crushed the phone in his hand before dropping it down a sewer grate. There was still a chance it would be found, and maybe it could be salvaged, but not in the next 15 minutes.

Percy needed to make sure there that no one following him would see him with the bag before he left it on the bench, otherwise they would search it and Hazel would be screwed. So as he got closer to the street where he would be leaving the bag, he broke their line of sight on him, and ducked into a small kiosk. He bought a few bottles of water and half-a-dozen chocolate bars, dropped them all in a clear plastic shopping bag, paid for it with his credit card, and ducked out. He tried to keep as covert as he could, and crossed the street, dropped the card in the bag, and left the bag on a lonely bench. Immediately, he crossed the road again, and started walking in the opposite direction. He noticed his tail pick him up again, and started leading them away from the hotel.

He'd been as subtle as possible, and it seemed it had payed off. Now he needed to lead them away. 3 minutes until she came by to pick up the card, which meant he had 3 minutes to lead his followers as far away as he could.

As he walked, he tried to figure out who was after him. FBI? Interpol? MI5? All 3 of them? This was the brits' home turf, so MI5 was the most likely, but if they had known about this in advance, they might have had time to call in some outside agencies. There was a whole inter-agency task force set up for the terrorists, after all. Maybe they were all there for him. Or maybe the brits didn't feel up to sharing, and it was just them. Either way, this wasn't great. Losing them without using his powers, wasn't going to be easy. They weren't going to send inexperienced operatives to deal with him, after witnessing the corpses he left behind whenever he dealt with terrorist safe houses.

Percy was walking down a busy street as fast as he could without looking too inconspicuous. He was about to take a right turn, because that was the busier part of the street, when he noticed a bunch of tough looking guys with guns under their suit jackets. He swerved immediately, and went left instead of right. He was about to take the first right, but that was blocked by similar guys, and he went straight ahead. He looked down the next right turn, an out-of-the-way alley. All clear.

He was half way through, when the guys slid into place at the end of the alley. He froze. There were 5 of them, and they were armed. Even though Percy was sure that he could take them, he would rather not. He wasn't wearing any armor, and it would only take one bullet to ruin his day. That, and the fact that he didn't want to hurt these guys. They were ultimately on the same team, after all. They were just doing their job. It was pretty unfortunate that that job seemed to be to put him in prison - or, he supposed, the ground - but that wasn't their fault.

All of which meant he only had one choice. Turn around, and run away. Just as he turned to do that, 5 more guys filled in behind him. He grit his teeth.

Looking at the guys more carefully, he saw the ease with which they carried themselves. They were incredibly comfortable in this life-or-death situation, just like he was. They were completely confident in their success, just like he was. And they all had that "It's you or me, pall, and it ain't gonna be me" look in their eye. Just like he did.

These weren't any regular operatives, or even MI6 spooks. These guys were SAS or SBS, and there were 10 of them. He had to get the hell out of there. He had no desire whatsoever to mix it up with 10 UK Special Forces guys. They had a reputation for being the very best in the world, and Percy was in no hurry to find out for himself.

The lead guy stepped towards Percy.

"Alright, mate. You need to come with us now."

He spoke in a bit of a Yorkshire accent. It was a rough voice. Percy could instinctively tell that the guy had been through some shit.

Percy hesitated.

"That's not gonna happen," he said slowly, trying to think of a way out.

The SAS guy smiled a bit. Total confidence.

"Yeah, it is," was all he said. He reached behind his back, pulled some handcuffs out of his waistband, and threw them at Percy's feet.

"Now, just put them on, come with us, and we'll all be happy."

Percy shrugged, "I won't be all that happy."

The SAS guy smiled, "Nah, you probably won't. But put them on anyway. Just for a laugh. I'm trying to be nice here, you know? I reckon you've done some decent work. But you need to come with us."

Percy cracked a smile. A genuine one. He weirdly liked the guy. And he appreciated that they were giving him the chance to do this peacefully. But that wasn't going to happen.

"Look, the way I see it, we're all on the same side here anyway."

"Oh, is that a fact?"

"Yes, yes it is. I mean, you said it yourself. I kill terrorists, you kill terrorists. That's the whole idea, isn't it?"

"Mate, my government tells me who I can and can't kill, and when and where I can and can't do it. And in case you ain't noticed, this isn't what you might call a debate hall. Put on the cuffs, and let's go."

Percy liked the guy, he decided.

"Debate hall?" Percy echoed, "Is that like a british thing, or..?"

The guy huffed a laugh, but Percy could tell that he could go no further. This was going to go down now.

Percy had his gun, it was loaded, and he could have it out before any of the UKSF guys could blink. But then he'd have to shoot them. He didn't want to put any of these guys in the ground. He really did believe that they were on the same side, with a common goal.

But that didn't mean he was going to let them take him in. So, surrender wasn't an option, and neither was killing them. That basically left running away, as his only strategy; if you could call it that. And he was surrounded.

Percy fully recognised that he would be completely screwed if he was a regular mortal, or even a demigod. But he wasn't either of those things. He was one of Chaos' operatives. Or at least, he would be.

He focused, and used his shadow powers, or umbrakinesis, to use it's actual name, in a way he'd been thinking about for quite a while, without ever actually testing it out. The idea was, to draw a cluster of shadows into ball, and tighten it. Theoretically, if it was condensed enough, he would simply release it, and the shadows would explode outwards, a bit like a grenade. Like one of those 'snake-in-a-can' things that the Stolls used to love so much during his Camp Half-Blood days. Theoretically.

He wanted to do it just right. He was looking for a loud noise, and maybe the sensation of something impacting, but no actual harm. He started gathering shadows behind his back, right behind the brits that had slipped into place behind him at the mouth of the alley.

The moment he let go, they exploded outwards from the sheer pressure of the ball he'd forced them into, and the resulting crack was louder than a flashbang. Without missing a single beat, the UKSF guys at that end of the alley spun to face the noise, drawing their weapons as they did, and moved away from the open space, looking for cover. All in barely a second. They really were good.

Percy took advantage of the momentary distraction, and bolted straight to his right. The Special Forces guys in front of him were distracted by the blast as well, so for a split second, their eyes left him, and moved past their comrades to scan for threats.

As he launched himself into the air, Percy had a second to reflect on what a bad idea this was. But he figured it was a better idea than getting shot. He went crashing through a ground-floor apartment window, shattering the glass and crashing to the floor inside.

Breaking through windows isn't like it seems in the movies. Those things are tough. So tough, that if he'd had any time at all, he would have liked to shoot through the glass once or twice to make it a bit weaker, but he just couldn't afford to. He was big and very heavy though, so he went straight through. But it hurt. It really hurt. He was sure he'd broken his collarbone as he'd hit the window. And landing face-first on a bunch of broken glass, wasn't a picnic either. He tasted blood in his mouth, and felt it running down his face and hands. He wasn't wearing Chaos' robes under his street clothes, because as far as he had been aware, this was just a recon. That meant his ribs felt messed up too. He wasn't sure if he'd broken one, but there would definitely be a lot of bruising.

There was no doubt in Percy's mind that Chaos' second blessing would fix him up, and pretty soon, too, but he still needed to move as fast as possible, and the two teams of UKSF would probably be vaulting through the, now open, window within moments.

He struggled to his feet, and was immediately hit in the head, by something resembling a baseball bat. He went stumbling.

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, YA BASTARD!" someone roared at him.

The bat went swinging again, and Percy grabbed it in mid-air, and wrenched it from its owner. The owner in question, was a man who looked like he was in his late 30s, or early 40s. He was overweight, and had a complexion that made Percy think he existed solely on a diet of beer, dirt, and more beer. But still, he had a hell of a swing.

Percy left the guy alone, opting to just run straight past him. He ran through the hall, his heightened senses mapping out the apartment ahead of him, so he went straight for the front door, which he basically ran straight through. It was a weak door, with a weak lock, and Percy was basically a superhuman, running at max speed. The lock and hinges splintered and shattered, and Percy turned left, kicking open the door to the apartment building, before doubling back and running up the stairs.

The idea was, the operators running after him would see the, obviously forced, open door and assume he just kept running. But since when did anything ever go to plan, in Percy's life?

The moment he hit the second floor, an older woman stepped out of her apartment, complaining about the noise.

"What the bloody hell is all that racket about!?" she demanded of the empty space in front of her door.

Just then, Percy barrelled past her at high speeds, startling the poor lady, and making her scream in surprise. He cringed at the sound. The operators following him would be almost directly below them at the moment, and they would certainly hear the yell, and realise where he was.

Which meant he needed to get to the roof. He barreled up the stairs, taking them about 5 at a time. It was pure paranoia, but he felt like they were right on his heels. He knew that he was putting some space between them, but they were fast, and they could run for days on end, and Percy didn't have much room to work with. He was putting space between them, sure, but not nearly as much as he would like, and not nearly as quickly.

The door to the roof was a heavy steel thing, with a heavy steel lock. But it had a keyhole, which meant Percy could send a few slim tendrils of shadows into it, lift up all the tumblers, and it would swing open within moments.

When Percy hit the roof, he slowed for a second, and checked his injuries. His face was covered in blood, to the point that it acted like a veil, covering his eyes and blinding him. If he hadn't been able to navigate using his other senses, that would have been a problem. As it was, it barely phased him. The blood was coming from about half-a-dozen decent-sized cuts on his forehead and cheeks. None of them were too serious, but there were still small pieces of broken glass stuck to them. He grimaced, knowing that he wasn't going to have a good time taking them out. One of his ribs was broken, as he had thought, and his right collarbone was broken clean in half as well.

He needed to keep moving.

The nearest building to the one Percy was on, was to his left, and the gap between the two was around 8-10 feet. That was doable. But this simple jump was complicated by the fact that the other building was nearly 15 feet taller than the one he was standing on. Which meant he was going to need a hell of a run-up, and jump like his destination was the moon.

Percy got up on the ledge, and backed up until he felt the drop behind him. Steeling himself, He started sprinting. He was about halfway across when the lead UKSF guy burst through the door to the roof, pistol in hand. Cursing to himself, he ran harder, and prepared for liftoff.

The pain hit him suddenly, almost faster than he could process.

'What the fuck?' he thought, bewildered.

Only then did he hear the loud bang from the British soldier's handgun, and he realised what had happened. He'd been shot. He'd been shot in the fucking chest.

One thing was certain. He no longer liked the guy.

The guy had fired twice in rapid succession, like he had been trained. A neat double tap, so quick it almost sounded like one singular shot. The bullets were lodged in his chest, maybe an inch away from his heart. He instinctively knew that if he hadn't been running so fast, faster than any human in the world, the Brit's bullets would have shredded his heart, and he'd be very dead.

And there was still a decent chance of that happening anyway. The gunshot had made him stumble, and he'd been pretty damn close to the edge of the building, with a lot of momentum pusing him onwards. He tried to find his feet beneath him, but he couldn't.

He went straight over the edge, head over heels. The building was around 90-100 feet tall, and he'd tumbled right over the edge, like an idiot. He was freefalling. There was nothing he could do to slow himself down before impact. He was going to hit the pavement, head first, his skull would crack like an egg, and then he'd be dead.

Son of Poseidon, victor of two wars, and survivor of a dozen quests,

Falls off a building and dies

May he rest in peace

Fucking idiot he was, that was would be his tombstone, he was sure.

'Wait… I ama fucking idiot.'

He had one chance to arrest his momentum before he hit the ground, and only one. Percy launched a tendril of shadows forwards, and it caught the building. He stopped instantly.

Bad. Fucking. Idea.

His right shoulder was ripped out of its socket. Automatically, his left hand came up and stifled the scream. As unfortunate as this entire situation was, it gave him a chance. If the UKSF guys above him thought they had killed him, which they surely did, he would be able to get away. They'd come down to check his body, but he'd have the time it took them to come down all those stairs, to get away.

Percy let the shadows dissipate and he dropped a few feet to the ground. He arranged himself as quickly as he could, to make it look like he had hit the ground like he should have. Just as he did, he sensed the SAS guys above him, looking over the edge.

"Bloody idiot," the lead guy muttered.

"He made his choice, mate," another guy told him.

"Yeah, I know, I just wish we could have brought him in."

"I don't," the same guy replied, "Imagine the trial. Imagine trying to make sense of what we saw in Dubai, or Madrid. It'd be a fucking shitshow; guaranteed."

"I suppose you're right. The head shed wanted him though. Not sure why, exactly, but they seemed pretty eager."

"Fuck 'em. If they wanted him so bad, they should have come with us. Let 'em sit in their cushy chairs and moan."

The lead guy cracked a smile.

"Yeah. Anyway, let's go get the body. They'll want it."

And with that, they left the ledge, and started down the stairs.

Percy groaned, and pushed himself up on his elbows. He had landed right next to a trash can, and with his enhanced sense of smell, it was repugnant. It was the smell, in combination with all the adrenaline flooding his body and the bullet in his chest, that made him throw up when he stood. The burning sensation flooded his nose, and keeled over. Eventually, he rose, wiped his face with his shirt, and realised a lot of what he had thrown up, was blood.

Yeah, he was a little messed up.

He stumbled out of the alley, feeling utterly exhausted. He was shaking, he realised. Only a little bit, but he definitely was. As hard as he tried, he couldn't steady his hands. But that was really the least of his concerns for the moment. He still felt sick, and he was clammy. His entire torso was throbbing with pain, and his right arm was dead. He needed to get it back in its socket. Later.

For now, he just stumbled. He had to get as far away as he could before they realised he was alive. He used the walking time to assess his injuries. The entry wounds were so close together, that it was like a single wound. It was clear and pronounced on the left side of his chest, and Percy could feel it clearly. He couldn't feel an exit wound though. He understood why. The bullets had probably been jacketted 9mm rounds, and Percy's chest was packed full of dense muscle, which stopped the bullet. The slight wheezing tone to his breathing told him that the bullet had gone through his lung before it had stopped. That was probably where the blood in his vomit came from.

He needed to get the bullets out of his chest as soon as possible. If he didn't, then the flesh would heal around it, and it would remain lodged in there. And he felt very aware of the awkward lump of metal, so he just wanted it out. A normal person would need a sterile environment, and a series of tools if they wanted to do this themselves, but Percy, being Percy, didn't need either. He could use long, thin strips of shadows almost like forceps to drag the bullet out, and his healing factor would stop any infection dead in its tracks.

But he did need a place he could go, where no one would hear or disturb him.

He kept moving, looking for a way to change his appearance as much as he could. The present is more important than the future - actions taken now, could stop there being a 'then' at all - so he focused on changing his appearance, over medical attention. If the SAS guys caught up with him, he was done. He'd have to either go with them, or blatantly use his powers to escape. He wasn't sure which would be worse.

The key to taking things surreptitiously, was to do it casually, and confidently. In fact, those 2 traits were basically the key to a great many things in life. As he walked past a kiosk, he swiped a pair of sunglasses off a circular rack, and slipped them on without stopping or even slowing down. The movement was so smooth, no one saw a thing.

He lifted a hoodie off the back of a chair, and a Liverpool FC hat from a nearby table when he walked past an outdoor cafe. Aside from his massive frame, pants, and shoes, he was unrecognizable. Unfortunately, that massive frame was too much to properly disguise. There was simply nothing he could do about it. When he received Chaos' 4th blessing, he'd be able to alter his height by 4 inches, which would bring him down to a far more sensible 6'3, but he didn't have it yet, so he was screwed in that regard.

He did what he could by altering his posture. He stooped and hunched his shoulders, and bent his knees slightly to make him seem a little shorter. He was still pretty big, but it was something at least.

Now that he was disguised as much as possible, he needed to take care of massive blood loss before things got really bad. That meant he needed to get clear of the area. That was easier said than done however. He simply didn't have the energy to shadow travel any distance of significance. He wouldn't end up more than a few meters away. His immediate priority, weas water. It would heal his wounds, to a degree, and it would give him a little bit more energy.

He walked into a cafe, trying very hard to keep all the blood out of anyone's eyeline, and he managed to get to the bathrooms undisturbed. He proceeded to basically bathe in the sink. He splashed water on his face, through his hair, over his arms, and especially over the bullet wounds and broken bones.

It was having an effect, he knew that, but not very much of one. The injuries he had were complex, far from the simple gashes he'd had in Capture the Flag game where he'd first discovered his powers.

But it was better than nothing. At the very least, he had security. There was no way they were going to come into this specific cafe, looking for a violent fugitive who they'd thought was dead until a few minutes ago.

He tried to asses his energy levels. If he could shadow travel any meaningful distance, that would be a huge help. But he couldn't. Not yet. That was going to have to wait a little while.

He figured that getting the bullets out of his chest, would go a long way in allowing him to heal, so he manipulated some shadows in the room into long, thin forceps that he inserted into the wounds, and used to slowly, carefully drag the bullets back out.

Once they were out, Percy held them in his palm for a second, gazing at them. These tiny little chunks of metal could do so much damage. He flushed them down the toilet, and poured tap water directly into the wounds. Using his powers to keep it in there, he used more water to rinse out his clothes, getting rid of most of the blood. Unfortunately, there were two holes in his shirt, but that coudln't really be helped. The hoodie he had borrowed would hopefully hide it, but that was about all he could do.

Percy allowed himself a few more minutes in the bathroom before he left the cafe and rejoined the street traffic. He needed a hotel. Somewhere he could sleep for a few hours, without being in any imminent danger of being found. That meant he couldn't check in anywhere. Aside from the fact that he had no money, there was surely some kind of alert out for him. All it would take, was one clerk to recognise his face, or connect the giant 6'7 man to the one that was currently being hunted by nearby Special Forces.

If he'd had the enrgy to shadow travel far enough, he could have gone to the hotel he'd stayed at in London after the bombings there, but as far as he could remember, the distance between London and LIverpool was over 150 miles, and there was no way he was up to a journey like that.

His only option was to break into a hotel. He had to do it without being seen by anyone too, which limited his options.

After a little over half-an-hour, he found a suitable place. Mid-range, if bordering on the lower side, and very quiet-looking. He went around the back of the building, and examined the back door. It had a keypad. Shit.

There was no way he could disable a keypad. If there had been a simple lock, he could have just picked it, but there was no way for him to simply pluck numbers from the ether. He settled in to wait.

It wasn't a long one though. A few minutes later, a waiter stepped outside for a cigarette. He enjoyed it for a few minutes before dropping it to the ground, crushing it under his heel, and entering the numbers to unlock the door. Using the same method he'd used earlier, Percy noted the sequence of numbers, and moved closer. Using his heightened senses, he waited until the coast was clear behind the door, and entered the first likely combination of numbers. It worked. He was in.

He crept around inside the hotel, hiding in shadows, and ducking behind walls to avoid being seen, but made it successfully to the 4th floor without being detected. The rooms required a keycard to enter, which he didn't have, so he just busted the lock as subtly as he could and hoped no one would notice until he was gone.

The room was fairly standard. Percy had stayed in several that were very much like it, over the years. Compared to the spartan quarters in Chaos' realm, it was the Ritz, but compared to the place he had stayed in during his time in London, it was very basic. But it was a decent enough space, and completely unoccupied, so it was perfect as far as he was concerned.

If asked about it, Percy would immediately put it down to operational and personal security, but in truth it was his paranoia that drove him to drag every moveable piece of furniture in the room, over to the door, barricading it against anyone planning to get inside, no matter how determined. They certainly wouldn't be getting in there without making enough noise to wake up everyone in the hotel, if not the city as a whole. Percy wasn't sure who exactly, he assumed would come breaking down his door, since there literally wasn't a single soul on Earth that knew he was there, but he figured it was better to be safe than sorry.

Once his little redecorating project was finished, he couldn't help but stare at the bed, longingly. He obviously couldn't sleep in it. On the off-chance that someone came in there looking for him, he didn't want to be in the first place they'd look. So, he got on the floor and crawled under the glorious-looking bed, closed his eyes, and instantly fell asleep.

—-

A few hours later, Percy was awake, and he already felt so much better. He could breath without wheezing, which had been really starting to concern him. He stil felt vaguely sick, a bit like he had a head-cold, which he hadn't had in over 30 years, so it definitely felt strange to him.

Crawling out from under the bed, his senses confirming the coast was clear, he started stretching cautiously, eager to keep from injuring himself even more. But, he was surprised to learn, he actually felt pretty good. Good enough for what he had planned.

The last time he'd put a terrorist cell in the middle of the city on the back-burner, a major bombing had taken place, and countless families had been torn apart. That had been a very avoidable tragedy, but he would be damned straight to the Fields of Punishment if he didn't learn from it. It didn't matter if he was injured, or that he had other things that desperately needed his attention; like getting the hell out of the UK. He was going to take care of this before he left.

He still wasn't strong enough to shadow travel back to the US, so he was limited to the resources he had in the country with him. He'd instructed Hazel to leave all their gear in their hotel room, so as long as they hadn't found the room yet, he could access that. It was more than he would need anyway.

Eager to stay off the streets in a country known for having every square millimeter watched by cameras, Precy shadow travelled to an alley behind the hotel, and used his senses to scope out the activity there. It was empty. He wasn't picking up on anything. No surveillance, personal or electronic.

He still took precautions, of course. He entered the building through the back entrance, instead of the front. He took the service elevator, instead of the public ones. He hid in shadows and ducked behind corners every time someone came close to spotting him. But he did make it back to the room he and Hazel had been in. He didn't have the keycard, so he just broke the lock and let himself in. He didn't bother being subtle, as he had with the hotel he'd slept in. He wasn't going to be there for any length of time at all. He coud tell that his room hadn't been searched, but that gave him no comfort. It just meant that they were even more likely to show up there.

The room looked exactly as he and Hazel had left it. Except for one, rather crucial thing. His backpack, the portable armory issued to him by Chaos' Army, was gone. It was not where he had left it. For a few moments, Percy couldn't help but panic. Without that gear, he was going to have to assault the safehouse with nothing but his pistol, knife, and powers. And he was still far from full strength. Far from ideal.

But all became right with the world when he sensed the backpack in the bathroom. The bathroom had a tub in it; an old fashioned kind, that was on little steps, rather than being fused against the wall and floor. Free-standing, he believed the term was. As such, there was a decent gap between it and the floor. And Hazel had stuffed his backpack in there.

Percy couldn't help but feel proud. That was a clever move. If the room had been searched, it was unlikely that anyone but Percy and his heightened senses would find it there. And it was crucial that no mortal ever lay eyes on it. It would open a very messy can of worms if they found out about something like that.

He retrieved the backpack, and planned an assault. With Chaos' Third blessing giving him perfect and permanent night vision, it would give him an inherent, substantial advantage over any enemy. So he would go in at night. To maximise his advantage, he would cut the power to the building before he went in.

Considering the fact that this raid would be taking place in the middle of a highly-populated city, he'd need to keep things as quiet as possible. If he went in full-volume, there would be mass panic, and the damn national guard, or at least the British Equivalent, would be on his heels as soon as he fired the first shot. Silence, was key.

He chose a submachine gun which fired bullets at subsonic speeds, and was equipped with a suppressor. It was, but no means, quiet, but it was a hell of a lot quieter than an assual rifle. The neighbours would definitely hear the sound of it, but they wouldn't immediately assume it was gunfire.

But that in of itself was a backup plan. The main idea would be to sneak through the safehouse with his knife, and only shoot as a last-reserve. Between his knife and his powers, it should be possible to go throug the whole thing quietly, but he would feel a lot more comfortable with the suppressed submachine gun.

Checking the digital alarm cock on the nightstand, Percy saw he had plenty of time to heal up some more. It was 5 o'clock, and it wouldn't even begin to get dark for a few hours. There was no way in hell he'd just sit down and wait for nightfall though. Not in a room that the UKSF teams could come tearing through at any moment. So, he shadow travelled back to the room he'd slept in.

Once he was in there, he could see that no one had found the broken lock. There was no pounding on the door, or calls to maintenance. And his stack of furniture in front of the door was intact, so he didn't have to go about reassembling it.

Because he wasn't planning on sleeping again, Percy allowed himself onto the bed. After the day he'd had, it was the most comfortable thing he had ever felt. Despite himself, he could feel the realm of Morpheus trying to lure him in. For a second, it almost succeeded, but Percy managed to resist it's siren call, and focused on running through his plan for the night.

After what felt like days, the time was right. It was dark enough for his assault. With the suppressed submachine gun slung around his chest, and the knife in his right pocket for easy access, Percy shadow travelled to the alley behind the safehouse, found the fusebox, and cut the power to the building.

Then something weird happened. The 2 dozen people he could sense in there, immediately flipped down and activated nightvision goggles. Not a single one of the other terrorists he had hunted down, had carried nightvision goggles, and even if they had, they certainly wouldn't have been ready to turn them on in an instant, like these guys were.

And then he understood.

There were no terrorists in there. It was a team of SAS or SBS assaulters, waiting for him.

The whole thing had been a set up.

That's why they hadn't hit the safehouse before he'd showed up. The whole thing had been orchestrated to catch him. They had baited the hook, and he'd walked straight into their trap, showing up on the streets of Liverpool with Hazel in tow. They had nearly caught him.

He took a breath and calmed down. It was entirely possible that there had been a legitimate enemy safehouse there, which the UK team had taken down and used to lure him in. Percy figured if they arranged a trap like this, they wouldn't have wanted it to be on their home turf. They would prefer to get him somewhere else. Somewhere with fewer of their taxpayers to worry about.

But he had still fallen for it.

Then he had another thought.

If the UK team had been ready with those night vision goggles, then they had to suspect that he might cut the power. And if they felt that was a possibility likely enough to be worth wearing NVGs, then it would also be worth putting a sniper on a rooftop with line-of-sight on the fusebox.

Cursing himself, Percy immediately sprinted away from the kill zone, ran into a nearby building, confirmed it was clear of any surveillance, and shadow travelled away, feeling dumber than he had in years.

—-

Percy spent another few days in Liverpool, healing from the gun shot wounds and broken bones. He'd spoken to Hazel over an Iris Message to let her know that he was ok, and he'd be back soon. He told her about his blatant oversight regarding the safehouse, and she assured him it wasn't his fault. Whether she was right or wrong, he knew one thing for sure. Next time, he'd do a lot more research before committing to a target.

The whole experience had showed him one thing of value though. He could rely on Hazel. When he'd told her to abort, she'd broken off without a word. When he'd told her to get out of the country, she had. Addmitedly, she'd tried to argue against him, but she had ultimately done what he'd asked. And hiding the backpack as she had, was good thinking on her part, completely separate from anything he'd showed or taught her. Overall, she'd come out of the whole thing, looking a lot better than him.

His return to his Squad's camp was not a triumphant one. He felt like he had failed. It made him question if he was ready to be doing stuff like this on his own. Chaos had seemed to think so, when she'd sent him on this mission. But how successful had he even been? Sure, he was getting closer to the top of the organisation he was supposed to be dismantling, bt it had taken a lot longer than anyone had originally foreseen. The original plan, had been for him to do it in 6 months. He had been there for almost 2 years by then. The original plan had also called for no contact with the Olympians. That part he had well and truly, fucked.

Percy supposed he could say that certain unforeseen complications had arose. The Giants organising armies into camps scattered around the country, demanding urgent attention, had split his focus. Not to mention the horrific injuries he'd endured the first time he'd faced them, that had left him paralysed from the waist down for so long. Then, most recently and most devastatingly, he'd buried a dear friend, whose death had weighed on him and his friends so brutally. He'd had a lot on his plate since he'd returned to Earth.

But the more he went over it in his head, the more all that started to sound like excuses. He'd come home, and almost immediately been distracted from his mission by his old life. Maybe this had all been a test, on Chaos' part. Maybe she was trying to see how he would react, if something came up on one of his missions when he was a full member of her Army. If that was the case, he had already failed miserably.

How had everything gone so wrong? He was so distracted by everything going on, he'd walked straight into an ambush today. Worse, an ambush orchestrated by mortals. Sure, they were UK Special Forces - probably the best in the world - but still mortals. He was supposed to be better. And he probably was, at the end of the day. When he was concentrating on the problems ahead of him, instead of a million different things at once.

"Percy? You ok?" a soft voice asked.

He turned, and saw Artemis standing next to him. He hadn't even noticed her there until she'd spoken. Another notch in his underperformance belt.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You're lying," she said simply.

'Fantastic, now I can't even successfully lie to Artemis. Shit, I really am screwing up,' he thought.

"How do you expect me to feel, Artemis? I led my friend straight into a trap. If I hadn't noticed those patrols outside the safehouse, we'd both be in prison or dead right now."

She nodded, "Yeah, I know how you feel."

"No, you don't," he snarked back.

An elegant, auburn eyebrow rose, "Oh really? You think I've never gotten one of my hunters killed? Or do you think I have, but I just don't feel bad about it? Just how much are you insulting me right now?"

He looked down and let out a sigh of frustration.

"I'm not trying to insult you at all. I'm sorry, you're right."

She smiled a little.

"You've had a long few days, so I'll forgive you," she narrowed her eyes semi-playfully, "This time."

He tried a smile, but it was too half-hearted to be in any way believable.

"Look, what's important is that you're both ok now. Hazel made it back safe and sound, adn you definitely took some hits, but you're ok."

"Yeah, I know… But what happens next time? What if I'm a little slower, and they ID Hazel? She'd have to spend the rest of her life hiding from basically every government on Earth. That is, if they don't kill her or arrest her before she even gets the chance to run."

"If something happens to Hazel, we'll protect her from any mortals that try to come for her."

He sighed again, "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

"Percy, I think you're being way too hard on yourself. This happened, learn from it and move on. You'll do better next time. And then you'll do even better the time after that. That's how life works."

He smiled more genuinely now, "The immortal Goddess is giving me life advise? That's interesting."

Said goddess rolled her eyes, "I can see why they call you Seaweed Brain."

They didn't say anything for a little while after that. It was a stunningly clear night, and they just stared at the stars together, pondering their respective existances. One thing was for sure. Percy felt better now that he had spoken to Artemis.

He turned to look at her, and couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. She looked back at him and matched his expression.

Hesitating slightly, he reached forwards and embraced her in a chaste hug. He felt her freeze for a second, likely battling millenia-old instincts that were, no doubt, screaming at her to kill him painfully. But then she relaxed slightly, and put her arms around his torso, holding him gently.

They stayed that way for a while, more comfortable with each other than either would have expected. Percy never would have thought he'd find comfort like that in Artemis' arms, but with his face resting in the crook of her neck, inhalingthe fresh scent that she seemed to permanently exude, he felt himself getting calmer by the second. If he was honest with himself, Percy really needed that hug. He couldn't be entirely sure, but he suspected Artemis needed it too, whether she'd admit it or not. So they just held each other, supporting one another without any words spoken.

Eventually she pulled away, and offered him one last smile before walking away to take care of whatever needed doing at that moment. Percy stayed, enjoying the residual warmth she had left behind, and found himself really glad she'd come over to talk to him, for no other reason but to make him feel a little better about himself.

A/N: Alright, that's a wrap. It's been a hot minute since the last one, because I've been working on some other stuff; mainly future chapters that I had a sudden shot of inspiration for. You'll see them in a little while. I can't actually remember what the inspiration for this chapter was, when I started writing it. It might have been the Gray Man book I was reading at the moment. Anyway, my goal with this, was to show a more human side to Percy. He's been kind of a baddass thus far, and even though there have been plenty of set backs, like the fight with the Giants that ended in him temporarily losing the use of his legs, there hasn't been anything quite like this so far. Nothing trade-craft-y like this. And at the very end, I felt like it was important to show the vulnerable side of him. We're all human, and we all have moments of self-doubt. I also felt that Artemis was a good choice to help him get out of his funk.

But anyway. Hope you're all doing well. Stay safe.