Previously, on TAC...

"If you mess up, it punishes you." Percy waited for Tyson to elaborate, but Tyson seemed to be waiting for Percy to ask. Finally, he said, "Just don't mess up. Take your shirt off in water and keep it on around land people. That's all."

Percy crossed his arms. He was going to have to drag it out of Tyson. "I need to know what will happen," he said grouchily.

Tyson brought his eye up to meet Percy's momentarily, then sighed. "It'll hurt. Owie."

Percy scowled. "That's all?"

"A lot. Like a warning. To get you to do what you're supposed to do. If you don't fix it, it'll get on fire." Tyson mimicked an explosion with his hands, completed with sound effects.

Hudson held his ribs, fighting through his laughter. "Okay, okay, so even if you could actually do that-"

"–which you can't," East interjected.

"–it still wouldn't matter," Hudson continued. "The garbage pours in every single day."

Finally, he crashed through the surface, rising up in a personal water tornado, and the funnel of ash that he had created erupted beside him. The boiling water vaporized into the air, creating plumes of smoke that smelled horrendous–like the worst sewage Percy had ever smelled in his life. He kept the funnel open and bade the fumes through until nothing more came out, pulling his shirt from his back pocket to cover his mouth, nose, and eyes. He couldn't stop coughing, even after it had dispersed.

She shook her head. "How did you cause a volcanic eruption?" she asked, puzzled.

"I was incinerating garbage in it," he explained. "I've been cleaning up the New York coastline. There was an obscene amount of trash there, and I think it overwhelmed the volcano."

Chapter Text

"Fuck my life!" Percy howled, kicking the garbage in frustration. The pile of rubbish before him burst as his foot plowed into it, billowing outwards in a slow-motion underwater explosion. Calli flinched backward but remained close by his side, enveloped in his halo of clean water.

"It's like this all around the island," she said gloomily. "The guardians are getting angry about it."

"Well, why haven't they said anything to me?" he exploded, turning to face her. Her expression made him instantly regret yelling.

"I'm sorry," he said more gently.

She shook her head. "I get it, but I don't know what to do. They're starting to talk like it's hopeless. They don't know why you haven't gotten rid of it."

Indignation spiked in him like a fever breaking. "I didn–" he began to shout, then checked himself. "I didn't know the Wasteland had gotten this bad again," he said as evenly as he could through gritted teeth.

"I know," Calli cooed, laying a reassuring hand on his arm. He took several deep breaths, his shoulders beginning to relax. "But hey, maybe now you can get rid of it."

He knotted his fist in his hair at the top of his head. "I don't know. I just don't know what to do about it," he said, defeat creeping into his voice. "When I incinerated it, it caused a bunch of earthquakes. That almost killed people." He released his grip on his hair and shook his hands in front of his face. "I feel like I can't in good conscience do that again. I just–I just can't."

Calli nodded sweetly. "Okay."

"And it released all these toxins into the water. And air. It was just so…toxic, and radioactive, and had been festering for decades, and a lot of it was basically cancerous sludge."

Calli blinked rapidly, a gleam in her eyes. "Well, good news, then. The trash we have now isn't like that at all, yet."

The wheels in his brain clicked into gear. He turned around again and regarded the piled-up garbage with newfound curiosity.

"If it's just normal trash," he said slowly, "then maybe I can take it where normal trash goes."

Calli looked up out of the corner of her eyes in confusion. "Um, where?"

He crossed his arms, looking up toward the surface of the water, and explained, "Well, on land, garbage goes to the dump."

Calli scowled. "You mean like those garbage barges that pollute the sea?" she spat spitefully. "Or the landfills on the edge of our waters?" Her eyes, looking into the distance, narrowed resentfully, then focused in on Percy's dumbstruck face. "You do realize that's where most of this garbage comes from, don't you?"

He blinked. "No, I didn't."

She softened, seemingly against her will, but he realized he didn't want her to. Something about her getting up in arms about things like this made her feel more real to him. He liked seeing her passionate.

"There's one landfill in particular that I think is the main culprit," she said. "I've never seen it, but Theros has."

"Do you know where it is?" he asked earnestly. She arched an eyebrow. "Could you show me?"

Never breaking his gaze, she reached for his hand and laced her fingers in between his, and they melted into the water.

They surfaced at the end of the Sound, a distance from the shore, but he could see instantly what she had been referring to. On the edge of the Queens shore sat an enormous landfill, teeming with refuse. There was no wall or fence or any barrier whatsoever around the waste; it mingled with the edge of the water as the waves lapped to and fro. Percy wrinkled his nose.

"It's disgusting, isn't it?" she said.

"It's unacceptable."

They locked eyes, her mouth twitching into a breathtaken smile.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

He raised his chin. "Whatever I have to do to end this."

Summoning his chariot surfboard, he raised himself atop it, pulling back on his shirt. He swam toward the landfill, letting the water swell behind him until it could propel him the rest of the way there. He raised himself to stand, then caused the water beneath his board to rise, and rise, and continue to rise until it crashed over the side of the dump, pushing the wretched refuse along the edges inland and depositing Percy in its midst. He dismissed his board with the press of a button and looked around him. He could hear the whine of stray dogs out of sight. It seemed like he was alone–and he didn't trust that. Someone had to be working here.

He was no longer summoning them, but waves continued to crash violently against the edge of the shore, as if itching to envelope him in their fury. He soaked in the salty spray on his face as he stomped through the two-story high piles of garbage, feeling as if the ground were slightly shaking with every step he took. He heard something crinkle underfoot behind him and spun on his heel to face a stray dog, some mid-sized terrier mix, watching him with hungry eyes. Percy relaxed his fists, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from the animal. Something in its eyes seemed eerily human, like the dog were sizing him up, judging his character. Suddenly, the dog turned and pointed, and, following its gaze, Percy saw a wide path through the rubbish that had clearly been trodden before, as if something large had carved a tunnel.

"Is there someone there?" Percy asked the beast. The dog didn't move, save to deepen its stance, stretching its neck forward as far as it would reach. "Oh. Okay." Percy nodded awkwardly at the dog. "Thank you?"

Relaxing, the dog walked in a circle, then sat down and thumped its tail on the ground, looking expectantly at Percy. When Percy took a step forward to take the path, the dog darted forward, leading the way, and Percy curiously followed.

The path wound through several mounds of garbage to a small, clearer space, save for a large bathtub. Out of a pile of trash into that space jutted a large, industrial-size section of PVC pipe, large enough even for a man to fit inside. Lying inside, in fact, was a man, but he was unlike any man Percy had ever seen. Out of his arms near his elbows grew fish's fins, and his legs seemed webbed together by fishlike scales, almost as if he had been stopped halfway into a transformation into a merman. He was impossibly old with long, stringy gray hair, covered in dirt and grime, and absent-mindedly petting another dog. Several other strays lounged around the clearing, either chewing up garbage or laying in the sun. A couple of them barked as Percy approached, but the man seemed to take no notice of his presence.

"Excuse me," Percy said forcefully, "What are you doing here?"

The man snorted. Without looking up, he replied, "Laying."

Percy shifted on his feet. "I mean, what do you do here? Why are you here?"

"I lay. And to lay."

Percy shook his head in frustration. The man spoke with such smug contempt, as if Percy were beneath engaging with.

"Look," he said, "I need to find out who's in charge of this place, and if there are any other people around. Are you in charge here? Or do you know who is?"

"Answer me this," the man said, finally tearing his gaze away from his dog to meet Percy's eyes. "Can a man truly be in charge of garbage?"

Percy blinked. "I mean, like, who is in charge of what happens to it. Obviously."

"And what happens to it?" the mysterious man challenged.

"Well, it slips off into the ocean, for one thing," Percy replied, anger rising to his voice.

"Yes, indeed," the man mused, scratching the dog behind the ear. The mutt automatically thumped his foot with glee. "It slips off the edge into the water, or it piles up here on land, and it gets crushed in the compactor, or the recyclables get collected and reincarnated into some other objects of use. And after a time, the men who determine what happens to all of it die, yet the garbage lives on."

The man pushed himself upright, leaning back against the curve of the pipe, his frail frame hunched over and spindly. Percy could tell he was just getting going. "Men spend so much of their lives accumulating material possessions, hoarding goods and wealth and objects. All of it–all of it–is nothing more than future garbage. All of it is waste that fools flaunt for status. And all of it–all of this plastic nonsense–outlives each and every last one of us."

Percy was dumbstruck. He tilted his head, examining the strange old man.

"So, you don't protect this place?" he asked.

The man scoffed. "I don't care for this waste any more than you do." He turned again to Percy, his amber eyes piercing through him. "I can see that you despise this rubbish. If you seek to do something about it, you mustn't waste your breath on sympathetic ears. Go out there, to the city, and work to change the hearts and minds of mortal men. Waste ends here, but it must start elsewhere."

Percy's forehead knotted. "What are you?"

He smiled. "Some call me a fool. Some call me a genius, a bum, a philosopher, an eccentric. A Cynic. A featherless biped."

"But you're not mortal," Percy probed.

"And how do you define mortal?" the man asked.

Percy shook his head. This guy asked too many high-minded questions, but all Percy was really interested in was answers. "Who are you?" he said simply, eliciting a satisfied smirk from the old sage.

"In addition to the aforementioned list, I'm also called Diogenes," he responded.

Percy tried to think, but if that name was supposed to mean something to him, he had clearly missed the memo. Nevertheless, he strode forward and held out his hand to the man.

"Percy Jackson. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

The old man scoffed, eyeing Percy's hand with derision. "You're no more pleased than I am your acquaintance. Seeing as we are surrounded by similar garbage, you can, accordingly, dispose with the pleasantries."

Percy haltingly withdrew his hand, then backed away, perturbed. Unsure, he muttered, "It's just a courtesy."

"Bah!" he cried, emerging from his pipe. "I assume you haven't heard of me."

Diogenes said it so plainly, it was difficult for Percy to determine whether he was offended or amused or simply indifferent. The young demigod watched the man teeter to his feet, webbed together, and waddle over to the bathtub.

"Do you need help?" Percy asked, starting toward him, but the man wove him off.

"I have 'need' of nothing from others." Reaching the edge of the tub, Diogenes sat on the edge and slowly lowered himself inside the water, which itself was filthy and gray. Squeamish, Percy looked away. "I have lived my whole life without meeting you," the old man continued. "Why should I need help from you now? When a man fancies himself a hero, suddenly, all upon whom he lays eyes seem in need of saving."

Percy blinked. "So, you've heard of me?"

Diogenes merely snorted, sinking lower into the water and leaning his head back to bask in the sun.

Percy shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He was unsure how to ask, so, with trepidation, he said, "So, do you know…about…my conflict with my father?" He walked around the side of the bathtub so as to be in the old man's line of sight.

With a deep sigh, not bothering to look at Percy, Diogenes replied, "I know of all men's conflict with their fathers. I, of course, do not know your particulars."

"Oh, I just thought you might have heard…" Percy trailed off, thinking better of it. "What have you heard about me?"

Diogenes looked up, as if about to speak, then promptly got distracted by a stray dog bringing him a crumpled-up Wendy's take-out bag in its mouth. Percy watched in disgust as the old man eagerly plucked the bag from the dog's mouth and pulled out the warm, moldy remnants of someone's discarded meal. It looked like it had once been a junior bacon cheeseburger. Yet again, Percy looked to the sky as the philosopher bit into his burger, taking in the reflection of the setting sun on the cover of clouds and willing his stomach not to turn. He thought he was pretty good at handling gross things, but this bizarre man's mannerisms threatened to be too much.

Grunting as he swallowed, Diogenes finally answered his question. "Just your name and that you would come here," he said. "And, seeing as you walked up to me and gave me your name, it seems that it was a worthless bit of prophecy." Wiping mustard from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, he muttered, "I loathe redundancies."

Percy scowled, snapping his head back to Diogenes. "A prophecy? Who told you I would be here?"

He had already wolfed down the burger in what had to be record time, and he was now shoving stale fries down his throat. "My teacher," he said between bites, his voice muffled. "He's usually here by now. Just wait a minute."

Percy slipped his hand casually into his pocket that held Riptide. "Who's your teacher?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Peace, boy," Diogenes said flippantly. "You love the sea? So does he."

As if on cue, Percy felt a sea breeze rush into his back, and he spun around to face another old man with a scraggly gray beard, fins on his arms, and half-webbed legs, just like Diogenes. He stared through Percy with his grayish green eyes, and Percy felt as if this man could read his soul like a book. After a few moments, it became clear he was not going to speak first.

Percy cleared his throat. "Um, you must be Diogenes's teacher?"

The new man dipped his head. "Yes. I am Glaucus. I have been expecting you."

"Expecting me?" Percy asked cautiously. "What do you mean?"

Glaucus folded his hands behind his back and explained, "I am a savior of sailors and a prophet of the sea. I was born a mortal and became a fisherman by trade until I one day discovered an herb that could bring fish back to life." Hovering in a small spring of water that buoyed himself from under his webbed feet, Glaucus began to pace in the small clearing, patting the head of a stray dog as he passed. "Out of curiosity, I tried the herb, and it deformed me into the half-creature you see before you. But, it also granted me immortality."

"So, are you a god?" Percy asked.

"Zeus made me a minor deity of the sea. I have immortality, but I am not immune to the effects of aging. I made a home on the island of Delos, where, along with the original Nereids, I would give prophecies to travelers and come to the rescue of sailors in need."

Percy perked up. "You know the nereids?"

"Only the original fifty," Glaucus said dismissively. "Your father's wife, for one."

Percy tilted his head. "And you see prophecies? Like Apollo?"

The wizened god smiled wryly. "I taught that youngster the gift of prophecy, child."

"Oh," Percy said, taken aback.

"He took to the training quite well, despite his arrogance," Glaucus said with a hint of amusement. "Not everyone has what it takes to learn the gift of foresight."

Percy scrunched up his forehead in thought. "So, if you taught Apollo, then who taught you? Or–did you have to learn?"

Glaucus paused in his pacing, looking out in the direction of the sea. With a sigh, he replied, "Oceanus and Tethys taught me."

Feeling his heart begin to slam against his ribs, Percy drew his sword in a flash and pointed it at the god. "Is that why you were waiting for me?" he demanded, feeling his skin crawl as several of the dogs around him yelped.

"Put down your weapon," Glaucus said wearily. "You misunderstand."

"In terms of thinking, he is still a child," Diogenes said to his teacher, raising himself from the bathtub and slipping over its side. "He still views the world through the lens of what is customary. He does not yet think for himself."

"Hey, that's not true," Percy protested, keeping his sword raised. "I do think for myself. Especially when it comes to the titans and the gods. I've put in a lot more thought than most people have."

Rolling his eyes, Diogenes turned his back, hobbled over to the edge of the garbage, and began to pee on the side of the pile. Percy winced. It wasn't that he was prudish. Far from it; nudity and various states of semi-nudity were so common under the sea that he had started to become acclimated to it. Styx, he had even walked in on Anastasia bathing in the oasis waterfall once, and after she ruthlessly teased him, he got over his discomfort real quick. However, public urination seemed like perhaps a step too far.

Percy looked back toward Glaucus and realized that he had let his sword arm go slightly slack. The god's eyes looked soft, for some reason–could it be sympathy? Nevertheless, Percy stiffened his arm again and took a step forward.

"Tell me what you want from me," he said.

Glaucus shook his head with pity. "Percy, I left Delos to come here. Why do you think I would want to live in this dump?"

Percy's eyes narrowed. He had learned from Diogenes not to take the bait when a philosopher asks a question. Instead, he waited in silence for the god to continue.

"I have seen visions," Glaucus said, "of things that have passed and things to come. I have seen you, gathering garbage from the coast and bringing it to this place. I have seen a great many people under the sea turn against your father. I have seen my former mentors, corrupted beyond recognition, spewing hatred in their quest for power."

Percy hesitated. Inch by inch, he slowly lowered his sword as he studied the old man's face. "Have you seen their war?" he asked, his voice low.

Glaucus seemed disappointed. "It is not for a prophet to take part in a war. I cannot take a side, nor can I tell you what is to pass. But believe me when I say, boy, that your fight is not with me."

The way he said your fight was foreboding, his words loaded with meaning.

"So, then," Percy said slowly, "why did you want to meet me here?"

This seemed to be the right question; Glaucus perked up, as if pleased. "I am the patron god of sailors. I watch over them as they launch from the shore and return to it right here from this perch. Yet, this rubbish threatens to overtake the shore and impede their ingress and egress, poisoning their waters. I have seen visions of you saving this shore. And this is exactly the place to do so."

"Really?" Percy's tough demeanor slipped momentarily, despite himself, and he couldn't stop a trace of eagerness from rising to his voice. "What do I need to do?"

"There is one more being here you need to meet," Glaucus responded. "He is the guardian of this landfill, and also well versed in prophecy. Stay your weapon; he is neutral in the current conflict. If you wish to prevent further pollution, you must speak to him."

Warily, Percy capped his sword but clutched it in his pocket. He allowed the god to lead him through the tunnels between piles of garbage, wondering who and what this mysterious being would be.

"By the way, don't mention my former pupil to him," Glaucus called casually over his shoulder. "They have a, er, history."

Diogenes trailed behind with the aid of a pair of crutches, absentmindedly petting the dogs and throwing scraps of garbage for them to chase. The strays ran around the trio in excitement, and a couple would run up to Percy's side and yap at him to coax him to play every now and again. Glaucus smiled.

"It seems the dogs are fond of you," he remarked.

Percy shrugged, patting one of the mangy dogs on the head. "I like animals."

"Dogs are the finest animals," Diogenes declared from behind them. "They're everything men should be. They don't burden themselves with manners and customs and politesse. They cut right through the bullshit and read a person's soul to determine friend or foe."

"They are excellent judges of character," Glaucus agreed with a perfunctory nod.

With a few whimpers, the dogs that were frolicking alongside the trio began to shrink off, one by one, turning back or disappearing among the rubbish as if unwilling to continue.

"Perhaps that is why they don't prefer the Dump Lord," Diogenes cracked wise.

Glaucus picked up the pace, pulling forward toward an opening between two particularly high piles of garbage, but before he could arrive where he was going, the ground beneath them began to rumble. It was not a rumble like the kind that occasionally accompanied Percy's steps when he was angry; it was more so as if something enormous were scraping along the ground. A shadow began to cloud the sky, and Percy looked up to see the head of the most gigantic snake he had ever laid eyes upon rising up over the trash piles to gaze at them below. In the soft light of the setting sun, it was difficult at first glance to make out the snake's appearance apart from its glowing amber eyes, but as Percy shielded his own and squinted, he could see that the monstrous beast was covered in iridescent purple scales and had a mouth that was, conveniently, about Percy-sized, if not slightly larger. The beast's gaze rested upon the trio, and, curiously, his forked tongue flicked out of his mouth, as if to better sense them.

"Greetings, Python," Glaucus shouted, halting in his advance and backing up a few paces to better take in the monster. "We bring you a visitor to judge."

Percy's head snapped toward Glaucus. To judge? Had he been deceived?

"It ssssseemsss what you foretold wasssss correct," the great snake hissed, lowering its head ever so slightly to peer at Percy. "The sssssson of Posssseidon hassss arrived, indeed."

Looking back over his shoulder at Percy, Glaucus gave him a nod and urged, "Tell him what you came here for, Percy Jackson."

Swallowing, Percy announced, "I am here on behalf of the water spirits of the shore. I am on a mission to clean up these waters. I want to get rid of the garbage and keep them from becoming polluted again."

Python cocked his scaly head to the side. "Ssssuch a noble goal. But I am only interessssted in ssssincccerity."

"It's true," Percy protested. "I care about these waters. I'm a native New Yorker. This is part of my home."

Diogenes rolled his eyes and brashly hobbled forward, scratching under his arm with a shard of a discarded chicken bone. "He was accepted wholeheartedly by the dogs, for what it's worth. They judged him worthy enough to bring to me, and they found his character to be trustworthy enough for comfort."

This, Python seemed to give great weight, drawing back in thought.

"Remember the visions I related to you," Glaucus added.

"Hmmm," the great snake murmured in thought. From the side, a pointy appendage loomed out from around a mountain of trash, and Percy realized with horror as it extended toward him that it was Python's tail. He took an impulsive step backward but then thought against it. As he stiffened, the tip of the enormous snake's tail halted inches from his forehead and twitched as Python closed his eyes. Percy felt a phantom sensation on his forehead, as if his nerves were prepared for a touch that never arrived, and all his awareness was brought to his brain. He almost felt as if he could sense Python rummaging around in his mind, searching for anything damning. After a moment that felt like an eternity, the snake withdrew his tail.

"He issss telling the truth, but only partly," he announced. "He came here today intending to desssstroy thissss placcce."

Percy's stomach flipped, but he steeled himself. He might as well own up to it. He hadn't completely written off the idea yet, anyway.

"This dump is a scourge upon the beach," he said, straightening his back. "There's nothing to separate it from the water. Garbage just piles and piles up here, and some of it slips off into the sea and pollutes it." Looking around him at the filth, he flung his arms wide and said, "What am I supposed to do? What is the point of this place, anyway?"

Python narrowed his eyes at Percy. "You may look down on my home, but it has itsss usssessss." Arching his serpentine body, Python hunched over, and, horrifically, the scales on his back seemed to erupt, giving forth to a slimy, newborn appendage that grew in size and feathers as Percy watched. As it transformed into a full-fledged wing, Python extended it to sweep up a large swatch of trash and hold it aloft for the young demigod to see. "Where many mortalsss sssee trash, I sssee potential. I make a handsssome profit from their wassstefulnessssss."

He let the garbage slowly slip through the folds of his wings to the pile below, regarding Percy with a cool gaze as his tongue flicked out of his mouth once again.

Percy studied the serpent's expression but was unsure how to read him. "So, you have a business relationship with the mortals here?" he probed.

As if sensing his concerns, the snake flicked his tail as if to wave away his doubts. "I do not bear the sssame ssssentimentsss as the titansss do," he said flippantly, looking out to the sky, a crafty smile forming at his mouth. "I know who your father isss, and how hisss enemy feelsss. I have no part in thisss coming war. With foresssight comesss a resssponsssibility to think carefully, to hold back, to withdraw. I do not insssert myssself prematurely. I know when to bide my time."

"We see the world differently than you do, Percy," Glaucus explained gently. "You see yourself as a citizen of Manhattan, of greater New York, of Atlantis, perhaps, and even of Olympus. But we prophets and Cynics don't view the world through the lens of the arbitrary borders you feel constrained to."

"We are not citizens of any one city or nation or faction," Diogenes declared. "We are cosmopolitans."

"Citizens of the world." Glaucus spread his arms wide. "We, accordingly, have no interest in war. True cosmopolitans would see that we are all part of the same community, all cogs in the same grand machine. We are all interdependent on one another." He turned his gaze up toward the great monster. "Those with precognition know it best."

Percy kept his eyes trained on Python's lamplike ones, which now gazed out past them to sea. He got an unsettling feeling from the being, and the feeling festered in the pit of his stomach, fostering his discomfort, but he made an effort to push past it. For better or for worse, Python was staying out of the current conflict between the gods and the titans. He wasn't an enemy or an ally. He was simply, for the time being, a businessman. Percy could work with that.

He cleared his throat. "I respect your neutrality, and I won't destroy your business here." Python's amber eyes flashed as they cut to Percy, and he thought he detected amusement in his narrow slits. "You said you see potential in trash. What kind of potential could the trash in the sea hold for you?" Stepping forward, he lifted his chin and said, his voice booming, "Let's cut a deal."

~.

Percy paused at the edge of the dump, his toes hanging off the end of the garbage pile balanced along the shore, and looked out to the Sound. The water lapped against the side of the dump, and with its indiscriminate curiosity, it swallowed scraps of floating garbage in its incessant pull. The anger in the wind and waves had died down, but Percy could feel that old, familiar tug in his gut. He had walked away from his meeting with Python victoriously, but he wasn't done here.

Focusing on the water before him, the surface almost completely littered with floating trash, he stepped forward, willing the liquid to consolidate under his tread. He walked out until the surface of the ocean was visible and relatively garbage-free, and he turned. As he spun on his heel, the water around his foot spiraled around him, and although he stopped, the sea did not. It continued its rotation around him, churning so intensely that it propelled him up, up on a cyclone of saltwater that enveloped his legs and held him aloft so that he could see the dump and all its teeming refuse. The tugging in his stomach grew so powerful that, for a moment, it was all he could sense.

Raising his wrist, he pressed a button on his watch, and the end of a glowing green net appeared in his hands. The water carried him to the left around the edge of the junk until he was once again at the edge of the land, and, raising himself to the highest point of the mountain of trash, he tied a corner of the net to a large metal pole protruding from the heap. He affixed the other corner of the end of the net to the platform the garbage rested upon and, pulling the net from his watch as he went, he gathered all of the floating garbage he could in his wake as he dragged the net to the far-right end of the dump. When he finally reached that end, he drew Riptide and severed the net from his watch. The green glow faded as Percy affixed the other ends to the dump.

He drew backward and took in his work, crossing his arms. The net was strained, surely, but its craftsmanship was unparalleled. He felt reasonably confident that it would hold.

Looking down, he was startled to see that he was no longer standing in a cyclone of swirling water. Instead, around his waist slowly churned a tiny personal hurricane. It was small and meager, to be sure, but far more foreboding than any water tornado. The strength of the water and the winds that came off it were enough to keep anyone that might question his doings at bay. He wasn't sure how he had done it, or how to replicate it, but he found himself recoiling from the power in the possibilities it held. The arms of the hurricane slowed even further, then faltered, then collapsed in on themselves. He dropped, flailing, to the water, fumbling for his shirt. He was not quick enough to take off his shirt before he submerged, unfortunately, and the intensity of the resulting pain was so arresting that he found himself struggling all the more to remove the garment. His eyes watered and blurred so that he could not see what he was doing; his hands could not make sense of what they were feeling; the searing pain felt like broiling chemicals were being held to the open wound, and the feeling spread throughout his body. His brain felt like it was on fire. He knew, somehow, that he had not much longer before his body physically would be, too.

Suddenly, he felt small, sure hands pull the shirt off his body. Through black spots in his vision, he caught a glimpse of what seemed to be an angel.

"Calli," he gasped.

She wrapped her arms around him and held him as he struggled to get his breathing under control. The pain had vanished once the mark was displayed, but he was still quivering, and he realized that his hands were still clutching at his chest, his fingernails digging into the skin around the mark as if hanging on for dear life. He lowered his face to rest his forehead on her shoulder.

"It's okay," she cooed, "you're okay. I've got you, Percy. You're okay."

Slowly, breathlessly, he wrapped his arms around her as well.