Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: Prepare yourself

Percy Jackson had seen more in his eighteen years than most people would in a lifetime. He had walked through hell—literally—and come out the other side, but sometimes he wondered if he’d left a piece of himself behind. Standing at 6 feet tall, his frame now carried the kind of muscle that came from years of fighting for his life, not just from working out. His roguish looks, strikingly similar to his father Poseidon if he had no beard, made him turn heads on campus, though Percy was too focused on his own thoughts to notice.

New York University was supposed to be a fresh start, a chance to live a “normal” life, whatever that meant. But as Percy walked through the bustling campus, he couldn’t help but feel like an outsider, a soldier misplaced in a world of students who had no idea what real danger looked like. He had faced Titans, gods, and the literal embodiment of the Earth, yet here he was, struggling to adjust to the day-to-day life of a college student.

Classes were a particular challenge. Percy was fluent in Ancient and Modern Greek, as well as Latin, skills that had been essential in his previous life. Yet, sitting through lectures on ancient history or philosophy made him feel like he was being forced to relive memories he’d rather forget. The professors talked about myths and legends as if they were distant stories, while Percy knew them as all too real, having lived them.

And then there were the people. Percy had always been sociable, quick with a joke and easy to get along with. But these days, he found himself withdrawing, feeling a disconnect he couldn’t quite explain. His classmates chatted about weekend plans, internships, and social media, but Percy’s mind was often elsewhere, haunted by memories of battles fought and friends lost. He was like a war veteran trying to fit into a world that hadn’t changed while he had.

At least he had Rachel Elizabeth Dare. She was the one constant in his life that made things bearable. They had known each other since his early days at Camp Half-Blood, and their friendship had only grown stronger over the years. Rachel had left the camp after the war, deciding to focus on her own life, but she visited regularly, keeping in touch with both the mortal and demigod worlds. At NYU, she was his anchor, the one person who understood the duality of his existence.

“Percy!” Rachel called out, jogging over to him as he exited his Ancient Greek class. Her bright red hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, and she was wearing her usual eclectic mix of clothes that somehow always managed to look cool on her.

Percy smiled, genuinely glad to see her. “Hey, Rachel. What’s up?”

“Not much,” she said, falling into step beside him. “Just finished an art history class. I swear, if I have to listen to one more lecture about the significance of shadows in Renaissance paintings, I’m going to start seeing them everywhere.”

Percy chuckled. “You’re the one who wanted to study art.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved him off with a grin. “But enough about me. How are you holding up?”

Percy hesitated, not wanting to burden her with his problems, but Rachel had a way of seeing right through him. “I’m… adjusting,” he said finally. “It’s weird, you know? Being here, trying to act like everything’s normal when it’s not.”

Rachel nodded, her expression softening. “I get it. It’s hard to switch off that part of yourself, especially after everything you’ve been through. But you’re doing great, Percy. You just need time.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Percy glanced around at the throngs of students milling about, laughing and chatting like they didn’t have a care in the world. He envied them, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of resentment. They were so blissfully ignorant of the dangers that lurked just out of sight. Dangers he had spent years fighting.

Rachel must have sensed his thoughts because she nudged him with her elbow. “Hey, you’re not alone in this, okay? You’ve got me, and there are still plenty of people at camp who care about you. And don’t forget, you’ve got a whole life ahead of you. There’s more to it than fighting monsters.”

“Right,” Percy said, forcing a smile. “More to life than monsters.”

But even as he said it, he knew that life wasn’t done throwing monsters at him. It never was.

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, heading toward the student union where they often grabbed coffee together. Rachel kept the conversation light, talking about her latest art project, and Percy tried to focus on what she was saying. But his mind kept drifting back to the feeling of unease that had been gnawing at him for days. It was like the calm before a storm, and Percy had learned to trust his instincts.

As they approached the coffee shop, Percy caught sight of his reflection in the glass window. He barely recognized himself sometimes. The boy he used to be was gone, replaced by someone older, harder, with eyes that had seen too much. He looked like his father now, like the god he’d only seen a handful of times. Tall, strong, with the same unruly black hair and sea-green eyes that could pierce through the deepest waters.

But it wasn’t just his appearance that had changed. His powers had grown, too, in ways that still surprised him. He could do things now that he hadn’t even dreamed of before Tartarus. He now could manipulate blood as easy as he could manipulate water. Solidifying water was another of his newfound abilities as well as vapor traveling, the same travel methos his father used when he turned into sea breeze to appear and disappear from a place. Controlling storms and lightning with a flick of his wrist was child´s play for him and in the end he was stronger than ever. But with that power came a sense of isolation. Who could understand what it felt like to hold the sea in the palm of your hand? To command the earth itself?

They ordered their drinks and found a table by the window. Rachel sipped her latte, studying Percy with those bright green eyes that saw more than most people. “You know, if you ever need to talk, really talk, I’m here,” she said softly.

“I know,” Percy replied, his voice equally quiet. “And I appreciate it, Rachel. I do. It’s just… it’s hard to put into words.”

She nodded, not pushing him further. Rachel was good like that, knowing when to back off and when to press. It was one of the reasons Percy valued her friendship so much.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the world go by outside. But even in the warmth of the coffee shop, Percy couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming. Something big. He didn’t know what it was yet, but he could feel it in his bones, like a storm gathering on the horizon.

He glanced at Rachel, who was doodling on a napkin, her brow furrowed in concentration. He wished he could be as carefree as she seemed right now, but that wasn’t in the cards for him. Not anymore.

“Do you ever feel like… I don’t know, like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop?” Percy asked suddenly, surprising himself with the question.

Rachel looked up, her expression thoughtful. “Sometimes. But I try not to dwell on it. You can’t live your life waiting for bad things to happen, Percy. You’ve got to make the most of the good times while you have them.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Percy wanted to believe that, but it was hard when you’d spent most of your life battling ancient forces of evil.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. Percy went to his remaining classes, but his mind wasn’t really there. He went through the motions, took notes, even participated in a group discussion, but it all felt hollow. By the time he headed back to his apartment, the sun was starting to set, casting long shadows across the city.

His apartment was a small one-bedroom place, not far from campus. It was nothing fancy, but it was his, and it was close enough to the water that he could feel the river’s presence even when he was inside. He dropped his backpack by the door and collapsed onto the couch, letting out a long sigh.

This was supposed to be his normal life. But what was normal, really? Was it going to class, doing homework, hanging out with friends? Or was it facing down monsters and gods, wielding powers that most people couldn’t even imagine?

Percy rubbed his face, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. He needed to clear his head, to do something physical. Something that would take his mind off things.

He pushed himself off the couch and headed to the small space he’d set up as a training room. It wasn’t much—just some mats on the floor, a punching bag, and a few weights—but it was enough to keep him in shape. Percy had always been a good fighter, but after everything that had happened, he had pushed himself even harder. He had studied boxing, karate, and Krav Maga, blending them into a fighting style that suited his needs. He wasn’t just relying on his powers anymore; he was making sure he could handle himself even without them.

He started with the punching bag, throwing a series of jabs and hooks, feeling the satisfying thud of each hit. The rhythm of the punches was soothing, almost meditative. He lost himself in the movement, letting his body take over, his mind quieting as he focused on the task at hand.

After a while, he moved on to shadowboxing, imagining an opponent in front of him. His footwork was quick and precise, his punches and kicks fluid and powerful. He had always been a natural fighter, but now he was something more, something honed by years of battle and the harsh lessons of Tartarus.

But even as he trained, Percy couldn’t escape the feeling of unease that had been gnawing at him all day. It was like there was something lurking just out of sight, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He finished his workout with a series of stretches, trying to shake off the tension in his muscles. But as he stood up, the room seemed to tilt for a moment, the shadows on the walls shifting unnaturally. Percy blinked, rubbing his eyes, but when he looked again, everything was normal.

“Great, now I’m seeing things,” he muttered to himself, heading to the bathroom to wash up. He chalked it up to exhaustion, the stress of trying to juggle two worlds catching up with him.

But deep down, Percy knew better. He had learned to trust his instincts, and they were telling him that something was wrong.

As he stood under the shower, letting the hot water wash over him, his mind kept returning to the same thought. Something was coming. He didn’t know what it was, but he could feel it, like the first tremor of an earthquake.

By the time he got out, the unease had settled into a cold knot in his stomach. Percy dried off and dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, but he couldn’t relax. The apartment felt too quiet, too empty. He grabbed his phone, debating whether to call Rachel, but he didn’t want to worry her.

Instead, he found himself pacing the small living room, his thoughts racing. He needed to do something, anything, to get rid of this feeling. But what? He couldn’t exactly go out and fight monsters—there weren’t any around, as far as he knew. And he wasn’t about to start patrolling the streets like some vigilante. That was more up Nico’s alley.

Finally, he grabbed his jacket and decided to take a walk. Maybe some fresh air would clear his head.

The streets of New York were alive with the usual energy, people bustling about, cars honking, the sounds of the city creating a constant background noise. Percy shoved his hands in his pockets, walking with no particular destination in mind. He let his feet guide him, trusting them to take him where he needed to go.

He ended up near the Hudson River, the water glinting in the fading light of the day. The sight of it always calmed him, reminded him of who he was and where he came from. The river was like an old friend, always there, always steady.

Percy sat down on a bench, watching the water flow by. It was peaceful here, away from the chaos of the city. But even in the quiet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

He closed his eyes, reaching out with his senses, feeling the water, the currents, the life beneath the surface. It was all normal, the same as it always was. But then, there was a ripple, something dark and cold moving through the water, so faint that Percy almost missed it.

His eyes snapped open, and he stood up, scanning the river. There was nothing there, just the usual boats and the occasional seagull. But he knew what he had felt. Something was out there, something that didn’t belong.

Percy’s heart raced, his mind flashing back to all the times he had faced the unknown. This was different, though. This wasn’t a monster or a god; it was something else, something new.

He didn’t know what it was, but he knew one thing for sure—it was coming for him. And whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be friendly.

As he stared out at the river, the sense of dread deepened. He had wanted a normal life, but it seemed that normal was never going to be in the cards for him. The past wasn’t done with him yet, and neither was the future.

Percy took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He would face whatever was coming, just like he always had. But this time, he wouldn’t be alone. He had friends, allies, people who cared about him. And he would need them, because whatever was out there, it was going to take everything he had to stop it.

As he turned to head back to his apartment, the shadows seemed to stretch longer, the night darker than it should have been. Percy couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning, that his life was about to change again, in ways he couldn’t yet imagine.

But he would be ready. He had to be. Because he was Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon, and no matter what came his way, he would fight it with everything he had.

As he walked away from the river, the first stars began to appear in the sky, twinkling faintly through the haze of the city lights. But Percy didn’t look up. His focus was forward, on the road ahead, and the challenges that awaited him.

Whatever was coming, he would face it. He had no choice.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Shadows in the Night

Percy’s days at NYU had settled into a rhythm, albeit a rhythm that felt slightly offbeat. Classes, studying, trying to fit in—it was all part of his new normal, but normal didn’t come easily to him. The weight of his past clung to him like a shadow, always just out of sight but never out of mind. Despite his best efforts to blend in, there was always a part of him that felt out of place, like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit.

That afternoon, Percy made his way to the campus café, a familiar stop between classes. The place was alive with the buzz of students, the clinking of cups, and the low hum of conversation. Percy spotted Rachel in their usual corner, her red hair a vibrant splash of color against the neutral tones of the room. She was hunched over her laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard with the intensity of someone on a deadline.

Percy grabbed a coffee and a bagel before sliding into the seat across from her. “Hey, Rachel. How’s the art world treating you today?”

Rachel looked up, her green eyes bright despite the evident frustration on her face. “Oh, you know, the usual. I’m drowning in art history essays and trying to figure out why everyone was so obsessed with the Renaissance.”

Percy chuckled, taking a bite of his bagel. “Must be tough being the oracle of modern art.”

Rachel snorted, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “You have no idea. Sometimes I think I should’ve just stuck to painting weird abstract stuff and let everyone else figure it out.”

“Hey, you’re a genius, remember?” Percy said, grinning. “You could probably paint a blob and call it ‘The Human Condition’ or something, and people would pay a fortune for it.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Rachel said, her lips curling into a playful smile. “But seriously, what about you? How’s the world of marine biology? You still trying to figure out if you’re more like the fish or the human?”

Percy laughed, shaking his head. “I’m starting to think I’m more fish than human. Maybe I should just move to the ocean and call it a day.”

Rachel’s smile softened, and she leaned back in her chair, studying him with a thoughtful expression. “You know, for a guy who’s been through literal hell, you’re doing pretty well. I mean, you’re here, you’re studying, and you’re… you.”

Percy shrugged, trying to brush off the compliment. “I’m just doing what I can. Besides, I’ve got people like you to keep me grounded.”

Rachel’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Grounded, huh? Is that what you call it when I drag you to art shows and make you watch pretentious films?”

“Hey, I like those films,” Percy protested, though his grin gave him away. “And I’ll admit, some of those art shows were actually pretty cool.”

Rachel laughed, a light, carefree sound that made Percy’s chest tighten with something akin to gratitude. She had a way of making him feel normal, even when everything inside him screamed that he wasn’t.

“You know, Percy,” Rachel said, her tone suddenly shifting to something more serious, “you’ve changed a lot since we first met. And I don’t just mean the whole ‘saving the world’ thing. You’ve grown—literally and figuratively.”

Percy raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the sudden change in tone. “What do you mean?”

Rachel leaned forward, her expression earnest. “I mean, look at you. You’re tall, you’ve bulked up, and you’ve got this whole ‘brooding hero’ vibe going on. It’s like you’ve finally become the person you were always meant to be.”

Percy felt a strange mix of pride and discomfort at her words. “I don’t know about that. I’m just trying to figure things out, like everyone else.”

Rachel reached across the table and placed her hand on his, her touch warm and reassuring. “You’re doing great, Percy. And I’m proud of you, even if you don’t always see it yourself.”

Percy smiled, feeling a swell of emotion that he quickly pushed down. “Thanks, Rachel. That means a lot.”

Rachel squeezed his hand before letting go, her teasing smile returning. “And don’t worry—I’ll keep reminding you how awesome you are until it finally sinks in.”

Percy laughed, the tension in his chest easing a bit. “I’ll hold you to that.”

The rest of their time together was spent in lighthearted banter, the kind that only best friends could share. Rachel teased Percy about his obliviousness to the attention he got from others, while Percy fired back with stories of Rachel’s artistic mishaps. By the time they parted ways, Percy felt lighter, the weight of his worries temporarily lifted by the comfort of their friendship.

That evening, Percy made his way to his mother’s apartment, the familiar streets of the Upper West Side guiding him home. The air was crisp with the early signs of autumn, and the leaves on the trees were just beginning to turn. Percy breathed in deeply, letting the cool air fill his lungs as he approached the building.

Sally Jackson’s apartment was a beacon of warmth and comfort, a stark contrast to the bustling city outside. As Percy stepped inside, he was immediately enveloped by the smell of lasagna baking in the oven, mingling with the scent of fresh bread and the faint hint of lavender from his mother’s candles.

“Percy!” Sally’s voice was filled with joy as she hurried over to embrace him. “It’s so good to have you home.”

“Hey, Mom,” Percy said, hugging her tightly. “I’ve missed this.”

Sally pulled back, her eyes shining with love and pride. “We’ve missed you too. And you look… different.”

“Different how?” Percy asked, though he had a feeling he knew what she meant.

“Just more… grown up,” Sally said, her gaze softening. “I guess I’m still getting used to the fact that my little boy isn’t so little anymore.” Percy could literally sense the tears that gathered in her eyes.

Percy chuckled, though there was a bittersweet note to his laughter. “I guess I’m not. But I’ll always be your son, no matter how much I change.”

Sally smiled, cupping his cheek in her hand. “That’s all I could ever ask for.”

Paul Blofis, Percy’s stepfather, was in the kitchen, carefully arranging the garlic bread on a platter. He looked up as Percy entered, his face breaking into a grin. “Hey there, Percy. Long time no see.”

“Hey, Paul,” Percy said, giving him a quick hug. “How’ve you been?”

“Busy,” Paul replied with a chuckle. “But that’s life in the teaching world. How about you? How’s college treating you?”

Percy shrugged, leaning against the counter. “It’s… different. I’m still getting used to it.”

“I can imagine,” Paul said, nodding thoughtfully. “But you’re doing great. Just keep at it.”

Before Percy could respond, a high-pitched squeal echoed through the apartment. Estelle, his two-year-old half-sister, came barreling into the kitchen, her tiny legs moving as fast as they could. “Pecy!” she cried, her face lighting up with pure joy as she spotted him.

Percy’s heart melted at the sight of her. He crouched down and opened his arms, catching her as she launched herself into his embrace. “Hey, kid. How’s my favorite little sunshine?”

Estelle giggled, wrapping her small arms around his neck and planting a wet kiss on his cheek. Percy laughed, holding her close as she babbled excitedly about her day, most of which he could only half-understand. But it didn’t matter—just being with her, feeling her warmth and hearing her laughter, was enough to fill his heart with a sense of peace he hadn’t realized he was missing.

Sally watched them with a fond smile, her eyes misty with emotion. “She’s been asking about you all day. I think she’s missed her big brother.”

“I’ve missed her too,” Percy said, ruffling Estelle’s hair. “She’s getting so big. Pretty soon, she’ll be running the place.”

Estelle beamed at the praise, clapping her hands. “Big! Big!”

“That’s right,” Percy said, grinning. “You’re my big, strong girl.”

Dinner was a lively affair, with Estelle providing most of the entertainment. She chattered nonstop, showing off her new words and her impressive ability to make a mess with her food. Sally and Paul laughed along, their love for their daughter evident in every glance and smile they shared.

Percy found himself relaxing more and more as the evening went on, the warmth of his family wrapping around him like a comforting blanket. For a while, he was able to forget about the pressures of school, the memories of battle, and the weight of the future. Here, in this cozy apartment with the people he loved most, he could just be Percy—no titles, no expectations, just himself.

But as the night wore on, that familiar sense of unease began to creep back in. It started as a faint prickling at the back of his neck, growing stronger with each passing minute. He tried to ignore it, focusing instead on Estelle’s laughter and the soothing cadence of his mother’s voice. But it was no use—the feeling wouldn’t go away.

“Did you guys hear that?” Percy asked suddenly, his voice sharper than he intended.

Sally and Paul exchanged puzzled looks. “Hear what?” Sally asked, her brow furrowing.

Percy stood up, his senses on high alert. The prickling sensation had intensified, and he felt a cold chill run down his spine. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones.

Without another word, Percy moved to the window and peered outside. The city lights cast a soft glow over the streets, but there was something else—a shadow, just barely visible, moving swiftly between the buildings. His heart skipped a beat as he focused on the figure, his instincts screaming danger.

“What is it, Percy?” Sally asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Percy didn’t answer. His eyes were locked on the figure outside, his mind racing. The shadow moved with an unnatural speed, slipping in and out of sight as it navigated the rooftops. And then, for the briefest moment, the figure paused, turning its head towards the apartment.

Percy’s breath caught in his throat. Even from this distance, he could see the unmistakable glint of red irises, burning like embers in the night.

“I have to go,” Percy said, his voice tight with urgency.

“Percy, what—” Paul began, but Percy was already moving, his mind set on one thing: stopping whatever threat had come to his family’s doorstep.

He bolted out of the apartment, taking the stairs two at a time as he chased the shadowy figure. The cold night air hit him like a slap, but he barely noticed. His focus was entirely on the chase, his body moving on instinct as he leaped over obstacles and pushed himself to go faster.

The figure was quick, darting between buildings with an agility that would have impressed even a demigod. But Percy was relentless, fueled by a mix of adrenaline and fear for his family’s safety. He couldn’t let this thing—whatever it was—get away.

They raced through the city, the sounds of the streets fading into the background as Percy closed in on his target. The figure jumped across a wide gap between two buildings, landing with a grace that suggested it was more than human. Percy didn’t hesitate, following suit and making the jump himself.

The chase continued, the cityscape blurring around them as they weaved through alleyways and scaled fire escapes. Percy’s muscles burned, his breath coming in ragged gasps, but he refused to slow down. He had to catch this thing—he had to know what it was.

Finally, the figure made a mistake. It rounded a corner too quickly, losing its footing on the slick rooftop. Percy seized the opportunity, lunging forward and grabbing the figure’s arm. For a moment, they struggled, the figure’s strength surprising Percy. But he dug deep, calling on the power that coursed through his veins, and managed to pin the figure against a wall.

“Who are you?” Percy demanded, his voice rough with exertion. “Why were you watching us?”

The figure didn’t answer. Instead, it twisted in Percy’s grip, breaking free with a burst of inhuman strength. Percy staggered back, but before he could react, the figure was on him, moving with a speed that defied logic.

They grappled on the rooftop, the city lights casting long shadows as they fought. Percy’s mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation even as he defended himself. This wasn’t just some ordinary thug—there was something more to this figure, something dangerous.

The figure landed a solid punch to Percy’s gut, knocking the wind out of him. Percy doubled over, but before the figure could strike again, he lashed out with a burst of water that he materialized from the moisture in the air, sending the figure flying across the rooftop. It slammed into the wall with a sickening thud but quickly got back to its feet, seemingly unfazed.

Percy’s heart pounded in his chest as he braced himself for the next attack. But instead of charging at him, the figure hesitated, its red eyes glowing ominously in the darkness.

For a long moment, they stared at each other, the air crackling with tension. Then, without warning, the figure turned and bolted, leaping off the rooftop and disappearing into the night.

Percy rushed to the edge of the roof, but the figure was already gone, swallowed by the shadows. He stood there, panting heavily, his mind reeling from the encounter. Whoever—or whatever—that was, it wasn’t human. And it was watching him, watching his family.

A cold dread settled in Percy’s stomach as he realized that this was just the beginning. The shadowy figure, the red eyes—it was a sign, a warning of something far worse to come. And Percy knew, deep down, that he couldn’t face it alone.

As he made his way back to his mother’s apartment, Percy’s mind was already racing with plans. He needed to reach out to his allies, to his friends. There was a new threat on the horizon, one that was far more dangerous than anything he’d faced before. And if he was going to stop it, he would need all the help he could get.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Calm before the storm.

Rachel woke with a start, gasping for breath. Her heart pounded in her chest, a frantic drumbeat that echoed the terror in her mind. The remnants of the dream clung to her like mist, refusing to dissipate even as she blinked herself fully awake. She had seen Percy again, standing at the forefront of a battle. His figure was clear, but what he and the other teens fought was obscured by shadows, their forms flickering in and out of focus like a twisted mirage. Whatever the enemy was, it was overpowering them. She could still hear the sounds of their desperate struggle— the clash of weapons, the cries of pain, and the oppressive silence that followed as the darkness swallowed them whole.

Rachel’s breath hitched. She had never felt so powerless in a vision before, so utterly incapable of understanding the threat she was witnessing. It was as though the dream was hiding something from her, keeping the true danger just out of sight. And that terrified her more than anything else.

Throwing off the covers, she sat up, pressing her palms against her eyes as if she could somehow erase the nightmare. But the fear lingered, gnawing at the edges of her consciousness. She had to do something. She had to warn Percy.

But what could she say? That she saw him fighting something she couldn’t even identify? That he was in danger from a threat she couldn’t describe? She shook her head, biting her lip as uncertainty warred with urgency.

There was no time to waste, though. She’d have to figure out how to explain it to him later. For now, she just needed to reach him. Grabbing her phone from the nightstand, she hastily typed out a message to Percy, her fingers trembling slightly as she hit “send.”

---

Unaware of Rachel’s distress, Percy Jackson stood at the edge of the water, the salty breeze whipping through his dark hair as he stared out at the ocean. The early morning sun cast a golden glow over the waves, but Percy’s thoughts were far from peaceful.

The image of the red-eyed figure from the previous night was still fresh in his mind. Its eerie gaze, the unnatural strength it had displayed, and the way it seemed to meld with the shadows—it was unlike anything Percy had ever encountered. And that was saying something, considering his extensive history with monsters and gods alike.

He needed answers. And there was only one place he could think of to get them: Atlantis.

Taking a deep breath, Percy stepped into the water, feeling the familiar tug of the ocean currents as they recognized their master. The water rose to meet him, swirling around his ankles before lifting him entirely off the ground. With a thought, Percy propelled himself forward, cutting through the waves with the ease of a dolphin. The world above faded away as he dove deeper, the sunlight filtering down through the blue-green depths until even that was gone, leaving only the darkness of the deep sea.

But Percy was undeterred. He knew the way to Atlantis like the back of his hand, and it wasn’t long before the grand city came into view, its ancient spires rising from the ocean floor like the ruins of some forgotten civilization. But Atlantis was far from forgotten. It was alive, teeming with activity as atlanteans and sea creatures moved about their business. The palace, with its towering columns and grand arches, stood at the center, a testament to the might of Poseidon’s realm.

As Percy approached, the guards at the palace gates bowed their heads in respect, allowing him to pass without question. It wasn’t every day that the son of Poseidon came to visit, after all. But Percy wasn’t here for pleasantries. He had a mission.

Inside the palace, Percy made his way to the throne room, where his father, Poseidon, sat upon a massive coral throne. The god of the sea was imposing as always, with his trident resting casually in one hand, but there was a warmth in his gaze as he looked upon his son.

“Percy,” Poseidon greeted him, his voice a deep rumble that echoed through the chamber. “It’s good to see you. What brings you to Atlantis?”

Percy wasted no time, recounting the events of the previous night—the shadowy figure, the red eyes, and the sense of impending doom that had been gnawing at him ever since.

Poseidon listened intently, his expression growing more serious with each word. When Percy finished, the god was silent for a moment, his gaze distant as he pondered what he had heard.

“This is troubling news, my son,” Poseidon finally said. “The being you describe... it does not sound like any creature of the sea or even of the earth. Its nature is more... elusive, more malevolent. It may be something older, something from the shadows of the past that we have long forgotten.”

Percy’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? Like a primordial?”

Poseidon shook his head. “Not quite. The primordials are powerful, but they are tied to the natural world. This... Void, as you’ve described it, seems to have a different origin. It’s not bound by the same rules. It manipulates darkness, not unlike a child of Hades, but in a way that perverts it, twists it into something unrecognizable.”

Percy’s stomach churned at the thought. He had faced some terrifying foes in his time, but the idea of something that could corrupt even the darkness itself was unsettling, to say the least.

“I came here to see if there was anything in the archives about something like this,” Percy said. “Anything that might give us a clue about what we’re dealing with.”

Poseidon nodded. “A wise decision. The archives are extensive, and they contain records of many ancient evils. If there is anything to be found, it will be there.”

With that, Poseidon gestured to a door at the side of the throne room. “Triton will accompany you. He knows the archives better than anyone.”

At the mention of his name, Triton, Poseidon’s heir, stepped forward from where he had been standing in the shadows. Triton’s eyes met Percy’s, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. But he gave a respectful nod.

“This way,” Triton said, his voice cool but not unkind.

Percy followed Triton through the palace, down winding corridors and through grand halls filled with priceless treasures and relics from ages past. Finally, they reached the archives—a vast chamber filled with shelves upon shelves of ancient scrolls and tomes, some so old that they crumbled to dust at the slightest touch.

Triton led Percy to a section of the archives that seemed particularly old, the scrolls here bound in leather and covered in runes that Percy couldn’t even begin to decipher.

“Here,” Triton said, pulling out a particularly large tome and placing it on a nearby table. “This is a record of ancient beings that predate the Olympians. If this Void is truly as ancient as Father suspects, it might be mentioned in here.”

Percy nodded, grateful for Triton’s help, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that his half-brother was holding something back. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. They had more pressing matters to attend to.

Together, they pored over the tome, deciphering the ancient text as best they could. The more they read, the more Percy’s unease grew. The tome spoke of beings that thrived in the shadows, creatures born from the darkness itself. They were beings of pure malevolence, with no ties to the earth, sea, or sky. They existed only to consume, to corrupt, to bring ruin to all they touched.

And then, Percy found it. A passage that sent a chill down his spine:

“There is one among them, a being of such darkness that even the gods fear to speak its name. It is known only as the Void, for it is the absence of all light, the corruption of all life. It devours souls, feeds on despair, and leaves nothing but emptiness in its wake. To face the Void is to face oblivion itself.”

Percy stared at the words, a sense of dread settling in his gut. If this was truly what they were up against, then they were in more danger than he had ever imagined.

But there was no time to dwell on it. He needed to get back to the surface, to warn the others and start preparing for what was to come. As Percy closed the tome, Triton spoke up, his voice hesitant.

“There’s something else, Percy. Father asked me to give you this.”

Triton motioned two guards to come forward. From the chest they were carrying, Triton pulled out a suit unlike anything Percy had ever seen before. It was sleek, made of a material that shimmered like the surface of the ocean under moonlight. The suit was black, with accents of deep blue, and a big Trident, also in almost neon blue, emblazoned on the chest, the symbol of Poseidon.

Besides the suit there was a metallic nightstick, and as Percy's gaze fell on it, Triton pulled it out of the chest.

"A new weapon, fit for the most favoured son of the Sea Lord" Triton said emotionally as he held the metallic nightstick. 

Percy was about to ask what it was when the nightstick expanded in a millisecond. What Triton held now was truly breathtaking.

A silver Trident that even in the deapths of the ocean was glowing like a beacon in the middle of the night.

"The Trident is made of Adamantine, a rare metal used by the gods, capable of wounding both mortals and immortals." Triton said as he handed the weapon to Percy.

Percy ran his hand over the Trident, feeling the power it radiated. It was more than just a weapon; it was a statement. This was who he was. Not just a demigod, but the son of Poseidon, a protector of both the mortal and immortal worlds.

“It’s... incredible,” Percy said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Triton gave a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s more than just a new armor and a new weapon. Both are symbols, Percy, a reminder of who you are and what you’re fighting for. Use both well, Percy, and be proud of your origins.”

Percy nodded, accepting the suit and the trident with a newfound sense of purpose. He didn’t know what the future held, but he knew one thing for certain—he would do whatever it took to protect those he cared about.

With the suit in hand, Percy made his way back to the surface, the weight of what he had learned heavy on his shoulders. The Void was real, and it was coming. But he wouldn’t face it alone. He had friends, allies, and now, a symbol of his power and resolve.

As he reached the shore, the first thing Percy did was try to contact Rachel. He needed to know if she had found out anything new, if there had been any other signs of the Void. But when she didn’t answer her phone, a sense of unease crept over him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, that the shadows were closing in faster than he had anticipated.

---

Rachel stumbled through the darkened streets, her mind a haze of confusion and fear. She didn’t know how she had gotten here, didn’t remember leaving her apartment. One moment, she had been in bed, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare, and the next... this.

She looked around, but the city felt different, unfamiliar, as if the very streets had changed while she wasn’t looking. The shadows seemed to move of their own accord, creeping closer, suffocating her with their oppressive weight.

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All she knew was that something was terribly, horribly wrong.

And then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw it. A figure, watching her from the shadows, its red eyes glowing with a malevolent light. Her heart skipped a beat as the sense of dread from her nightmare returned tenfold. It was here. The thing from her vision. The Void.

But as soon as she registered its presence, it was gone, leaving only the lingering chill in the air and the overwhelming sense of fear.

Rachel clutched her head, trying to fight off the panic rising in her chest. She couldn’t let it consume her, couldn’t let it take control. She had to stay strong, had to warn Percy...

But as the shadows closed in around her, that resolve began to falter.

---

In a distant, hidden chamber, far from the eyes of both gods and mortals, the Void began to stir. Its presence was a palpable force, a blackness so deep that it seemed to swallow the light itself. Around it, robed figures moved in silent reverence, preparing for the ritual that would bring about their master’s rise.

The Void watched, its red eyes glowing with a malevolent light as it gave its orders, its voice a whisper in the darkness. The time was coming. The time to reclaim what had been lost, to plunge the world into the shadows once more.

And this time, there would be no light to drive it back.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Steady your breath 

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the cityscape of New York. In the bustling neighborhood of Astoria, a palpable tension hung in the air. And in the midst of all there was Kate Bishop, now an established hero under the mantle of Hawkeye. She moved silently through the darkened streets, her sharp eyes scanning for any signs of trouble. Her sleek, purple-and-black tactical suit hugged her athletic form, a blend of style and functionality that allowed her to blend into the night.

Lately, Kate had been running up and down, investigating a series of mysterious disappearances and brutal murders that had recently plagued the area.

It wouldn’t have been that bad it weren’t for the fact that these incidents were not ordinary crimes. Usually the bodies she found were marked by occult symbols and a pattern that suggested a deeper, more sinister plot.

Tonight, Kate was determined to uncover the truth.

The warehouse she approached loomed ominously in the evening gloom. It was a relic of a bygone era, its brick facade cracked and weathered. The building had been abandoned for years, but recent activity suggested that it was being used for something more nefarious.

Kate scaled the side of the building with practiced ease, her fingers finding purchase on the crumbling bricks. The glow of dim light through a partially open window confirmed that her lead was promising.

As she slipped inside through the window, the stale air hit her with a faint scent of mildew and dust. The interior was a labyrinth of forgotten relics and broken machinery, illuminated only by the occasional shaft of light. Kate moved with the grace of an olympic acrobat, her senses attuned to every sound and shadow.

The room she entered was a stark contrast to the decrepit warehouse outside. It was cluttered with occult symbols, dark artifacts, and scattered papers. Kate’s heart raced as she recognized the symbols from her research. Whatever they meant they were associated with dark rituals and forbidden magic.

Her bow was at the ready, a non-lethal arrow nocked and drawn, prepared for any sudden threats.

The sound of muffled voices drew her attention to a small room at the back. Peering through a cracked doorway, Kate saw a group of individuals gathered around a table. Their faces were obscured by shadows, but their intent was clear.

They were involved in something dark and dangerous.

Kate pushed the door open, her movements precise and deliberate. The figures turned in surprise, their eyes widening as they reached for their weapons.

Kate didn’t hesitate. With a swift release of her bowstring, she launched an arrow that struck one of the figures in the chest, sending him sprawling to the floor. The others reacted quickly, drawing weapons and their bare hands at her.

“Shit” Kate muttered before the first weapon was fired.

The ensuing fight was a whirlwind of movement and combat. Kate’s arrows flew with pinpoint accuracy, each one finding its mark. She used a combination of blunt-tipped arrows, smoke bombs, explosive tips, and net arrows, along with her hand to hand combats skills, to subdue her opponents. Despite this, the figures proved to be formidable adversaries, their weapons and combat skills pushing Kate to her limits.

In the midst of the battle, Kate realized that these individuals were not just random criminals but part of a larger, more sinister organization.

These “thugs” were incredibly strong as she had discovered when one of them connected a punch to her shoulder. Besides that, Kate, even if she hit and kicked with all her strength, her enemies didn’t seemed to get all that hurt.

That didn’t stopped Kate however, as she put all her efforts in the fight.

Finally, after what seemed hours of fighting, Kate finished her last opponent.

Immediately her hands went to her knees. The ragged breaths that escaped her nose were proof enough of the difficulty of the fight.

While she rested, Kate’s eyes surveyed the room. It was littered with all kinds of strange things.

The evidence she gathered from all that could lead her to the heart of the organization behind the crimes, or at least she hoped so.

As she collected clues and examined the room, her phone buzzed with a new message. It was from her contact in the NYPD, alerting her to another crime scene with similar occult symbols. Kate frowned, knowing that the mystery was far from over. Her work was just beginning.

Kate’s mind wandered to her own struggles.

Balancing her dual life as a student and a hero was increasingly challenging.

At school she had friends, but those were merely superficial. How could she develop a deeper connection with them when none of those girls had experienced even a half of what she had the past year.

The responsibilities that came with being a hero often left her feeling overwhelmed and isolated.

Yet, she remained committed to her role as Hawkeye, determined to honor the legacy of the original hero who had passed the mantle to her.

The original Hawkeye, who was now fully retired, had not only given Kate his alias but also his most useful gadgets and teachings.

His guidance had shaped her into the hero she was today. But, still, the weight of the legacy was heavy, and Kate often felt the pressure to live up to the high standards set by her predecessor.

Kate’s thoughts shifted to her recent investigation. She had uncovered a troubling pattern in the disappearances and murders, leading her to believe that there was a connection between these crimes and a dark ritualistic organization. Her investigation had become more than just a quest for justice, now it was a personal mission to protect her city from a rising threat.

In the midst of her reflection, Kate received a call from Yelena Belova. She had been keeping in touch with Yelena, and their conversations had become a source of support and weird but pleasant friendship. Kate answered the call, her voice laced with the exhaustion that only days and nights of hard work could bring.

“Hey, Lena,” Kate said, her tone one of fatigue from the investigation and gratitude for the call.

“Hey, Katie! Just wanted to let you know that i’ll be in town next week. Thought we could meet if you can.” Yelena said cheerfully.

Almost no one knew but Yelena, beneath of the cynical, broody and badass facade, was actually a pretty cool and social person. Always joking and talking of whatever she had seen last.

Kate could even dare to say that they were friends, even if the russian woman would deny it.

“Come to my place when you arrive.” Kate said, the tiredness of the fight setting in. She really needed to sleep.

“Is there something wrong?” Yelena asked in her unique accented voice.

Kate sighed. “Yeah, I’ve just wrapped up another investigation, and there’s definitely a pattern here, occult symbols, dark rituals. I’ve been running up and down the last week trying to figure this out but it has been more difficult than i thought.”

Yelena’s voice crackled through the phone, calm and reassuring. “Sounds like you’ve been busy. I’ll help you when i get there. Be careful for now, these kinds of organizations don’t play nice and if they know it’s you who have been messing with them, it could end badly.”

“I know,” Kate replied, glancing at the clues she had collected. “I’m heading to another crime scene with similar symbols. I’ll keep you updated.”

Yelena didn’t answered.

“Yelena?” Kate asked.

“Sorry, just thinking” Yelena said, her tone light but with an edge of mischief. “You know, you’re really making a name for yourself. If you keep this up, you might get a fan club or something.”

Kate chuckled despite herself. “Yeah, well, if that happens, I hope they don’t expect autographs. I’m knee-deep in a fanatic cult mess here. It’s not exactly glamorous work.”

“Ah, but it’s the glamorous work that makes you a legend,” Yelena teased. “You’re out there fighting the good fight, while the rest of us are stuck in mundane hell. Besides, you make it look good.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Kate said, shaking her head with a smile. “Seriously though, this stuff is no joke. The more I dig, the more I realize how deep this goes. It’s like pulling on a thread and discovering a whole tapestry of trouble.”

“I hear you,” Yelena replied. “But you’re not alone in this. And hey, if you need a hand or some backup, i’ll be there in a week”

“That will do,” Kate said gratefully. “I’m actually heading to another scene now. I’ll keep you posted. And Yelena?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being there. It helps more than you know.”

Yelena’s voice softened. “Anytime, Kate. Just remember, you’re not just a hero. You’re a damn good one. And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

As the call ended, Kate felt a renewed sense of determination. The conversation with Yelena had been a much-needed boost.

She knew she could rely on her friend for support and that made the burden of her dual life a bit lighter.

Kate arrived at the new crime scene, a grim reminder of the gravity of the situation. The area was cordoned off, and the police were already on-site, examining the evidence. Kate approached the perimeter, flashing her badge and introducing herself as Hawkeye. The officers recognized her and allowed her to pass, even if some of the rookies tried to stop her from entering.

The scene was eerily similar to the previous warehouse, with occult symbols, dark artifacts, and signs of a violent struggle.

Kate’s trained eye quickly spotted the similarities and began collecting evidence. As she worked, she couldn’t shake the feeling that time was running out. The organization’s plans were coming together, and she had to act fast to prevent further chaos.

The night wore on, and Kate’s exhaustion grew even larger.

This routine of her had to stop somehow. Her days were filled with lectures and assignments at college, while her nights were consumed by investigations and battles.

Balancing her responsibilities was becoming increasingly challenging. The pressure was immense, and the isolation she felt was a constant companion.

Despite these struggles, Kate remained committed to her mission. She knew that she had the skills and the determination to make a difference. The legacy of the original Hawkeye was a driving force, and she was determined to live up to the high standards set by her predecessor.

As Kate prepared to leave the crime scene, she received a final message from Yelena. The text was simple but comforting: “Keep fighting the good fight. You’ve got this.”

Kate smiled, feeling a surge of resolve. She was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that she had the support of her friends and the strength to overcome any obstacle. The fight was far from over, and she was prepared to see it through to the end.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Crossed Paths

Percy Jackson was not used to feeling this kind of anxiety. In the quiet confines of his apartment, he paced back and forth, the weight of recent events pressing heavily on him. He had just received another message from Rachel, suggesting they meet up to discuss his latest findings and her recent visions. It would be the first time they talked properly since the time he had seen the shadowy figure outside his family’s home.

He glanced at mirror, watching as he did the new armor he was wearing. Whoever had done it did a fine job. Sleek and tactical with black blue and silver as color scheme, designed for both functionality and style, it really was a masterpiece. As he looked at the bright blue Trident in his chest he felt a sense of proud fill him, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it made him more of a target.

A knock on the door was what pulled him from his thoughts.

“Hey, Rach,” he said, opening the door. “Come on in.”

Rachel entered, her eyes immediately drawn to the suit and the Trident that was resting on a shelf. “Whoa, look at you,” she said with a teasing grin. “You’re going to Comic-Con or something?”

Percy chuckled, though his laughter was tinged with nervousness. “It’s not exactly a costume party, you know.”

Rachel’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she inspected the suit. “I see you’ve been upgrading your gear. What’s with the Trident? Can you actually use it, or is it just for show?”

“It’s not just for show,” Percy replied, his voice tinged with a hint of pride. “I’ve been practicing with it and it has come rather easily as well.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. Until a look of mischief crossed her face. “Does it have to do with your dad? You know him being the only person who actually looks cool using a giant fork as a weapon?”

Percy sighed, clearly having expected that joke.

“Laugh it up all you want Rach, I literally can make a recreation of Noah with it if my dad didn’t stop me.”

That effectively silenced Rachel’s laughter.

“You mean that, don’t you?” Rachel asked him. It was as if she was looking him for the first time.

“I could.” Percy said. “But it’s not on my to do list, I like the earth as it is.” He said, his voice gaining a hint of amusement.

Rachel rolled her eyes at his immature demeanor.

“Well the suit looks like it’s straight out of a sci-fi movie. Are you sure you’re not auditioning for a superhero role?”

Percy rolled his eyes. “Very funny. My dad gave it to me, said it was to have an edge on the battles to come. And I’m not exactly auditioning. It’s more like keeping the city safe.”

Rachel smirked, crossing her arms. “Sure, but it’s not every day you see a college student with an Atlantean Spy battle suit and a godly weapon. You might want to get used to the idea of people thinking you’re a superhero.”

Percy sighed, glancing at the Trident. “Speaking of which, this thing is tied to my bloodline. So far only my dad and Triton are the only ones who have managed to lift it, anyone else just can’t get it off the floor.”

Rachel’s curiosity was piqued. “Really? Like Thor’s hammer then?”

Percy sighed, trying to hide his apprehension. “You know that’s never been confirmed, right?”

“Well, how do you explain it then? Nobody could lift that thing until the big guy came down to earth himself and picked it up like it was nothing.” Rachel said defiantly.

Percy just raised his hands in the air, knowing that arguing with Rachel was a lost fight from the beginning.

Rachel’s expression softened slightly. “You know you don’t have to do this vigilante thing right? There’s other people out there already doing it.”

“And how many of them aside from a literal Norse God can say that they have fought monsters from the godly pantheon?” Percy asked her and although Rachel wanted to say that the Avengers had fought really powerful villains, she couldn’t say for sure if any of them had any experience on the mythological monsters and deities that she and Percy’s kind were accustomed to.

“Look Rachel, I’m not making excuses to do anything; but, the fact is, aside from Thor, I’m the most qualified person to deal with monsters that come from the myths.”

Before Rachel could respond, Percy’s phone buzzed with a new message. He glanced at it, noting the growing number of crime scenes that seemed to be connected by the same occult symbols.

“I need to check out another crime scene,” Percy said. He grabbed the Trident and it immediately shrunk until it was only a metallic nightstick which Percy attached to his thigh, almost like a police would carry his baton. “Thanks for coming by, Rachel. I’ll keep you updated.”

Rachel gave him a reassuring nod. “Be careful out there. And don’t be afraid to call if you need backup.” she said. Before she left, she gave him a crushing hug which he happily returned.

Percy left his apartment, heading towards the latest crime scene. The night air was cool and crisp, and the city’s lights cast long shadows on the streets. As he approached the scene, he noticed that the  building he now stood in had familiar markings of the dark organization he had been tracking. It was the same pattern he had seen before, but with new, disturbing details, as were the animal, or maybe human, entrails he found stuck on a wall.

The scene was eerily quiet, and Percy’s senses were on high alert. He moved cautiously, knowing that the organization’s members were formidable opponents.

As he rounded a corner of what looked like the basement of the place, he heard the footsteps of at least 7 members of the organization.

They hadn’t seen him yet, but they would in no time at all, so, knowing that, in this case, he had the element of surprise in his favor, Percy sprung into action.

Grabbing the almost two foot Adamantine nightstick from his thigh holster, he used it to rapidly incapacitate the first two men from the group by hitting them in the solar plexus with enough force to snatch all the air from their lungs but not to kill them.

While Percy was occupied, the rest of the men didn’t stayed still.

One of the men pulled a gun from his coat/robes and aimed it point blank at Percy.

Before he could take the shot though, Percy was already moving, commanding his Trident to expand and using the now 7 foot weapon to sweep the legs of the man from the floor with enough force to at least break the tibia.

Three down, four left.

Taking a low stance, the three pointed weapon facing downwards, Percy waited for them to come for him.

They didn’t make him wait as two of them took to the left and the other two to the right, all of them pulling either guns or knives.

One of the men, the most nervous among them, didn’t wait for the others to ready themselves, he just fired 4 rounds at Percy.

Percy smiled. He had been hoping one of them would do that.

Hardening the moisture in the air in front of him, he literally created a wall of hard water that blocked all the shots.

Then he launched the Trident.

The weapon pierced through the man’s shoulder as if it weren’t even there, sending the man flying towards a wall, where the trident got impaled, a screaming man still attached to it.

Seeing their friend being impaled by a Trident was the only thing they needed to spring into action.

The two men who had knives approached Percy from left and right.

They swung as one, their technique flawless.

Percy had to step back in order to avoid the first knife and then block the second, the knife swings coming far faster than he had expected. He would even say that whoever this men were, they were more than simple mortals.

He hadn’t expected the speed and technique of the first attackers, so, surprisingly enough, he was distracted the sufficient amount of time to allow the man with the gun to shoot him.

The bullet hit him square in the chest.

It didn’t even leave a mark on his suit.

“Thanks dad.” Percy whispered to himself.

“You want to know something funny?” Percy said casually, rolling his neck and cracking his knuckles loudly. “I once took a bath in the river Styx, and let me tell you, is one of the most painful things one could ever experience. You feel as if you’re being bathed in acid, and then you think your soul is leaving your body. And when you think you can’t breathe anymore, when you feel dead breathing on your neck, you get out. You come out faster, stronger, better in any sense.”

By this point, it didn’t matter than this men were fanatics devoted to a cause so vile that rivaled even those of the villains of the Avengers. They were terrified of him.

“Invulnerability is one of the perks.” Percy continued, this time, drawing water from a nearby pipe in order to form an ice hammer in his hands. “The thing is, even if lost that one, I still have some of the powers from that experience”

The ice hammer hit the man with the gun directly in the stomach.

The man hunched forwards, vomiting and coughing at the same time.

Another man was dealt with quickly but just as he was about to finish the last opponent, the sound of sirens grew closer.

Percy cursed under his breath. The police were arriving, and he needed to escape before they could identify him. He fled the scene, leaving behind the beaten up bodies of the men he fought. He could hear the officers shouting for him to stop, but he ignored them, slipping into the shadows and the mist traveling to a nearby rooftop.

“Shit!” He cursed. He had to left the Trident behind in order to get out of there as fast as possible.

He already was planning a way to get it back from whatever government facility was sent to when it literally formed out of a pond of water in front of him.

“Useful” Percy said, his superhuman vision quickly noticing a woman in a purple and black suit with bow in her hand and a quiver in her back that was in the building he had just left.

Whoever she was, was no slouch, he noticed as the woman immediately went to check the place his Trident had been occupying until a few seconds ago.

If she had seen the Trident disappear, that would bring a whole lot of problems for him, Percy noted.

For now, he had to make a tactical retreat. The night definitely hadn’t gone as he hoped.

——

“Why on my day off?” Kate asked herself as she rode her bike towards another crime scene.

She had been with Yelena since the morning.

The Russian had arrived in the morning and quickly set upon herself to make Kate forget the stress that had been plaguing her since the beginning of the new series crimes and murders.

“You’re working too much” Yelena had said when she looked the disheveled appearance of Kate.

“Well there’s too much to do, and not enough capable people to do it.” Kate said defensively.

“What about the old Hawkeye?” Yelena asked.

“Retired, this time for good” She said. “He doesn’t say it but he’s afraid that if he leaves his family they’ll vanish again.”

“Hmm” was Yelena’s response.

Even if they had cleared the air around them, neither Yelena nor Clint were very comfortable with each other.

“And there’s no other big shot available to help you?” Yelena asked her again.

Kate sighed.

“The Avengers are practically done for. According to Clint Bruce Banner is trying to build a life on an island, Thor went back to space, no one knows where Steve Rogers is and you know what happened to Tony Stark well.” Kate pointedly omitted mentioning Yelena’s sister, Natasha Romanoff.

“Well maybe you should start your own team then, if the other players are doing it, why don’t you?” Yelena said.

Kate had actually thought about that quite recently; after all, there had been quite a few reports about fellow heroes that were doing their best to fill in the void left by the disappearance of the Avengers.

The so-called Spider-Man apparently had been going up and down New York, doing all kinds of heroics while managing to piss off the NYPD.

There was also a guy with a red, white and blue suit, apparently imitating Steve Rogers. The fact he had a shield similar to the one used by Steve Rogers during his military campaign back in the 40’s was not lost to anyone and already there were theories on who this new patriotic hero was.

Far from New York, in San Francisco, rumors had started to spread about a new hero who apparently was the new Ant Man. Or Ant Woman depending on who you asked.

Then of course there was Yelena, the sister of the original Black Widow. If she so wished she could take the mantle for herself.

As Kate was thinking this, her phone started buzzing.

She picked it up.

“Bishop.” She answered immediately.

“We have something that may interest you miss Bishop. Apparently there’s a gunfight on the abandoned school by the docks, you specifically asked to be notified when something happened at that place.”

“Got it, I’ll be there.” Kate said, ending the call and sending an apologetic look to Yelena. “Duty calls.”

“Go, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Yelena said,not mentioning to Kate the fact that she was going to follow her as soon as she left the apartment.

Kate arrived at the scene shortly after.

“Miss Bishop” someone called her, and Kate looked towards the police officer that was by the entrance to the building, his hands were gripping tightly his gun.

“I go by Hawkeye when I’m working.” Kate corrected lightly. “What’s the situation?”

The officer shook his head but answered.

“We were nearby so they sent us, we heard how at least 5 shots were fired and…”

Whatever he was going to said died in his throat as a figure in dark suit busted out from the building.

“HEY! STOP RIGHT THERE!” The officer yelled as Kate aimed an arrow at the figure’s retreating form.

Before she could make the shot, the figure darted towards a nearby alley.

“You and you, go check it” The first officer told to other two.

“It’s gone!” Came the replay a few seconds later.

Kate shook her head.

Whoever or whatever this was, they were clearly talented enough to make an escape without leaving evidence behind, or so she thought until her eyes fell on the most interesting thing she had seen since Clint’s collection of bows.

“What the hell is that?” She asked herself as she looked at a the three pointed weapon that was sticking out from the wall, with an unconscious man hanging from it.

Just as Kate reached for the Trident, it began to shimmer and dissolve into water, vanishing before her eyes. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she looked around, trying to make sense of what she had just witnessed.

“Fuck” Kate muttered to herself. She knew she had to report this to Yelena and figure out who else might be involved in her investigation.

Kate was taken aback. She had seen some strange things in her time, but this was different. The Trident’s sudden disappearance was both puzzling and alarming.

Her thoughts immediately turned to the possibility of a new player in the game. She knew that whoever was behind this was skilled and resourceful. The fact that the Trident had vanished so quickly meant that this new player was not to be underestimated.

Kate’s phone buzzed with a message from Yelena, and she took a moment to read it. Yelena’s words were encouraging, reminding Kate that she had support and they would figure out what was going on.

With renewed determination, Kate began to piece together the clues from the crime scene. The disappearance of the Trident was a key piece of evidence, and she needed to find out who the new player was and what their motives were.

Kate’s investigation continued into the night. She was determined to get to the bottom of the mystery, even if it meant facing new and dangerous challenges. The city’s shadows held many secrets, and she was ready to uncover them.

As she wrapped up her investigation, Kate couldn’t shake the feeling that she was on the brink of discovering something significant. The new player’s involvement had raised the stakes, and she knew that the coming days would be critical in understanding the full extent of the threat.

She made a mental note to follow up with her contacts and to stay vigilant. The fight was far from over, and Kate was prepared to face whatever lay ahead.