Chapter Text
The evening show is packed. People are crammed in, hidden away in the darkness of the audience. The producer counts down.
“... Two, one... We’re live!”
Music plays, the crowd erupts into applause, and the ever-smiling host joyfully greets the viewers, smoothly delivering the lead-in to the segment.
Percy adjusts his dress uniform.
“If I had known,” he hisses to Megan, one of Aphrodite’s daughters who somehow ended up on the production staff, “that it would be like this, I wouldn’t have joined up in a million years.”
Megan smiles warmly at him, adjusting his Marine Corps jacket and brushing off invisible specks of dust from the dark fabric.
“Come on, Percy,” she whispers, “you’ve been through worse. Oh, your time’s come; go on out.”
Percy wearily thinks he’d rather take another trip to Tartarus than be stuck here.
“Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please! Lieutenant of the U.S. Navy, savior of America... Perseus Jackson!”
The music blasts, and the spotlight burns his eyes. Percy squints as he steps onto the stage, hiding his gaze beneath his uniform cap. The host meets him halfway, shakes his hand, and gives him a friendly pat on the back, leading him to a chair. Percy flops down, still squinting and hoping he won’t look as pathetic on screens as he feels inside.
The host settles at the table, says something to the audience, and finally turns to Percy:
“So, Perseus...”
“Just Percy, sir.”
The host chuckles.
“Alright, Percy. Just a week ago, you pulled off an incredible feat! You became a true hero! You fought alongside superheroes! You stopped an alien invasion and defeated a god. Tell us, what was that like?”
Percy lets out a heavy sigh. Somewhere far beyond this flawed world, the Fates must be chuckling at him. And it’s not just them.
He can picture back at Camp Half-Blood, dozens of friends and acquaintances pressed against the screen of the lone TV, dying of laughter. The gods. He can almost hear his father’s laughter amid the waves of the distant sea.
He smiles at the host and shrugs:
“It’s strange, sir. I’m not used to this kind of attention.”
The audience responds with "awws" of delight. The host grins.
“That’s charming, Perseus! Oh, I mean, Percy. Take off your cap; let the viewers see you! Lately, we’ve only seen you in your formal attire. What lies beneath that handsome uniform?”
Percy squints. Great. Pulling the cap off, he hears gasps from the crowd. The host, having seen him before the show and the makeup, feigns surprise.
“Wow!” he exclaims. “Is that a result of your battle?”
Percy bites his split lip.
“That’s a result of my wife being extremely unhappy that at the moment she went into labor, I was off on yet another suicide mission.”
He doesn’t say this, only nods.
“Yes, sir, the battle was tough.”
“Not as tough as all the previous ones, but I’d rate it a solid seven out of ten,” he thinks.
The host leans in closer.
“Tell us, Percy, how did you end up in this mess? You’d already retired and they couldn’t drag you into dealing with this problem.”
Percy sighs heavily once more.
“Will you believe me if I say I was just going to buy some bread?”