Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Waking up with Led Zeppelin singing in his ears, shelves of books rising all around him, and fluorescent lights stinging his eyes after having fallen asleep in his room was not the weirdest thing to ever happen to him. In fact, Percy doesn’t even know if it would make the top ten.

He groans, yanking the headphones out of his ears that had definitely not been there when he fell asleep. He tries to rub the sleep from his eyes and chase away the fog of sleep so he can try and figure out just where he is.

When he does so, he feels leather scrape against his skin. He yanks his hand back surprised by the gloves that are there. He was pretty sure the last time he had worn gloves was the winter he first met Nico. He’d learned pretty quickly that gloves heavily impeded his ability to fight when he ran into monsters. An occurrence that was all too common.

He pulls the gloves off, surprised how easily they slip off. The second they leave his skin, the leathers begin to bend and flex. He feels like he is looking through a kaleidoscope as the leather bends and twists, moving through a variety of colors and shapes before it is thinned out into a tan sheet of paper.

Scrawled across the paper was a ton of words. Just looking at it gave him a headache. The note was completely written in cursive. Not only that, but it was written in a golden color that made his eyes sting in the already bright lights.

After a few painstaking minutes of picking apart each part of the letter he was able to generally make out the words written down.

‘Perseus Jackson,

Fate has pulled at my need for your aid once again. The world you have awoken in is not your own. The people you know will not be the same here. A force unlike any you have met before is seeking you for your power. Although now what I have done may seem cruel to your mortal mind, you will soon be able to understand why it needed to be done. This note and the locations I have provided on the back are the only aid I will be able to provide you as you move through this world. The only other thing I will offer you is this reminder

Names have power’

Unlike the rest of the note, the last line is written in regular print, far easier on Percy’s dyslexia. The reminder seems out of place and odd. He flips the paper, see a variety of addresses listed on the back. Each of them is located in some place called Gotham in New Jersey. He folded the paper and pushed it into his pocket before standing up. The shelves around him towered so high he could hardly see much of his surroundings.

Percy moved out of the row of shelves, finding that he seemed to be in the back of some library. Towards what he assumes is the entrance there are small little clusters of circular tables, old looking computers sitting on them. Instead of blinding fluorescent lights, most of the light in this section of the library is provided by the yellow haze of sunlight that dips through the windows.

There are some beanbags lying around and clusters of kids are lounging on them, chatting or working on what he can only assume is homework. The sight of it reminds Percy that he should probably be at school right now. He could not afford to miss class. The workload was already overwhelming when he actually attended class.

“Please, let this be some cruel prank,” He whispers. He walks past the groups of kids, noticing a long desk set into the side of the room. Sitting behind the counter is a woman with red hair, green eyes bouncing around behind glasses as she looks at something on a screen. She has a name tag, but Percy can’t even begin to make it out from where he is.

Percy makes his way over, hoping she is not a monster. It would be just his luck if she is.

Her eyes flicked up to him a moment before he was going to speak to get her attention. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew she had been watching him. Percy had enough experience with being watched without being watched to know when it’s going on.

“Hey, what can I help you with?” She asks, offering a warm smile. She turns her complete attention to him. Now standing closer to her he notices that she is sitting in a wheelchair. He can also make out the name ‘Barabra’ written out on her name tag.

Percy hesitated for a moment, hoping he could pick the right words to not seem too suspicious just in case she wasn’t a monster. “I seemed to fall asleep while I was reading, and I lost track of time. I was wondering if you know what time it is?”

He can tell his attempt at an inconspicuous tone fails by the way she lets out a small huff of amusement. She looks over at her computer before saying, “It’s about 3:30,” She says.

“Pm?”

She looks towards the window. The sun is still shining its rays down into the front of the library illuminating the space. Percy realizes that was a pretty dumb question.

“Yeah,” she says. “Do you need help with anything else? If my ears don’t deceive me, you're not from around here. New York maybe?”

“You can tell?” Percy frowns. He had never had anyone clock him as having a New York accent before. Sure Annabeth had pointed out his ability to absolutely ignore the existence of lines as a uniquely New York trait but never the way he spoke.

“We get a decent amount of people who move here from there. Not super far, still a big city, but the rent is far cheaper. Just have to be more careful. Are you just visiting or did you move down here with your family?” She asks. She seems to be doing so innocently, but Percy can’t shake the feeling that she is digging for information. He also can’t deny the fact that she has stated very obviously that wherever he is is not New york.

“Family. Um, where is the closest bus station?” He asks.

“That depends on where you’re going. Bus stations in Gotham are complicated. Most don’t go out unless there is a mandated city-wide evacuation-”

“Wait, is that a thing that happens? I thought that was just like in comic books and movies and stuff?” Percy says because there is no way you can just evacuate a whole city. Especially a big city.

“Happened last summer. Did you not see it on the news?” She asks.

He isn’t sure how to explain that last summer he was very busy fighting giants and trying to keep the world from being turned to smithereens. Again. Instead he just says, “Nope.”

She frowns. “All right. Well, where are you heading?”

“New York,” Percy says.

Her frown deepens at that, and Percy knows he must have said something wrong somewhere in that conversation. He was beginning to think it would be easier to just go and figure this out without involving anyone.

“You’ll have to take a bus to Metropolis and then transfer to one for New York,” She says. “The only station that offers a bus to Metropolis is in the Upper West Side.”

“Right,” Percy says. “Cool. Thanks. I will just be heading on my way then.”

“Wait!” She says, reaching out a hand as if prepared to stop him from walking away. “The upper west side is pretty far. It may not be wise to go all the way over there on your own. If you’re in some sort of trouble, we do have resources to help.”

Percy was not sure when the conversation had taken such a left turn. How did she come to the conclusion that he was in trouble? Sure, he probably was to some extent. Usually people thought he was a troublemaker first before they ever thought he was in trouble though.

“I’m fine,” He says. “Thank you for your help.”

“Of course,” Barabra says.

Percy quickly leaves, not wanting to make matters even worse. Once he steps out of the library, the city he walks into is a jarring sight. There are buildings all over, towering just like in New York, but that is when the similarities end. These buildings look as though they decided to model themselves after something from a dracula novel. Sure, there are some buildings in New York with gargoyles watching over them, but in Gotham it looks as though gargoyles are almost a requirement. The sun that he was sure was unobscured when he was in the library seemed buried within layers of gray clouds.

Percy pulled the hood on his hoodie over his head, feeling as though the darkness that was draped over this city expanded beyond just the lighting.

He walked for a while, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the library as possible. His main goal was to get home. He didn’t care whatever fun whatever god thought they were going to have with him. He was done with that. All he wanted was the chance to finally live a life. Go to college with Annabeth, have a chance at a normal life. One where he didn’t have to constantly glance over his shoulder, waiting for the next monster. One where he didn’t have to put his life on the line or the lives of the people he cared about because the gods couldn’t handle their own issues. He was done with it. He is not going to play their game.

Percy finally takes a moment to pause when he sees a little stand sitting next to a bus stop. It seems to have a bunch of brochures on it. They all look as though they have been there for ages. Many of them are illegible from the rain that has spread their ink away into fuzzy colors. He shuffles through them for a whole before he finds one with a partially legible map.

The front has a smiling man with black hair looking into the camera, a few kids scattered around his sides. The top says Wayn. He is pretty sure there was supposed to be another letter at the end, but the rain has turned it into teardrops of black ink that bleed into the happy looking guy below. Percy rolls his eyes, knowing it is probably some rich guy, pulling at sympathy through the advertising of being a family man or something. Percy doesn’t really care. He does though care about the back of the brochure which has a little map. There are some places marked on it, but he doesn’t give it much mind. What he really cares about is the words ‘Upper West Side’ pushed to the corner of the map. Perfect. Now he just had to figure out where he was.

A deep rumble of thunder makes Percy flinch. He glances at the sky, realizing the clouds have turned an even angrier shade of gray. The rain might actually work in his favor. Most people stay indoors. Making it easier for him to get to the bus station without running into any problems.

He backs up to the front of the bus stop the brochures are kept next to. There’s a small sign that looked as though at one time words had been printed on it. Like everything in this city though they were weathered away, faded into the color of the sign from the sun. He laughed at that, surprised there was any sun at all in this dreary place.

Just when he was thinking things could not get any worse, a deep growl sounded behind him. After this long he really thought he ought to know better than ever expect it to be impossible for things to get worse. He popped out the riptide. The pin was in its normal pathetic looking state. Part of the cap looked as though he had taken some bronze paint to it, but the real magic didn’t happen until he pulled off the cap.

The air around the pen seemed to bend as it grew into a big celestial bronze sword. He bit his tongue to keep from cursing the gods before turning around. As he had expected, in the middle of the street stood a bear-sized mastiff. Its eyes glowed like ruby gems placed in its head. Knowing Hades’ connection to wealth, that couldn’t be completely put out of the question.

Percy had met tons of hellhounds. They were kind of like the monster versions of rats in New York. Most were half-blood eating salivating monsters, the exception being Mrs. O’Leary of course.

“Do we have to do this right here? Almost as embracing as the school cafeteria. I don’t know how I managed to play that off,” Percy sighs.

The Hellhound actually seems to back up a step, it lips curling to reveal its once white teeth that were stained red. Ears flat against its head, it shook its head around before letting out a sharp bark. The shadows from the nearby builds stretched to the hellhound’s sides, forming into two dark masses.

Percy expected to form into hellhound buddies or something, but instead, they seemed to form into a silhouette of a hellhound and then stop. Now that Percy looked back at the original hellhound, waves of darkness seemed to move off of it in waves like steam.

Percy readied his sword, wishing he could’ve gone a little longer without a monster encounter. The hellhound hunched down, and a high pitched scream sounded to his left.

“What-” Percy’s head rocked to the side, realizing there was a group of about five people a ways off, watching on. There was a younger girl among them, about 10 or 12 who had screamed. Percy’s stomach twisted at the thought that she may be a clear sighted mortal, seeming through the mist at the real monsters behind it.

One of the adults with her pulled her back, grabbing her hand before running off. The other three lingered, their eyes wide as they stared at what was happening. Percy truly hoped whatever they saw wasn’t going to get him back on the FBI watchlist.

His feet suddenly yanked him back, hellhound claws barely missing his feet. Right. He’s in the middle of fighting against hellhounds. He knew that their biggest problem was their side, go around them fast enough, switch directions and they just can’t keep up.

So that is what he does, quickly moving to the right, running behind the hellhound and forcing it to turn around. It’s quicker than he expects, much much quicker than any hellhound he has met. As he goes to suddenly return the direction he came from, claws are waiting right there to meet him. He barely managed to bring up riptide to push them back.

He stumbles back from the force of blocking the blow. His teeth ache from the repercussion of the unexpected blow. A force from behind shoves him forward just as the hellhound moves to strike him again. He manages to duck, stepping to its left and swinging riptide for a strike at its belly.

In a blur its claws are there too, easily blocking the blow. The creature is moving with such speed, he is starting to wonder if it even is actually a hellhound. Percy should have this dealt with by now. There is far too much attention coming towards him.

He blocks another flurry of blows, much faster than they should be. His body has gone onto autopilot, the years of fighting against forces he truly should not be able to save him again and again from the sharp needles.

His frustration builds with every block, with every failed strike. Then he feels the familiar tug in his stomach and the rush of water in his ears. There is a loud metal clang and water slams against his back, also raining down on the hellhound.

He instantly cries out as the water burns. It feels like acid against his skin. Memories of screams and rot claw through his mind. He hears crying, the disheveled crying of Annabeth, gray eyes staring passed him into the dark abyss. He tries to reach out, but it is a memory, his hands swiping uselessly through her. There, hovering in the distance were creatures of his nightmares. Large wings that had few feathers clinging to the black leather of them. They had pools of darkness for eyes, and only the acid crawling into his veins seemed to give him the strength to stand tall. (She’s right there, she’s right there) He charged, swinging his blade and slicing through the first of the Arai. The sword cut clean through. Not just the monsters but the memories that had overlaid the world.

The darkness of Tartarus faded away, the dust of a hellhound floating to the ground just as the dust of the Arai had. Where Annabeth had been there was an empty section of sidewalk, a flickering street light casting a wonky shadow over the area. The area around his feet was wet. He carefully knelt down, touching the water. His fingers did not burn, the water feeling no different than normal. He clutched Riptide tightly, taking slow breaths to try and quiet the pounding of his heart.

Yet he couldn’t get the image out of his head of Annabeth. Gods he would give anything to have her right there next to him where he could touch her, see that she was okay. Watch the way she would roll her eyes with a small smile on his face when he said something stupid. But he didn’t know where she was. Gods he barely knew where he was and suddenly it was all catching up to him.

They had lived through hell, literally. Yet that didn’t seem to keep the gods from playing around with their lives. Memories of Jason joined the images of Annabeth and Percy felt like he couldn’t breath. If Jason, someone with so much good to do, so much power, could be robbed from the world by the gods after everything he had done, how were any of them safe? And if something happened to Annabeth and he wasn’t there? No. He couldn’t take that.

“You okay kid?”

Percy shot up, swinging riptide in an ark at the person who had spoken. The sword passed right through the mortal, and the sight of the startling red helmet they wore tore him from his thoughts. He became awfully aware of the bone deep ache within his limbs. He also did not miss the two pistols strapped to the figure’s side. In fact, now that Percy was looking he realized that the person seemed to be wearing some sort of armor, a red something spread across their chest. Maybe a bird. Maybe a bat actually. All he knew was that it looked ridiculous.

“What the fuck dude?” The guy said. Percy wished he wasn’t wearing a helmet so he had a better idea on if he intended to use the weapons at his side. Perhaps he had seen Percy hit him with a pool noodle.

Percy tried to focus really hard, like he had seen other mist users do. He snapped his fingers before saying, “Sorry for hitting you with a pool noodle.”

The guy had the audacity to laugh. Which, like everything with this guy, told Percy absolutely nothing.

“I know what a sword looks like, kid. I promise I just want to help. Maybe whatever meta powers you have know that too which is why your sword did whatever that was. Actually it is a pretty sick sword. That being said, you should not be walking around with that,” Red Hood said.

Percy should’ve been more alarmed by the fact that this guy was a clear-sighted mortal, but he couldn’t get over the word mera. He had been called many things, but meta just felt wrong. He hated the way it felt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Annabeth always told him his best skill was playing dumb. (Most of the time it wasn’t playing, but he was pretty sure she knew that.)

“Are you here with someone?”

“Do you know how to get here?” Percy asked, pulling the pamphlet from his pocket and shoving it towards Red Helmet dude. He pointed at where Barabra had told him the bus station he was looking for.

“That is on the other side of Gotham, kid,” Red Helmet said.

“I’m 17,” Percy says. “And that’s cool, I just need to know how to get there.”

“You’re not from around here are you?” Red Helmet asked. There it was again, the quickness of people here realizing he was somewhere else.

“Does everyone here jump around questions like it is a competition?” Percy grumbles. “I just need to get to New York as soon as possible.”

The red helmet guy seemed to just stare at him for a moment. Percy wished he could see his face to gauge just what the Hades this guy was thinking. He seemed to have decent intentions, but he was not going to ignore the two pistols at his hip.

“Hop on. I’ll take you there,” Red Helmet guy said.

“Alright, I have been told that my self-preservation could use some work, but I don’t really know it's the best idea to jump on the motorcycle of a guy wearing a weird red helmet who speaks like he’s got metal stuck in his throat,” Percy says. “I can find it just fine on my own.”

“Either I take you, or you hop on. Those are your only options and I’m not offering twice,” The guy said.

And truthfully, Percy didn’t want to spend a second longer in this city than he had to. He couldn’t erase the feeling of the water from his skin. Even when he had swam in the Hudson, water piled so high with pollution it had felt suffocating, it had never felt outright painful.

“Do you have another helmet?”

-

Jason was certain this kid was on the run. From what, he didn’t know yet. He was also certain he was a meta. Not just some regular kid carries around a sword and fights monsters that look like they were ripped straight from the pages of a Percy Jackson book. On top of that, he looked tired.

It wasn’t the same type of tiredness that Gotham seemed to summon from all her citizens, but it was something much deeper. His accent plus the weird tattoo on his arm, Jason was willing to bet that the kid was involved in some sort of gang or mafia stuff.

Jason was still thinking about the kid who was not clinging to him nearly enough for the speeds Jason whipped through Gotham on his bike when he skidded the bike to a stop. Where the bus station usually was, there was a wall of darkness. It seemed as though faces pressed against the darkness, their translucent skin casting a stark contrast. Each of their expressions were captured in agony.

“Gods,” Percy sighed.

Jason tapped into the bat comms, finding they were pretty silent as no one was on patrol. It was the odd period before the night bats came out after Signal’s day patrol. The sun hanging low against the sky, less than an hour from pouring the world into darkness.

“Oracle?” Jason asked.

He waited a moment before Babs gave a small hum to let him know she was on the line and listening.

“Do you know what the fuck is going on in the upper west side? I came to the bus station and there’s a wall of faces here,” Jason said.

“I haven’t seen any reports, but- shit. Reports just started popping in from all over the city. Walls… popping up on bridges and at bus stations. I’m going to bring in Bruce. Stay back until we know what or who we’re dealing with,” Babs said.

Chapter Text

Jason had no plans to stick around whatever the hell this was. The longer he looked at the faces in the wall, the more certain he was that they were slowly stretching out towards them. Whatever barrier was holding them back was stretching thin like plastic, ready to snap at any moment.

The streets seemed to have emptied out of civilians. The bike kicked to life under him, and he glanced back to enlighten the kid on the situation. Except where the odd boy had been sitting, there was now empty air.

“Shit,” Jason hissed.

“I’m calling in B. If you don’t want to be on the line when he comes on, now is your chance to tap out,” Barabra said. “Also the kid took off down the street.”

Jason swung the bike around, the tires letting out a high pitched squeal against the pavement before taking off back the way he came. ‘Took off’ is not the term Jason would’ve used to describe the way the kid was walking down the street, hands in his pockets, and no sword in sight.

The bike’s engine turned to a low hum as it pulled up beside him, the kid’s green eyes turning towards him for only a moment before looking back down the road. Jason could’ve sword despite being the one to take him to this part of Gotham, the kid had seemed surprised to see him sitting on the bike.

“And where are you heading, kid?”

The kid flicked his thumb back towards the bus station before saying, “Away from that.”

“That’s good and all, but whatever ‘that’ is is a great reason for you to not just be out wandering the streets. Do you have a place to stay?” Jason asked.

The kid sighed, looking towards the sky as if that would somehow provide an answer for him. After a bit more of walking where the kid only replied with silence Jason pulled the bike in front of him. “Look. You’re not from here. You probably don’t understand the dangers of being out here. Whatever that is back there probably means that Gotham is going to be facing some villain attacks tonight. Those on the streets are always hit first and hit the hardest. Aren’t you wondering why no one else seems to be out?”

“There were plenty of people out on our ride up here,” The kid pointed out, crossing his arms across his chest. Jason caught the flash of the tattoo hidden on his arm again. He had only been able to make out the fact that part of it were some letters, but the kid seemed to conveniently twist his arm right before Jason could ever make out what it fully looked like.

“That was because I cut through Crime Alley as a shortcut. The streets there will always have gangs milling around. The more you talk the more you prove my point that you have no idea what you are doing.”

The kid actually laughed at this. Jason tried his best to calm the swell of annoyance that was building up in him.

“There is not seriously a place here called Crime Alley, right?”

“Would you just get on the damn bike?” Jason snapped, temper flaring.

The kid takes a step back, his arms tensing as if preparing for a fight. His hand hovered near his pocket, green eyes that had been filled with humor just moments ago now sparked with something dangerous that made Jason second guess if maybe he could take care of himself.

“What’s your name?” He hurled the question like an accusation.

Jason leaned against the handlebars of his bike as he really looked over this kid. The street lamps let out a faint light that wasn’t any better than if Jason simply pulled out his phone and used it as a flashlight. The kid being decked out in mostly dark clothes didn’t help. The sun had finally dipped far enough behind the buildings, and the remaining light just made him look like a caged animal.

“Red Hood,” Jason provided. The kid’s shoulder’s loosened, his hand moving away from the opening of his pocket. Perhaps, Jason thought, this kid recognized his name and had good associations with it. That would be the best case scenario. “What’s your name, kid?”

Blowing out a puff of air the kid said, with an expression so serious it bordered on downright unnatural, “Blue Hood.”

Despite being strictly against killing or harming kids, Jason was starting to consider making an exception. The frustration that had slowly been building in the back of his mind was slowly transforming into anger, and he was desperately willing himself to keep it together.

“I’m being serious. Do you at least have someone you can call?” Jason asked, pulling out his encrypted phone. He had three. Despite denying on multiple occasions that he did not need nor want them, one of the bats- he didn’t know which one which still bothered him more than anything- snuck into his apartment and left three new phones there. One was for bat communication(cleverly displayed by the bat symbol on the back, very subtle), a red one for if he needed to assist civilians in a way similar to this, and then finally one for everyday use. The latter was a basic black phone, but he could easily distinguish it because he cracked the screen a few days after getting it. He’d rather eat glass than ask Bruce for another.

“Wait… actually yes,” The kid said, but he looked at the phone as though it might bite him. Or more accurately, like he might bite it.

“If you bolt with this,” Jason warned, holding the phone out towards him, “things will not be pretty.”

“Threats are super comforting. Very selling on the, ‘I want to help you because I’m a good guy who goes around using a fake name that doesn’t make sense’ story,” He says, taking the phone. The phone was already unlocked, the phone app pulled up, yet he still looked as though he was looking at something written in a foreign language.

“Okay, so, dumb question,” He began.

“I swear to god if you say you don’t actually know a phone number to call,” Jason grumbled.

The kid shook his head, turning the screen towards Jason. “My girlfriend would kill me if after all the hammering into my head of her emergency phone number I still didn’t remember it. I just don’t know how to get to where you enter the number.”

“You really are serious when you preface with dumb question, huh?”

“Yeah yeah I know. Just how? We don’t have much time,” The kid said, his eyes flickering out as if he expected something to jump from the shadows at any moment. Considering the thing he had been fighting earlier, it probably wasn’t fully out of the question.

Jason sighed, taking the phone back and clicking onto where the kid could type in the number for whoever he needed to call. If nothing else Jason could get Barabra to trace the number later so he could find out more about this kid. She was the only one Jason was certain wouldn’t go to Bruce. Despite what most people may consider Bruce’s affection for strays, only one of those so-called strays was a meta. While he had no proof this kid was one, he had no explanation for why else he would’ve been fighting off a monster.

Considering the static line in his ear, he assumed Barabra hadn’t waited for his word and had moved him onto a different channel than what Bruce was getting on. Otherwise Jason was certain he would’ve already gotten an earful.

The kid had taken back the phone, taking an agonizingly long time to type in each individual number for whoever he was calling. He kept the phone close to his chest as if trying to keep anyone from seeing what he was typing. The kid really must be inept with technology if he doesn’t understand how easy it will be for Jason to figure out the number.

Jason had kicked out the stand on his bike, letting it lean to the side. The kid put the phone to his ear, and Jason could hear the faint ringing on the other end. He’d honestly been convinced the kid had been lying about having someone to call and just planned on calling the cops. Luckily, he didn’t seem to be that stupid since there is no way anyone could take that long to type in three numbers.

The ringing went on for a bit, the kid pulling the phone away from his face a bit to glance at the screen as if unsure it was actually calling someone.

The ringing finally stopped, but Jason knew it was moving on to voicemail from the amount of rings. The kid frowned, his eyebrows scrunching together as he listened to whatever message was being said on the other side. He finally pulled the phone fully away and ended the call(Jason was beyond relieved he knew what the big red button at the bottom of the screen did).

The kid opened his mouth to say something, but before he began a soft orange glow illuminated his face. It wiped away the shadows, enhancing the caged animal look of the kid for that of a lost puppy. His mouth snapped shut, his lips forming into a thing line while his hand reached into his pocket. The kids’ eyes were staring past Jason, his whole body going stiff.

“You should go,” The boy said. The glow grew in intensity, casting the boy into flickering hues of orange and red. An intense heat hit Jason in the back making him break out into a sweat. He was ready to argue and look back until the light caught on a section of the boy’s hair that seemed to be a dusty white. Jason didn’t know how he had not noticed it before considering how much it seemed to stand out against the black strands. Jason’s heart suddenly thudded in his chest with intense violence. If the boy could hear it, he gave no indicator, green eyes remaining trained past Jason.

“I am not going anywhere until you start talking. Do you work for the Al Ghuls?” Jason growls.

The kid didn’t seem to be hearing a word that Jason said as he moved away from the motorcycle, his eyes still staring at something past him. The amount the boy could move around without moving his gaze was unnerving. With great reluctance Jason took his eyes off the boy to see what it is that has him so tense.

Forty feet away, standing at heights that were easily over 8 feet tall were three stallions. Except they were not like any horses Jason had seen before. Like the hellhounds they had red eyes that shone like rubies. Their muscles were coiled tightly under silky golden fur. The most striking thing about each one was their manes. Instead of the coarse horsehair Jason expected there were flickering flames that reached towards the sky. Steam rose from the stallions, all the water dried up from his clothes as their flames intensified. The leading horse stomped down a silver hood, letting off a yowl with a burst of flames that sent anger boiling through Jason’s veins.

He felt the cold metal of his guns in his hands although he did not remember grabbing them. The leading stallion’s attention shifted to Jason, their eyes locking. He thought the anger he had felt before was bad, but suddenly it was as if anger was his entire being. Every memory in his mind was tinged in a deep red. He heard a guttural scream, but it was easily drowned out by the roaring in his ears. The longer he stared into this stallion’s eyes it felt as though cracks were spreading across his skin, more rage somehow seeping out through them and stiffening the air around him. He was thrust into memories of hurt and betrayal. A bomb. Bruce nowhere in sight. His mother. A new kid standing on the edge of a building, a smile that belonged to him spread across his face while he wore his costume. Every single one of them looking at him, seeing nothing except-

His head snapped to the side as a bitter coldness was thrust upon him, a taste like an unwashed boot forced into his mouth. He stumbled back, coughing and retching as he slowly realized he was now drenched from head to toe again, his guns lying a decent ways away. Right under the hooves of the horses.

“Don’t!”

Jason’s head snapped to the kid. If whatever the fuck those things were had any effect on him Jason could not tell. He was tense sure, but no more than the entire time he had known the kid. The bronze sword he had wielded against the last monster had come back into his possession at some point.

“Don’t look at them. Get away from here!” The kid says before charging the fucking things.

Jason didn’t know if this kid had the same broken hero complex as all his siblings or just an unusually high level of stupidity. All he knows is he won’t find out if he doesn’t save his ass from the fire horses.

Jason laughed. Fire Horses. And he thought Gotham couldn’t get any worse.

Jason pulled out two daggers, one from each boot. He knew better than to only carry obvious weapons in Gotham. Most of the time they didn’t last for long.

The kid moved like a force of nature, the sword almost seeming to move with him as opposed to him controlling it. He launched at the horses and fought with such speed Jason could hardly keep up with what was going on. None of the stallions were even sparing him a glance, all of their attention turned to the boy.

The first one, perhaps caught by surprise, was skewered straight through by the sword. Instead of the gory mess Jason expected, the horse turned to dust much like the other monster he had seen the kid fight.

The leading stallion breathed a plume of flames towards the kid, letting out a high pitched cry that sounded like a handful of chalk being scraped against a chalkboard. The kid rolled out of the flames barely avoiding being barbecued.

Jason saw his opening and tossed one of his daggers. He’d been practicing it a lot lately in his apartment, and it must have been doing something as he watched the dagger hit the animal right in the neck. Except instead of penetrating the skin, it bounced off like a ball, flying off in a random direction.

The second remaining horse had snuck up behind the kid as he was getting back to his feet. Before Jason could call out a warning, it breathed out a plume of flames onto the kid. The flames consumed him completely.

Jason ran forward, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he launched at the second stallion. He struck out with his remaining dagger. As the metal collided with the horse, the impact rang through his arm, the dagger flying back and forcing him to let go lest he cut himself.

He was ready to wrangle the thing with his bare hands when a bronze sword swung down on the back of the horse’s neck, turning it to dust like its friend. Standing on the other side of the horse was the kid. The skin all over his body was cherry red, but he didn’t look burnt. His chest fell and rose rapidly, sword still held at the ready.

“You’re really not here to trick me are you?” He says as if every other thing Jason has done did not prove that point.

“Did you just figure that out?” Jason asked, his eyes still scanning the boy. What kind of meta was this kid?

He shrugged right before shoving Jason back. Flames roared past right where he had just been standing. Right, not exactly the time for talking. Jason would definitely make sure there was time for questioning later because this kid was obviously involved with some bad people who wanted him dead.

The horse stomped its hoof sending sparks flying out as it cried another of its ear piercing wails. Small flames now flickered from its eyes. Eyes that Jason made a point of avoiding.

The kid whistled, “Hey buddy! I know you’re probably pissed about me killing your friends and all that, but really your friends shouldn't go around trying to kill people.”

The horse’s head snapped towards the kid. Its lips pulled away from charcoal black teeth as it made a series of growl-like noises.

“Sheesh. Arion makes better threats than that, and he doesn’t even want to actually kill me. At least… I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to. That horse is kinda hard to read to be honest,” The kid shrugged, swinging his sword around lazily as if talking to a friend as opposed to a blood-thirsty, fire-breathing horse.

Jason didn’t even get the chance to tell the kid to shut up(something he was finding he wanted to do often) before the horse charged at the boy.

So quick Wally would be impressed the boy dodged out of the way at the last moment like he was in some sort of bull fight. He didn’t stop whenever the horse went careening past him. Instead, the kid bolted, running down the street and away from both Jason and the horse.

“Shit!” Jason snapped, running towards his bike as the horse ran after the boy. He hopped on, quickly going to turn on the engine, but as he tried to turn on the ignition he was met with cold silence. Letting out a string of curses he tried again and again, but the engine would not start up. He glanced down the street, the horse and boy already a dark red speck in the distance.

He let out a yell, slamming his hands down on the bar. There, in the corner of his eye he noticed that the street under his bike was darker than the rest. Getting off the bike, right under his seat there was a cut in the metal of his bike, piercing enough to drain all the fuel. The hole was the perfect size for a sword.

-

Percy was not beyond admitting he had made a great many questionable decisions in his life. Deciding to race a fire breathing horse that he remembered once seeing pulling a chariot owned by none other than the God of War was definitely not one of his best.

A small part of him felt bad for stranding the guy, Red Hood, back there. In his defense he had drained his fuel before realizing that the guy was legit about wanting to help him. Perhaps he didn’t give stranger mortals on the street enough credit. Not that there were any plans to change that now, but it’s the thought that counts right?

Heat blasted his back as golden flames danced right past his body. After taking the direct blast back there, he wasn’t sure how much more punishment his powers could protect him from. Even then, as the cracking sound of steel hooves hitting concrete got closer and closer, fire was about to be the least of his problems.

The city didn’t provide much in the way of solutions. Wherever he was, the buildings looked as if one strong breeze could send them toppling. Almost all of them seemed residential, their fire escapes missing pieces and rusted beyond belief. Each alley was too dark to see the other end, and this street seemed to go on forever only ending…

He felt a familiar tug in his gut as he realized the cityline he was seeing far in the distance was not a part of Gotham. He couldn’t make out more than the colorful lights on the horizon, but he knew from the feeling swirling in his gut and the sudden dip that was getting closer and closer that this street led directly to the ocean.

Gotham is an Island!

Finally, something he liked about the city.

“YOU WILL NOT OUTRUN ME!”

Percy winced as the horse’s words rang out behind him. That was at least one of the more tame things the monster had said. Especially since this threat did not involve grisly descriptions of Percy’s charred corpse.

The edge of the water was finally in view. Maybe about fifty more feet and he would be there.

Heat and slammed into his side moments before the stallion did so, sending Percy flying. Right on the corner he was at there was a convenience store. It was rather nice looking considering the way all the buildings around it were. A small light up sign read ‘Corner Mart’ each letter miraculously actually lit. Better than any store in New York without a doubt. Unfortunately Percy didn’t get a great chance to take it all in before he was hurtling through the glass door, shattering it.

He landed with a dull thud, knocking over a rack of chips and earning a surprised yell from the shop owner. He groaned, the world spiraling and stars dancing through his eyes. Sprinkles of pain went through his hands as he got up, tiny shards of glass sticking to his skin.

The shop owner, a timid older man with leather skin and five wisps of hair carefully combed back, had turned white as paper. His hands clutched onto the cash register as if Percy really went crashing through the door in an amazing first step of a robbery.

“Sorry about-,” Percy vaguely gestured around.

The elderly man gave no response to Percy, but he did make an impressive sounding cry as the flaming stallion stepped through where the door once was. It had to bend down in order to fit through the still standing metal doorframe.

Percy glanced around, realizing he must have lost Riptide some time after being hit. Wherever the sword was, it was out of sight. Percy just needed to buy enough time for it to reappear in his pocket.

“Um, so…do you do time outs?” Percy offered.

“COWARD!” The horse shouted. Not that it seemed to have any other speaking volume. Percy wasn’t sure exactly what the old man heard, but it was enough to make him sway for a moment before collapsing to the floor. Percy hoped whatever he saw and heard the horse as through the mist was enough to make him just faint and not have a heart attack.

The horse opened its mouth, and Percy barely made it to the side before flames rushed past him, leaving melted shelves in the middle of the store. He felt for the ocean, the memory of the water on his skin from the Hell Hound still fresh. Would this water also feel like acid against his skin?

The horse charged, and Percy couldn’t move fast enough as it headbutted him in the stomach, his body slamming back against the wall with a sickening crunch. Agony filled his chest both inside and outside. The small layer of water left protecting his skin was now completely gone.

He didn’t have time to focus on the pain. His pen was still not in his pocket, and he couldn’t take the stallion on his own anymore. Not for the first time in this fight he wished Annabeth was there. She would know an easier way out.

Unfortunately he only had one idea. With his last remaining strength he pulled. He pulled at the power that was always hovering right beneath his skin. The horse stomped down, sending sparks out as it prepared for another assault.

Its ears flattened against its head as a roar sounded outside. Water came crashing through the store, drenching the horse who let out wails as if the water burned it. Percy used all his control to keep the water from touching him. He sprinted out of the store, agony rising to meet him as each step sent daggers through his chest. His breath rattled around and he felt like he was gasping to breath.

The ledge was right there, the sprawling dark waters lingering under it.

The horse stumbled out of the shop. Its mane no longer flickered with fire. Instead it was like coarse regular horse hair the color of blood, sticking over its head and dripping with water. With one final roar, it charged at Percy.

Out of options yet again, Percy prayed the water from earlier was a fluke as he jumped over the ledge, plummeting into the dark depths.

Chapter Text

“I’m telling you, Jason, all of the cameras in the area went down. The last recording we have of the kid was when he left your bike, then everything went down, your coms included,” Tim said, leaning back in his chair.

He took a deep breath, salty air filling his lungs. His boat softly creaked as the water underneath swayed with the tide. He’d gotten used to the smooth rocking, now finding it hard to ever sleep without it. The table in front of him was old and rickety, the shabby blue paint chipping off in multiple places. He’d balanced his monitors on it just so to make sure there wasn’t too much weight. Different systems hummed around him, warming the cool air.

He could easily have afforded a better set up, but this boat was his. Originally, the decision had been to keep only a bat com and a spare Red Robin suit in the boat for emergencies. That had only lasted about a month before he caved and lugged in enough computer parts to fill up half the living area. It wasn’t close to what he would have preferred, but at least he could convince himself he was trying to keep his Red Robin work and civilian work separate.

“So someone just what?! Hacked them? Shut them off?!” Jason’s growl crackled through the com.

Tim sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, Jason. I can tell when someone tries to hack these things, they leave traces. Coded trails that no matter how good you are you can't scrub. There is none of that here. They just lost power. There is no similar sort of power outage in the area, so that means they would’ve had to be manually turned off, but even then… I should find traces of that. The slightest movement of the lens. A command in the code, something. Instead all I am met with is nothing.”

Tim rubbed underneath his eyes, messaging the soreness from a long night with his mask on. No matter how many years he had been doing this, the mask never failed to irritate his skin. He’d been ready to change, relax, and maybe even get some sleep after patrol. Instead, the second he sat down on the couch, his Oracle com went off.

If Barbara was ever pulled away for anything, usually helping the Birds of Prey with something, Tim was the next line of contact for anything the bats would normally ask of her. Slipping the small disk into his ear he had hopped for a quick and easy scan of police records or even unlocking a door somewhere. Something that did not involve him having to fully log into the network. Unfortunately, he’d been greeted by an angry and disgruntled Red Hood. Jason’s mood just seemed to sour more when Tim’s voice came across the line instead of Barbara’s.

“You know, if you gave me more information about what you were looking for, I might actually be able to help you,” Tim added. Jason had been dodgy as far as why he wanted the camera footage. Which Tim thought was idiotic considering he would see whatever it was if it existed in the first place.

There was a loud crash on the other end of the line followed by something that sounded eerily close to someone being punched. Tim leaned back, peeking out the small circular window he had on the other side of the room. He removed one of his gloves, wiping the fog away from the window.

The dark clouds that always hovering over Gotham were just as present as ever, their slightly lighter color letting Tim know that the sun must have begun rising.

“Isn’t it a little past your prime time for beating people up?” Tim asked.

“Shut up. I’m thinking,” Jason said, right before more tussling came across the line. It went on for about a minute. Tim took the time to lean his head back, closing his eyes in hopes of the sleep he was beginning to believe he would not have the time for.

Once the commotion on the other end of the line stopped, Jason finally spoke again. “The kid I was helping, he was fighting these… monsters. No other way of describing them. First one was like some kind of giant hellhound, then, right after that last bit of video, three horses showed up. Except the things were on fucking fire. Last I saw of the kid he was bolting from one. I searched the area as soon as I got the chance. All I found was a corner store that had been torn apart, blood on the floor inside. No sign of the kid otherwise.”

Tim shot up, his eyes flying open. “Giant hellhound? Was it about the size of a car, seemed to be made of shadows, and red glowing eyes?”

“It is unnerving how excited you sound about that, but yes,” Jason said.

Tim quickly pulled up files compiled over the past month. About a month ago reports had started coming in from around Gotham about monsters. Now in Gotham 'monsters’ usually means something worse than other places. Tim had taken it upon himself to find out what these things were. A few hours every night he would spend going around, trying to get evidence and photographs of these things. They never approached civilians and if they ever noticed they were being watched they seemed to vanish into the shadows.

“I’m sending over some images to you now. Let me know if they match up with what you saw,” Tim said, clicking some of the photos and sending them to Jason’s phone.

There was a moment of silence as Jason pulled up the photos before he said, “Holy shit. These are the exact things he was fighting. How long has this been a problem?”

Tim took in a breath through his teeth, “About a month from what I know. They’ve never shown aggression before though. Do you know if the kid attacked first or if the monster attacked him?”

“By the time I got there,” There was the soft sound of a door creaking open across the line, “they were already locked in a fight. But I don’t think this kid would attack without reason. He seemed lost.”

“Did he kill them?” Tim asked.

“I mean, I think?” Jason says, more of a question than an answer. “He sliced it with his sword then the thing turned to dust. Same with the weird fucking horses.”

Tim quickly wrote everything down that Jason was telling him, already creating a file for this mysterious kid. He wrote down all the descriptions he could based on the small clip of the video the kid had actually appeared in. Whoever this kid was, he had to know what was going on. That or be the cause of it. Tim was hoping for the former.

“Did he give you a name? Anything distinct about him, something that could help identify him?”

“He didn’t give me a name, but he had a weird tattoo on his arm. Tim, I know you’re probably putting this in the bat-computer system, but I really think this is something we should not bring B in on quite yet,” Jason said.

“Look, I know you two are still working things out, but this is important. If these things are attacking people now, we have to find a way to stop them,” Tim pointed out, his fingers hovering over the keys for a moment. “Why wouldn’t we bring B in on this?”

“Because I think this kid came in contact with a lazarus pit.”

Oh, Tim was not at all the person that should be on the other side of a com for a conversation with Jason like this. Tim’s hands moved away from the keyboard, curling into fists as he tried to think of an easy way out of this conversation.

“I can make sure B can’t see this stuff, but maybe we should wait for Oracle to be back,” Tim offered, mentally begging Jason to take an easy way out of this conversation.

“This kid could need our help right now Tim! There is no time to wait! Those things that were after him, even with how good he was, if he doesn’t get help he will die. I have no doubt in my mind about that. And if the Al Guhl’s have something to do with this, he’s in even more trouble than it looks like right now,” Jason snapped.

Tim pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, taking in a deep breath. Ultimately Jason was right. When it came down to it, there was someone in danger and they needed to help them, even if it meant Tim working with someone that always hated him even more than normal in situations that reminded him of the fact that Tim had taken his spot.

“We can bring in Dick. Or Damien. Get extra hands on this,” Tim offered.

“Look, I’m just as excited about working with you as you are with me, but those two would slip up and let B know. I know you won’t tell him unless it’s absolutely necessary. Now meet me at the location I sent you in twenty. If you really want to help, maybe another pair of eyes will,” Jason said.

Tim slipped on his glove, grabbing his mask from the edge of the table. “All right, but I have a thing at noon, so let’s make this quick.”

-

Dreams for Demigods were never just that. They didn’t get the luxury of cozy sleep with fluffy dreams of magic and whimsy or the golden possibilities of successful futures. Instead it was often ominous events that were all too real.

Percy had had enough of these half-blood exclusive dreams to know when he was in one. The first hint was always that he was aware of himself, that he was walking through a space that was not physical. Sure it looked real, but there was no shifting of air, no smells or texture. The second was if he thought hard enough, he could remember falling asleep. Or in this case, he could remember the pain that whipped through his body before his consciousness slipped.

He had no way of knowing if his body was resting at the bottom of the ocean or being swept off to some distant shore even more foreign to him than the weird city that was Gotham. As much as he wanted to reach out towards the real world, each time he thought about it, his thoughts became foggy making him almost forget that he was inside his own head.

No, he would not be able to wake up until he saw whatever it was the fates wanted him to see. The soft thrum of conversation deeper into the cave as well as the faint glow of green flames let him know exactly where to go to get that information.

The deeper he walked into the cave the more the pathway opened up until he was inside of a cavern. The talking became louder, and he spotted three figures all standing around a pit of green flames. There was a fourth smaller figure(perhaps a child?) sitting away from the group, not participating in whatever conversation was going on.

“I swear on the river styx that I will bring him to your world once you have kept up your part of the bargain. Do you understand the risks of doing so? The monsters that will be unleashed,” A familiar voice said.

Percy’s hands clenched into fists and he gazed upon the woman who had spoken. She was tall with a timid figure that was hidden under a white toga. Flowing down her back was a cape made from peacock feathers. Brown hair was pulled into a flawless bun, braids spiraling around the base and not a single hair out of place. She turned her head, and Percy caught a glimpse in the flamelight of her face. Her expression was neutral, no emotion showing through. Percy still wasn’t actually sure she felt emotions. She was the Queen of the Gods after all. He doubted Hera felt anything in her cold heart but jealousy and hate.

The other two figures, Percy did not recognize, but he doubted they were any good if they were making a deal with her. Evil or naive, he did not trust them.

“You have already opened the rift between our worlds when you originally brought the other through. A little more won’t hurt us at least,” The one man in the group smiled. He seemed old although Percy could place no age about him. Strands of pure white cut through his short cropped brown hair. He had wrinkles on his forehead, but the rest of him looked as though it was frozen in time, no older than 40, as if age was slowly making its way down his body. He wore a green suit, and similarly to Hera it had a cape in a matching shade of green.

He doesn’t alarm Percy nearly as much as the woman standing next to him. She is taller than both him and Hera with skin the color of stone. She had on a tight corseted black top that was made of leather and accented with small golden pieces. On her waist rested a belt with a shining red jewel that shone the same color as her eyes. There was not a single drop of white in them, only the all consuming red. It reminded him much of the monsters he had been fighting. She appeared to be wearing some sort of pants that were similar to her top, the same black material and golden accents present throughout.

“Not to mention, these creatures will help us find our prize wherever you might drop it off,” The woman said, her voice like a steel blade, easily drawing everyone's attention without even having to raise it one bit. He had met many goddesses before and there was no doubt in his mind that this woman was one.

Percy moved closer, trying to get a better look at the group. He did have to admit, of them all, the unsettling lady definitely had the best hair. Half of her head was shaved while the rest of the dark mass flowed almost down to her elbows. It was a style he could’ve easily imagined Thalia rocking.

“Yes,” Hera sighed. “Now hand over the sample so that I may confirm what you say is true.”

Percy was close enough now to see each of their faces washed out by the green light. He could not imagine what they were speaking about or what they had to do with each other, but he knew it had to somehow be important. Afterall, he was pretty sure the “prize” they were talking about was him. Either that or he was brought here to do something about it. Whichever it was, he wanted no part in whatever lopsided deals were being made amongst the gods.

The man reached within his coat and pulled out a small green vial. The contents of which were a cloudy green liquid that reminded Percy of the smelted metals he’d seen in the Hephaestus cabin. “I am surprised someone of your power would even need to examine such a thing. I figured you all-knowing,” The man said, a much too smug smile on his face considering who he was dealing with.

Hera’s eyes snapped onto him, their gazes locking. Behind their soft brown color there were the faint shadows of flames, and the man’s face paled so much it would make paper jealous. Percy had been on the receiving end of many of those looks and knew he had probably seen any number of untold horrors.

With the gentlest touch like that of a caring mother, Hera slipped the vial from the man’s hand. It seemed to fold into itself until there was nothing but open air where it had once been.

The woman had her arms across her chest, eyeing Hera with something Percy could only think to describe as respect. Although he felt there was something more he was not quite getting. That essentially described this whole interaction for him.

“Per our agreement he will be released as soon as we have completed what needs to be done,” The woman said. “Then our hunt will begin.”

“I would wish you luck, but that would send a false message that I wish you to succeed,” Hera said flatly.

The woman smiled, bowing slightly to the other goddess. “May we surprise you with what we can do. Perhaps this will not be our last time doing dealings, your highness.”

Percy was envious of the way this woman could twist her words to sound as though she were laying praise to Hera while doing the exact opposite at the same time. If Percy wasn’t convinced she was probably some big bad, he would absolutely ask her for tips if they ever met.

Hera’s face stays passive although the lack of flames behind her eyes lets Percy know that the statement is not blatantly a stab against her. He can’t get a read on if Hera actually dislikes these two in the way that her whole attitude seems to suggest or if that’s just Hera. He isn’t really sure that she likes anyone. Well, not anymore at least.

A lump formed in Percy’s throat, and his eyes burned for a moment as his thoughts turned to Jason. Percy had seen so many of his friends fight and die, but even with Jason it had been different. Jason had survived, he’d beaten the quest. He’d saved the world. He was making the world a better place.

Percy could still remember the blueprints Annabeth had studied relentlessly after Jason’s death. Even she had been amazed by what he had managed to plan. Jason wanted to continue what Percy had started, building appreciation for the minor gods. A promise Percy had neglected far too long. Jason had all the plans, all the ambition, but his time was cut far too short.

There were so many nights that Percy had lain awake thinking if there had been anything he could have done differently. Apollo had asked for his assistance, and he had turned him down. Jason hadn’t and it got him killed. Percy often wondered if he had not been so unwilling to help if Jason would still be alive. Or if Percy would have just taken his place.

“We are through here,” Hera said, her tone leaving no room for argument. He often wondered if Hera felt any guilt for Jason’s fate. She played a hand in so many of the most painful parts of his life Percy couldn’t imagine she would be troubled by one less hero in the world. Despite the odd signs that had given him mixed signals that she did care about him.

Percy had gotten so lost in thought, so wrapped up in memories of his old friend that he did not notice the way that the woman and the man seemed to dissolve into the background. Nor did he notice that Hera was staring directly at him until he locked eyes with her.

“I don’t expect you to understand. You’ve never been good at that, but I have not left you without hope,” Hera said like she was doing him a favor.

Percy stepped forward, hands clenched by his side. He tried to remind himself that this was a goddess who could end him in a moment, but that did not matter in his mind. Not as images of grey eyes flashed in his thoughts. It had been 6 months last time. He couldn’t do that again.

“I don’t care whatever your reason is this time,” Percy snapped. “Whatever you need, whatever your plan is, I won’t help. I’m going back to New York. I’m going to graduate then go to college with Annabeth. I don’t do quests or whatever this is anymore.”

Hera looked into the darkness that ate away at the farthest recesses of the cave. He could no longer see her face, a loose strand of hair tumbling away from her tightly coiled bun.

“You will not find them in New York, not this one. I know you will not believe me, but I put you in Gotham to help you,” She said. “It is the only place you stand a chance.”

“A chance? What? At being eaten alive? Because that is something that has almost happened to me twice already. And actually I’m pretty sure those fire-breathing horse types would have been more than happy to cook me first. I don’t need your lies. I don’t believe you have a conscience, but I can see no other reason for you trying to make sense of doing this,” Percy said.

Hera sighed, shaking her head. “You are no different from when you were twelve. Still angry at things you have no sense about. No, my words of aid do not come to you in an attempt to make myself feel better about what I have done. I feel no guilt for it. I do not feel guilt, especially not when I have nothing to feel guilty about. What has happened to you was a necessity. No words you may speak will change it. I only offered you this because it was what he would want.”

“I think I will pass on any sort of help from you,” Percy glared.

The goddess was silent for so long that Percy thought maybe she hadn’t heard him. He wasn’t sure exactly how these dream things worked but maybe they weren’t as full proof as he thought. Before he got the chance to speak again though, the entire world seemed to tilt to the side.

He hardly had time to yell before he went tumbling into darkness.
-
Percy awoke to pain flashing through his chest as he went crashing into the ground. His head throbbed, his mind reeling from being pulled so violently from sleep. Whatever room he was in was all tilted to the side, the bed next to him somehow staying in place, but a cluster of stuff had obviously crashed into the wall in front of him.

As he went to try and stand he felt something loosen in his chest and the entire room slapped back down, sending Percy back onto the floor. As the room wobbled from side to side, the sound items scurrying from one side of the room to the other, he realized he was on a boat.

This time he took extra care standing. His legs did a surprisingly good job of holding him, and the room slowly stopped moving, whatever water he was in settling down. He took a moment, trying to get his barring and assess the room around him, but before he had time to process more than the paintings hanging along the walls, the door slammed open.

Percy jumped back, his back hitting the wall. He yanked riptide from his pocket, uncapping the pen and allowing Riptide to grow to its full side. His pulse pounded in his ears, his muscles coiled tightly.

Yet instead of a monster, there was a human standing in the doorway. In fact, it was someone he recognized. He didn’t know many people with wild red hair that always wore clothes with patterns painted or splattered on.

“Rachel!” Percy sighed, lowering Riptide. “Thank the gods.”

Rachel put her hands out. “Woah there buddy,” She said as if talking to an animal. She had on some overalls that were colored with a bunch of differently drawn hearts. Under that she had on an oversized pink shirt with long sleeves that puffed out like balloons. Her clothes weren’t the only things victim to the paint as there was a rainbow of colors also smudged in different parts of her face.

What concerned Percy the most though was the way that she looked at him. Her green eyes didn’t shine with the humor he was used to. The expression on her face was familiar to him though. Only because it was the same expression she had worn when they had first met and he’d tried to cut through her with Riptide. Being a mortal she was fine, but she had still been rightfully shocked and confused.

“Is Annabeth here?” Percy asked, praying to the gods for once would give him a shred of luck.

“Um… who?” Rachel asked, her eyes looking at his sword.

Percy frowned, capping Riptide. In the normal bit of creation bending magic the blade shrunk back to a pen. “Annabeth Chase… oh gods don’t tell me Hera gave everyone else amnesia this time.”

Percy’s chest tightened at that thought. Gods, he didn’t think he could take Annabeth staring at him, gaze unrecognizing. Of course, he would not give up on her by any chance, and perhaps her memory of him would cut through any sort of memory loss like the memory had done for him a year ago.

“Look, I don’t know who you are or who Annabeth is. I saw you floating in the water near my boat yard with that nasty burn on your chest. Figured the Gotham water is bad enough when you don’t have a wound that is liable to get infected, so I fished you out and got you patched up the best I could.” She spoke slowly, making sure she articulated everything very well. Not that it mattered because the only part of it all that Percy heard was ‘my boatyard’.

“You own a boat yard?! And you didn’t tell me? Gods above this place better have been acquired after your amnesia or else our friendship will never recover from this sort of betrayal,” Percy said, crossing his arms over his chest.

She laughed. “Jeez, no need to look like I kicked you. Seriously though, I have no clue who you are and I definitely don’t have amnesia. Maybe you hit your head hard in whatever happened that got you tossed into the harbor.”

She stuck her thumbs in the two little pockets on the front of her overalls, rocking back on her heels. Percy was almost more concerned that the idea of him having some sort of head trauma made her seem more relaxed.

“You sure? Like no gaps in your memory? Things you can’t explain?” Percy frowned.

“Nope. Although I will admit it is weird you know my name off the top of your head. Although I’ll chalk that up to reading a lot of news. Probably saw my picture and name pop up once or something. I can get you help, I know a doctor who can-”

“No. No this isn’t right. I don’t read really, with the exception of graphic novels and the stuff I’m forced to for school, so there is no way that would be the case,” He insists.
“If this is about the fact that you are a meta, I know how it can be. My people get paid well and won’t talk about you. If you don’t want anyone to know you’re here then that’s the way it can be,” She shrugged. “You obviously need help though. If not for your head then for those burns on your chest. I did my best, but I don’t know the first thing about burns, and I don’t know if I even cleaned it properly. No one but me knows you’re here yet because I assumed you were in some sort of trouble.”

 

“‘Trouble’ seems to be the word of my life,” Percy groaned, leaning his head back against the wall. There was an uncovered lightbulb dangling from the ceiling, casting the room in bright light. It swayed softly with the pull of the tides. “You really don’t remember me?”

“I have a really good memory. I make it my job to know everyone. How about this, if you really know me, tell me something you wouldn’t be able to hear from the news,” She said, making a point to say ‘hear’ as opposed to ‘read’.

Percy was silent for a moment as he tried to think through things. Rachel was one of his best friends, but there really wasn’t a ton that he knew about her outside of his world. If her memories were really gone, he had limited options to try and convince her. Gods, he wished Annabeth was there.

“Your dad is super rich? I mean he like… builds things I think? Um… you see things that no one else can. Like my sword for example. I’m sure you can see what it is, but any other mortal wouldn’t be able to tell it was a sword,” Percy said, although as every word came out he became less and less confident he could convince her.

“Well,” Rachel began. “Those first two things can easily be found on Fruoogle. And “build things” can describe almost every big company. That sword, I’m sure everyone can see pretty clearly. I’ve never had a problem with seeing things either… I would like to know why you referred to me as a mortal? If I’m a mortal, what are you?”

There was a window on the wall of the room. It was small and circular, a thick rip around with bolts the size of his fist holding them into place. He watched as some fish swam past, and his heart leapt in his chest. It was an eerily familiar sight, far too similar to what he had seen at aquariums in the past.

Percy ran over to the window. Despite his height, he had to stand on the tips of his toes to see out into the darkness beyond. He knew Rachel had suggested they were on a boat, and he could feel it, the way the ocean flowed around him. That being said, it still gave him comfort to see the small rays of sunlight filtering through the murky water that was a shade too close to motor oil for his liking.

The soft sound of Rachel’s steps approached his side. Glancing down at his chest for the first time he took in the fact that he didn’t have a shirt on, and his chest was wrapped in bandages. If he had fallen in that water, no matter how dirty, it should’ve healed him. Water didn’t heal him of everything. A sword cuts a little too deep or he gets poisoned there isn’t much it can do to help, but burns almost always could be healed. Therefore whatever wound was aching on his chest was not a normal burn or there was something seriously wrong with that water.

Based on his experience in the strange city so far, he was leaning towards the latter.

“I can’t tell if you are dodging my question or just really interested by the Gotham fish population. I will say, it’s quite hard to imagine it being the second option,” Rachel said, leaning closer to take a look out the window. The fish were long gone, and there wasn’t much to see with the deep color of the water.

Her reaction alone was enough to let him know she truly did not know anything about him. With her memories he doubted she would’ve understood his reaction for what it truly was, but interest in fish absolutely would’ve come before dodging the question. He had much more creative ways to dodge questions.

If Annabeth had been there, she would have understood. He reached up, gently pressing his fingertips against the glass. He’d been to an aquarium twice in his life. Once when he was in elementary school as a field trip. Back then he didn’t know he could talk to the animals that were held there, but deep down he had been able to feel how sickening the experience was. He learned really quickly that public property damage was good enough cause for expulsion from that elementary school. He wouldn’t have done it any differently now though.

The second time was last summer. It was almost hard to believe it hadn’t been that long ago. He didn’t talk to anyone about the way it made him feel although he went through no effort of hiding it. Annabeth had been quick to pick up on the fact that something was wrong as soon as he got back on the ship. They had spent a long time talking about it after the quest had ended.

Gods, his heart felt as though it was slowly being strangled as he imagined how this small interaction would be different if she were there. She would have been able to figure out all of this already. She’d probably even have a plan. Rachel would already be on his side.

And she would’ve understood exactly why he’d run to the window.

There was a sharp pain on his arm and he flung around, riptide uncapped before he had even finished moving. Glancing down he realized that Rachel had pinched him, her nails colored an explosion of red, blue, green, and purple.

“Sorry, you were kind of lost there. If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to. It would just be nice to know what kind of bad I’m attracting by having you here,” She said, attempting to push the tip of riptide down. Her finger passed harmlessly through the blade, but Percy still pointed the tip down to the ground.

“I need to get out of here,” He said, pressing his knuckles against his temples. The sun was out, it was a new day! He had to be able to try and get on a bus now. His skills with the mist didn’t seem to be working that well though, so he wasn’t even sure how he was going to pay for the bus fare.

Mortal money was a problem. He remembered it from the last time he had been dropped into a place he was unfamiliar with. No money or memories, but he had found Camp Jupiter. Then again, that was after a very long process of getting trained by a wolf and chased by monsters. Perhaps he just hadn’t gotten far enough on the journey yet.

“Do you have a phone?” Percy asked. He had no intention of waiting for whatever hero's journey he was supposed to be going through this time to unfold. He’d already tried calling Annabeth’s emergency cell, but if he couldn’t get ahold of her, maybe he could get a hold of his mom.

“I do. Is there someone you can call?” Rachel asked, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a phone that was larger than her hand. Percy couldn’t imagine it was comfortable to use. The case was clear with a bunch of pictures trapped inside. Little charms dangled from the side, each shaped like what seemed to be different colored bats. Percy’s eye caught on one that was red and shaped just like the symbol the guy from the previous night.

“What are those charms?” Percy asked.

“They’re small little phone charms for the bats. I also have one for Nightwing because he comes into Gotham often. I would argue he helps just as much as the others. Although my favorite by far is Orphan. She is awesome although the only one I have never seen in person. At least that I know of,” Rachel rambled. “Who is your favorite?”

“Uh…” Percy stared at the charms, not really sure what any of the words Rachel had just said meant. “What do you mean?”

“Right. The accent. You’re from New York, you probably don’t know many of them outside of Batman, Robin, and Nightwing. Wait! I have the perfect idea. We have to go to Bat Burger before you leave! The one near here has cardboard cutouts of them all,” She explained.

“Aren’t you also from New York?”

Rachel sighed, pushing her phone against his arm. “Look, whoever you think I am, you’ve got the wrong girl. That or your wikipedia page is wrong. I’m from Metropolis. Now come on. You can make your phone call, then we’ll hit up Bat Burger before you go wherever you are going.”

Percy did not have the time nor patience to try and figure out where Metropolis was. He took the phone which was open to a wall of apps. They seemed to be trapped inside small gray bubbles giving the illusion or organization, but Percy was hopeless to find what he was looking for.

Rachel, seemingly realizing his struggle, took back the phone from him. “How about you tell me the number and I can type it in for you?”

He did so, carefully taking the phone back and pressing it to his ear whenever it began to ring. With each ring his heart sank more and more until a robotic voice gave him the instructions for leaving a voicemail. He frowned, pulling the phone away from himself. He remembered being in a similar situation to this. Calling his mom to tell her that he was alive and okay. Except he remembered when the call ended, it had been her voice telling him she was unavailable, not something robotic. There was no way he could have mistaken her number.

“Can we try again?” He asked.

Rachel let him try five times before she finally said, “Why don’t we try again after getting some food?”

 

Percy’s stomach rumbled, and he realized he had not eaten since appearing in this awful city. Rachel tossed him a shirt before motioning him to follow her.

-

Walking around Gotham when the clouds were a light grey, letting some of the sunlight in and no monsters were trying to eat him reminded him a lot of New York. The buildings where they were at were shorter than the ones he had seen by the library, but they still seemed to reach up at least fifteen floors.

People moved around the streets, their eyes looking everywhere but at the other people. There were business people-a phone to their ear, finely tailored suit, and briefcase that Percy was convinced were just for show- just like he often saw in New York. There were people who easily could’ve been going out for a regular walk. He saw many different people walking animals, even one guy with a parrot on his shoulder which he had absolutely seen in New York before.

Except despite the normalcy that these sights gave Gotham, he could still feel how different it was. At home people learned to hold their belongings close, maybe even keep a small taser on them or a thing of pepper spray. Here everyone seemed to be armed with some sort of gun. A lot were good at hiding it- the business man with the weird lump on his side, the woman walking her dog with the black barrel just peeking out- but the strangeness of it caught Percy’s eye each time.

Rachel walked by his side, speeding up and slowing down as needed to match his pace. From what he could tell she didn’t carry any sort of weapon although he was sure she could get creative. He had seen her throw a hairbrush at the king of the titans after all.

“Different from New York?” Rachel asked.

“Yeah,” Percy said. “Not nearly as many weapons. And the buildings aren’t all so…”

“Goth?” Rachel provided. “Sometimes I wonder if the founding families named the place for the aesthetic or decided to roll with the aesthetic after they gave it the name. You think these places look creepy, you should see their mansions in Bristol. Now those are some creepy buildings.”

“I bet,” Percy said.

Bat Burger, despite matching the dark aesthetic of the city, stood out from the buildings around it. The windows had cartoon characters that looked like superheroes posing on them although he didn’t recognize any from movies. A big neon sign hung above the door, the a in bat and e in burger not lit up.

“Is this place like McDonalds?” He asked. After all, McDonalds had their own cast of characters, so he could see that being the case for this place. The figure on the window that made up one of the two glass doors was a giant man. The cartoon pictured his cape, black as night, still in the imaginary wind, extended behind him and hovering over the drawn city landscape. His suit was a dark grey, a number of gadgets gathered on the belt at his hip and a black bat on his chest. The most intimidating part about him was the dark cowl that encased his head, the top forming two sharp points.

“Is that a chain in New York?” Rachel asked. “I’ve never heard of it, but I’m sure the food is similar. Places like this always have similar food.

They entered the place, and Percy had to take a moment to take in the absolute amount of stuff that decorated the place. Posters were thrown against the wall, no seeming pattern to the way they slanted and overlapped each other. There were cardboard cutouts of the characters everywhere. From what he could tell there were eight of them. There was the weird guy from the door, a guy in spandex with a blue bird on his chest, another guy with a bird on his chest except this one was yellow and the guy wore a red and black suit, there was a kid in a grey and red outfit who had swords on his back, another guy in bright yellow attire that really did not match the theming of the rest(was there a theme? Percy wasn’t so sure anymore) a girl in an all black outfit that was very similar to door guy except her cowl covered her mouth and nose instead of just half her face, a girl in a purple outfit that seemed almost like a cloak, and finally a man in a Red Helmet that Percy recognized.

“Who is that?” Percy asked, pointing to the cardboard cutout of the self proclaimed “Red Hood”. Percy hadn’t noticed him on one of the windows outside so he wondered if he was a newer face. In fact if he was a character to this place, did he get helped by some sort of mascot? It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen to him.

“That,” Rachel hummed. “Is Red Hood. You find yourself seeing him you are far too close to Crime Alley. Which I assume you don’t know what crime alley is Mr. Clueless, but it’s all in the name.”

Percy frowned, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He kept one firmly gripped on Riptide.

“Is he a bad guy?”

Rachel tilted her head to the side, her eyes lingering over the cut out. “Bad is not the word I would use to describe him. Good and bad… they’re relative terms. I’m sure many people would see him as bad, I know at times even Batman does, but me personally? I have seen him put his life on the line time and time again for people he doesn’t know the faintest thing about. So he kills a guy here or there, but it is always someone who deserves it.”

“I thought you said that if you see him you’re too close to this Crime Alley place?” Percy pointed out.

Rachel rolled her eyes, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him towards the registers. There was no line, and the poor teen behind the counter looked as if they would rather be anywhere else. Deep bags colored under their eyes, their black shirt and pants heavily contrasting the giant yellow bat on their hat.

“I help people, and the people around there are often the ones in need of help the most. Crime Alley is fine if you know what you’re doing, and it doesn’t take a genius to see that you clearly have no clue what you’re doing. Order whatever you want,” She said.

Percy moved forward, at first simply ordering a burger but then after a raised eyebrow from Rachel he ordered two more and a Batfamily meal(whatever that was). They picked out a booth in the corner that was being watched over by the menacing stare of the red and black bat person. Percy noticed they were holding a very long metal stick, but he couldn’t imagine that was actually the best choice of weapon.

“Hurry and open it! I want to see who you got!” Rachel said, tearing open her tiny cardboard box with the yellow bat symbol on it. Percy eyes his for a moment noting how much it looked like a happy meal, but instead of golden arches on top there were black pointed ear like things that matched the bat dude’s cowl.

Rachel pulled out a black bag from inside her box. “It won’t bite you,” She promised.

Percy opened the box, his stomach rumbling as the smell of fresh-cooked fries hit him. He pushed it to the side for the moment as he pulled out the little bag.

“Alright, we open it on three,” Rachel said. “One. Two. Three!”

On three they both tore open the plastic baggies. A figure fell out in front of each of them, and Percy realized they were small toys of all the mascots. Percy had gotten the one with the weird elongated baton although whatever the toy had been through had bent the batton at odd angles.

“That’s Red Robin. He’s the one you’re most likely to see around here,” Rachel explained before proudly holding up her figure.

Rachel had gotten the girl dressed in all black. Percy had to admit she looked the most intimidating of all of them with her face completely hidden from sight.

“This is orphan! She’s the best and also the last one I needed to complete my collection,” Rachel explained, putting the toy into the satchel she’d brought.

Percy began munching on his fries as Rachel continued to explain more in depth about these bats. From what Percy gathered, which wasn’t a lot because his brian was very distracted by the burger, these people were real life superheroes that worked to protect the streets of Gotham. He would’ve thought that was insane, but he had heard and witnessed crazier things. Although he did find it weird that he had never heard of the weird people dressing up like bats defending the crazy city of Gotham.

Rachel finally finished once Percy polished off the last of his fries. She had only eaten about half of hers, but she was ready to go as soon as he was done.

“We still have to get you to a doctor. I was dead serious about that part,” Rachel said as they stood.

“I’m fine. It’ll heal on its own,” Percy insisted, and as he turned to the door it suddenly blew open, shards of glass shooting everywhere. His years of instincts kicked in, and he pulled Riptide from his pocket, flicking off the cap of the pen so it formed into a sword.

Three men came in wearing clown masks and carrying guns that would’ve made Ares weep. The worker behind the counter had already ducked down behind the counter.

“EVERYONE GET ON THE GROUND AND NO ONE HAS TO GET HURT! Or don’t, I’ve been itching to shoot someone!” One of them said before breaking into a manic fit of laughter. It was so intense that he doubled over, sucking in breaths of air for a bit before finally standing back up.

When he did he turned to Percy, his eyes narrowing behind the mask. Percy had fought many monsters before, but he had managed to avoid the monsters of humanity. It seemed that the streak was coming to an end.

“Did you not hear him boy?” One of the other three clowns asked.

“I did,” Percy admitted. “I just don’t care. I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing here, but I won’t let you hurt anyone.”

The first clown shrugged, and Rachel desperately tugged at Percy as the clown aimed his gun at him. Except when he tried to pull the trigger it simply made a sad clicking noise. The clown let out a slew of curses, his eyes rapidly snapping between Percy and the gun.

Percy was relieved. He had heard from Apollo that guns tended to jam around the mythical world, but he hadn’t been able to really test it before. The other two clowns also tried to shoot at them, but each of their guns responded the same.

They tossed down their guns, and Percy was relieved, believing they had already given up.

“You must be the one they mentioned,” The third clown said.

“What?” Percy asked, unsure they were really talking to him, but who else could they possibly be speaking to.

The first clown stepped towards him, pulling a knife out of his pocket. “I don’t need a gun to cut up that pretty face though.”

“Thanks?” Percy said. “But also, I already warned you guys. The past day has been one of the worst in a long while, and I really am not going to try and tiptoe around you guys and choose the nice path or whatever. I am tired.”

The other two clowns pulled out knives and Percy sighed. He didn’t think they were monsters(at least not the mythical kind), so he didn’t even attempt to swing at them with Riptide. Instead he felt around for the familiar churn of water he could always sense nearby. There was a soft tug in his gut as he began to grasp for it just as the clowns launched themselves at him.

Except before they could even touch him, an object oddly shaped like a bat hit each of them in the head. Each of their bodies hit the ground with a loud thud. The pull in his gut vanished as he pulled his powers back to himself.

“Holy shit,” Rachel whispered, and Percy realized what she was looking at. Past the shattered door were two figures approaching. One with a familiar red bat on his chest, the other wielding an elongated baton.

“Gods, this can’t be good,” Percy said backing up as the two came in through the now broken doors.

“You did not make it that hard to find you,” Red Hood said, his boots crunching down on the glass around him. “Now, I need you and Ms. Dare to come with me. I have some questions about Ra’s Al Ghul.”

Red Robin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What Hood means is that he was concerned and wanted to come make sure that you were okay. We know the Al Ghul’s are probably coming after you, and we want to help.”

There was a click, and Percy glanced over to see the teen behind the register had stood up just enough to snap a picture of the costumed heroes.

Before he had the chance to speak, Rachel piped in, “You’re in dealings with the Al Ghul’s?! You should’ve said something. I would’ve taken better care to avoid the cameras.”

Percy put his hands up, backing away from the group. He shook his head trying to make sense of everything suddenly being thrown at him. “I do not know what you guys are talking about. Who the hades are the Al Ghuls?”