Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I really need to stop making bets with Annabeth…” Percy sighed, opening the attic door and immediately choking on dust. He looked around, trying not to sneeze on anything potentially cursed. It was a mess—and he had to clean it because of a bet.

Fantastic. When he died, would Anaklusmos end up here too? Probably, knowing his luck. He wrinkled his nose at the thought of Zoë's legacy ending up like some attic trophy. Yeah—no thanks.

A slow, tingling sensation crawled up his arm as his hand brushed against a diadem on a pedestal. Magic. Oh, for Uncle Hades’s sake—

Weren't all magical objects encased? Did Chiron miss something? Why could Percy feel the magic anyway—he wasn't that attuned to magic? Not like Hazel or Thalia, anyway. Most of the time magic actually worked against him, not for him. So why—

He held the diadem, against the dim lighting. It was quite a sight to see, the way the golden laurels were interwoven with the gemstones looked artful, a beauty unlike any jewelry he’d seen before.

Now, everyone knows that putting on magical diadems you don’t know anything about is a bad idea. Percy, however—did not care. It felt too attuned to him not to try it on… You try to resist when you’re literally drawn toward it, whether you like it or not.

So—he put it on and at once it felt like his bones melted and stretched; his reflection in the gold of a nearby shield caught sharp, alien eyes. His ears ached as they narrowed to points, and his teeth tingled before clicking together wrong—too sharp. It wasn’t painful, luckily… but still very uncomfortable.

And that, kids, this is why you never listen to Percy Jackson when he gives advice... Sitting up again, he groaned, squinting his eyes at the brightness of his surroundings... This wasn’t the attic… If it weren’t for the fact that his mom had taught him not to swear, he’d be cussing up a storm. “What in the stupidity that's mythology just happened," He muttered to himself, taking in his new surroundings.

He was in what he assumed to be a back alley, but the floor wasn't made of stone... it was some sort of quartz, maybe? The alley itself was also eerily clean, which unsettled him even more. Alleyways shouldn’t be clean, that's not how it works.

Standing up, he started to walk out of the alleyway, only to be hit by a thousand noises and smells all at once, amplified by his sensitive ears and nose.

People were talking, there was food being made, there was the… quite frankly pleasant smell of— the woods? Someone was singing, there was a comedy show going on, there were kids running around. Okay… Breathe, block out the overwhelming noise and smells— then think. He was in some sort of unsettlingly clean city... good to know.

What Next? All right— W.W.A.D. (What Would Annabeth Do)... She would— find out where she was. Okay, so that was step one, he needed to find out where in the world he was. (He pointedly ignored the small voice in his head which pointed out he didn't even know if he was on earth… because what city on earth would be this clean?)

Starting to walk around, he took note of how nearly none of the people seemed— quite human... Some had wings, some tails, horns, talons, he even saw a blueish slime-person bounce through the crowd.

"Hey," A voice sounded from behind him,"Hey, Fae-boy!"

"Me?" He questioned, turning around to face the guy,

He frowned, "Yes, you. I don't see any other Fey around here, do you?"

Percy tilted his head in fake understanding. He definitely knew what the person was talking about— Yeah… Cool, he was some elvish, fey thing like in lord of the rings (Listen, that he despised reading didn't mean he hated a good story! Annabeth got him the audiobook and he genuinely enjoyed it!) "What do you need from me?"

The person stepped forward just a bit more, and Percy finally got a good look. They had bushy brown hair, tan skin, and brown eyes—the stance of a fighter, but one used to keep it hidden. "Just your name, I haven't seen you around these parts before... It's not often a fey just wanders into the red light-district of the hub without having a reason to be there."

"My name," Percy questioned, "I don't give away my name for free... how about an exchange?" Even if he acted impulsive and aloof most of the time, he was actually quite smart and calculating... not that anyone noticed. He knew he was the son of Poseidon directly after Nancy Bobafit and Ms. Dodds attacked... It was a wonder he was able to act so well that nobody noticed.

The stranger tilted their head, "My name is Jacob, He/Her."

"The name is Ava, they/them."

"It's nice to meet you Ava," The stranger held out a hand, Percy shaking it not letting it show on his face as he felt a wad of paper being pressed into it. "I'll be off now, be careful round here." And with that she walked off, her cape swishing behind him.

Percy clenched his fist around the wad of paper... Clearly, ‘Jacob’ (That definitely wasn’t his real name) didn't want to be seen, so it would be stupid to read it in public… too dangerous.

Letting his eyes scan the crowd, he spotted an empty space just beside another alley... It wasn’t the best spot, but it was the only one in sight.

Weaving through the crowd he walked over, arriving at the alley and casually leaning against the wall in an attempt to look casual.

He opened the note:

You’re a target, get out of the redlight-district and make sure you are never alone.

I'm sorry

-'Jacob' (Rae)

All right, pause— sort through the information. He was a target, for what was unknown… What did Jacob say again? Something about that it's not often a fey wanders into the— oh.

It's the redlight-district. He put emphasis on Fey but more on redlight-district... There are people either kidnapping or killing people in he redlight-district with a preference for Fey.

He really wanted to curse now... but his mom would be sad if he did—

He sighed… First he gets thrown into what he can now fully confirm is an alternative dimension and or timeline, there's a group of people coming after him... and he is a prime target, meaning his murder or capture is probably quite high on the list… amazing.

Next step was to listen to the message and get out of the redlight-district. Ripping the message into pieces he made sure no one could piece the paper back together before letting it fall to the ground and walking off towards where he guessed was the exit of the district.

Then, he felt someone bump against him, quietly whispering "Sorry kid." before a sharp sting hit his neck. Needles? Really?! Turning around he punched the guy in the face, eyes narrowing into the wolf stare he was infamous for at camp. "I don't enjoy being drugged, you piece of Zeus."

He wobbled slightly on his feet, even if it didn't fully take him out— it was making him drowsy. He stumbled away, slipping into the crowd. In the crowd he could hide, the crowd was safe— he was difficult to follow in the crowd. Vision blurring, he needed somewhere sustainable to hide until he was back to full awareness. He looked around, blinking sluggishly— where could he hide?! Leaning against a wall, he nearly sank to the ground as his breathing became shallow. He needed help, but who could he trust? He was still being followed, being able to feel their eyes following his every move.

Wait— in the crowd... the slime person from before! There was a chance they could help and he really had no other options— though what if they attacked… Oh well, if he failed then he'd die anyway so let's do it. Taking a deep breath he forced himself to stand up, stretching a bit before walking over. He couldn't seem out of the ordinairy if he wanted any chance of getting out of there alive. "Hi," He croaked out, waving at the slime person, "Could you help me, please?"

"Help?” The person asked. “What do you need help with?” They looked him over eyes widening as they saw his sorry state. “Are you okay, You don't look okay, you should sit down somewhere." The slime person began dragging him along to a side alley before jumping up into one of the vents, "Come on."

Percy wobbled slightly on his feet, leaning against the wall under the vent, "Not sure if I'll be able- able to go up dude... I'll try though, maybe the adrenalline will help with that. Just don't murder me, I've had enough people try to murder me today." They shot him a concerned look at that comment. Gaining up strength, he jumped, grabbing onto the vent and pulling himself in before promptly throwing up out of the vent. "I'm good," He coughed, "let's just go on."

"You sure?"

"Mhm"

The slime shrugged, "If you say so, come on."

The vent ended and they jumped out, beckoning Percy to follow. Jumping down, his legs almost gave out, so they dragged him over to sit down. "Welcome to the Sanctuary."

He smiled weakly, "It looks nice..." and it did. Trees surrounded the clearing, a fireplace and tents set up all around, people mulling about their day doing their own things— "I think I'm gonna pass out now though... sorry."

"My name is Ijevin, He/Him"

"Ava, They/them."

and then the world faded to black.

||~-~||

Waking up, Percy was disoriented. All his muscles protested in pain as he sat up, looking around at his surroundings. Forest, a sharp light filtering through the leaves that made him squint, the loud sound of birds, The scent of damp moss.… He was in the— Sanctuary, right. Ijevin— the slime guy, brought him here was nowhere to be seen though.

"Good morning, you slept a really long time, Ava." Percy jumped at a voice behind him, turning around to see the blue slime, Ijevin, walking over, grinning slightly at his reaction. "You feeling okay, dude?” He teased. “You looked like you might pass out again there for a moment from the shock of hearing my voice."

"Very funny Jevin— Can I call you Jevin," Percy yawned, stretching as he stood up from where he was laying down and turned to face him.

Ijevin shrugged, "Sure. Most people do anyway." He seemed a bit bitter towards it, Percy noted to himself...

"I didn't ask that, I asked if you want to be called Jevin," he rephrased, careful to make it clear that whatever Ijevin chose, he would comply. "I don't want to call you something that makes you uncomfortable, that would just be rude."

He blinked in what Percy assumed to be surprise before answering, "I would like for you to call me Ijevin for now, please.”

Simply nodding, Percy spoke, "That's fine, now can you tell me more about where we are?" Maybe a distraction would help lift Ijevin's spirits, it always helped him when he was feeling sad... but that might just be an ADHD thing— distractions and all that.

Ijevin's eyes lit up slightly, "This is the Sanctuary! Home to everyone on the run or stuck or in any other way in danger from the outside world. We who live here don't really have another world to go back to and so we stay in the hub, it's in the redlight-district because the admins don't check here so it’s safe for everyone." He paused for a second before continuing, "So, what happened to you that you needed my help?"

Now that he was more awake, he noticed that he was strangely enough not paranoid or even tense… He should be on edge. He wanted to be on edge. But instead his muscles were loose, like the tension had been siphoned off. Was it the Sanctuary, or the diadem still on his head? The thought made him pause a bit before answering Ijevin’s question. "Apparently some organisation is after me, some guy tried to drug me —I punched him in the face— and they were trying to follow me. You were kind of my last resort... You seemed quick enough to be able to escape if things went south."

Ijevin frowned, "We are missing a few of the permanent Fey residents that lived here, could that be where they've gone?"

"Maybe," Percy shrugged, "I doubt we can do much though... There is no information on them I managed to gather in the few moments I was out there other than that they either kill or kidnap people and that their primary targets are fey." He paused, "Any rumours you know off? Or, maybe I can go out and see what I can find— it’s the least I can do for your hospitality."

Ijevin shook his head, "No— You were drugged a day ago, I’m assuming you ran around the market and now you want to go into a dangerous situation unprepared!?" He pushed Percy slightly, making him wobble quite a bit, hand shaking as he reached out to a nearby tree to steady himself. "You are still unsteady on your feet, what makes you think that you can handle doing this right now, you’ll kill yourself and undo all the good work I’ve done tending to you!"

Percy shrugged, "It's all I've ever done Ijevin," he stopped, mulling over his next words, "Where I come from it's either that or die. Now— rumors or should I go out?"

Ijevin sighed, "I haven’t heard any rumours— But there’s this one guy in the darker parts of the market that might know something... But you are not going alone.” He looked up at Percy “I’m coming with you."

Percy's eyes widened exponentially, "Why would you!? That would put you in danger, why would you join me..." He stood, grabbing some water out of the bucket beside him and splashing it over himself, "It's a stupid decision that could get you killed!"

"And it can't get you killed? Listen here, Ava—” Ijevin snapped, “Like it or not but you are currently my best chance at figuring out what's going on here and who’s been taking my friends away— so I’m coming with you and there’s nothing you can do about it." Ijevin crossed his arms, staring into Percy's eyes with a serious gaze.

"Okay." Ijevin's eyes widened in surprise at Percy's dejected tone, "If you're sure you want to— Just, if there's danger, run… please— I am not putting more people in danger because of me."

He eyed the boy with a look of understanding, "Sure, then we just can't get caught snooping around, easy."

||~-~||

"Well, not getting caught is out the window," Ijevin whispered, "What now?"

Percy cracked his knuckles, taking a few deep breaths to try and banish the last bits of dizziness from his system "Now I fight, you run," He pushed Ijevin behind him, "Go. I can hold them off…” Percy’s stomach flipped, but he pushed the thought away… there was no way he was getting out of there uninjured, wasn’t he— “I'll meet you back at the vent."

Ijevin froze, eyes wide. "You, with only your fists and still recovering from being drugged.. against what's almost an army of armed people?!”

"I've faced worse odds."

"You are crazy," Ijevin hissed before turning around and running… Good.

Percy lied. He had in fact never faced worse odds than this. He didn't know the laws in this place, or anything about the people attacking him. They had guns and he didn't even have a water bottle.

Would Anaklusmos work on them? It was a plan, better than the one he'd had before at least.

He reached for the pen.

Nothing. Empty pocket.

Anaklusmos was gone… well there went his one sensible plan— Everything was fine! (He was so dead.)

What do you do if you can't fight the enemy? You escape, you run and you make sure that you don't get shot in the process.

Let's go— and hope he didn’t come out of it with bullet wounds, "Sorry mom," he muttered, and then, he charged in.

He got shot 3 times before he managed to escape, not the worst thing ever (The arai in Tartarus took the cake for that) but it definitely hurt.

In the end he managed to disarm one of them and shoot a few others with their gun (He grew up in New York— of course he knew how to shoot a gun) before running for it and slipping into the crowd once more, ending back up at the sanctuary, positive that he hadn't been followed, and praying that the trail off blood would be so diluted by people walking over it that they wouldn’t be able to find it.

||~-~||

"Hey Ijevin, do you have a first aid kit somewhere around here," Percy asked as he jumped down, wincing as his injured leg hit the ground, "I might have gotten shot a few times."

Ijevin froze, looking up from where he was quietly mending a shirt— "What is wrong with you, Ava?! What do you mean, 'I might have gotten shot a few times?!" He let out an exasperated sigh, "Wait—don't tell me... I don't think I'd want to know." Directing Percy over to the bench he threw him a first aid kit, "Patch yourself up?"

Percy quietly nodded, wincing as he dug around in the first aid kit, pulling out the supplies he needed to start patching himself up. The cuts on his leg and side stung like hell, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

"I’ll be fine," Percy muttered, focused on the task at hand, "just a couple of bullets, not the end of the world." But internally— he cursed himself for not staying safer, his mom would have a field day if she knew what he’d gotten up to in the what, 2 to 3 days since he’d arrived?

Ijevin paced around, a mix between awed, exasperated, shocked and a whole lot of other emotions that Percy couldn't quite care to make out, considering he was still bleeding. "'Just a couple of bullets' he says, 'Not the end of the world' he says, What in the Sanctuary's name-" he muttered.

"Being shot is arguably far from the worst thing that has happened in my life... The amount of times I've been poisoned proves that," Percy snorted, Tying up the bandages he stood once more, holding back a wince. "I hate scorpions."

Ijevin stopped pacing and threw his hands—well, slimy appendages—in the air. “That’s it. I’m dreaming. Or I’m on some kind of hallucinatory drug.”

"You are not my dude."

"Then what in The Sanctuary is your life!"

Percy chuckled lightly, trying to ignore the sharp pain from his wounds as he finished tying the bandages around his torso. "Well, if you think this is bad, you haven't even heard the half of it," he said with a smirk, his voice a little dry.

Ijevin nodded, "Sure— nevermind. I don't think I want to know. You can leave once you're healed, and I will not even try to stop you, what The Sanctuary dude."

Percy just laughed and eventually laid down to rest, watching Ijevin do things around the campsite.

||~-~||

He’d headed out, it had been about a day since everything that happened, and his wounds had (Mostly) healed thanks to some weird stuff in the new place Ijevin called “Healing potions”. So— he thanked Ijevin and went on his way. (Ijevin had made him promise to return once in a while to hang out, he'd agreed.)

First step— get out of the Redlight-district. The organisation had shown that they wouldn't just give up, so it would be stupid to stay where he was easy pickings. Walking through the crowd for the third time since arriving, he pretended not to notice the eyes following him, the footsteps in sync with his, the elevated bloodstream of a person who is nervous…

One problem— he had no idea where he was going.

The people following him knew he could fight, but they didn't know anything else... so if he kept his skills under the radar then maybe it would be fine and he could wander out of the district without—

A cloth was pulled over his mouth and nose, chloroform... By the gods. He struggled for a bit, but multiple people were grabbing him so it seemed impossible to do so. Once he noticed, he acted like he passed out, slowing down his movements and making them more sloppy until going limp.

The cloth was removed and he finally could breathe again. He let them take him away, if he tried to fight he would die... There were too many people in close proximity and he could hear the clanking of their guns and knives.

There was no chance for him to escape as they bound him and hauled him away. No one tried to help, even though he was in the middle of a crowd. It was expected of the redlight district, he assumed. People got kidnapped all the time, it was a part of everyday life. And so— he was thrown into the back of a car and driven away... all he could do was silently apologise to his friends and mother... Maybe even Ijevin.

Fuck. Sorry mom

The car stopped and Percy tensed slightly before forcing his body to relax, he needed to be acting unconscious to escape, get people off guard, run when it's most likely for him to succeed. It was fine— fine that he lost track of where he was because of the car, fine that there were 20 people dragging him out so he couldn't escape, fine that he could smell sterile rooms and the whispers of people around his age. It was fine.

The moment he felt people had left his eyes snapped open, making sure to be out of view from any cameras that he felt were around. He swiftly unbound himself and looked around, still acting asleep. Now— he had to wait for the door to open, for someone to walk in...

The door opened, seeing the man that walked in— Percy sprang into action, he jumped up and took the man out swiftly with a tap to the temple before running through the door into a mess of hallways. It was left, right, front, left, left, front, and— there! The exit! He did his best to get to it, but before he could a voice rang out from speakers in the walls, "I wouldn't do that If I were you, 14. We will stop you."

Probably the person that ran the place. Too bad Percy didn't listen to kidnappers. Bolting for the door he was stopped by a group of people, seemingly a slight bit older then him, "Meet my Gods taskforce, 14. 5 generations... 300 people. 1 out of 60."

Okay... 1 person out of 60, the best out of all of them. The rest of them are probably dead then. "Too bad I can actually fight," he quipped back, "I was 14 once, by the way... People tried to kill me, not very fun. Toodles!" And then he took a run for it.

He didn't get very far before the group attacked.

They were a few of the most trained people that Percy had ever seen, maybe 1 of them he could take out if he had his sword and a thought out plan, but the 5 of them overwhelmed him from all sides.

Another needle was inserted into his neck, causing him to go drowsy as he was tied up once more, vision already fading.

Gods darn it...

Chapter Text

If Percy had a nickel for every time he passed out because someone drugged him, he’d have two nickels — which wasn’t a lot, but it was weird that both times it was the same organization… and in the same week.

Before he had time to think about it, electricity jolted through him. Of course. Start the torture before he’s even fully awake—ouch.

“Get up! You have a minute to stand ready in your cell.” A speaker in the door barked.
Percy sighed. Stupid kidnapper voice. He complied—quietly. His goal was to survive, so pissing off the person holding you captive wasn’t the best strategy.

A guard opened the door, gesturing for him to step out. When he did so, the shocks that wracked through his body faded away. Thank the gods.

Following the guard, Percy committed the halls to memory... Quietly keeping track of which corridors they passed and where he could see they led.

A door opened, the guard pushing him inside. Eyes sharp, he took in the red room, hardstone floors, wall of weapons to the left, podium in the front… guards at every exit.

All throughout the room there were other teenagers from around Ten to Seventeen sitting, tensed— scared, quiet. He counted fifty-eight others, they were one short… One person was already gone. A cynical part of his mind replied that that meant his chances of survival had gone up. Which, while true… wasn't a thought he wanted to have. Sitting down, an intercom crackled.

"I am Chaos,” A voice sounded through the room. “You will not see me, but under my hands you will learn. You are our property. You will train, you will persist, you will not feel. There's blood in your ledger, You will learn how to wipe it out.” The voice chuckled darkly. “And in the end one of you will stay standing. You do not have a place in this world other than here. On the cuff around your ankle there's a number, this is how you will address other trainees. Your Agent names are only to be spoken by your handler."

Percy shifted slightly in his seat. An organisation that trained soldiers... Amazing. (Could you hear the sarcasm?) Especially since from what Percy could see, most of them weren't soldiers at all... Humans, Hybrids... all just normal people in society— taken away from their homes.

"There are rules,” the disembodied voice continued. “you will follow them. Failing means death. Talk back, disagree with us and you will be silenced. Refuse to do as you're ordered and you will befall a fate worse than death. You do not have friends, you do not have feelings. Caring means being complacent. Here, that means death. Your handler will escort you to your bunk in the communal sleeping dorms. You will not say a word and dress in the clothes we have given you before returning here."

Silently standing, Percy followed his 'handler' to the sleeping dorms. He was shown a bunk, and immediately started changing his clothes. Ignoring the sting in his eyes, he took off his camp necklace as well. The diadem, for some reason, stayed on. Percy didn't know why, but he just had a feeling that it wouldn't take kindly to being removed. And it didn't look like the handler was going to comment on it… Looking at the cuff that was around his ankle, Percy spotted the number 14. Of course he had to be number 14, the universe had to be laughing at him.

Finishing up, he turned to his handler, who nodded, "Number 14. Follow me."

The woman indeed hadn’t commented on his diadem, interesting... Could she just not see it? Was the mist finally working in his favor? Was there a mist in this new world— all questions he didn’t know the answer to.

Catching himself, he decided to analyse the kidnapper dude, Chaos's (Why name yourself after the oldest deity in Greek mythology, cocky much?!) Speech. 'You will not feel', so there's a precedent against human emotions, most likely because feelings might make you not kill a person. 'There is blood in your ledger, you will learn how to wipe it out.' was also an interesting line... It made Percy lean towards the assassin side of fighting, but he could be wrong. 'You do not have a place in the world other than here' They were trying to make them feel hopeless, indoctrinate them, train them into puppets... If you failed on a mission you'd be killed. 'Be silenced' meant either dead or muzzled... They couldn't permanently silence someone, that would be counterintuitive for missions. 'A fate worse then death' was most likely torture. They wanted to separate everyone as well... Interesting.

"Sit down Trainee 14 in your assigned spot, your Agent name is Medusa" what an irony that his Agent name would be the monster both he and his namesake had killed… He was pushed forward but caught himself, face remaining as blank as possible as to not give anything away that they could use against him. He nodded towards his handler before moving over to the chair labeled 14. He sat down, eyes alert.

||~-~||

Percy shivered, it was so cold, but He— they— he had to endure... Failure meant death; they refused to die. Death was not something they dared to look at after meeting them so many years ago. Their fingers were turning blue, slowly freezing...

It was fine.

||~-~||

Percy didn't flinch when one of the people training them hit them. They just took it and made sure to do better when they tried again... Inside, they were afraid. They were afraid that the last bit of fire they had in themself would fade, their eyes becoming dull.

It wasn't fine anymore, but they refused to fail... Failure meant death and if they could look Death in the face, then they could avoid it.

||~-~||

They didn't know how long they had been tied up in the chair, it could have been days... They tortured him relentlessly. But that was not the worst of it... The worst of it was the humiliation when they didn't manage to hold their bile or pee anymore. The people torturing them would laugh, then another one of them would come in with a garden hose and spray them clean. They always seemed disappointed in them.

Percy Medusa didn't know how long they could handle it. Death seemed awfully friendly, looking back at it.

||~-~||

Medusa had broken. The last bit of spark that lived in their eyes was snuffed out. They were asked to shoot people, they did it. They killed so many people. The feelings they had left numbed, leaving behind a calculated killer. They still wanted to escape, but couldn't... They were still training.

They couldn't give in to death... Somehow, the diadem helped them stay sane, balanced.

Good.

||~-~||

Dance... Of course. Medusa moved en pointe, dancing through the rain of knives falling around them. Gracefully he scooped up a knife and threw it back at the other trainees that were throwing the knives. They didn't react to the pained cry, nor to the gunshot following it. The trainee they had hit broke the rules... It was a game that they played. The trainee knew the rules, and they failed.

"Contemporary"

Immediately they switched dancing styles, going on with dancing.

"House"

Again, they switched

"Hiphop"

Switch

"Acro"

Switch

"Ballet"

S W I T C H

||~-~||

Medusa mouthed along with the series that was on, they had to get the accent right...

They

Had

To

Get

It

R I G H T

||~-~||

"Hello, My name is-"

"Nederlands"

"Hi, Mijn naam is-"

"⊣ᔑꖎᔑᓵℸ ̣ ╎ᓵ"

"⍑ᒷꖎꖎ𝙹, ᒲ|| リᔑᒲᒷ ╎ᓭ-"

"Ελληνικό"

"Γεια σας, με λένε-"

"Русский"

"Привет, меня зовут-"

"Español"

"Hola, Me Llamo es-"

"Français"

"Bonjour, Je M'appelle-"

||~-~||

"One out of sixty, graduate... Agent Medusa."

Medusa bowed, eyes devoid of emotion... one out of sixty. They were the last one left. Two years of relentless training, all coming to this point.

"Your handler will assign you your first mission, meeting room," The disembodied voice of Chaos paused, "You were my best student in a while, Agent Medusa... do not fail, because for your failures death wouldn't be enough."

Quickly, Medusa made their way over to the meeting room... Their handler was already there, so they got slapped for being slow.

"Medusa, for this mission you will be going to a server called Yvern SMP and assassinating the target known as Izuku Ryven. In front of you are the parameters of this mission and the role you will be playing, do not get caught." And so they were alone in the meeting room.

Mission: Assassinate Izuku Ryven

Parameters: Be discreet, no one may know that it was you who killed them.

Time: 3 weeks

Role:

Name: Trevor Weststreak

Pronouns: He/Him

Backstory: Trevor has lived in the french part of Earth SMP for a long time, but decided it was time to go somewhere else.

Species: Human

Age: 20

This mission will begin in a day on ??-??-????

Failure is Death

All right, Medusa thought. There were clear parameters and they could create a persona, the role bits being very short. They— no. He was Trevor Weststreak, he was 20 years old, he was a human. He came to Yvern SMP from SMP Earth, specifically the French part so he had a slight french accent and was fluent in French as his second language. He was very clumsy, maybe even a bit stupid.

Standing, Medusa schooled their facial expression and went to where the make-up supplies were kept. Their hair had to be different, same with the eyes. Their hair could remain long, they'd have to dye it a more common colour though. But— they couldn’t look too plain either, so they fitted some blue contacts and dressed in a cardigan, also putting jewelry on... They could hide weapons in the clothing, in the earrings, rings, hairpin and other jewelry. Looking in the mirror they found that it was good, but their eyes needed to seem less... dead. Widening their eyes a bit, they put on a soft smile before looking back at the mirror.

Perfect.

||~-~||

Medusa Trevor smiled nervously as they he walked towards the portal to Yvern SMP. It had been a while since they'd he'd gone to another world.

"Hi, I'm Tr- Trevor," He introduced himself to the man manning the portal. "I have- have an invitation from Izuku."

The man looked Trevor up and down, "Where's your invitation?"

Trevor nodded meekly, rifling through his bag and pulling out an envelope, handing it to the man before stepping back and smiling awkwardly. "Here- here you go."

Fiddling with one of the rings on his finger, Trevor watched as the man at the gate looked through his invitation. He shuffled slightly, debating whether he should start a conversation when the other spoke.

"You're good, head on in and follow the signs."

Nodding once more, Trevor nearly ran into the portal, silently cursing himself for fucking up another conversation... This was why he shouldn't have allowed his sister to convince him to move to another server, he wasn't social enough for it.

Swiftly following the signs on the path outside of the world-portal, he kept his eyes on the ground... He was so embarrassed.

Then, he bumped into someone. He fell to the ground, immediately spouting apologies, "I am so sor- sorry, here I'll help- help you get up. I am so- so sorry. " Scrambling up he blushed deeply, "I should have- should have watched out, I am so sorry."

"It's alright, you’re the new person?" the one he bumped into stood up, smiling slightly in amusement.

He didn't even introduce himself, oh no... "Yes, I am the- the new per- person. My name is Tr-Trevor. It's nice to- to meet you."

The person stuck out a hand for Trevor to shake, "Nice to meet you Trevor, I'm Halo."

Interesting, note that down.

"Nice- Nice to meet you Halo."

The man- Halo shrugged, taking his hand (Which Trevor forgot to shake, darn it) back to his pocket, "I'll bring you too Izuku, on the way I can explain how the server works as well."

Trevor nodded, walking along a bit behind them. "How- How do you kn- know Izuku," He asked, starting to fiddle with his ring once more.

"Well," Halo started, voice jovial. "We have been best friends since we met on a server called Quix SMP when we were both searching for a place to settle down. And after a while a mutual friendship blossomed between us! Our first meeting was quite interesting. So–"

Trevor let the information wash over him, nodding along with the elaborate story Halo was telling.

Halo likes talking, overshares a lot... Good for information gathering. I should befriend them.

Eventually, the Duo arrived at where Halo said that Izuku would be. By that time, Halo and Trevor had become friends, Trevor's stutter had even slightly decreased as he became familiar with the other. "You can go in, I'll text you later over comms for when we can hang out again," Halo said, Trevor nodding along before making his way into the base where he would presumably meet Izuku.

Let's see how difficult this is going to be. This will be the deciding factor on how I want to play this.

Izuku was... More nervous than Trevor had imagined. Over the course of the conversation Trevor learned how Izuku was horrible at fighting, had a really bad stutter like he had, and that one of the only things that he was good at was redstone and coding.

Medusa hadn't learned that...

Trevor asked him to show him how to another time.

Once again, the duo had become fast friends, bonding over their stutter and clumsyness... both eventually stuttering a lot less near the end of the conversation.

||~-~||

It was the end of the first week, and Medusa sat in the small house they'd made for themselves, looking over what they'd found.

It would be easy to assassinate Izuku, but in order to stop suspicion they would have to leave only after a few people had already left because the group was falling apart. So they had at most 2 days to assassinate the man.

They had decided that a knife in the heart would be the most logical, most people in the group were capable of doing that so everyone was a suspect instead of if they'd for example used poison the group would be limited to those that knew how to poison people.

At night would also be the smart thing, there were no alarms nor cameras at Izuku's base thus it would be easy to sneak in and out.

They'd have to wear gloves and cover up their footprints though... the others would leave no stone unturned, that was the irritating thing about having to kill 'the cinnamon roll' of the server. Stupid

They'd do it the next night. It was a half moon, and there were enough trees. Perfect camouflage.

Sighing because of the time limit, Medusa went to sleep... and the next day, Trevor walked around as cheerful as ever.

||~-~||

It was time, Medusa had done it. They stared at Izuku's body, bleeding out, as a feeling of pride welled in their body... Two years ago they would have gotten sick by it. Now, they were proud that they did it. Proud that they just bought themselves more time to live... even if it was in the hands of a non-ethical organisation that they hated.

Swiftly, they went back to their house, cleaning themselves up before making sure the house was cleaned of any evidence that could point to them as the one that killed Izuku. When that was done, they had about 2 hours until sunrise. Thank the gods that they were an expert at not looking tired when they were.

||~-~||

Someone shook Trevor awake, tears running down their cheeks. It was Halo...

"What- What's going on Halo? What's wr-wrong," Tevor asked, rubbing the sleep out of his face.

"Izuku is dead."

Trevor froze, "Wh-what? No, I saw him- saw him yesterday... He's not dead."

Halo looked him in the eyes, clearly holding back sobs, "I found him- found him this morning. He's normally awake just before sunrise, so when I couldn't find him I went to his house and- and..." They let out a strangled sob, "Izuku was stabbed- through the heart..."

His eyes filled with tears, "No," he whispered to himself, "No, please no..." Trevor started to shake with silent sobs as well, until eventually dying out... eyes lit with a grieving fury, "Who did this..."

Halo looked down, "We don't know... There wasn't anything there. No evidence, and now people are fighting and accusing each other and I don't know what to do." They started crying again, "I don't know- I don't know what to do anymore..." Looking up, back to Trevor, he hiccuped, "Trevor, I don't know what to do."

"I- I- I don't- I don't know either, Halo," He stuttered, tears still rolling freely, "May- Maybe we cou- could ask the- the hub-police for hel-help?"

Halo sniffed, "They- they refused to help..."

||~-~||

Everyone was fighting, people were leaving the server... Trevor packed up his things. He couldn't stay there. Not with all the bad memories, they had sobbed at Izuku's grave for days now, nearly a week. It wasn't healthy. And so after a tearful goodbye to Halo, who was the new admin of the server and thus would stay for the people that wanted to stay, he went on his way... Tears rolling down his cheeks.

Mission successful.

||~-~||

"Agent Medusa, report," Their handler spoke harshly, leaving no room for argument.

Medusa nodded, "Izuku Ryven was killed on ??-??-???? at 04:23 Am. Due to suspicion I could not leave the server until ??-??-????, when I left at 02:45 Pm. No suspicion was directed at me, mission successful."

A hand was put on Medusa's shoulder, "Well done, Medusa. Make a detailed report by tomorrow and give it to me, if you will, dear."

Medusa nodded once more, "Thank you, masterpiece... You are the most beautiful statue the boss has ever created. You will get the parameters of your next mission tomorrow," the man paused and leaned forward, his breath heavy on Medusa's neck. His hand tightening around their shoulder in a silent threat, "Don't fail, you know what the boss does to failed experiments."

Another nod.

"Words, snake."

"Yes sir."

"Well done, doll... go to your quarters. You can get a pencil and paper in the kitchen, as you know."

The hand left Medusa's shoulder as their handler stepped back. They fought the urge to either slump in relief or roundhouse-kick the man in the head. Instead, they decisively decided to walk towards the door and keep their composure.

'If you react, they'll do it more' they kept reminding themself.

||~-~||

'Tough day?' Agent Perseus signed, out of view of the cameras.

'Yes, my handler was being weird again when I came back from the mission,' Medusa replied to them.

'Like, how we first met weird or other kinds of weird?'

'Other, though... by now I am not sure how much our first meeting can be described as weird, J-A-C-O-B.'

'I guess so A-V-A.'

After the conversation, both Agents got ready for bed, Medusa sitting down at the small desk to write the full report that Chaos wanted.

This is a detailed report of the Ryven mission, by Agent Medusa.

Mission: Assassinate Izuku Ryven

Parameters: Be discreet, no one may know that it was you who killed them.

Time: 3 weeks

Role:

Name: Trevor Weststreak

Pronouns: He/Him

Backstory: Trevor has lived in the french part of Earth SMP for a long time, but decided it was time to go somewhere else.

Species: Human

Age: 20

Trevor arrived at Yvern SMP at ??-??-????. He became friends with the best friend of the target and the target itself. Over the course of a week 'Trevor' became a beloved member of the group. On ??-??-???? 'Trevor' assassinated the target, using a knife to stab the target in the heart. The next day 'Trevor' was awoken by the best friend of the target, who was in despair. 'Trevor' tried to help them but they failed. Over the course of the next week, the server launched an investigation that consisted mostly of blindly accusing people. 'Trevor' only got accused once, and that got shot down quickly by the target's best friend. A half week after the murder, on ??-??-???? there was a funeral, which 'Trevor' attended. A week later, on ??-??-???? 'Trevor' decided to leave Yvern SMP because of the bad memories it caused. He left the server at 02:45 Pm on ??-??-????.

Agent Medusa arrived back to base at 01:10 Am on ??-??-????, one day after 'Trevor's' departure from Yvern SMP.

They set the pencil down, silently stretching their hand. They needed to sleep if they wanted to survive. They needed to be at peak performance.

Laying in bed, Medusa would ponder while they waited for sleep to take them. Was it truly okay for them to feel proud about killing another person, even if for survival?

Eventually, they decided that they could be proud at themself for surviving. That was fine.

They were no longer Percy, after all.

Chapter Text

Seven years... Seven years of biting their tongue, observing, planning... Playing the perfect little pawn. 

Perseus pulled the attention to themself so Medusa could slip through the cracks, and slip through the cracks they did. 

Ages of planning…Seven years of living in hell, half a decade since their first mission, zero days until they were free again. 

They looked up, meeting Perseus's eyes, 'Ready?' they signed.

'Ready.'

The plan was in motion.

||~-~||

Medusa slipped away quietly, avoiding the cameras surrounding where Perseus was training. Sliding throughout the building, they mapped everything out in their minds' eyes. 

There– the door they were looking for. 

Quickly grabbing the pin they had hidden in their sleeve, they picked the lock, stepping inside with care. 

Taking a look around the office, their eyes stopped onto a closed drawer. Opening  the drawer,  their eyes widened as they noticed what goldmine lay before them. The files for all successful agents in the past ten years. Ten files about agents, the duo included, at their disposal. 

Immediately, they started reading, finishing just in time for them to make it back to the training grounds. 

No one had noticed. 

||~-~||

Perseus and Medusa locked eyes. 'Map,’ Medusa signed.

'Yes'

Immediately Medusa pulled out a map that they'd hidden, laying it out and silently started to add to it. 

'This section, back entrance. Not very guarded,' Perseus pointed out. 

Medusa sent a deadpan look at the other, 'That's what they want you to think.' They pointed out multiple spots where people were stationed, 'There's a tunnel in C-H-A-O-S office. If you want badly guarded, that's where you need to be– he doesn’t expect anyone to know it after all.'

'Isn't the office guarded more?'

Medusa shook their head, 'less.'

Perseus nodded, rolling the map back up, 'We use Office.'

||~-~||

Medusa leaned back against the wall, whistling silently to get Perseus's attention 'Almost seven years at the organisation' they signed

Perseus nodded, walking over to silently sit beside them, 'Just 10 for me. At least we're getting out soon.'

'True.'

||~-~||

Medusa winced as the alarms rang in their ears. 

"Shit," Perseus cursed silently from where they were hiding, knives in their hands ready to jump at anyone that found them.

Shit indeed Medusa mused, racking their brain for any way to escape. Wait, the back entrance that they had deemed too dangerous before! 

"Perseus," They hissed, quickly getting the agent's attention. "Back entrance is our best bet. Let’s go.”

"Affirmative."

||~-~||

A hundred fifty-seven people died by Medusa's hands.

Perseus killed a hundred fifty-six people.

To escape the organisation, they had to kill three-hundred and thirteen people. And Medusa didn't feel a thing. Long ago they would have thought that made them a monster. Not anymore. Now they knew they were one… had been one for years. 

The duo turned around as the agency went up in flames. "That didn't go even slightly as planned," Medusa sighed. "I don’t regret letting it burn though."

Perseus nodded, "It's honestly slightly cathartic, seeing it go off in flames."

"Free therapy for everything they put us through." Medusa let out another sigh, turning around and beginning to walk into the forest surrounding the base. 

They gestured for Perseus to follow, which they did. 

It was a truly beautiful morning, the duo noted. Leaves filtered the low-hanging sun, leaving artworks on the floor made of sunshine, birds chirping slightly– for the first time in a while Medusa didn't have to do anything by anyone's orders. 

Through the euphoria, Medusa didn't notice that a slight pain in their hands they'd had ever since their first kill faded away…as did their headache they’d had ever since they had graduated.

Their veins which had sprung up a light blue, fading back into the skin.

It had been far too long since they didn’t have to do anything…

They were twenty-two years old now, and had been with the organisation since they were fifteen. Not even a week after the Giant war. It felt silly, now— the way they had panicked over a mere primordial.

||~-~||

They had been walking for a while, the morning turning into the afternoon, and into evening– the sun making long shadows reach through the forest.

"We should set up camp, we probably still have a while to go... Judging by the fact we were teleported everywhere we needed to go." Medusa stopped, looking around for a good place.

"I wish we could have grabbed one of those and got out like that," Perseus said, "But if they can track you if you use the darn things it wouldn’t be a good idea"

Medusa nodded, "We didn’t cover our tracks before– and no one’s caught up with us yet… but that doesn’t mean they aren’t coming for us, and that’s dangerous.” They paused, looking around a bit, “We should sleep in the tree’s, people are less likely to look upwards than they look down or to the sides.”

"You're too paranoid."

Medusa sighed, grabbing the small backpack they managed to take with, "It's what kept me alive, but fine– we can sleep on the ground, to the right though. People have a tendency to look from left to right. So we would have some extra time to get ready before they spot us.”

Then, they commenced working to set up a camp in silence. 

||~-~||

"Hey, Medusa– Ava, whatever our names are now..." 

It was around an hour after sundown and the past agents were sitting around a small fire, roasting some fruits that they had found in the surrounding area for sustenance.

"Yes, Perseus," Medusa replied, eyes focused on the flickering of the fire. It reminded them of home... A home lost seven years ago. The irony of a person named Perseus sitting beside them wasn’t lost on them. (Still, they ignored the fact they were named Medusa)

"Do you think we should change our names," They asked, pausing before reiterating, "I know that we should, but what do you think you'll name yourself?"

Medusa tore their gaze from the fire for just a moment to look into the others eyes, "I don’t know– I can’t go by my old name, and Ava is a name I made up because I didn’t trust anyone in this new place I didn’t know the laws of.” they sighed quietly, “I suppose I’ll go with the thing I am most… what’d you suppose that is?”

When Perseus didn't reply, they turned back to the fire before answering their own question, "Scarred."

"We all are, aren't we," Perseus retorted, voice flat... "So is the rule of the land. We don’t get safety, we get scars."

Medusa fell silent for a bit before speaking up, "I was seven."

"What?"

They stood, walking towards a small clearing near their campsite, "When I got my first scar, I was seven."

"I was twelve," Perseus said, "My parents tried selling me to the organisation. I ran away, leg bleeding. Managed to outrun them for  a year too."

"That was better than I was..." They walked back towards the campsite, "I lasted a whole three days. Granted I didn't know anything other than the cryptic message that you gave me, I was in an unknown space of which I didn't know the laws and it took like 30 people to catch me but still. It wasn't good enough."

"So, back to the topic," Perseus spoke, "I think I'll be going with something like... Eris Nightingstar or the like."

Medusa tilted their head, "Why that name in particular?"

"I've always liked the stars," Perseus began, "The night sky would be a blessing to me because it meant that the people chasing me were tired, sometimes even sleeping and I would get to see the stars without having to worry about getting caught."

Medusa looked up, "I can see that. One of my favourite constellations is the huntress..." They sighed, "It's always a nice thing to know that one of your friends is watching you from above…"

Perseus laid down, looking at the stars through the leafdeck, "Why do I get the feeling that you know why the constellation appeared in the sky ten years ago?"

"Because I do," Medusa replied, "I was there when it was made. I was twelve, one of my friends' bodies was never found... the other can be found in the stars now."

"That's an interesting story... I chose Eris as a first name because that was the name of a friend I made in the year that I was running. She didn't make it."

Medusa hummed, "I don't know what my name will be yet, I'll come up with something on the fly I guess. I'm good at that."

||~-~||

"Did you know that my name used to be Perseus," Medusa spoke, looking at Perseu– no, Eris. 

The other froze, "I'm sorry, what?" 

They continued walking, leaving the other to catch up, "Medusa, what the fuck."

"Perseus is the only hero in all of Greek mythology to have a happy ending," They shrugged, "My mom hoped his good luck would rub off on me... It didn't work, my luck was the absolute worst but what can you truly do? It's not like 'Medusa' is much better."

Eris blinked, "You didn't think to mention this any sooner?!"

"It never came up in conversation."

"Also, I didn't like the name anyways... Called myself Percy, a lot more 'normal'"

"My name used to be Eugene, it was an okay name... hated the nicknames though."

"I can see that”

||~-~||

"Did you have a religion, before ending up in the organisation," Medusa asked Eris, sitting around the fire they looked into the others eyes, sea blue meeting a warm brown. 

They frowned, "Not really, I grew up in an atheist family... Never really considered otherwise, never learned that there were other religions. Homeschool is the absolute worst." They paused for a moment, adjusting how they sat to be more comfortable, "You?"

"The Greek Pantheon... When I was caught, I tried to reach out. But it seems that the eyes of the fates do not reach here. Either by choice or by inability," Medusa sighed, "It's truly irritating. I was sent off to boarding schools for a while... Eventually not, but it wasn't fun. Being the ADHD, Dyslexic kid that can't do schoolwork or sit still to save a life has it effects on your social status."

Eris blinked, "I am learning more about your past life in the last 2 days than in the seven years before that."

"I can say the same to you. You need to sleep though, you're not as good as hiding that you're tired as I am. I'll take the first watch, you just go to bed."

||~-~||

"We didn't consider pronouns," Medusa began, "Even if we do have names, it would be nice to have pronouns. What are yours?"

Eris shrugged, "It's been a while since I've used anything but They/them, but She/Her and He/him don't sound that bad. I honestly like it." 

Medusa nodded, "I can respect that, tell me if it changes."

They continued walking.

After a while Eris's steps stuttered slightly, "You keep letting me make my choices but you don't make yours... Why?"

Medusa couldn't say... They refused to acknowledge the truth– that they didn’t think they deserved to make these choices, so they made something up. "I just don't know what I'd like yet. For now you can keep using 'Medusa' and They/Them, I'll figure it out eventually."

Eris was not convinced, but couldn't do anything... Maybe that was for the best, though.

||~-~||

"The tale of Medusa begins in different ways..." Medusa hummed to themselves, looking up into the night sky, "A monster, or a demon to be slain. Were they born, the way they are... or were they turned– in a goddess’s rage."

They breathed in, "Is it truly the same, this story on both ends... One was born a monster, and one was once a friend. Were they both evil, or was it just the dues of men... Eventually it doesn't matter, they were both killed in the end."

Medusa paused, "They were... both killed in the end."

"Where'd you learn that song," a voice came from behind them, "I've never heard of it..."

They sighed, standing up before turning around to face their blonde-haired friend. "It's called Medusa's song, it's a song about the different ways that Medusa came to be. There's also Perseus's song, It's sad. The song talks about, what if Perseus never wanted to kill Medusa? But if he had to choose between his family and Medusa, he'd kill them. And that's what he did."

Eris fidgeted slightly, tilting his head– a new habit Medusa had noticed as they had left the clutches of the organisation. "Can you sing it? You have a nice voice..."

Medusa blinked, "Are you sure? My singing's not that good–" At the others' insistent nod they sighed, "All right, just sit down."

After Eris had firmly nestled herself into the grass on the opposite side of the fire, Medusa began, "The ways of the blade, Perseus had devised. Did he really find them a monster, or was it a sacrifice? If he had to choose between Medusa or his wife... Was it really a surprise that he didn't pick their side?" 

Eris frowned slightly, the lyrics were interesting, then he turned her eyes back to Medusa... They had closed their eyes, fully into the music. They looked sad– longing almost, if not for the fact that they’d never seen Medusa feel anything.

"Is it truly a sacrifice, if you just take what others have... Medusa might have been a monster, but was she really bad? Which one of them was evil, which one of them a friend... It doesn't matter, He killed Medusa in the end."

"That's some introspective shit when seeing it from Medusa's and Perseus's perspectives..." Eris’s lips twitched slightly, "Now go to bed, It's my turn to take watch and no matter how good you are at hiding that you are tired, my calculations say that there is no way that you are not."

Medusa stood up to go to sleep, "I'm not tired, but fine... if you insist. Don't blame me when you hate yourself in the morning because you didn't get enough sleep or fell asleep while keeping watch."

"One, I am going to hate myself in the morning regardless. Two, you have been up since we escaped, which is three consecutive days today. Three, I can deal with not sleeping, we went through the same fucking training."

"I suppose it’s fine.”

||~-~||

"I hate myself..." Eris groaned, almost walking into a tree. 

Medusa nodded, calmly walking along. "I told–"

She sighed. "Shut up, you were always better at this then I am," he winced, colliding with a branch.

"Which is why–" They said, eyes gleaming slightly.

"Shut." Eris interrupted, glaring at them playfully… oh– She was playing at humanity to make Himself feel more normal… Maybe– they could try it as well?

Medusa gasped dramatically,"I am not-" 

"I. Am. Tired. Medusa. You might be able to hide it... but I am not. Shut." Eris smiled at them, exhaustion clear on her face as they stumbled into yet another branch. 

"And this is why I told you, that you needed the sleep," The other teased, now skipping and gracefully ducking under and over all the branches that Eris hit. 

They groaned, "I am beginning to regret giving you the energy to tease me by forcing you to sleep."

"I am gonna say it."

"Don't you dare."

"I am gonna say it, Eris..."

"Nooooo..."

"I". Told. You. So."

Medusa ran off, Eris following while shouting playful insults. 

It wasn't real, Medusa didn't feel anything... But, it was nice to pretend that they could feel for a while. It was nice to pretend to be able to feel what teasing someone felt like.. 

It was just nice. Even if 'Nice' was such a hollow sentiment to them.

||~-~||

"I spy, with my little eye..." Eris looked around a bit, apparently finding something she liked before continuing. "Something red"

Medusa sighed, "Is it that poppy?" They pointed at a Poppy that was  just to the side of the duo was walking. 

"How do you always get them?"

"You're predictable… Eris– you move in a pattern."

"I so do not!"

||~-~||

"99 bottles of beers on the wall, 99 bottles of beer," the two hummed together as they walked, "Take one down, pass it around... 99- no, 98 bottles of beers on the wall!" 

Medusa paused, "We should sing another song... this song has been repeated more than 20 times. "How about this?"

Swiftly, they set in another song, "I could be brown, I could be blue, I could be violet sky... I could be hurtfull, I could be purple... I could be anything you like."

And so they proceeded to continue that song for another three hours before changing to another song.

||~-~||

"Eight days, twenty-one hours and forty minutes of walking... but we're finally out of the forest..." Medusa sighed, "Do you know where we are?"

Eris looked around a bit at the barren streets, "Pretty sure that this is the edge of the red-light district... it's not that far from where I met you actually."

"Great," Medusa exclaimed, dragging their friend along towards the middle of the district before going into what seemed like a normal alleyway and opening a vent. 

Eris was doubtful, "Are you sure you know what you are doing?"

"About 98% sure, so yes... I am sure I know what I am doing," Medusa replied, jumping up into the now opened vent, "The other 2% is the chance I don't remember which vent it is..."

"Sure." Following Medusa into the vent, Eris was surprised to see a settlement in the woods with tents scattered around.

"So it was the correct vent," They heard Medusa say, "Now, let's see if Ijevin's still around after all these years."

Jumping down, they looked around slightly before approaching an older man who was sitting by the fire. Eris just walked after them, if they had to compare it to something... they'd say like a lost puppy. 

"Excuse me sir," They spoke, sitting beside him. "Do you know if Ijevin is still around?"

The man blinked, turning to the duo, "What are your names?"

Medusa smiled, "I'm Ava, They/them. And this is Eris, all pronouns. "

"Ava?" The man exclaimed, a surprised look on his face. “Ijevin was worried about you, where have you been!”

They shrugged, "Things came up... I couldn't come back for fear of revealing the Sanctuary. I wanted to keep all of you safe, so I didn't come back." The half-truth tasted like ash, he didn't want to lie to the people in the sanctuary– but their safety came first. He had stayed there for me measly two days, but it felt like a home away from home even after all these years. 

He frowned, "That's quite alright. Ijevin left the sanctuary about a year ago... Said something about a server he was joining.... He left a message for you, in case you ever returned!"

Standing, the man went to grab something in his tent, coming out with a letter, giving it to Medusa. 

Opening the letter, Medusa smiled slightly.

Hey Ava, 

I''m going to another server, but I don't just want you to be left guessing where I went. I hope you visit the Sanctuary... It's been a while. Six years ago, was when I met you. 

You didn't seem like someone to break promises, so all I can do is hope that you're alive and well. 

My comm is :Ijevin2: if you want to message.

I miss you... even if we met for like, two days before going our separate ways. 

Take care, and message when you can. I'll be waiting.

Your friend, Ijevin

"That's nice of him, to leave a letter," Eris commented, having stepped back out of respect for privacy. 

Medusa put the letter in their pocket. "It was, now we need to see what we're doing next," They paused, eyes fluttering downward. "I can't go home, I've tried that... doesn't work. So I'll need a new place to be, somewhere safe." Eyeing the sanctuary, they sighed, "Do you know where you want to go yet?"

She shrugged, leaning on the other, "I think I might stay in The Sanctuary for a while... It seems peaceful enough here."

"The one thing we can't do is stay together," Medusa intoned, uncaring for who heard the conversation as it was simply fact. "We're too recognizable together... We also need to change how we look... I look way to unique to blend in."

Drumming her fingers on the stem where he was now sitting, Eris nodded. "I have some hair dye and contacts I managed to smuggle out with us... Would that work?"

"I think so."

||~-~||

Medusa smiled into the small mirror, they looked perfectly unsuspecting. A perfect balance between unique and bland that screamed 'Look over me, there's nothing to see.' in a non-suspicious way. 

Looking over to where Eris was also admiring their appearance, Medusa nodded. She had long, blonde hair, brown eyes, glasses... Perfectly bland. 

"You done," Eris asked, also looking over to the other.

They nodded, turning to fully face their fellow escapee, "One last thing we might want to do is to bespel our hair for the dye to never fade... Same with making it so that our colour contacts don't need to be taken off at night so that it's good... I also might want something to cover up the huge amounts of Scars on my face–"

"Your face is fine, don't worry about the scars. Just tell people you are uncomfortable talking about it and they'll assume it was some kind of freak accident," Eris retorted, walking towards Medusa. "Now, 'Dusa. You need to pick your name. You introduced yourself as Ava before right? But you said that wouldn’t work… Your first name is now Scar. Now what do you want your last name to be?"

"I don't know..."

"Your last name is now GoodTimes. No you cannot bargain, I gave you the chance to choose."

Medusa sighed at the smug look that adorned Eris's face, "Fine... My pronouns are He/Him, I think… They/them also works.."

"Cool! Now let's chill the fuck out."

"Can you tone down on the cursing?"

"Do not act like you don't curse yourself."

Medusa huffed, "And my mother would burn me at the stake if she knew."

"She draws the line at cursing, but not murder," Eris snorted. 

"I mean... She'd draw the line at murder when it's not saving myself or my friends from being killed or severely hurt... so everything I have done is technically within that moral line?"

||~-~||

"Don't die Scar," Eris spoke. They were standing at the entrance of the Sanctuary, it was time for Scar to head out. 

He chuckled slightly, "I could say the same to you, Eris. Don't die, or I'll revive you just to kill you again."

"I won't die... I've lived through too much to do that."

"Ditto."

In the evening sun, the duo looked ethereal, standing before the entrance of the vent. They hugged each other clumsily, both having nearly forgotten how to. Their embrace was something that even if not filled with the emotions people felt when hugging, was filled with comfort nonetheless. 

"I'll come visit as much as I can," Scar whispered. 

"I'll hold you to that," Eris replied. 

And so they went their separate ways...

One stayed in a sanctuary made for people on the run, to be safe from who they were running from. And the other chose to venture out... The sea in their spirit too wild to be contained in one place. 

Searching for a place, even the wildest sea could call home. 

They could only hope that such a place existed...

Chapter Text

Scar had been walking around the upper districts of the hub for a few days now, careful to linger in one place for fear of being recognised by an agent. He had lost his way to the Sanctuary within the first day, leaving him stranded.

He stole what he could to keep the wounds from his escape covered and clean, making sure he ate the bare minimum— and that was enough. They had survived weeks with fewer supplies in far worse climates, it was fine.

For now, he was looking for a server to gather his bearings so he could move on to safely find an actual place to settle down. Maybe he could steal, make or buy a comm to contact Eris— that was a second matter, though… He needed a place to stay first.

Looking through what felt like millions of different ads for servers, he sighed, massaging his temples in the hopes to get rid of the raging headache he was sporting.

Add to the list, get something to help with dyslexia

He felt like he was running out of places to look— running out of places to be, to exist without looking over his shoulder every five minutes.

He noticed the side-eyes that people were giving him because of his clothes... What normal person would wear what looked like torn up assassin's gear, after all… The problem was that the clothing stalls were far better guarded than any others. Why— Scar didn’t know

'I just need time to find the right place...' he kept reminding himself . Yet, no matter how many times he repeated it... other words echoed in his mind. Again and again and again like a broken funeral drum.

The Sea Doesn't Like To Be Restrained

The words his father once spoke to him when he was ten, echoing in his ears 12 years after.

He knew that was what he was. He was the sea. He couldn't be restrained, he made the riptide take lives— dangerous and yet some would still call him beautiful.

He knew the salt staining his lips, the way he involuntarily spat it at people... into the very wounds he had opened. He knew of the lives he had taken, remembered every name... every date.

And yet all he could do was keep moving forward… Never stopping, just like the tides lapping at the shore.

||~-~||

Another day passed, he didn't sleep... A week, A week since they'd last slept. It was fine, just fine. They were Medusa— no, He was Scar Goodtimes and he had been through worse odds.

He just needed to find a safe place to sleep. Without supplies, being in the upper districts of a place he had spent maybe a week outside of missions. It wasn’t going well.

Humming along with a tune in his head, Scar felt himself relax. Not a lot— but just enough. His jaw unclenched, his shoulders lowering— feeling the energy circulating through his body like an evening tide

"Come live with us in the palace..."

He continued walking, a bit slower now— eyes closing slightly, "There's a room waiting for you..."

Sitting down on a bench to the side of the market, he took a deep breath, "Come on... Come on... Come on..." It sounded like voices layered over each other in a beautiful cadence.

"Just let us adore you..."

His voice faded, leaving silence to fall over the streets.

He breathed in, opening his eyes... only to notice the many eyes pointed in his direction.

Shitshitshitshitshitmomiamsosorrythatimcursingbutithinkitsjustifiedshitshitshit

He sprung up, eyes wide, hands sweaty— Taking off running through the crowd to lose the eyes... Everyone was staring—

Everyone

Was

Staring

At

Him

They had to go, away from the eyes... away, away, away. They felt horrible, yet their eyes stayed dry. It would be fine. They just had to escape the eyes on them.

Objective: Escape eyes

Run, Medusa— no, his name was Scar now— had to run, run away... They had an objective, they had to finish it. No emotions, just calculation— don’t panic, why were they panicking now, they never panicked. Panicking meant death— they couldn’t panic—

Their eyes flitted over the crowd, searching for any place to hide from the prying eyes and whispers of the surrounding populace— The alleyways were lit-up and clean, any places they could go filled with people. If they couldn't hide, they had to either camouflage or fight. There were too many people to fight, camouflage was their only option— run, run, get away, where could they camouflage—

They ran into the market, grabbing clothes from a nearby stall ignoring the indignant cries from the vendor they had stolen from or the security attempting to follow them. They just had to get out— get somewhere safe— don’t panic, don’t panic— they shouldn’t be panicking—

Running into a random store's bathrooms they quickly changed their clothes, adjusting their posture, tying their hair back before making sure they looked collected and calm before sauntering back into the crowd.

They were... fine— yeah— no one was looking anymore, it was fine.

Assess the situation first. People saw them sing... Not the end of the world, even if it felt that way. They ran away, not good for Medusa— No, his name was Scar— because people would be looking for them. They managed to make themselves blend in, so that was a non-problem. They stole clothes from a vendor. Med— Scar disliked it, but honestly, most of them— he did not care. His objective was completed, he—they—he escaped from eyes.

What to do next?

They— he needed shelter, a server to settle down in and fast. Keeping awake for so long would eventually even affect how he functioned, even if he knew they had at least a month before they would start hallucinating— maybe longer if they drank a lot of water.

Money was another objective. He had to get by in the world, money was an important part of that— he couldn’t live off of stealing forever.

At last... Scar added friends (Not that he needed them.). He wanted friends.

||~-~||

Another week had passed... Medusa— No, Scar was getting tired of searching for scraps. He tried to stay positive and say that he would find something eventually, but the odds weren’t in his favor.

He had to find a place to stay, to sleep... Even if it wasn't truly needed. The streets were getting colder by the day, the cold wind nipping at his fingers with fervor. Time was running out. Winter was coming and no matter how good Scar was, he couldn’t survive three months of winter in the clothes he had on— nevermind with the abysmal amount of sleep he got.

Some cynical part of him let out a chuckle, 'I guess the story was right then, Medusa was killed in the end. Only we weren't killed by a hero... but by the winter. Son of sea, bested by a little cold.'

There were days spent freezing when with WISP, so why would he die— a part of him argued. It would just be uncomfortable.

If he’d had the energy to think like Percy would have— seven years ago, he'd say that he'd get it in time. He'd find a server in time for the winter.

He didn't.

||~-~||

It had been a month, the sleep deprivation was catching up to them. Their breathing was shallow, face gaunt with malnutrition. The burns on their face stung, starting to get infected… It was fine— they had been through worse, sure with better gear and less time, but still.

Looking throughout the Hub, they must have searched through hundreds applications for servers... All were either Racist, hated the fey, plain toxic, or were on invite.

They had to find something before they ran out of time... Please—

Western SMP, On invite

Quiz SMP, A bunch of Racists

Qwerty SMP, Hate the Fey

Yvern SMP, They paused at the name. That was Izuku's SMP... their— first mission. Maybe— Nevermind, it was run by a bunch of racists now.

Renegade SMP, On invite

Again, and again, and again.

Hermicraft SMP, On Application. Every season they added a few people that wanted to join.

He blinked blearily at the screen. Huh— that could work.

+~-=-~+

Hermitcraft SMP rules:

1. No asking for backstories
2. —

+~-=-~+

No asking for— Oh… That— could work.

+~-=-~+

Hermitcraft SMP rules:

1. No asking for backstories
2. No Discriminating in any way
3. Keep cursing to a minimum
4. Be respectful to others
5. Respect boundaries

+~-=-~+

It was perfect. No asking for backstories, they could set clear boundaries, no weird rules... Just basic respect.

Medusa nodded to themselves— they could at least apply, stay for a season if they were accepted and then they’d see if they wanted to stay for longer.

+~-=-~+

Hermitcraft Application form:

Name:

Age:

Species:

Reason for joining:

Misc (Allergies/triggers/etc.):

Need Admin to know:

Comm handle:

+~-=-~+

Simple enough, just fill in what they could— figure out what they couldn’t.

+~-=-~+

Hermitcraft Application form:

Name: Scar Goodtimes

Age: 22

Species: Fey

Reason for joining: I Needed a place to stay, this was the first place I found to be kind, not racist or toxic in any way

Misc (Allergies/triggers/etc.): I am not comfortable divulging my triggers when I am not sure I will even be able to get into the server, as they can be used against me. If I do get in I will tell the admin.

Need Admin to know: I have multiple disabilities.

Comm handle: I do not have a comm. I apollogise.

+~-=-~+

Done.

Now they just had to wait.

Ww~=~wW

Xisuma looked over the applications for the new season. Toxic, toxic, racist... He sighed, why did people have to be so rude to others— it was exhausting. Oh— This one was interesting...

+~-=-~+

Hermitcraft Application form:

Name: Scar Goodtimes

Age: 22

Species: Fey

Reason for joining: I Needed a place to stay, this was the first place I found to be kind, not racist or toxic in any way

Misc (Allergies/triggers/etc.): I am not comfortable divulging my triggers when I am not sure I will even be able to get into the server, as they can be used against me. If I do get in I will tell the admin.

Need Admin to know: I have multiple disabilities

Comm handle: I do not have a comm. I apollogise.

+~-=-~+

They were polite, yet blunt. Nothing screamed that the guy was bad news, which was a nice change from most other applications. His reason for joining was quite a thing though. Normally, people made up whole stories. Seeing something so simple, X decided that the application would be put on the 'Would consider' pile.

Ww~=~wW

A week had passed, nothing. Medusa honestly didn't know what they expected. Looking through what they guessed were thousands of applications took time, and that was fine. Admins were busy people, They knew that from their years in the organisation

It was fine that they were getting sick... It could wait. They could stay awake for a bit longer—

They opened their eyes to the evening sky. Their body ached all over, feverish and exhausted. Had they passed out?

Scrambling to their feet , they stumbled to the nearest newspaper station.

2 days.

They had been asleep for 2 days.

They had been— had been... No. They refused to panic now— they never panicked, they wouldn’t— panic. First things first— they had to fuel their body, because they wouldn't last much longer without any food or water. With shallow breaths, they made their way through the crowd, ignoring the weird looks people gave them because of how sick they undoubtedly looked.

Nothing... Nothing.... Just— Nothing.

They weren't in good enough health to be able to steal anything either.

Collapsing to their knees, they threw up once— twice, pure bile. It burned his throat. It was fine— He threw up again. Black spots danced over his eyes.

"Are you okay?!"

Ww~=~wW

X had made his choice, he was going to find Scar Goodtimes and invite them along with Cub Fan, Iskal, Ren Dog, Vintage Beef and Wels.

He had messaged the ones that had access to a comm, but had to use his admin powers to find the last few of them— starting with Scar. Reaching out, he paused as he felt how weak the pull of the other's code was.

Stepping out of the portal, he looked around— trying to pinpoint the direction the pull was coming from.

He had barely made it into the hub as he heard retching, someone was throwing up— harshly. He spotted a man, on his knees throwing up bile. Oh dear.

"Are you okay?!" He exclaimed, before pausing as he noticed one very important detail.

The pull of Scar Goodtimes' code was coming from the man.

Darn.

Ww~=~wW

Medusa looked up at the man standing before them. They were wearing a mask, some kind of visor— and brown hair... at least, they thought it was brown— vision fading in and out of focus.

"No—" They coughed harshly, breathing shallowly. "I am—" Another coughing fit interrupted the sentence, then fighting not to throw up again.

He tilted his head before nodding, "That’s fine, can you stand?"

"What do you— Cough Think—" They rasped, eyes watering from the smell of the bile they had thrown up stinging in their nose.

The guy facepalmed, "Of course, I'm sorry. I'll call a healer—"

"You—" They coughed, once again throwing up, black dots dancing over their vision. "—don't have to."

"I am not leaving you to throw up your guts... You're obviously sick!"

"I've dealt with worse—"

Grabbing Medusa— or was it Scar— or Percy... They didn't know anymore, it was all just too hazy— he didn’t… know... the man marched into one of the portals around the hub, plopping them down onto a couch in what seemed like a town square, pulling out a comm before they could get a word in.

"They're on their way," the man informed them… who— they couldn’t focus, or ask— they couldn’t— not— they—

They should— ask. And they would have, if not for another coughing fit coming on.

Oh gods... They threw up once more

Ww~=~wW

Doc hummed to himself, trying to fix the problem in his arm that made it unusable. It was frustrating him quite a lot—

Oh— his comm was going off.

(XD chat)

X: Could you come over to spawn, one of the people I invited for the future season is hurt.

You: Hurt how? I'm coming over.

X: Malnourished and sleep deprived, they were throwing up when I found them. They also have an array of old and new scars along with some small, bandaged wounds.

You: Got it, stay there.

Doc ran over to the first aid kit that he kept in the kitchen, grabbing some light food on the way out.

Maybe they'd ask X to make some broth later? That was something light to get their body used to nutrition again, right— first, he needed to figure out what exactly was wrong, so he couldn’t draw any conclusions yet.

He wasn't equipped to handle this— really. But even so, he was the healer until they had found an official one. He’d have to deal with it.

Running over to spawn, he looked out for where X said they would be.

Arriving at his destination, he took a look at the man that X had said was sick— face paling at the sorry state they were in.

Sunken cheeks, eyebags near black, ribs poking out slightly— How long had they not slept or eaten that their malnutrition and sleep deprivation was this bad…

"Okay," he heard himself say, "I can deal with this… X, can you make some broth or something? I think giving them anything else is a bad idea. I'll get them some water."

Swiftly, he filled a glass, walking over to the man and slowly letting them drink it. "All right," he whispered. "Now, if you throw up it should hurt a bit less since there's actually something in your stomach other than pure bile. X will come back with some Broth and after you've eaten that you should go to sleep."

Seeing them lean back against the bench, closing their eyes wearily... Doc couldn't help but wonder what happened to them, why were they so malnourished, so tired, in tattered clothes, a haunted look on their face- Why?

“Hey—"

Doc turned around, seeing X with a bowl of broth, “Could you feed that to him?"

"Got it.”

Seeing the way they followed along carefully— didn't try and eat too much at once felt— off... They must have been starving so why— It was like they'd done it before.

It worried him to no end.

"Now go to sleep..." He spoke to them, leaving them to close their eyes, breathing slowly evening out.

He dragged X over to the side, "Where did you find him?"

The other shrugged, gesturing to the admin symbol on his cheek behind the visor. "They sent in an Application for Hermitcraft."

"And you didn't find anything wrong or desperate with it," He frowned, shooting a look back to where the other man was now sleeping.

"Nothing was flagged, they were blunt and to the point, not discriminative in any way... Calm." X sighed, "There was nothing on there to make me think something was wrong."

"Well darn... We should let them sleep though, we can ask about it later if they are willing to share."

Ww~=~wW

Scar woke up slowly, something they hadn’t done for years. It put them on edge. They were laying on some kind of soft material with a blanket pulled over them.

It felt kind— too kind to be real. Did WISP catch them? Was this a test?

They opened their eyes to a nicely furnished room, akin to what he'd imagine a guest room would look like.

The curtains were open, sunlight streaming through.

They weren't bound to anything, nothing on their person that could track them in any way... So what was going on—

Deciding to take a chance, they sat up.

"Oh, you're awake," a voice spoke from the door.

Looking over, Scar blanched at what seemed a creeper/goat hybrid missing an eye and arm. Beside them was the guy from earlier, the one that brought him there if they'd remembered it correctly… It was all very fuzzy.

Looking around once more, they swung their legs over the edge of the bed, trying to stand. The duo had to catch him, legs unable to support his meagre weight. They had to be set back down on the bed, suddenly tired again... Wasn't that one of the effects of malnutrition? (Percy had had an interest in it for a while when he was little... though they couldn't remember most details anymore—)

The other two pushed him to go lay down, "You need to start slowly, build up the muscle you lost and things before you start walking again." The masked person said, "Malnutrition and sleep deprivation mean your muscles have atrophied, it's a wonder you can even sit up... Come on, I'll get you some soup."

They truly couldn't do anything else but listen, lay down and hope for the best. Scar hated not having any options... none of them would survive anyway.

And so, they let himself be fed soup by the masked person while the hybrid person watched and what seemed like monitored them.

They weren't even a quarter through the soup before Scar felt full...Normally they'd be able to eat at least two of those bowls.

It didn't matter, he was tired anyway and no one attempted to kill him yet— so for now it seemed safe enough to sleep.

Leaning into the cushions of the bed, they slowly drifted back off to the nightmares that they had learnt to sleep through.

||~-~||

The next time that Scar woke, it was because someone woke them up, giving him some water and a few crackers, telling them to eat as much as he felt his body could handle.

He managed to eat one and a small bit of fruit.

The person that gave it to him said he had done good, and those words alone made him want to throw up, the taste of toxic honey filling their mouth. Chaos. Not their boss— never again— said that far too often for them to like the words. Still, they stayed silent and slowly drifted back to sleep.

||~-~||

His eyes fluttered open, energised for the first time in a while. Sitting up, he looked around. No one was there.

Outside the window he could see the sun filtering through, plants growing... quite fast even for the standards of this world.

He stretched slightly before throwing his legs over the edge of his bed, seeing if he would be able to stand.

He could, for a few seconds before he had to sit down once more. But it was progress! He had read that malnutrition could take weeks to recover from, so the fact that he could stand was a feat.

Next, Scar started to try and move his legs a little, trying to get a feel of how badly they had atrophied over the time he had gone without food.

It didn't feel as bad as it should have been, which was weird. Maybe the water had helped? He’d never checked if his water abilities stayed. Maybe he should have... There was a chance that at least keeping hydrated also gave him some of the nutrients he'd otherwise need.

It was obviously not enough to keep him sustained, but enough to keep him alive longer.

He was pulled out of their thoughts by the sound of the door. "You're awake!" From behind the door, a man stepped out. It was the creeper and goat hybrid he remembered faintly from before, "I'm Doc, pronouns he and him— the current doctor on the server until we get a trained professional. I have been taking care of you while you've been recovering. How are you?"

Scar nodded at the man— Doc, sitting up straighter, "I'm—" The names he has had were stuck in his throat... "I'm Pe— Med— Scar. I'm Scar, my pronouns are he and him, though I shift to they and them on rare occasions. I don't feel great, but that's to be expected. The food helped me regain some energy, and sleep. I don't think I'll be able to walk yet, though. Nice to meet you."

Doc nodded, noting something down before speaking once more, "Do you think you'll be able to eat something?"

At Scar's nod, he walked back out, presumably, to get some food.

Returning with a small plate of some fruit, crackers, milk and an egg— he handed it to Scar."Eat as much as you can," he said. "You don't have to eat it all, just try and eat a bit of everything. If you'd like, I can wheel in a wheelchair and you can go outside."

"Thank you." He took a small bite out of the apple, chewing it slowly. It tasted nice, and reminded him of how his mom would always make apple-slices in the summer... Next, he bit into the egg. It was slightly salty, the texture just as he remembered. The milk was next, and after the crackers, taking small bites until he was full— not even halfway into the food.

Throwing away food always made him feel guilty. Growing up with his mom living paycheck to paycheck, everything else going up in smoke as Gabe bought beers and snacks... It taught him to eat everything that was on his plate, because he didn't know if Gabe would decide to take the money saved for food next.

After Paul came, it was less so... yet, seeing that he couldn't finish the worried feeling returned like clockwork.

He took another bite, the food now tasting like ash in his mouth.

"Are you okay? You don't have to eat more if you're full..." Doc spoke, likely seeing the look on Scars face, "Trying to stuff yourself will only make you throw up."

He looked at him, "You'll throw it away." Then he continued eating.

Doc smiled reassuringly, moving slightly towards the other, "We can put it away for later, if you're worried about wasting food."

Scar nodded, finally stopping... He felt slightly sick now. He wanted to go outside, anyway.

"Could you get the wheelchair, please?"

"Sure, just tell me if you get tired."

||~-~||

The sun felt nice on his skin as he looked around. To the sun filtering through the leafdeck, the trees, the leaves that fell on the paved ground...

It felt peaceful, it could even be described as serene.

Scar didn't call it beautiful. Beautiful was campfire sing-alongs at camp, Birthdays with his mom and Annabeth, Seeing Estelle grow up.

This— wasn't that. Just peaceful.

"It's beautiful, isn't it," Doc breathed out, a soft smile adorning his face as he basked in the sun.

Scar merely shrugged, taking in the view once more before deciding to be truthfull... this once. "It's peacefull... Serene. Even with the base in the middle of it, it seems natural."

The other hummed, "I can see why it's peaceful... It's why I chose the place. It's a bit away from the chaos that the other hermits create 24/7."

"They're chaotic," Scar questioned, turning to the hybrid before wheeling themselves closer.

"Very... You want to see?"

"Why not."

It was bound to be an interesting day...

Chapter Text

Scar admired the beauty of the builds surrounding him... It was quite a sight , the arches of architecture combined with a beautiful color pallet and textures made for a mesmerising picture

But even while admiring spawn— he was looking for exits, ways to run if things went wrong. He was looking for people, not knowing if they'd be friendly or hostile. Yet, for once— Scar didn't mind. He let those parts of him look, let himself acknowledge those ways out instead of trying and forcing themselves to relax like they had done the past few weeks.

This was why, when eventually even those parts of him got comfortable enough, knowing that he knew all ways to escape... he overlooked a figure walking towards spawn.

For the want of noticing the smallest details, he missed the bigger picture— and that cost him.

A voice called out, startling him. "Ava?!"

He turned his wheelchair, face immediately becoming a blank canvas as he mentally prepared himself to fight if he needed to.

Seeing who it was, Scar froze— before slowly letting himself relax once more, "Hey Ijevin, long time no see."

He felt Ijevin's eyes dust over his form... the slightly sunken cheeks, the fact that he was in a wheelchair, the bandages on their body, the scars— "What happened... since you left the Sanctuary? I know it's been seven years... but— are you okay?!"

He shrugged, wincing slightly at the stab of pain that shot through his muscles at the movement... "They caught me, I escaped. By the way, if you still visit the Sanctuary, say hi to Eris for me." He smiled awkwardly, looking himself over, "I don't think I'm going anywhere for a while and I promised I’d send her a message when I found a place to stay."

Ijevin frowned, eyes widening, "You got caught by them? How did you escape, did anyone else come along?"

"Sixty to one, the one I escaped with awaits at the Sanctuary. We had decided that sticking together was dangerous, for when did the tale of Perseus and Medusa ever end well," The answer was cryptic, Scar was aware of that. Yet they couldn't bear to explain anything further. “Oh— and I changed my name to Scar, just so you know. My pronouns are he and him—”

"I will see if I can find the time to visit..." Ijevin smiled, "And you can call me Jevin, if you want to.. I went back to my original name when coming to Hermitcraft. "

He walked forward, opening his arms for a hug. At Scars nod, he softly wrapped his hands around him, hiding his face in the crook of their neck.

Only after, did Scar remember the presence of Doc.

"So, you two know each other?"

Immediately, Scar straightened his back, nodding before slumping back in on himself with a groan. He muttered to himself, "I am never going to get over that, am I? What a traumatic reaction to have— by the gods…"

Looking back up to the hybrid, he nodded, "We met when I stumbled into the redlight-district of the hub.”

Ijevin snorted, "More like you were drugged, managed to run away from who drugged you, was almost passing out, saw me, decided I looked trustworthy enough and went up to me asking for help."

"You just seemed like someone, if it came down to it and you also wanted to kidnap me, I could beat you in a fight," Scar protested slightly, glancing over at Doc before turning back to the slime. "And you looked likely to be helpful... I was kind of running out of options. You know, the shadow organisation that was after me…" It was strange, acting so relaxed— but he knew that if he wanted to not creep anyone out, he’d have to blend in.

"True..." Ijevin— no he wanted to be called Jevin now, Jevin perked up. "Come on, I want to introduce you to the rest of the hermits!"

||~-~||

It was... overwhelming, meeting all the hermits. Everyone was so energetic, so kind. It felt so familiar, yet so new to him.

Bittersweet... Yet not the kind that left his mouth tasting like honey and acid for days on end. No, the kind of bittersweet that left him reminiscing his mom's cookies, the different toppings they'd tried, knowing that he'd never do that with her again... happy that the memories were there, but missing the opportunity to make new ones.

There was some hesitation around a few of the more athletically inclined hermits, those who Scar wasn't sure he could take in a fight in his current state. He shoved those feelings down though, seeing how bubbly Jevin was introducing everyone to him.

It was— nice... He guessed he could get used to it after a while.

Etho was nice, chill... He cared about people a lot, showing it through jokes and small pats on the back, side hugs. Scar had noticed that he was insecure about his face, likely because of a scar that was there... something from the past that he'd rather forget. (He tugged at his mask when he was nervous)

Impulse was bubbly, like soda... He was happy, always moving, always helping people, always doing something. It was like he had a driving force, forcing him to keep active. He was very on the hugging side of affection, it seemed. (Scar saw the way he moved if people were waving their hands around or generally being loud and exitable)

False was arguably a genius. Nice, yet wouldn't wait on you to kick your ass if you deserved it. She was hardened, yet her hugs were as soft and comforting as a hug from his mom— somehow. She'd hit people as a form of affection, leaning on them, putting an arm around their shoulder or generally just small things to show that she loved them.

Hypno was... strange. He moved like Scar would, yet they missed the dangerous calculative glint in their eyes. He'd assumed he came from Hypixel, or something else where he learned PvP. He fidgeted a lot, and had a habit of looking away when talking to people. Scar assumed it had something to do with their powers. They were kind, and often complimented others.

Joe seemed... a bit of a dad. Caring and kind in a way a parent is, to everyone... Side-hugs, fist bumps. Generally, Scar just got dad vibes off him. He had to leave a bit after meeting them though, so he didn't really get the time to analyse him.

Mumbo would have been Percy's best friend and Medusa's best conversational partner. The chaos combined with his knowledge of redstone was just perfect for him. He was obviously some kind of vampire hybrid, paired with— a shapeshifter maybe? He seemed nice, if a bit eccentric. Scar decided he'd like to become Friends with Mumbo.

Tango painfully reminded Scar of Leo... Blaze hybrid, redstoner, loved to joke but was clearly traumatised if you'd look under all the jokes. The only thing different was his eyes and their ego mostly. Tango was careful with physical touch, likely scared to burn someone by accident. He caught him staring at their burn scars more than once—

Cleo seemed nice, a bit like False actually. She wasn't afraid to smack you if needed it to come to your senses, yet seemed to care a lot about the others. Things like Physical affection was like a— treat that she gave out once in a while. He was still on the fence about her though, she was very observant and clearly good at fighting.

The others left quickly after meeting them, having to work on packing up for the new season.

Finally, the general overwhelm of information calmed and he could actually get to know some of them.

"What did you think," Jevin’s voice grounded them back to reality, causing him to notice his lack of energy and the sun slowly reaching sunset.

He breathed silently, looking out over spawn, "It was," he paused, searching for the correct words. Searching for something that wouldn't make the others feel bad, "Overwhelming. Fun, but overwhelming seeing so much joy and energy and people in one space after so much time."

"I can see that."

||~-~||

Over the course of the following weeks, Scar slowly healed from his malnutrition— gaining some of the muscle back that he’d lost.

His legs hurt the slightest bit when he walked, sometimes making him shaky. It wasn’t severe pain, more a mild inconvenience that occasionally flared up painfully. Which should be fine.

What actually concerned him was the amount of people that came to see them on the days they had no energy to go out or do anything...

It was surprising that they'd go out of their way to do that for what was basically a stranger.

It felt strangely warm... nice, relaxing— Any other positive word used to describe comfort, really. It was such an old feeling, yet it felt so new... so unfamiliar though the memory of feeling was there. It settled in his chest beside the faded memories of Annabeth and Grover visiting him in the infirmary after he fell so many years before.

It was like the feeling of taking in fresh air after only knowing stale for so long... No secondary motives, just becoming friends with people because you like him.

It was so freeing to finally be able to do that... yet he still had not cried, never truly smiled, wasn't happy— just content with the life he lived at the moment.

||~-~||

He had become closer to Mumbo, in the time he was healing. Mostly, he connected at a chaos point... he'd decided that flaunting their redstone might be a bad idea— so he didn’t. It was a fun time overall— not all sunshine and rainbows though.

What happened about a week into healing was a good example.

"Hey Scar," Mumbo grinned, draping his arm over the other’s shoulder, "We should prank Doc."

Scar frowned, thinking back to the stoic man that was oh so kind and wondered how far that kindness would stretch— if it was worth it. "Are you sure, It doesn't really seem like a good idea..." He hunched in on himself slightly (That really felt weird... being able to allow himself to do that now) eyes darting.

"It'll be fine," Mumbo tugged at his arm. "I have the best Idea, come on!"

"If you say so…”

It was not fine. Mumbo had managed to accidentally break one of Doc's machines— and didn't know how to fix it, and while Scar knew how to— was it really worth revealing his redstone prowess… (He forced his hands to stop trembling, it was just Doc)

Then, Doc caught them— and he was already in a bad mood, (He forced himself to keep breathing evenly.) Straightening his back, he stood ready to fight— just in case. (He knew that he couldn't fight Doc— not if he wanted to remain in the moral line of kindness that he once inhabited so naturally.)

Doc was angry, he yelled at the duo... It was fine, they weren't fine, but it would be.

Doc froze, apologising. He stepped closer away, away, flee... it was fine.

He stepped back.

There was a hand on their shoulder, and so Scar ran.

He— they ran and ran and ran. Scar couldn't think anymore. They had to get away. Away, away, away from there, flee, not safe— run.

They were found a day later, asleep in the woods...

Scar didn't smile for a while after that.

His legs felt like they were burning, stealing his breath away from him. He ignored it.

||~-~||

One time, he decided to fully ignore all of his habits he got from back with WISP... It didn't go well. The moment he ignored the leash he unconsciously put on how he acted around others it became a nightmare.

He jumped at every sound, flinched at everything unexpected... he nearly killed X when he put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention— it was bad. For a moment, his horror had frozen him— he hadn’t meant it, but his body betrayed him.

X had understood of course, he was kind.

Scar— wasn't...

Scar wasn't kind. Percy was kind— gentle, like waves lapping on the shore or a soft tide. Medusa was cold, never creating attachment to anything. Scar was nothing and everything. He felt everything and nothing... He was the calm waves and the hurricanes breaking homes.

He was the sea at its fullest and most dangerous.

It was tiring, being nobody and everybody at once. It came with a feeling of dread— that whatever he did... a hurricane would befall those who he loved... That his enemies would get to sail on his waves.

He didn't say a word.

He never dared to Ignore the habits he still had left from when his name was Percy... Medusa was too dangerous— a killer, torturer, the perfect assassin.

||~-~||

His legs were on fire... Burning, knives being shot into his legs, he couldn't bear to stand.

That day, he pretended to sleep, eyes constantly brimming with tears, none ever falling.

He 'awoke' for meals, and if he needed to go to the toilet, that was it...

It hurt so much- It was like they were back at training.

It was fine— just fine.

Scar felt sick.

He felt fine the next day, the pain had subsided. He decided it was probably just a fluke and that he could deal with it— even if he still felt fatigued.

||~-~||

Yet then it happened again... this time in the middle of the day. A sharp, searing pain erupted in his legs, breaths hitching as his eyes filled with tears, trembling.

A hand was on his shoulder, "Are you okay," Doc asked from behind him, eyes worried as he looked Scar over.

"I'm good, no worries," He chirped, managing to keep the pain relatively off his face, "I'm just a bit tired today, that's all."

Doc didn’t look convinced, brow furrowed. But he didn’t press—at least, not yet. "Alright, if you say so." he said slowly, his hand lingering on Scar’s shoulder before dropping away.

Scar exhaled, forcing themselves to relax. It was fine. It had to be.

The logical part of his brain pointed out that he should probably at least let someone check it out. But he snarked back at it, not wanting to bother people.

It didn't matter that it was happening more and more, that the pain stayed for longer—He could deal with it.

||~-~||

The next time it happened, Scar barely had time to brace himself.

A sudden jolt of pain shot through his legs, white-hot and relentless. His vision blurred for a split second, breath catching in his throat. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to keep walking, each step feeling like a challenge he refused to lose.

The logical side of his mind claimed he was being stupid, he argued he was being less of a burden...

The way his legs trembled under them proved it wasn't fine- but Scar didn't care. They'd lived through worse.

But living through worse didn’t mean surviving unscathed.

||~-~||

He cursed himself, having tripped over a rock, legs burning.

The Logical side of his brain called him an Idiot and told him to go to a doctor.

Scar would argue that he'd rather not be a burden.

Just get up, you're making a scene... he scoffed silently.

Pressing his palms against the dirt, he willed himself to move. His legs screamed in protest, but he gritted his teeth, forcing them to obey. Get up. Move. Now.

"Are you alright?!" It was False, eyes worried as she ran over.

He simply shrugged, fighting to keep any pain from showing on his face, "I tripped."

False didn’t look convinced, a sharp gaze flickering down to Scar’s legs, catching the way they trembled, then back up to his face.

"You sure?" she asked, voice softer this time.

Scar forced a chuckle, brushing off his sleeves as if that somehow erased the moment. "Yeah, yeah, no big deal. Just wasn’t paying attention."

A lie. A familiar one.

One he had told Grover, his mom... everyone.

And one that he was about to tell another person. I'm okay, I just tripped during break... I'm okay mom, I accidentally bumped into the table... I'm good— I'm fine— I'm okay— I'm—

False didn't say anything at first. Her expression didn't shift, nor did she make any sound— but something in her eyes sharpened—like she’d heard the words before, and knew what they meant.

Scar swallowed, forcing himself to meet her gaze. He couldn’t waver. If you act fine, you are fine. That was how it worked.

She doesn’t believe you, his mind whispered

Then make her, he snapped back

So— Scar smiled. The kind that was too easy, too practiced, the kind that had convinced a thousand people before.

"I'm Tr- Trevor, it's nice to meet you," he smiled shyly

"The name's Amy, happy to make your acquaintance," she smiled

"I'm Rory— IT department," they grinned

Voi smiled, "Well hello there..."

So many names. So many faces. So many times he had smiled just like this. (Only to stab them in the back while they weren't looking. All for his own survival, like his fate wasn't already set in stone.)

Scar blinked, the past slipping away like water through his fingers. False was still there— watching, waiting. He forced his expression to hold steady.

You're slipping, just breathe.

Scar inhaled, slow and steady. "See?" he added lightly, like the conversation meant nothing. As if he hadn’t been drowning in ghosts... He stood, "Perfectly fine."

False still didn’t look convinced, yet she didn't call him out on it. She only gave a small, almost imperceptible nod and walked away.

Scar let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His hands were trembling.

He clenched them into fists. It was fine.

||~-~|| (Dream sequence)

The room was cold, walls lined with steel, flickering lights overhead casting long, harsh shadows. Medusa’s legs burned, sweat dripping down their brow as they dropped into a crouch, preparing for another round.

"Again."

Medusa sighed, the sound sharp and heavy in the air. The sound echoing the fatigue that coursed through their body. The trainer’s words were like an unyielding command, a cold, distant tone that made it clear there was no room for weakness, no room for hesitation. You don't get to stop until it’s perfect.

"Do we have a problem, Medusa," The trainer's voice made them freeze. This trainer was one of the few whose intentions made Medusa uneasy.

They shook their head, "No sir."

The words were almost automatic, practiced. They had said them a thousand times before. They didn’t dare to let their thoughts wander. Don’t make him angry. Don’t make a scene. Just obey.

Their trainer looked them over, licking his lips before stepping forward a bit more. He always had that look— calculating, like they were something to be broken and reshaped.

Medusa clenched their fists, nails digging into the palms of their hands. They fought the instinct to recoil, to take a step back, to escape the suffocating weight of his gaze. They didn't get to escape, not here. They had been trained to face this. To endure this... To endure everything.

The man frowned, a look of displeasure passing over his face at Medusa's lack of reaction.

A momentary silence stretched between them, heavy, suffocating. Medusa could feel the other recruit’s eyes on them— judging.

"You sure about that?" he asked again, his tone darker, more insistent... more— they didn't want to think about it.

"Yes sir."

He stepped closer and closer and—

||~-~||

Scar awoke, completely silent.

It was just a dream— it hadn’t happened, it was fine... They were panicking but couldn't make a sound. It was fine.

They sat up, immediately taking in their surroundings, noticing the guest room Doc had given them for the last stretch of the season before the new one began. They were alone, there were no cameras in the room.

Oh fuck (Sorry mom)

Their breathing quickened, finally letting themselves panic. They were not there— it was fine, it was fine, it was fine, they— they—

They could panic, they just had to keep an eye out... it was fine, it was fine, they'd be fine—

Oh gods that could have happened, they saw it happen to others. That and worse—

It could have happened to them— But it didn't so it's fine, it's fine, they're fine.

They couldn't breathe— What were the exercises to calm down again?!

A deep breath in (It was fine, They were fine, just fine, they just had to breathe, it would be fine—) Hold (They were out of there, they were safe, they were fine, they—) and out...

In (They got out with Eris, It was fine— it was okay... Agents Medusa and Perseus didn't exist anymore—) Hold (Their name was Scar Goodtimes, they used He/Him pronouns, He liked chaos-) and out.

Repeat.

Over time they— he had calmed them— himself, enough to actually be able to look around and notice the open curtains and the morning sun streaming through them... He could see the trees outside, the way the shadows of the leaves made patterns on the forest floor—

He was fine.

Stepping out of the bed, he was surprised that his legs hurt a lot less that day.

It might be possible to get some training in...

||~-~||

Closing his eyes, Scar ignored the sound of arrows whizzing through the air as he weaved through them, never once getting hit.

Contemporary

He flowed over the floor, arms opening wide, before closing them once more. He put himself into near splits, only one foot hitting the floor as an arrow flew above him.

House

Quickly, he hit a button that he'd sewn into his sleeve, the music changing to something more energetic. He jumped up from out the split, letting the groove of the song guide him past the danger of getting hit by an arrow.

Hiphop

This time, he kept the music the same, yet still changed how he danced. House and Hiphop were two very different yet very similar styles.

Acro

The music changed again, Scar dropping to the floor for floorwork, eventually rising again. Feeling an arrow move his way, they did an aerial to get out of the way, moving onto the rest of the dance.

Ballet

The music switched for the last time, standing straight as he ended the routine with a turn, landing in front of the lever to stop the arrows.

||~-~||

Standing in front of the targets, Scar fired arrow after arrow, not one of them missing bullseye. He had been at it for about half an hour and his arms were starting to become tired (Normally he would have been able to go on until at least the two hour mark—)

So, he stored away the bow, and moved on.

||~-~||

The sound of fired guns echoed through the air, his legs were killing him. It was fine... He shot another round, finally looking at the sky, at the sun setting, the clouds. He had been training the entire day... hadn't eaten anything either— That wasn't good.

Putting the gun away, he frowned at the pain in his legs. Through the adrenaline of training, he hadn't noticed how bad it actually felt— it burned, so badly… It never hurt that much, even the constant discomfort felt like nothing compared to this.

"I should probably get back to the room and actually eat something," He muttered to himself, taking a wobbling step towards Doc's base, face twisting slightly in pain. "This is not going to be fun—" Taking another step, his legs gave out to him— biting his tongue to keep him from making any sound to indicate that he was in pain.

For a second, Scar considered just laying there, letting the bugs make their home in his hair and eventually body once he died. Yet, he pushed the morbid thought away, forcing himself to sit up and then stand on unstable legs. All to get back, and just stay in bed.

For as long as he'd like.

||~-~||

"Scar?!"

He let out a small whine, head leaning against the outside wall of the house, trembling with exhaustion and pain. He’d collapsed just outside the door, unable to get himself to move any further as his eyes had filled with tears he refused to let fall. He didn't answer the voice, if he did... he knew he'd cry.

"What happened— Are you okay?" Someone kneeled beside him, worried eyes boring into his weak form. When he didn't answer, the person moved closer, "Uhhm, can you talk? Put up one finger if no, two if yes."

With a lot off effort, he held up one finger, ignoring the way even moving something that small felt like torture to his mind.

"Okay, can you move... like other than the fingers?"

One finger again.

"Can I touch you?"

Scar paused, half freezing at the question... Could he trust the person enough to allow them to— ‘Name’ he signed slowly, ‘Your name’

"I'm sorry, I don't speak sign language— Is it okay if I message someone that does, to come over so they can translate?"

Two fingers. He heard the sound of tapping on a comm screen before the other spoke once more, "X is on his way."

Scar nearly deflated at that, if he could without throwing up from the pain. He knew X, he could trust X, even if just very slightly. X helped before, he didn't ask for anything back.

"What's going on?" A second voice, X. He sat down beside Scar, eyes flickering in worry. (Even if Scar couldn't see it, he knew the voidling was worried.)

The first voice shuffled, "I found him here, collapsed, he's non-verbal, can't move, signed something— but I haven't found the time to learn yet."

He felt X nod, stepping closer to him, "Can you repeat the sign?"

‘Name’ Scar signed, ‘Name’

"Oh, you want to know— The one that called me here is Jevin..."

‘Thank you’

"It's okay, can I touch you?"

‘Careful, hurt.’

"Are you hurt, or does your body hurt?"

He held up 2 fingers.

"All right, is it okay for me to pick you up so we can go inside?"

‘Yes’

Gloved hands carefully lifted him up, holding him softly as he was moved into the room . X set him down onto the bed, making sure he didn't keel over on the spot.

After a bit, a glass of water was pushed into his hands, Jevin's blue appendages close to his. "Drink up..."

Scar found that at that moment— Yes he was still scared, yes it still hurt like Hades— but maybe, just maybe.

It would be okay...