Chapter Text
Percy should be familiar with this. After all, he’s had cops after him since he was 13 thanks to being the subject of a manhunt.
Yet this was his first time in handcuff.At the ripe old age of 18.
Honestly, he’s just shocked it took him this long to get here.
He really had to get better at manipulating the mist.
He had just killed a cyclops just to turn around and be faced with a gun.
“Drop the gun.”
Percy blinked, staring at the man wearing a plaid shirt and leather jacket. Baseball bat he got. But a gun? Seriously? It wasn’t even the same size.
He really had to take Hazel up on her offer to teach him to utilise the mist.
He dropped riptide, barely trying to refrain from rolling his eyes.
That brought him to here. Handcuffed in an interrogation room.
Percy sighed. He wondered how long this would take. His mom was expecting him to be home for dinner.
The same guy who had arrested comes in, file in hand as he sits down.
And stares at him.
Percy stares back, wondering if this was some blinking competition he was unaware of.
“Not a talker huh.”
Percy continued staring.
“Alright. Looks like teenage angst is still alive and well. Detective Jacob Peralta. Do I need to remind you that I saw you standing over a dead dog with a gunshot wound?”
A dead dog? Percy was starting to think the fates were fucking with him. A dog? Human would have been fair but he would never hurt a dog of his own violation.
Percy just sighed, sure someone was laughing at him. Instead he says “You have no evidence.”
“…I caught you in the act. One of my associates is on the crime scene as we speak. And you don’t have a gun license. I can arrest you on that alone.”
Percy breathed in deeply trying to prevent himself from saying there’s no damn gun. Instead, he leaned back, trying to get comfortable.
He knew the law. He knew how the mist worked. There would be nothing at the scene and they would just presume he was insane. Well, hopefully.
“What’s your name?”
That was a test. He was sure. They had ran his prints if the file was any indication.
“Perseus Jackson but I go by Percy.”
“Well, Percy you certainly seem to have an eventful life.”
Percy rolled his eyes. Understatement of the century.
“I see your first stepfather disappeared when you were 13? That much have been hard.”
Percy barely refrained from laughing. Hard? That was the highlight of his year. Good riddance.
Instead, he glanced at the detective. Interesting thing to mention first. He knew the tactic was to establish a common bond which meant -
“So you also have daddy issues huh?”
Peralta blinked. “Whaaat? No. Whaat? No.”
Percy smirked. “No I get it. Fathers suck. My stepfather sucked too.”
Peralta seemed to latch on that, regaining himself.”Was he abusive?”
Oh no. Definitely not. Percy would like to keep those memories very repressed, thank you very much. He needed to distract Peralta. Fast.
“You don’t grow up in a household like that without wondering if I’ll fuck up any future kids too.”
Just as he had hoped Peralta turned white. He had seen the wedding ring and taken the chance with the kids thing.
He could roll with this.
“How can you ever be a good parent if you don’t know what one looked like? Bringing up a kid seems irresponsible.” Percy added, just to make sure, feeling slightly bad as Peralta seemed to drop moving completely.
There was silence for a moment before he left without another word, the door slamming closed behind him.
~
He only had to wait for a moment longer before another detective burst in. She was wearing all leather, and looked like she wanted to murder him in cold blood.
Percy smiled, thinking that this would have been what Thalia looked like if she still aged.
“Something funny?” The detective basically snarled but Percy heard it for what it was - she was surprised he wasn’t cowering from her expression. And maybe he would have, if he hadn’t seen scarier glares from his girlfriend.
“Trying to memorise your outfit to gift my cousin.”
The woman’s eyebrows raised. “Is this funny to you?”
Percy couldn’t help himself.
“Yes.”
She kicked the chair but Percy merely blinked. “You had a gun. No license. An eyewitness. A dead dog. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“The fates hate me.”
“Who is the fates? A crime syndicate that tortures animals?”
Percy snorted. “No. The Fates. Like from Greek mythology.”
The woman opened her mouth. Closed it. Then banged her hand on the table. “You think you’re funny tough guy?”
Percy grinned wider. “I think I’m hilarious actually.”
The detective banged her hand on the table again, harder.
“You know, maybe you should take up boxing instead of punching tables?”
“What I do in my free time is none of your business.”
Percy raised his eyebrows. “Well, if you’re boxing you need to change coaches. Your form is off.”
She shoots a glare at him but refrains from punching again. Percy considers it a win.
So what’s your name? Or I can just call you anger issues.”
He smirked. Annabeth would be having a field day if she heard him tell someone else that they had anger issues.
“None of your business.”
“Okay anger issues.” Anger issues slams both hands on his table, leaning in closer. “Do not call me that.”
“You’re really proving your point here.”
The woman breaks screaming at him before leaving the door, slamming it loudly on her way out.
Huh. Maybe Percy would survive this after all.