Chapter Text
Eight-year-old Percy thought this was the best view in the whole world.
To anybody else, Manhattan was filled with lights and noise. But from the edge of his six-story apartment complex, his legs dangling over the edge, Percy thought the buildings looked like waves. Manhattan was an ocean of stone and concrete.
He leaned backwards, digging his palms into the gravel behind him. He closed his eyes and let the real world fade away.
Instantly, the anatomy of Manhattan rushed into his mind. Manhattan was more than a grid of roads and buildings; to him, it was a living body.
The asphalt grids were grey, calcified bones locking the island into shape. Deep underground, subway tunnels hummed like arteries, weaving through the bedrock. He felt the trains rushing through them like red blood cells, carrying people, the city’s oxygen, to keep the limbs of New York moving. Above him, skyscrapers bunched up like tense muscle groups.
He focused on Manhattan’s skeleton. Three blocks to his left, he felt the vibrations of the garbage truck make a right turn. Beneath him, he could feel the rhythmic sound of the subway reaching its station. Hundreds of footsteps coming from everyone beneath the Earth, stepping off the subway, onto the platform, making his spine tingle.
To him, it was comforting. The millions of tons of steel and concrete that made up New York would never be rude to him: unlike his classmates or Gabe.
Gabe.
As if on cue, a heavy, uneven vibration moved up the building, and Percy felt it. Gabe was coming up the stairs.
‘Dang it,’ Percy thought, ‘My peace is almost over. He wants something.’
Keen on making the most of the few moments he had left, he gazed up at the Empire State Building.
It’s bright lights digging into his eyes, but Percy didn’t care about that. He cared about the weight of the building pressing down on the ground. Percy couldn’t explain why, but he loved that feeling. The feeling of being pressed, tons and tons of pressure on him.
“Move,” he whispered.
He wasn’t talking to the building. If the building moved, he would be the best magician in the world. Rather, he was talking to the gravel next to his left hand.
WHOOSH
For a split second, the wind screamed at him. It slammed against the roof with incredible speed. His hair was pressed into his face. The wind felt cold and angry, like the sky was offended at his order. It was a direct contrast to the warm, summer breeze.
He was spooked. He’s made the gravel on the roof move a million times, but it never caused a gust of furious wind.
He looked down at his left palm. The gravel moved into a shape: three sharp lines attached to a center line.
Weird, Percy thought. He had never seen a fork with three tines, but he wasn’t exactly counting.
The vibrations of a meaty hand grabbing a door behind him registered in his mind instantly. Gabe was going to open the door in a second.
Gabe opened the door and walked over to Percy. He wore a green and yellow collared shirt with a greasy white tank top underneath. Percy could see his belly move with each of his heavy steps. He had a massive moustache above his top lip with three combed strands of hair on the top of his head. His neck bore a gold chain the width of a mouse tail.
“Here’s $20 brat,” Gabe handed Percy a crumpled $20 bill. “Get me a beer, and make it quick!”
XXX
A bell vibrated above his head as Percy walked into the bodega. He glanced left, towards the counter, to see the owner, Sal, chatting to a customer at the register. He liked Sal. Sometimes, he gave Percy free candy. Not to mention that he had helped Percy with his math homework once.
Percy felt the vibrations of someone walking to his right, near the drink area. He counted down from three in his head: ‘Three, two, one.’
On one, a woman turned down the aisle, into his vision. He knew that would happen; he could feel her footsteps. He could feel a few more footsteps moving around the bodega
Percy walked around to the back, towards the refrigerated section. The floor tiles were cold, vibrating with the heavy, rhythmic thrum of the cooling units. To Percy, the hum of the refrigerator felt like a purring cat against his arm.
He grabbed a six-pack of the cheap stuff that Gabe liked. He turned around and noticed the candy aisle behind him. He grabbed a bag of blue gummy sharks, his own treat as being Gabe’s delivery boy.
As he approached the line to the register, the conversation between Sal and a customer grew loud. The customer, an older man in a stained mechanic’s jumpsuit, was retelling a story to Sal.
“I’m telling you Sal, it was like a bomb went off,” he waved his hands around his body. “Ruined my whole carpet. The missus was pissed.”
Sal laughed as he rang up a pack of cigarettes. “That’s what happens when you drop it, Vinnie. You gotta wait it out.”
“I didn’t even drop it that hard,” Vinnie argued. “I picked it up and opened it and it exploded in my face!”
Percy tuned out the rest of the conversation until it was his turn in line.
Sal looked across the counter towards Percy, his expression softening. “Hey, kid. The usual for Gabe?” Sal always turned a blind eye to the beer. He knew what happened the first time Percy didn’t come back with any beer.
Percy nodded. Sal then asked, “How’s your mother doing?”
“Okay. She’s been working late recently, like tonight,” Percy replied sadly. He missed his mom. Then added, “How does a beer blow up?”
Sal chucked as he bagged Percy’s goods. “It’s not magic, kid. You shake the can or bottle, and all the chemicals in the beer get excited. It creates pressure that wants to get out. The more you shake it, the more pressure gets built up. When you open the can, it has nowhere else to go but out.” Sal made an exploding motion with his hands.
Percy thanked Sal and looked down at the six-pack in the bag.
As Percy opened the door to leave, Sal called out, “Kid, don’t go shaking the cans. Gabe’s miserable enough already.” Percy gave him a smirk, then nodded.
As he felt the bodega, a cool wind hit him as he closed his eyes. He felt the floor beneath him. The heavy weight of the buildings pressed against the ground. He felt the subway trains pushing air through the tunnels.
He could feel his apartment building down jutting out of the ground, a block to his left. This was how he navigated the streets of Manhattan. He could keep track of the different buildings. He still had no idea how he did it. He didn’t think anyone else was able to do this, so he kept quiet about it.
He stopped at a crosswalk. He looked at the beer.
He put his hand into the bag and grabbed a can. He didn’t shake it. Instead, he sent a pulse of vibrations into the can. The very same vibrations that he used to move the gravel earlier.
He felt the pressure build in the can almost immediately. The way the bubbles grinded on the inside of the can, screaming to get out.
Pressure.
A grin spread across Percy’s face. He knew exactly what he wanted to do with this.
XXX
“Took you long enough,” Gabe grumbled.
He didn’t even look over to Percy. He was sprawled out on the ugly floral print couch. Some of his hairy beer belly was poking out from underneath his undershirt. Wrappers were littered around him, and he could see a bowl of his mom’s bean dip. There was a Yankees game blaring on the TV.
“It was busy tonight,” Percy lied, walking into the living room.
“Yeah, whatever kid. Hand it over.” Gabe held out his meaty hand towards Percy, not even looking at him. “Don’t forget my change.”
Percy handed him the crumpled bills and coins that Sal had given him earlier. The plastic bag grew heavy in his hands as he grabbed the can he had “played” with on the way home.
He placed it in Gabe’s outstretched hand.
“Careful,” Percy said innocently, “it’s cold.”
“Get the hell out of my face, brat.”
Percy slowly retreated towards the kitchen. He was barely able to see Gabe from his position. He didn’t know how much the can would explode. Whether it would just barely bubble and leak out a little, or would take Gabe’s head off. He hoped for the latter.
Percy heard Gabe crack open the can. The can hissed loudly, then a loud popping sound followed.
The can blew up in Gabe’s hands. It looked like he was holding a fire hydrant of cheap beer. The can fell out of Gabe’s grasp, landing on his lap. It poured beer all over his legs and spilled onto the couch.
There was a second where Percy could only hear the announcers calling a home run from the TV.
Gabe sat there, frozen in place. Beer dripped from his face and moustache. His face turned a shade of purple so deep that Percy thought he was a plum.
“You little shit!”
Gabe launched himself from his position on the couch. Taking a moment to wipe the beer from his face before beginning his pursuit to Percy. His expression twisted in pure rage.
Percy lost his grin, stumbling back in the kitchen. He expected Gabe to yell or ground him. Not the dangerous look in Gabe’s eyes.
“I-it was an accident! I promise!” Percy stammered out.
“An accident?” Gabe roared. He lunged towards Percy. “I’ll show you an accident!”
He cocked his heavy fist back.
Percy threw his hands up to protect his face. It was pointless. Gabe’s fist connected with the right side of Percy’s rib cage.
CRACK!
The punch left Percy airborne. He was falling backwards towards the floor. He put his hands before him, hoping to catch himself before he hit his head.
He acted on instinct. As Percy’s hands hit the ground behind him, a tremor occurred for a few seconds. Percy heard pictures and pots fall around him. He could hear car horns blasting from outside the apartment. He looked down at where he landed. Underneath him, a spiderweb crack emerged.
“W-what the hell are you?!” Gabe yelled. He stumbled out of the kitchen.
Percy was scared. Did he do that? There was no way; he was only eight years old. Sure, he could feel vibrations all around him, create vibrations with his thoughts and some touch, but creating an earthquake? There was no way he could have done that.
The right side of his body felt like it was on fire, put out, then lit on fire again. He clutched his ribs, his breath shortening. Blood dripped down his nose.
He hobbled out of the apartment building entrance, desperate to get away. He had to make it somewhere safe. He thought of his Mom’s candy shop, Sweet on America, but it was four blocks south. Too far for him in his current state. Sal’s bodega was only a block away. That would be his best bet.
As he stepped on the sidewalk, a terrible gust of wind hit him. Nearly knocking him over. This gust of wind felt furious. It was cold and pricked his skin. He shook his head and looked around. The street was a nightmare.
The building across from him looked like it had been punched by a resident of Elbaph. Rubble laid all over the asphalt. Cars were gridlocked, horns blaring. Dust coated the air like a heavy fog. Streetlights hung from tilted poles.
Percy started to move.
It took him ten minutes to make the journey to Sal’s bodega. The further he went, the thicker the crowd became. It was weird, though. Nobody paid him any attention
A lady in a bathrobe ran past him, screaming into her phone, elbowing him in the shoulder. She didn’t even glance back. A police officer sprinted past him, eyes focused on the rubble. He saw an old man walk by him, a hand coming up to hold the left side of his bloody face.
He felt like a ghost. It was like the city refused to acknowledge the little boy who caused it all.
He closed his eyes and let his “vibration-map” take control. The foundation of Sal’s bodega ahead.
He pushed through the crowd, unnoticed and alone. He looked around at the surrounding buildings. Windows were shattered and cracked.
He didn’t like this at all. All the destruction he had caused by accident. While he loved the feeling of letting it loose, he hated this feeling a whole lot more. Damage and pain caused to other people by his own hands.
He ignored those feelings when his hand hit the cold metal handle of the bodega door.
He stumbled into the bodega. The bell rang as it had before. It was crowded, like really crowded. People stood all around the entire store. Percy assumed that people were using it as a safe shelter, and Sal was more than happy to let people come in.
All the people were overwhelming him. Their heartbeats were giving off vibrations significantly larger than normal. He could sense heartbeats in people; it was like wearing clothes. He naturally ignored the feeling, but if he focused, he could feel it. (Sorry, not sorry) It was like he was given no option; he was forced to feel the hearts beating. They were rapid and were making him anxious.
His vision began to blur slightly. The effects of what he had done were catching up to him. He looked around, hoping to find Sal. Or anyone who would look his way, for that matter. It wasn’t hard to notice an eight-year-old boy, blood coming from his nose and mouth, clutching his ribs like his life depended on it. Which it might have.
Percy fell to one knee before promptly falling to the ground. Feeling two hands gently grab his shoulders and a voice yelling out, “Kid!”
The world tilted sideways. The rapid drumming of a hundred terrified hearts faded into a dull roar, like listening to the ocean through a seashell. The voice sounded miles away, like it was speaking underwater.
XXX
The pain in Percy’s ribs had vanished. It was replaced by a cold, heavy numbness across his entire body. His body felt like it was sinking through the dark, quiet layer of the world. He passed through subway tunnels, bedrock, down, down, down into silence.
It wasn’t scary though; it held him. It kept him together.
The darkness turned blue.
It was water. It was glowing with a soft light, even though he couldn’t see the sun. It felt rich. It energized and rejuvenated him. Muscle memory caused him to inhale. He expected to start coughing or choking. Instead, the cool water filled his lungs. He could breathe underwater… Since when?
He looked at his feet. He was floating in the water. Above a floor paved with abalone shells and pearls the size of basketballs.
He looked up. Looming before him were three thrones, massive and terrifyingly beautiful.
The throne on the far left was carved from a single piece of spiraling blue marble, polished until it glowed. It was occupied by a young man who looked like he was in his early twenties, his skin the color of shallow Caribbean waters. He had jet-black hair tied back and a face that radiated confidence.
He held a massive conch shell in his lap. But the coolest part was below the waist. He didn’t have any legs. He had a long, serpentine fish tail, shimmering with green and blue scales. Awesome, Percy thought.
All the way on the right sat a throne only fit for a queen. It was made up of black coral and studded with pearls the size of fists. A terrifying and elegant woman sat there. Her skin as pale as moonlight, her long, dark hair floated around her face. A golden net was found in her hair, swaying gracefully.
But the center throne was the coolest.
It was made up of rough, jagged stone, heavy and unpolished. It looked like it was ripped straight from the ocean floor
The man sitting on the throne looked like a fisherman. He had a weather-beaten face, a neatly trimmed black beard, and wind-blown hair. He was wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt covered in parrots, and a pair of beige Bermuda shorts.
Percy thought he looked like a tourist who fell off a cruise ship.
But then, Percy looked at his eyes.
THey were the same sea-green color that Percy saw every time he looked in the mirror, but they were older. Much older. They were surrounded by smile lines. They looked like deep cracks in the earth. His eyes were serious, swirling with a power that made the water around him hum.
Resting casually against the stone armrest, in his hand, was a massive three-pronged spear.
Percy recognized the shape instantly: the same shape the gravel made on the roof.
“You felt it, father,” the green-skinned man said.
“I felt it all right,” the central figure, Poseidon, said. “A tremor.”
“A tremor?” the green man scoffed. “That was no tremor. The shockwave traveled through the mantle and rattled the foundations of this palace a bit. I have not felt a calling as potent as that since the day the walls of Troy fell.”
The queen, Amphitrite, leaned forward on her throne, eyes narrowing. “Troy? You exaggerate, Triton. That was during the age of the heroes. The blood runs thin now.”
“Does it?” Triton countered. “It came from New York. From the boy. We knew he existed, but not like this. That boy has not even hit puberty if I recall correctly.”
Poseidon shifted uncomfortably on his throne. The water around Percy tightened a little.
“In the Forge-Gods line,” Amphitrite began, “‘thousands are born to the hammer, but only once in a millennium is one born to the Fire.’ Poseidon, he was born with more than your tides.”
Poseidon nodded. “Indeed. It has been far too long since a child of mine has inherited my earthshaking powers. I fear something big is coming in the near future. The Fates have woven a dangerous thread. It seems they punished me for breaking my oath. To watch a child of mine face such troubles. ”
“He is dangerous,” Triton insisted. “If he shakes the Earth more, things that should stay asleep may wake.”
“Don’t, Triton.” Poseidon raised a hand, silencing him. “He is a child. He couldn’t have done that purpose. He was scared. He doesn’t even know what’s going on.”
“And if Zeus feels the same as me?” Triton asked. “I fear for my little brother. The boy will not live to see puberty if Zeus finds out about him.”
“Then we must hope that the Sky stays blind long enough for me to be able to protect him,” Poseidon said, slamming his trident into the floor.