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Chapter Text

Percy was not looking forward to orientation. Two years at Gotham Academy and he still hadn’t really made any true friends. Everyone at school was ridiculously rich and, frankly, they were mortal and normal. Well, as normal as rich kids could be. He had acquaintances of course, but no actual friends. 

Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure when the last time he made a normal friend was. He met Grover in sixth grade, but he turned out to be a satyr. And then there was Tyson, who turned out to be a cyclops and his half brother. Maybe Percy was rusty. 

He was sure that it wouldn’t get better when he officially transferred from middle school to the Gotham Academy High School. 

There was one familiar person, and thank the gods it wasn’t Tim. 

He popped up behind her, watching as her red curls bounced high when she jumped in surprise. “You don’t even live in Gotham, Dare.”

“Fucking—!” Rachel exclaimed, a hand over her chest as she turned to him. She had a paint stain on her cheek and Percy fought with the need to wipe it off. “You’re everywhere, aren’t you, Wayne?”

Percy smiled and shrugged. “Seriously, what’re you doing here? Don’t you go to some fancy school in New York?”

She rolled her eyes and took his arm, leading him to the gym. “For middle school, and the boarding school my dad wanted to send me to in Metropolis was destroyed when Lex Luthor created a tear in reality.”

Percy nodded solemnly. It happens.

“Anyways,” Rachel continued, waving it off, “my dad wants to move to Gotham for a bit, so here I am.”

Percy’s brows furrowed at her words. “Who chooses to move to Gotham?”

Rachel laughed, and the two took a seat in the bleachers, near the exit but in the front row. “No one normal. And someone who wants to take advantage of the lax laws and corrupt business officials.”

Percy laughed. “Yep, makes sense.”

The two were smushed by some guy in a pristine sweater vest behind them. “Be quiet, the cheerleaders are talking!”

Percy faced forward, glancing at Rachel and rolling his eyes. That guy was the exact type of person to get overly excited by cheerleaders. Rachel raised her brows in response, and started to pay attention to the cheerleaders. 

“Hi guys!” a blonde girl bubbled into the microphone. “I’m Tammi and this is Kelli!” Kelli did a cartwheel.

Next to Percy, Rachel gasped and stiffened. He immediately looked at her to see all the color drain from her face. “You can’t see that?” she asked, her eyes still focused intensely on the two cheerleaders.

He stared at her and then the two cheerleaders in the front. Percy gazed around the room, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. “Uh, no?”

She grabbed him and hauled him out of the gym, much to the shock of the teachers still around. “Dude, are you good?” he asked, once she had forced him into the girl’s bathroom down the hall, the two of them ducking into a stall.

“You tell me that Greek myths are real and really didn’t notice them?” Rachel asked, a gasp coming out of her mouth. She was tearing at her hair in stress and frustration.

Before Percy could say anything, the bathroom door slammed open, and Rachel's eyes widened comically. She pulled Percy down, so the top of his head couldn’t be seen over the stall.

It didn’t seem to do much, as the stall door was forcibly ripped off next, and they were greeted by the same two cheerleaders from earlier.

“Perseus Jackson,” Tammi said. “It’s time for your orientation!”

***

Rachel and Percy were pushed out of the stall and next to the sinks, the two cheerleaders facing them, grinning wildly while still holding their pom-poms. Rachel’s face was not so fearful, but full of hatred and disgust as her eyes trailed over their entire bodies.

Percy, who couldn’t see their true forms through the Mist, asked Rachel about their true features, who cringed in response.

“Oh, forget her,” Tammi said, staring at Peercy with a smile that was dazzling. Whatever she truly looked like, Percy could only see someone beautiful standing in front of him, her hair perfectly sweeping over her shoulders and—

“Snap out of it!” Rachel exclaimed, hitting him in the shoulders. He blinked, taking his pen out of his pocket, and uncapping Riptide to its full potential. Tammi’s smile turned into a sneer.

“Oh, come on, you don’t need that,” she pouted. “How about a kiss instead?”

Percy refused to let himself fall into her trap again, especially with Rachel nearly vibrating next to him. “She wants to bite you,” Rachel hissed, and Percy made a face of confusion. Bite was certainly different from eat, like most monsters.

The next few moments passed quickly, with the two cheerleaders transforming, the illusion broken as the color from their skin completely drained, turning milky white, their eyes turning red, and fangs growing from their mouths.

“Shit, you’re a vampire!” Percy cried, still leveling his sword at them. Would celestial bronze work in place of a wooden stake?

He glanced down below the cheerleader skirt, his brows furrowing. Her left leg was brown, resembling a donkey’s hoof, while her right looked human, but was made of some kind of metal. “Dude, what’s up with your—”

“Don’t mention my legs!” Tammi snapped. “It’s rude to make fun of people!”

“It’s also rude to drain people of their blood without permission!” Rachel retorted, and Percy stifled a giggle. Tammmi caught it however, and kept her attention on Percy as she began to advance. 

“We aren’t vampires,” Kelli hissed from her place blocking the exit, “Those legends are based on us, you silly half-blood. No, we’re empousai, servants of the great goddess Hecate.”

Tammi smirked. “We exist to feed on the blood of young men. Now come and give me a kiss!” She bared her fangs at Percy, but he sidestepped as she approached him. Rachel grabbed a bottle of hand soap and launched it at Tammi’s head, catching her attention, and her ire.

“I try not to kill girls, for feminism, but you, I will make an exception,” she said, lunging at Rachel, who screamed on pure instinct. Percy jumped at her, Riptide poised to strike. He slashed at her, slicing through her cheerleading uniform, and with a horrible wail, she exploded into dust all over Rachel.

“Gross!” she cried, furiously trying to wipe the gold dust off her face, but failing miserably.

“You killed my trainee!” Kelli cried, “You, too, will die, son of the sea!”

Percy rolled his eyes, and sank into a fighting stance. “I don’t believe that I will, but you’re more than welcome to try.”

“I am a senior empousa,” she growled. “I am over a thousand years old and no hero has bested me yet.”

“There’s always a first!” he snarked.

“Why are you 1000 years old and at high school? Weird,” Rachel muttered, but Percy couldn’t focus as they began their dance. She was a lot quicker than Tammi, her age clearly showing her experience. 

“You don’t even know what’s happening, do you? Your precious camp will be up in flames and your friends slaves to the Lord of Time,” Kelli said, her form shimmering to that of a cheerleader once again.

Taking a step back, she ripped a sink off the wall, throwing it onto the ground, essentially blocking their exit. A door was ripped off the hinges, thrown over Percy and Rachel, forcing the two to duck, and crashed into a window, glass spreading everywhere.

“What in Hades are you doing?” Percy asked, pushing Rachel behind him.

She winked, “You’ll see,” she said, before raising her voice to a scream. “Help! Please help!”

Percy was too surprised to do anything except watch and listen as footsteps pounded on the marble ground and began to approach the bathroom where they were hidden.

A teacher wearing a school blazer stormed into the room, staring with wide eyes at the destroyed bathroom. “What in God’s name happened here?”

Before Kelli could come up with some story blaming Percy, as monsters always did (they were so rude), he spoke up. “It was Firefly!” he exclaimed. “He tried to burn the whole school down, starting here, and now he’s wandering through the halls! Someone has got to get Batman here right now!”

Kelli scowled as the teacher scrambled into action, dialing the police's Gotham villain hotline number. 

“Smart,” Rachel muttered. 

Percy shrugged. “Perks of living in Gotham. That and the low rent.”

“You don’t pay rent.”

“Yeah…” he grabbed her hand and the two ran outside of the school into the gloomy Gotham streets, where Annabeth was waiting for him. In the excitement of the day he almost forgot about his plans with her. 

She was studying the school with her arms crossed, a short sleeve t-shirt that showed off all the scars she had accumulated as a demigod, and a pair of wide jeans. Her hair, always changing every time Percy saw her. His time, her usually blond braids had accents of black in them, the contrast striking. She still had a few gray braids hanging in the front of her hair, courtesy of last winter’s adventures. It didn’t seem to be growing blonde, much like Percy’ own gray streaks, a permanent fixture it seemed.

Her smiling face turned to a frown when she saw the two of them. “Hey?” Her eyes darted around, from the school seemingly on fire to their hands clasped together. 

Percy immediately smiled, internally debating if it would be awkward to hug. “Hey. You will not believe the morning I’ve had.”

Annabeth’s eye twitched. “I can imagine.”

Percy glanced at Rachel who was smiling brightly at Annabeth, holding her hand out in greeting. “Hi! I’m Rachel,” she turned back to Percy, “Are those vampires going to come back or…”

Annabeth immediately perked up. “Vampires? You mean empousa? What happened here?”

Percy gave her a quick rundown on Kelli and her attack in the school. 

“Quick thinking with the villain attack,” she smiled, and Percy beamed at the compliment. “But monsters should rarely attack in Gotham—too many weird mortals.” Her eyes settled on Rachel before looking back at Percy. 

He shrugged, agreeing. “Only when something big is coming, usually.”

Annabeth sighed, again, her fingers twirling in her braids. Percy paid attention to the single ring that was glistening on her right index finger before looking back at her face again. “I know we were supposed to go to the movies, but I think we need to get to camp as soon as we can after this attack.” She stared at Rachel again, “Sorry, no mortals allowed.”

Percy watched as Annabeth’s face went through a thousand different emotions before souring. Rachel scowled as well, before staring at Percy. She raised her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, I know when I’m not wanted.”

Percy went to interrupt, to say that she was nearly always wanted, but Annabeth got there faster. “Good,” she said, her tone clipped.

He threw a scowl at her, before turning back to Rachel. “I’ll see you soon, okay? And if Bruce asks…” he trailed off.

“I’ll think of something. Or I’ll play dumb.”

“I don’t think that’ll be hard,” Annabeth muttered, and Rachel exhaled loudly.

She started walking away, “See you Percy,” she said with a smile, and then turned to Annabeth. “It was nice to meet you.”

Once she was (relatively) safe inside the school, Percy turned to Annabeth. “Are you okay? You seem…mad about something.”

She huffed. “Fine. Who was that?”

Percy blinked. “Um, Rachel. We met at a gala and then I accidentally stabbed through her with Riptide.”

“You what?” she deadpanned.

“Yeah, at the Hoover Dam last year. And then she said she could see through the Mist and knew…” his voice dropped in volume, “that Bruce is Batman, so.” He shrugged, unsure of what else to say.

“Intersting.” Her tone was icy.

“Yeah, it is…” he trailed off, trying to decipher the look on her face, ultimately failing. “Um, maybe we can reschedule our movie time for after camp ends. Preferably in New York, because too long in Jersey makes me itchy.”

She laughed, startled, and Percy smiled. “Yeah, probably.” She took his arm. “How do you want to get back to Manhattan? The Grey Sisters?”

He shuddered, refusing to allow himself to become carsick when he had a perfect inventory of cars ready to be destroyed again. “I have a better idea.”

Chapter Text

Tim was aware that Percy didn’t like him. Look, he tried his best to form a friendship with Percy Jackson-Wayne, but no matter what, Tim could tell that Percy always felt slighted by him.

On some days, he understood. He still looked up to Percy, especially because he was the only bat who managed to notice him when he was out on rooftops. After that incident, Tim studied Fledgling’s moves and style as much as he did Batman and Robin. For as much as Jason was Tim’s Robin, Percy was an inspiration as well. Clearly, he had instincts that the other two were lacking, which Tim admired to a new level.

(Secretly, he was often the main character in Tim’s Batman and Co fanfiction. Tim couldn't help it, he seemed unreal sometimes which made him easy to write about.)

When Tim first approached Dick about Bruce, he had hoped that Nightwing would retake the Robin mantle, at least until Percy returned, just to rein in Batman. He never expected to take the mantle (of course, now that he had it he didn’t want to let it go) forever, just to help Batman back on his feet.

Now that he was on the in, Tim noticed more about the inner workings of the Waynes. Percy was an interesting character. He was definitely suspicious, like he had gotten involved in something too big. He didn’t believe one word of the road trip turned kidnapping story, especially because, no matter how much Percy tried to gaslight him, he remembered every single thing about the morning his friends showed up at the manor. And while the security cameras were definitely blurry and down on that day, he managed to recover a bit of audio from their conversation, confirming what they said.

The blonde girl, Annabeth, definitely mentioned that there was a chance they would all die that day. If it was a joke, it was an extremely bad one, but it was too much of a coincidence that she would mention trouble and then accidentally get kidnapped by a cult. And if there was one thing Tim learned from Bruce, it’s that there’s no such thing as coincidences. Then there was Thalia Grace, who was the daughter of famed actress Beryl Grace, who also ran away from home around the same time as Annabeth. There were too many ends that didn't add up.

Tim didn’t want to get Percy in trouble. He certainly wasn’t working against Bruce and Dick to undermine their efforts to fight crime in Gotham. Maybe it was teenage rebellion, or whatever. Based on the interactions between Bruce, Dick, and Percy, teen angst wasn’t something new in the Wayne household, and he hoped that it would be handled.

He had a crime map in his room. It was overly detailed, red string trying to find connections anywhere, but there just weren't many at all. Tim couldn’t keep it in the cave, or anywhere in the manor at all, for fear that Bruce, Alfred, or Dick would find it and ask questions. And while they were definitely overly nosey about literally everyone else, Bruce had nearly banned any investigation into Percy, fearing he’d disappear again or stop talking to the rest of them.

Percy was holding the entire family hostage and he didn’t even know it. On one hand, the tension when Percy first returned to the manor nearly a year ago was insane, and while Tim pretended not to notice, he was one observant guy. He tried to make Percy tolerate him at the very least, but it was tough going. They were finally civil to each other even if Percy hated him. And Percy and Bruce were speaking respectfully to each other again, finally, even if the former still refused to be a vigilante again. (Tim knew Bruce was secretly thankful, especially after Jason's death, because he feared losing another child. Luckily, Tim was just the neighbor's weird kid and Bruce never had that kind of guilt about him.) Because of this, Tim refused to let anyone know that he was investigating the curious case of Percy Jackson.

Instead, his crime map was hanging in the back closet of his room at Drake Manor. The maids really only focused on the main communal areas of the house every three days, and no one really went into his closet, so it was safe. Even when his parents were home for small intervals of time, it was generally a safe place. And Bruce and Dick at least pretended to care about privacy, so he didn't have to worry about the two of them snooping at his house.

Speaking of his parents, they were still elsewhere, Egypt probably, and Tim was free to investigate until he passed out. It was full of connections between everyone Percy had ever come in contact with: Annabeth Chase, Thalia Grace, Rachel Dare, that Tyson kid he hung out with last year.

Tim was missing something. And he was desperate to find out the truth.

Things got weirder when Percy disappeared again. There was a Firefly attack at Gotham Academy during their high school orientation, and once Batman and Robin made it to the school, the rogue was nowhere to be seen. The school would be fine, Tim knew, the damage was minimal, but the entire situation was weird. Firefly wasn’t one to attack a school, especially when he didn’t have demands or a monologue. And the cheerleaders seemed to pout the entire time, especially when Batman and Robin asked questions of the witnesses.

Percy was supposed to be at the school, but when Tim did a glance around all the students, he was nowhere to be found, again. Even weirder: when they returned to the manor, another car was missing. Tim had half a mind to call up Rachel Dare, who was questioned by Robin at the school, enquiring about Percy’s whereabouts, but he wasn’t sure what good that would do him.he Their conversations were limited and she definitely preferred Percy's company, especially compared to most of the elite in Gotham.

Patrol was uneventful, which made absolutely zero sense if Firefly had been active earlier that day. They were called down to Gotham Academy specifically for that reason, but other than the school, there was not a single case of arson anywhere in the city.

“Shouldn’t something be happening?” Tim complained, lounging on a rooftop next to Batman. He’d changed a lot in the year since he took up the mantle, and even though sometimes he wasn’t completely sure about it, he was certainly more comfortable than he was early in his Robin career. Batman wasn’t nearly as scary as he could be, especially to someone who’d seen him trip over his own cape or down 10 glasses of champagne at once.

“There’s nothing wrong with a peaceful night,” Batman admonished.

“But if Firefly attacked Gotham Academy, and somehow got away scot free, shouldn’t he be causing chaos to the city?”

“We should be glad he’s not.”

“But it doesn’t make sense!” Tim cried. “He’s not a one fire and done type of guy! It doesn’t fit his M.O. If he’s back on the street, he wants to burn the city to the ground, and he’s not!”

Batman sighed, and Tim was sure that if he wasn’t wearing his cowl, he’d be rubbing his eyes with frustration. “Let’s head back, Robin. And maybe you’ll manage to learn to appreciate a calmer evening of patrol.”

Tim huffed the entire grapple back to the Batmobile.

After patrol he went back to his house, thankful Bruce and Alfred weren’t trying to make him stay the night, again (god they were obsessive) to resume the work on his crime map. Nothing Percy ever told anyone ever added up, and Bruce was so unwilling to interrogate him, for fear of losing him to silence again.

And Tim understood.

Well, he didn’t really, but he could sympathize to an extent. Even when Bruce was being an idiot. Even Dick seemed desperate to find out all of Percy’s secrets, but Garth wasn’t giving anything interesting up, and Dick also had more pressing matters in Blüdhaven and in New York.

The trackers he had been stealthily placing in Percy’s belongings never made it out of Gotham. Whenever he went on one of his adventures, Percy either left his stuff in Gotham, or managed to remove the bugs easily. Tim thought he was better at hiding them, but alas, clearly not. Or maybe Percy was a pro at finding them, he didn’t know.

Tim had a running theory of things Percy could be up to—a few were more unsavory than others. Of course there was the cult theory, which was the most prevalent theory he had on Percy and co. Then there was the “he really is a terrorist and the FBI was right all those years ago” but Tim really hoped that wasn’t the truth. He could be on a path of becoming a supervillain, but with his refusal to eat seafood and his overly compassionate demeanor, Tim found it unlikely. Percy didn’t have the stomach to become a supervillain, especially if it meant hurting people.

All of this put Tim sorely back in square one, no ideas and very little evidence.

When he had no more leads, his mind exhausted, and the sun beginning to rise, he turned to something to calm him down, at least for half an hour. (He had a work-life balance, sue him. He was probably the only one of all the Gotham vigilantes who actually managed to have fun the little free time he made for himself). He could game for a bit, or maybe scroll on Tumblr and Reddit for conspiracy theories about Percy Jackson. One guy (his mutual), @Gothams-Sandy-Cheeks, had a ridiculous amount of fanfiction about both the bats and the Waynes (and it was really well written). Sometimes it inspired Tim, other times it gave him a new outlook on Percy Jackson's life, like it did that night.

It was summer, and Tim had a new idea on how to investigate Percy. (He could stop his investigations into Bruce’s preferred kid—he claimed to not have favorites but it was obvious to any outsider—but Tim felt like he was on the precipice of something large. He was almost sure it would end up hurting someone, but the truth was definitely more important. Maybe he wouldn’t have to tell Bruce and Dick if it was something terrible, he could help Percy on his own.)

Timothy Drake was thankful his parents were nowhere to be seen the day after Percy Jackson disappeared from the Wayne Manor for a third time. Tim lied to Bruce, made up a story about spending time with an uncle that didn’t exist, and used the credit card to buy a one way train ticket to New York City.

***

He had a dossier on notes on everything about Percy Jackson. He knew that while Percy had troubles in school when he was younger, it wasn’t bad until the summer he and his mom were kidnapped and taken across the country. If the police reports were accurate, then they’d have been taken in Montauk.

Any and all photographs and references to Annabeth Chase were in New York as well, ignoring her running away from Virginia and her family now located in California. It was a solid place to start.

Man, he really wished Percy didn’t find those trackers Tim placed in his favorite pair of Converse. How did he always know?

Tim loved investigating…most of the time. Unfortunately, Percy was nearly impossible to investigate. He disappeared to places that even Superman couldn’t find him. He was beloved by Dick’s iteration of the Titans, and Garth seemed willing to cover for him. Worst of all, either because he was trained by the Bat or by some otherworldly reason, he was impossible to interrogate, always brushing them off with humor or sass, so much that the others often forgot what they were talking about.

Not Tim, however. He was determined to find the truth no matter who it hurt. Sometimes he worried that his own incessant quirks would cause pain, but at the end of the day, he put his own need for the truth above others.

Maybe it was a bad habit, but Batman did the same thing. He learned from the best, afterall.

The train ride from Gotham to New York was not too long, but Tim was extremely bored as he wished he could’ve gotten there quicker. He knew that Batman had invented some kind of teleporter, usually used to get heroes from earth to their base in space, but he didn’t want to risk anyone else finding out what he was up to, especially when he hadn’t yet hacked into the space station.

Baby steps—he’d get there one day.

Tim was practically bouncing with excitement when he arrived in New York, finding another line that would take him to the small beach town. It was practically barren compared to the train to the city, but Tim wasn’t complaining, able to walk up and down the aisles without bothering anyone. When they arrived in Montauk, Tim leapt off the train and examined his surroundings. He’d done research on the area: technically it was a village, with both historical routes and a strong surf. There were a few small stores, and multiple beachside houses, some rentals and some second homes.

Even as a Gothamite, he had to admit it was beautiful.

Tim was able to walk the entire peninsula without getting winded, making it easier to find any clues and information about Percy, but he couldn’t find anything substantial. There was nothing that stuck out to him and no clues which led to information on Percy's disappearance. He hoped that this wouldn't be a dead end or a wasted trip.

Undefeated, he walked into a random shop. There was an old man working at the beachside store. His gray hair was stark in the hot sun, his skin tan and weathered, his hair light and unruly, like he spent most of his time outside in his youth.

Tim had researched as much as he could about Montauk before he arrived. He knew there were rental houses, and a few second homes owned by the wealthier New Yorkers, but other than that, this particular strip was pretty empty, and he didn’t recognize this store at all. 

He entered the store, wishing it was on the maps, and that he knew everything about it and the man working there, but he’d wing it. 

“Hello sir,” Tim said, every bit the Drake heir he was trained to be.

His eyes were kind as he smiled down at Tim from behind the counter. “Are you here alone, lad?” he asked, with a strong Scottish accent. It shocked Tim, but he was sure that it didn’t show on his face.

He shook his head. “No. My uncle’s not far. But we’re looking for my brother.” He pulled out a picture of Percy that he copied in the cave. “I’m worried he’s in trouble, and he may have been in the area recently.”

The man took the photo gingerly, fingers carefully only touching the edges, and his eyes flashed in recognition. “You’re related to the Jacksons?” he asked, handing the photo back to Tim.

His eyes bulged out of his head. “Yeah! Wait, you know him?”

He nodded. “Percy and Sally used to come here every single summer for a few days, sometimes winter too. Haven’t seen them in a few years, but now I guess I know why.”

Tim was practically buzzing with excitement. “When was this? Where would they stay?”

The man smiled. “I’ve seen that boy from ages five to twelve. Always polite and with a smile on his face. There’s a small cabin down the road, the last one on the street, where they were. Said there was something sentimental about it. I hope you find them, kid.”

Tim followed his instructions down the road towards the last cabin. It was weathered, the paint chipping on the outside, windows covered in spiderwebs, a seagull nest resting on the roof. The cabin was unoccupied, Tim realized once he began the process of breaking in. Thank god, it would’ve been awkward to explain his presence to the occupants. 

Inside was the same story as the outside, though there was a thin layer of dust everywhere, like it had remained untouched for months. It certainly wasn’t the nicest cabin he’d ever seen, but no one renting it, especially as the weather began to warm, was odd. Tim wondered who was in charge of maintenance and cleaning. He took note of the address, vowing to find out the owners of both the cabin and the shop when he got access to the Batcomputer. 

The cabin was devoid of any connections to Percy. It was weathered and homely, but looked like a basic rental cabin, without any distinct clues or personality. 

“That was a bust,” he muttered to himself, stalking out of the cabin. Nothing, not even a single strand of hair, and yet, it was so overly dusty and unused, which was another dead end and contradicting story. 

At least the water was pretty. He hadn’t seen water not infected with the toxins of rogues in years. Well, while he was here, he may as well do some photography. He took out his digital camera, enjoying the summer sun, something rare in Gotham.

***

“How was New York with your uncle?” Bruce asked when he returned three days later. Tim stiffened, instinctively, perturbed by the tone Bruce was using, something that seemed off in a way he couldn’t understand.

He blinked. “Um, fine?” He hated that it sounded like a question. 

Bruce smiled. “Hm.” He walked away, leaving Tim freaking out by himself in front of the Batcomputer.

Did he know? He couldn’t know… Bruce would've confronted him if he knew that he was lying. Confirming that Bruce was nowhere near him, Tim searched through his private files on the computer. He might’ve been good at hiding things, but Tim was even better at finding them (Percy was a fluke that he would get through at some point).

It took a few moments, but there was a copy of Tim’s train ticket on file, notes indicating that he was traveling alone with no adult near him. Bruce pondered several questions about his trip, but didn’t come to an answer or conclusion, but the very notion of this investigation left Tim’s heart pounding.

“Well, shit.”

Chapter Text

Annabeth Chase hated Rachel Dare, and there was no way around it.

She tried not to hate other girls, out of principle, but she wanted to challenge the ginger to a weaving contest and turn her into some kind of animal when she lost. Unfortunately, she was not her mother and couldn’t do it.

Maybe if she prayed enough—

No, Athena would never allow her to retaliate against someone else in the name of Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon.

At least Silena was on her side. She was still unwilling to admit the truth to anyone but herself, and the diary she wrote in a deep code that no one else would be able to understand, but Annabeth had a feeling Silena knew about her secret feelings for Percy. (She was a daughter of Aphrodite afterall, and Annabeth was sure she could sense it.)

Maybe Dare was perfect for Percy (Annabeth didn’t agree). They were both rich kids with daddy issues, who seemed to live in New Jersey. And she was clearly interested in Percy, even if he couldn’t tell.

Gods, he was waterlogged. Why did Annabeth like him? She could actually name a thousand reasons why she liked him: his bravery, his loyalty, his passion, and so many other things…

When Rachel finally managed to disappear back to the school on fire, Annabeth nearly let out a sigh of relief. Instead of saying how she felt, she stared at Percy with contempt, trying to not blow up at him and let her feelings be known. Sometimes, she was easy to read, and she hated it. 

Or maybe Percy was the only one who could read her, and she tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as a response to that thought. 

She stared at him, her eyes catching on the gray streak prominent in his otherwise dark curls, grateful that she still had her own which matched, but was much less conspicuous in her blonde hair. 

Percy managed to lead Annabeth back to the manor, the two of them sneaking into the garage, where Annabeth was always amazed by the number of cars Bruce Wayne had in his basement. She was well-off but gods, the amount of cars Mr. Wayne had was ridiculous. He let her choose a car (she chose the least ostentatious vehicle) while he ran to pick up a few supplies while she was left to stew in the passenger’s seat of the Audi.

Percy reappeared a few moments later, dumping a duffle bag in the trunk, jumping in the driver’s seat, and sending Annabeth a wry grin. She ignored her heart skipping a beat as he opened the wiring, pulling out another tracker and tossing it onto the ground.

“Okay, to camp then? Hopefully we don’t destroy another car on our trip.”

Annabeth giggled, internally punching herself in the face at her antics. She was pathetic.

***

Annabeth was frantic when she managed to make it to the border of camp. The labyrinth spit her out in Manhattan, and she hailed a Grey Sisters taxi with her last drachma. She was covered in soot and grime, not to mention the tear tracks staining her face. 

This quest was the definition of a disaster, Annabeth realized once she reappeared at camp, alone. Grover and Tyson were gods know where, and she could only hope they were alive. And then Percy…

Gods why did she kiss him?

The prophecy was imprinted in her mind, stamped across her forehead, and she could not forget it even if she wanted to. And when they were following Hephaestus’s instructions, Annabeth couldn’t help but think that this was the end. He was so shocked when she pressed her lips to his, that he didn’t move for a few moments. For a first kiss, it was definitely life altering, earth shattering, and gods she wished it didn’t end with a volcano erupting.

Stupid, so stupid, she thought crossing over the boundary where a patrol was waiting. She said nothing as Clarisse guided her to the Big House, where Chiron and Mr. D were engaged in a deep conversation.

She said nothing as Clarisse tried to coax answers out of her. Annabeth couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, and she didn’t want to either. Her heart was breaking into a million pieces, and she silently cursed every god that had put her into this position.

“Where’s Percy?” Chiron asked, as softly as he could, but she started to sob again immediately. Clarisse continued to place a solid hand on her back, and she silently thought she’d never seen the daughter of Ares so careful, besides when she spent time with Silena of course. 

But that was a whole other story. 

She pinched her wrist, squeezing until her crying subsided, refocusing her mind on the task. She was a daughter of Athena, a war goddess, and no matter how much she hurt in the moment, there was a war to be fought. 

“Mount St. Helena erupted,” Annabeth said, her voice as clear as it could be. “The labyrinth spit me out in New York. Percy is…nowhere to be seen. Missing in action.”

With her concise explanation, she watched the various emotions painted on Mr. D and Chiron, ranging from sympathetic to downright stressed. The two turned to each other, a rapid conversation in Ancient Greek among them. Luckily, she’d been at camp for almost ten years, and could recognize the fear and distress in their voices, especially among a singular topic. 

She cursed. “Hephaestus led us to the volcano. Did we really manage to release Typhon from his imprisonment?”

Chiron offered a sympathetic yet strained smile, but Mr. D offered none of the compassion, snorting in anger. “You silly girl. He's on the verge of release, you and the sea brat nearly destorying the bonds he is imprisoned in. We have at most a year until he's free. On the verge of the worst battle in modern times, you two managed to almost free the worst enemy of the Olympians, destined to work with the Titans to overthrow us. Well done.” The god began to clap slowly, his dramatics permeating through the room.

Chiron shot him a dark look, “I’m sure she doesn’t need the ridicule, my lord.”

Dionysus rolled his eyes. “None of the brats seem to understand the predicament we have been put in, one where their actions cause the total destruction of all of us, one where we don’t survive the next year.” He stood, downing the can of diet coke and gliding out of the room, sparing a single glance at Annabeth, muttering as he left. “I cannot believe they’ve brought our destruction before my punishment has been lifted.”

Chiron sighed in exhaustion, still seated at the table. He smiled serenely, but it did nothing to assuage her guilt. 

Typhon nearly released, Percy missing, Grover and Tyson missing. Annabeth’s first time leading a quest was a disaster, and no amount of prayers had fixed it. 

After the quick debrief, Annabeth walked to cabin six, grateful that her siblings were off doing activities. She lay in her bed, not bothering to take her shoes off or change into clean clothes, as she didn’t have the energy. All she wanted was to brainstorm a new plan, something that usually came quickly, but Annabeth found it impossible, her brain stagnant.

Maybe she could force herself to sleep and hope she could find dreams of him. 

It didn’t work. Nothing worked. She tried to throw herself into work, into battle plans for when the demigod who defected attacked camp, but with the way her thoughts scattered every moment, thinking about what could have happened to Percy, when he would return, because he would return, and the defense was not going well.

The Athena and Ares cabins were completely sick of her, a little sympathetic, but as she could not focus, she was interfering with their plans. They kicked her out of the Big House twice in three days (it was weirdly embarrassing for Annabeth, who was always at the top of her game).

She finally began to weave his shroud after a week. She felt like Penelope of Sparta, constantly weaving and unraveling to procrastinate, because she didn’t want to believe he was really gone. Truthfully, Annabeth believed that he would feel it in her heart were Percy to ever truly die and make his way to Elysium. She only began the process at Chiron’s insistence, and even then, she was dragging her feet.

His shroud would be blue, even if it took her months to make, covered in water symbols and tridents, maybe even a few references to the New York City skyline. She’d never reference anything related to New Jersey on his shroud, even if he had learned to call Gotham home.

Her fingers were numb and prickled by the time she managed to finish the shroud, but it was beautiful, and would sparkle in the sunlight. Annabeth didn’t want to bring it out, however, allowing herself to remain alone and in her feelings before she would present the shroud to the camp for a funeral.

If it turned out to be the truth, it would be a disaster, for everybody involved. The Olympians loved to vote on Percy’s death and point their fingers at him for their problems, but truthfully, they were all doomed if he ended up dead before his sixteenth birthday. (Not to mention Annabeth’s obvious broken heart.)

Fuck, she was going to have to go to Gotham, and talk to Bruce Wayne. She’d never even met the man, only Timothy Drake, who Percy had a complicated relationship with. He never ended up telling them about his true parentage, about where he disappeared to every summer, so any conversation would be full of tears and disbelief.

She remembered the Gotham headlines after the death of the second Robin, after Percy’s brother’s death. Batman was wreaking havoc on the city, and Annabeth was supposed to tell him another son of his died, causing that pain again.

How was Annabeth supposed to tell Batman that his son was dead?

***

She wanted to kill him. Again. First he spent two weeks away after blowing up a volcano, then he came back healed in brand new island vacation clothes, like Annabeth hadn’t cried every single day waiting for him. 

Perseus Jackson was smiling when he appeared, carefree, with a suntan, his hair a lighter shade, and some flower tucked into his pocket, hidden, but Annabeth could see everything, his easy going smile, the subdued energy as he returned.

Was she jealous? Absolutely. She was allowed to be jealous. And no one could blame her when her first action when he returned was not to cry tears of joy or hug him so he could never disappear on her again, but to slap him across the face.

It was petty, but so was she.

(She ended up hugging him too, but that was neither here nor there.)

Annabeth didn’t even feel a little guilty when he grabbed his face in shock, muttering an “ow,” watching as she stomped away. Even when he tried to act like nothing had happened, oh she knew where he was: with an immortal, beautiful Titan sorceress who he had clearly fallen for in some capacity.

Could she add a Titan to her kill list? Right there with Rachel Dare.

The audacity to come back during his funeral, when Annabeth had finally gotten past the first stage of grief, when she was about to burn the beautiful shroud she had weaved, and by the gods was it beautiful.

She could have forgiven him for all of that, but for Perseus Jackson to dare suggest that the redheaded girl who he’d been flirting with (and who was flirting with him) come lead her quest, especially after years of Annabeth being left behind. 

Annabeth might have to kill Percy in addition to the flock of girls he had chasing him. It’d be a lot easier to get Percy before Calypso. She wouldn’t even have to try, a quick jab with her dagger when he least expected it, far away from any water or healers, and he’d be—

She took a breath, sitting on the floor of her cabin. Once again, Annabeth was alone as the rest of her siblings were practicing archery at the moment. Malcolm was the best second she could ever ask for, especially over the past few weeks. 

Percy and Annabeth were supposed to leave the next day, and she had resigned herself to repacking her bags, away from everyone. Silena had come to check on her about an hour ago, the daughter of Aphrodite had knowing eyes and an open heart. Annabeth didn’t allow herself to cry anymore. Gods, crying over a boy, what would her mother think? What would Helen of Sparta think?

Still, Silena sat there while Annabeth ranted about the very idea of a redhead named Rachel and Percy stuck on an island with someone whose beauty was supernatural.

Annabeth had stared into her blue eyes, which had softened immensely after the 15 minutes she had been talking with minimal pauses, only for taking a breath. “I’m not being dramatic, am I?”

She had smiled, shaking her head and bringing Annabeth into her arms. “Of course not. Sometimes boys can’t see what’s right in front of them. And that’s no one’s fault but their own.”

Silena left Annabeth alone after that, as she needed to supervise her own cabin as they were in their own sparring lessons, and when children of Aphrodite began to fight for their lives, it got crazy and dirty.

Annabeth fell face forward on her bunk, trying and failing to think about the quest, her mind constantly scattering to the pair of green eyes that she couldn’t get out of her mind.

***

It was before dawn when Percy and Annabeth made their way out of camp. The cleaning harpies left them alone, informed by Chiron that they were on a special quest and required safe passage past the hill. Percy helped her load the newly repacked supplies into his trunk.

“Hopefully these won’t need to be immediately discarded again,” he said with a smile, and Annabeth returned it, but rolled her eyes good naturedly.

He had apparently been in communication with Dare last night—what specifically they were talking about at 2 a.m. she didn’t know—and they would meet in Gotham, where she was spending the summer before school started.

The car was quiet as Percy drove from Long Island back to Gotham, the quiet hums of music the only sound. Percy tried to start up a conversation twice, his smile bright but his eyes haunted as he asked her about her stressed feelings, or any more plans for the quest. 

“What’s got you feeling stressed?” he asked, his left arm leaning against the window as he drove with one hand. (It shouldn’t have been attractive, but it was, and Annabeth was having a hard time remembering why her emotions were in such a jumble.)

She shrugged and looked out the window, tucking a braid behind her ear. “Nothing. Worried about camp and this quest.”

Thankfully, there was no mention of the kiss, which was still seared into her mind. He probably forgot about it when on an island with a beautiful Titan. Her fingers clenched into a fist resting on her lap, and Annabeth turned away from Percy’s face, instead choosing to focus on the empty road before her.

It was a dreary drive to Gotham, the road uninteresting and the sky curiously gray. Usually, the son would be shining and bright, but it was like the gods knew of their certain doom. When Percy crossed over the border and into Gotham, the gray sky seemed to get even darker, the temperature decreasing as well. Annabeth shivered, admiring the Gothic architecture while also being wary of whatever they would come across.

Percy drove the car through the streets, faster than he had driven the entire ride to the city, swerving past the other cars and bikes which were slower. They met her in a more lively part of the city, but Annabeth wasn’t sure if it was a rich or poor area.

Annabeth could recognize Dare, by the shape of her hair, standing on a pedestal completely still, painted from head to toe in a gold glittery color. Annabeth wasn’t sure if it made sense to be doing something like this in Gotham, but she was going to go with the flow—it stopped her from doing something crazy and foolish.

Still, she was ready to get moving, and Dare was still doing her charity thing. It took ten minutes for her to get down from the pedestal, another teen painted the same taking her place, before she joined Percy and Annabeth on the coffee shop patio where they had posted up, waiting for her. The mortal smiled brightly at Percy, and stared at Annabeth, still smiling, yet more subdued.

She ordered some kind of complicated coffee and sat across from the two of them. “What do you need help with?”

Percy explained the situation as Annabeth observed Dare. Her hair was sprayed gold, and Annabeth knew it would be a bitch to get the paint out of her curls. She had a detangling brush in her back pocket, and seemed to debate whether or not she wanted to use it, before deciding against it, finding a scrunchie to throw her hair into a loose ponytail. 

The waitress brought her drink, along with Percy’s hot chocolate with blue sprinkles and Annabeth’s tea. Unfortunately, it wasn’t sweet, as Gotham was way too northern for any sort of fun. She tasted the tea and grimaced as Dare readily agreed to whatever Percy wanted.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “It won’t be easy. There’ll be danger at every corner and we can’t guarantee your safety.”

Dare shrugged. “But you can’t do it without me, right?”

Annabeth was ready to leap over the table with a knife. “No,” she said, sullenly. “We can’t.”

She looked over at Percy, who said. “Are you sure?”

Dare smiled. “My summer’s been boring, so I’m in.”

Annabeth took a breath. “Great, so we need to find an entrance to the labyrinth, somewhere in the city preferably. There’s one at camp, but that’s off limits to mortals.”

“Okay, well what does an entrance look like?”

“It’ll be hidden in plain sight, but it will look like anything.” She took a pen from her bag and a napkin from the table. “It’ll be marked with a Greek Delta, glowing blue, the mark of Daedalus.”

Dare sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “I don’t know Gotham that well but I do recognize that symbol somewhere,” she tossed her brush in her back pocket and stared at Percy. “But you’re not going to like it.”

He took a breath, resigning himself to her whims, as Annabeth watched on.

After they paid, Dare directed Percy to Amusement Mile from the backseat of the car, and he was tense the entire drive. Annabeth tried to comfort him, but it was useless. She wasn’t from Gotham, nor did she spend any time in the city, unlike the other two, so the only lore she knew about Amusement Mile was from the hundreds of Reddit posts and articles she read when Percy first moved to the city and she was desperate to learn everything she could so she’d always have answers if he asked.

“The Joker’s still in Arkham,” Percy muttered, parking the car a few blocks away. “But we still have to be cautious. I don’t want to attract any attention.” Annabeth nodded, walking to the trunk on silent feet and getting the small bag out, throwing it onto her back. She walked at the back of the group, keeping an eye out for any trouble.

Amusement Mile was oddly silent, the only sounds were the wind and Dare’s loud footsteps in the front. She led them past the welcome sign and to a fun house in the front of the park, one that had been oddly damaged, with mirror shards everywhere. She cringed, making sure to look away from the broken pieces, lest she see something she’d rather not.

“Oh, I think that’s my bloodstain,” Percy said in the middle of the abandoned fun house, and Annabeth could feel her heart stop in her chest. They had all gathered in the middle of the broken down fun house, stopping to stare at the damage.

“What?” Annabeth asked, her voice a whisper. 

Percy shrugged, almost dismissively. “There was an incident, years ago. I don’t really want to get into it.”

 He’d almost died so many times…

Percy completely moved past it, following Dare to the back of the fun house, a frown on his face. “What in Hera’s name were you doing here, Rachel?” he asked, adjusting the bag on his shoulders as he and Annabeth watched her look for the glowing delta.

She shrugged. “It was a gala years ago. And some of the older kids wanted to disappear for a minute. We ended up here. It wasn’t the smartest thing.”

“That’s for sure,” Annabeth muttered, ignoring the dirty looks.

Eventually, Dare pointed out the entrance, a plain wall next to a mirror around the back of the destroyed building. Percy stared at Annabeth as the entrance opened with her touch, and she took a breath bracing herself for another dangerous adventure. He offered her the smallest of smiles, one that said he believed in her, that he trusted her, and Annabeth allowed herself a leap of faith, diving back into the tunnels like her life depended on it—and it did.

***

Rachel Dare was driving Annabeth crazy, and so was Percy Jackson. She was leading them to their destruction, so it seemed. When it was Annabeth, Percy, Grover, and Tyson in the maze by themselves, it had taken them a far bit longer time to march directly into trouble. Dare seemed to take them right to a gladiator match, hosted by Antaeus where Luke and his army of monsters were fighting for safe passage. 

Her heart stopped when she saw him, breaking into pieces. Sometimes she wondered if she’d ever be able to forgive him, after everything he’d done. Then she remembered that he had tried, not to ask for forgiveness, not to return to the side of the Olympians, but to disappear, to run away together like they had in the old days. It was impractical—they’d never be able to outrun the Olympians, and the gods would find them eventually, and punish them for their indiscretions. Worst of all, she refused to leave behind Percy, who’d never bow out of the fight. So Annabeth denied him, watched as he disappeared, certain that the next time she saw Luke, they’d be on opposite sides again, her heart breaking into a million pieces as she came to terms with the way their relationship would end.

Thalia and Luke were two of the first people who Annabeth could say cared about her, no matter what she did. Her father and stepmother saw her as a burden, Athena as an instrument to her own success, and after Thalia initially turned into a tree, Luke was the only person who she could turn to, who she  felt safe with. 

She wondered, sometimes, if she would’ve joined Luke if he had asked instead of trying to kill Percy. Annabeth thought back to their interactions over the years, and he always resorted to violence first, never conversation. She’d never admit it outloud, or even think too hard for fear that the Olympians would hear her thoughts, but sometimes she hoped for a reform of their system. She spent years searching for glory, and when she finally thought she achieved a miniscule amount of it, it was taken away with haste. 

Luke was her first brother in her life, and she was scared for him.

(Annabeth was also extremely angry with him and wanted to throttle him into a million pieces.)

She watched as he mocked them, goading Percy into fighting both the demigod who had defected and eventually Percy’s half-brother. He was nervous, Annabeth could tell, but was doing his best not to let the army know. His fingers traveled to the scar, the white line a source of brightness in the otherwise dark cavern, Luke’s tell that she had learned when he returned from his quest. It was a reminder for him, for all of them. Something was going to happen, quickly, with him, she realized, and he may be beyond saving.

Her smile was small and secretive when Percy outsmarted Antaeus, managing to suspend him in the air before ending his life, before they all hauled ass past the fight club and further into the labyrinth.

After they had narrowly escaped certain defeat and death, with Percy’s quick thinking and genius battle strategy saving them yet again, she had tried to voice her worries and fears to him, but Annabeth was the only one who could see it.

Percy hated Luke; Annabeth understood—his fatal flaw was loyalty and when he was betrayed once, it would be difficult to find forgiveness. It was one of the things she admired about him. Luke, he’d hurt her so many times but she still felt indebted to him, like she owed it to help him out of the problems he created.

Still, Annabeth wished Percy could see that something was desperately wrong. Luke usually gloated when things were going his way. He always seemed to want to spare her, in that they were similar, but his eyes that day held something deeper, a pain she hadn’t seen in all their encounters over the years, not since he first returned from the quest that changed everything. She was missing something big, and she hoped she had the time to figure out what it was, and possibly stop it.

***

She wanted to throttle Percy Jackson, again.

The quest was still a disaster, and they picked up two more people since Grover and Tyson were separated (gods she hoped they were alright) but this time it was a mortal girl and a son of Hades who tried to trade Percy’s soul less than a month ago.

Annabeth had prayed since she was young to lead a quest, but maybe she should’ve been content staying at camp with how this one was going.

She didn’t know why she let him follow the scent of Mount Orthrys, of California. She should have insisted that they go through the tunnel together. (Maybe it was for the best that they didn't. Annabeth knew that if she saw him in that coffin she would've been inconsolable, moreso than she already was.)

It didn't matter, because afterwards everything blurred together. She could barely feel herself as they ran from the collapsing chasm, everything that had once mattered seemed useless as colors changed to gray. 

He was gone. Luke was gone. She tried denying it, but even out loud it didn’t work, and they could see right through her.

Percy couldn’t understand. He would never understand. She won’t deny that he had a crazy hard life, but at the end of the day, even if he didn’t know it, he had a family who loved him. What did Annabeth have? A dad who wished she had never been born. A sister who left her six months after coming back to life. A brother who allowed himself to be possessed, used as a puppet in such a way that would kill her.

She didn’t even care that she was embarrassing herself crying in front of Rachel Dare. Annabeth had no shame crying in front of Percy, but a random mortal girl whose sole goal was to steal Percy away…if life wasn’t a disaster, she would’ve been more upset. But Annabeth could only blame herself for what Luke had become. His visit to San Francisco made more sense, now that she looked back, and she had a brighter view of the entire prophecy. It was all slotting together, but Annabeth could not be more upset, her heart breaking at the prospects.

Everything seemed doomed. She didn’t know if she could go on, or if she wanted to anymore. Suddenly, getting lost in the labyrinth and losing her mind felt like the calmest action.

***

Perseus Jackson was such an idiot sometimes, and Annabeth wasn’t sure how she even tolerated him let alone liked him.

He was, by far, the hero of their generation, and sometimes, she could see peaks of the heroes of old in him, which scared her to no end.

Annabeth was a right mess following the Battle of Camp Half-Blood. It was a miracle they were alive at all, thanks to Grover, truly. How they’d be able to fight another battle, whatever would happen in a year's time, she didn’t know. It was definitely looking bleak,

What was even worse, is for the first time in years, Annabeth realized that she was truly alone.. Grover, now with the blessings and powers of Pan, would not have the time to spend at camp with her. He’d always been in and out, looking for demigods, but now he had a true life purpose, and she couldn’t blame him for that.

Thalia was just as bad. Immediately after she had gotten her back, Annabeth lost her again. Six months before she ran off to join the hunters, after multiple assurances that she hated everything they stood for. Annabeth assumed that it had something to do with the fact that she didn’t think she would ever get him back.

Annabeth had held onto hope, until that day in the labyrinth. He was dead, he was no more. His body a shell of what it used to be.

And yes, Annabeth still had more brothers than she knew what to do with, but her chosen brother was gone, and now she was barely holding onto sanity, wondering whether it was all worth it. If she had gone with him when he asked, would Luke still be alive? Probably. (And so many other demigods too…)

She should’ve taken the opportunity and run away with him. Live, just the two of them, away from the madness that was the gods, this war which would have no winners, only death.

She helped Malcolm with the shroud before taking her leave out of her cabin, claiming a need for fresh air. There were too many shrouds to be weaved, and her walls were crumbling. What she really needed was Percy, but she didn’t know if he needed, or even wanted, her with the tension over the past few days.

Annabeth found him where she expected: sitting on the beach with his shoes off and feet resting in the calm water. She stalked up to Percy, her hands shaking with rage as he looked out at the water overly calm. She didn’t understand how he could be so relaxed after they almost died, again. He sat with his feet in the water, watching the ebb and flow of waves as they hit the shore of camp.

Before she could speak, he turned to her, a small grin blossomed on his face, like he could sense her presence. Her heart skipped a beat at the smile, but she refused to let him sway her when she was so angry.

Everything had been awkward between the two of them recently, and their conversations often ended with arguments, especially after everything with…everything in the labyrinth.

She was masking her fear with anger, and her anger with fear, every time she saw him recently. Annabeth took a breath, and asked. “What are you doing out here?”

Percy sent her a small smile. “I needed a break after the funerals. Everything okay?”

She frowned and took a deep breath, her eyes boring into his bright green ones, daring her to get lost in them. “I think you need to tell Bruce the truth about everything.” 

Percy blinked, his body stiffening. “What? Why?”

How could he not know?

Annabeth sighed and sat next to him in the sand. She peeled off her shoes and socks, letting her feet rest in the ocean alongside Percy’s. “They were there, you know, when Mount St. Helens erupted. Batman and Superman, and a few others, helping the refugees.” Percy winced, likely remembering that he caused the displacement of thousands of mortals, but she continued. “I was desperate to find you, because I thought that you had…” she trailed off, sighing.

“And I realized that if you do die, I’ll have to explain everything to them. And they’ll be even more upset about everything.”

“I’m not going to die,” Percy insisted.

She rushed to her feet, staring at him, refusing to let tears fall, but the water was building up in her eyes. Her hands grasped at her braids, too tightly, and she had to take care not to yank them out. The sting grounded her, but not enough with the pain leaking from her heart. She couldn’t—

“You don’t know that! We’re planning a war and we may die at any moment.. You more than anyone else. The Titans…they’re going to be out for you specifically, to stop the prophecy from coming true. I-I can’t—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Percy said, standing up. She stiffened in Percy’s arms, shocked at the contact he initiated, but it felt natural after a while, like she was destined to be in his arms. He finally shot up in height, and Annabeth had to tilt her head up to see above his chin, something she wished she could hate, but didn’t. “I’m not going to die,” he repeated.

She pushed away from him, wiping at her eyes. He didn’t know, he couldn’t see. “You don’t know that!” Annabeth practically shrieked.

He hadn’t heard the prophecy, but she had. Annabeth didn’t put much stock in it all those years ago, not knowing a single child of the big three, with Thalia still a tree, but when she finally got to know Percy, the words weighed heavily on her. For the six months when she wondered whether Thalia or Percy would be the hero of the prophecy, she could barely breathe, spending all her free time trying to figure out a way out of this.

It took everything in her to not shove Percy in the Lotus Casino for a week, so they could emerge from the war alive. Let Nico take the prophecy. Percy may hate her afterwards, as well as most campers and gods, but they’d be alive and together, which was all she wanted.

Annabeth knew she’d never get it, though. She was going to lose someone else, but instead of her brother, it was someone who held her heart in his hands, even if he didn’t know.

She took a breath and two steps backwards, away from the water. “Please, just think about it.”

“I don’t know,” Percy mumbled. “You know who Bruce is, and the insanity that comes with his extracurricular activities. He’ll try to get involved, or worse, he’ll hate me and kick me out of Gotham forever.”

She scoffed. “Get involved, obviously. You can’t change that. But whether you believe it or not, he’ll never stop loving you.” She wiped her eyes. “I have to go comfort six.” They’d lost Genevieve in the battle, a sister who was older than her, but hadn’t been at camp as long. It was rare that her siblings died, as they had war in their bones and could think their way out of any situation.

“Please, think on it,” she said again, turning her back and walking away, not looking back once.

Chapter Text

After the funerals, and Percy’s talk with Annabeth, Percy spent time debating whether or not he should listen to her advice.

Annabeth traveled back to San Francisco to see her mortal family before Percy’s birthday. It seemed she was taking her own advice, spending time with her family before the chaos of the next year. They’d usually celebrate at camp together, and by “celebrate” he meant that Annabeth would somehow procure a cupcake from somewhere and have him blow out a candle. 

This was the first time she wasn’t there, and Percy felt the rift between them growing larger. At the same time, Percy knew that she was scared for his future, for next year’s birthday, and whatever would happen with the prophecy. He wasn’t blind, but he didn’t know why Annabeth was certain that he’d be gravely injured or dead next year. In his heart, he knew, or maybe he hoped, that he’d be alright.

Percy didn’t need a large celebration, but he did convince Tyson to come up from the underwater forges and spend the day in New York. He hadn’t spent a lot of time in the city recently, his only experiences in New York were at camp, and he never really spent time doing cringey tourist activities.

It seemed like the perfect way to spend his day, and he loved Tyson, his brother always calming him by showing the joy in life.

For once, he was smiling, his bag of only blue M&Ms jiggling as he and Tyson feasted on them in the middle of Times Square. He laughed when he saw the Batman characters, debating whether he was willing to feed into their scam. It’d be a funny picture, for sure and he could hang it in the Batcave to taunt Bruce. 

(He definitely took a picture, handing the scammer a $100 bill for his troubles.)

In the New York Aquarium, Percy watched as Tyson got lost in the tunnel of fish, a wry smile as he debated whether Annabeth was correct, whether he could trust Bruce with his darkest secrets. He wished for honesty, knowing that it could solve so many issues, and with the hundreds of fish following him, he made a decision.

Percy thought that Annabeth was correct when he brought Tyson to the shoreline, where an older Cyclops was waiting, giving Percy a nod of respect, and for the entire drive back to Gotham, but once he returned to the manor, he realized she was wrong.

He wished he could’ve read the billboards in Times Square, as they surely would’ve mentioned something like this. But there were so many bright lights, and the fonts were nearly impossible for his dyslexia as words overlaid with each other.

The drive out of New York and into the cursed state of New Jersey was normal, but once he was on the border of the city, nearing the bridges that would take him to the island, he realized something was wrong. Percy was lucky that the manor was technically in Bristol, but he realized that something was wrong.

The manor was definitely still standing, but the patrol cars of the United States military made him question the sanctity of the city. Sometimes, he wished for the internet at camp, because even though something was always going on in Gotham, whatever was happening now seemed extreme.

Luckily, Percy managed to drive into the garage without getting stopped by any of the military people. He parked next to the rest of the cars, all still present in the garage, trying not to freak out over whatever was happening.

He dropped the keys on the rack, took the duffle bag out of the trunk, and made his way up the stairs to the manor, which was surprisingly empty. Percy checked the clock on the wall, noting the time as just after 7:00 p.m., before entering the kitchen. To his surprise, no one was there: not Bruce, being force fed by Alfred, not Alfred, trying to make Bruce eat before he headed down to the cave, and not Tim, who appeared half of the time before they went on a patrol. 

The house was completely empty, but Percy shrugged, walking up the stairs to take a quick shower, reinvigorating him. After he finished, he went down to the Batcave, taking the elevator in the office, and felt his heart nearly stop when he realized the destruction of the cave.

Rocks were piled around the cave, some corridors completely destroyed. The Batcomputer was fine, and Percy went there immediately, trying to figure out what was going on.

His heart stuttered when he read the headlines, wondering how he could have missed everything. His first order of business was to check the trackers of everyone: Tim was still in the city, as was Barbara and Steph. Bruce and Alfred were in another Wayne property, in D.C., which was odd in itself.

Percy called Rachel first, finding the cell phone that had been in his room for the past few months. He had a ridiculous number of notifications, from people he went to school with, from Dick, from Bruce, even though he obviously knew the phone was in the manor, and on the social media accounts he never used.

“Hey, I knew you’d be alive,” Rachel said, staring at the phone as she seemed to be in her room. Even so, Percy could hear loud noises outside on her end and furrowed his brow.

“Can I ask what in Hades’ name happened in the last two weeks?”

She grimaced. “Ah, a lot?” Rachel maneuvered to her bed, laying against the blue comforter, her red hair covered in paint. “Well, an earth shattering earthquake, and then the American government decided they didn’t care about us anymore. So we’re kinda living in a dystopian apocalyptic world right now. The rogues are all fighting for control and Batman’s MIA, probably because Bruce is god knows where.” She shrugged. “The usual. But what happened at camp?”

Percy blinked. “This is definitely not the usual, and Gotham has never been completely abandoned, and Batman usually has someone else helping him when he’s out of commission. And I can’t believe I’m going from one war to another just like that. What about you, are you safe?”

“Dad’s trying to figure out who he can bribe to get us out, and he’s really regretting this property in the heart of the city.”

Percy snorted. “Good luck with that. But I can probably help you figure something out, if you really need it. Maybe I can smuggle a pegasus for you.”

Rachel laughed, her red curls bouncing as she shook, before muttering a goodbye as the gunshots outside her apartment increased in volume. Percy barely managed to blink in shock as his screen went dark.

He called Bruce next, who answered with the phone with a quiet thank god. “Where have you been? And where are you now?”

“Er, New York, with my friends, now I’m at the manor, wondering what the Hades happened in the past few months?”

Bruce exhaled a breath. “I’m glad you’re safe. I’ll send Alfred to pick you up, and figure out a school for you in the area. Or maybe boarding school will be better with the traveling I’m going to do until I can fix this.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, “for worrying you and disappearing.”

“Dick disappeared just as often, but he usually brought a phone that I could use to track him.”

“Hm,” Percy hummed, and hung up the phone before Bruce could imply something else. He began packing another suitcase, this time full with other things rather than only life saving essentials. He wondered about the monster population in D.C., hoping that they’d leave him alone when he was surrounded by technology.

While maneuvering around the manor, Percy made the appropriate phone calls to Babs and Dick, ensuring them that he was alive and would be with Bruce soon.

***

After three hours of walking and waiting in the manor, making sure he was packed appropriately, Alfred finally showed up, the car parked in front of the manor, and the trunk perched open. Percy opened the front door of the manor, maneuvering his way outside with a backpack on his back, dragging two suitcases, one in each hand. Alfred attempted to help him, but Percy waved him off, intent on loading his luggage into the trunk on his own. The ride was silent as they drove out of New Jersey (thank the gods) and east through Metropolis and towards D.C. Percy didn’t have anything to say, his mind racing and distracted as he continued to catalogue every piece of information. His fingers drummed restlessly on the car door as he was unable to keep calm or still for a single moment.

Hours later, they arrived in the capital, traffic terrible as the car competed with the security of politicians and foreign dignitaries. Alfred pulled into an assigned parking spot in the lot of a large skyscraper, practically demanding that he help Percy with his bags. Seeing the stress on his face, Percy acquiesced, handing him the smaller of the two suitcases and following him to the elevator. Alfred took out a keycard, almost as fancy as the one that took gods to Olympus, and the elevator shot up to the top floor of the building.

The elevator led into a fancy foyer, the decor modern yet tasteful, which differed from the manor greatly, where the decor seemed as if it had been there for centuries. This place had floor to ceiling windows, clean lines, neutral pallets, and looked practically untouched. Alfred led Percy to his bedroom, on the second floor of the apartment, which was lightly decorated to his tastes: the walls were painted a pale blue, the color calming.

Unlike his room in the manor, there weren’t any posters on the walls, but Percy didn’t mind as he was unsure if D.C. could ever feel close to home like Gotham or New York.

He did, however, take out the sprout of moonlace that was planted in a pot resting inside his bag, begging for natural light: a reminder of the promises made and what he was fighting for.

Percy sat on his bed in the unfamiliar room, collapsing and falling asleep almost instantly, glad that, for once, his dreams were nonexistent.

The next day, Percy woke up early, walking towards the office where he expected Bruce to be. Bruce had given him a quick overview of the disaster that was Gotham City, and the reaction of the rest of the world and country. Bruce was still injured after the earthquake, unable to go out as Batman, and the city was being run by the criminals of the underbelly. Percy could tell it was killing him, staying outside of the city while rogues gained a foothold, but no one else could step in.

Babs was doing what she could from behind the scenes, and he’d heard that the Huntress was around during the quake, but who knows if she was still there now.

Percy didn’t know what Poseidon was doing that caused him to create an earthquake in Gotham that destroyed the entire city, and claimed the lives of hundreds of people, but it must’ve been terrible.

He would work on fixing the problems from outside the city, lobbying politicians to welcome the city back into the country. (Percy found it absolutely insane that they could disavow an entire city, but apparently so did Bruce.)

When he made it to the office, Bruce was sitting at his desktop, numerous documents opened on the screen. He turned when Percy opened the door, a small smile on his face. Percy’s eyes trailed down to the cast on his right leg, before moving up to gaze at every bruise on his face.

Bruce smiled, pulling out a manila folder, and gesturing for Percy to take a seat. He did as asked and Bruce cleared his throat. “While we’re here, I think George Washington Academy would be best for you. They have excellent programs for students with dyslexia that I’m sure will help you out, and top notch teachers.”

Percy hummed, nodding and taking the brochure. There were way too many smiling teens on the cover, all dressed in the same ridiculous black and navy uniform. Percy hoped it wouldn’t be for long, and that they’d be able to return to Gotham soon, but even he had to admit it seemed unlikely.

“Have you spoken to Tim?” Percy asked hesitantly, and Bruce looked pleasantly surprised, for a millisecond before he controlled the emotions on his face.

“Yes…” he said, quietly. “I’m surprised that you’re asking about him.”

“Just because we don’t get along doesn't mean I want him dead,” Percy scoffed.

Bruce was quiet for a moment, before, “I know you don’t.” His sigh was deep and internalized, and Percy could see the strain and stress in the wrinkles appearing on his face, and the bags under his eyes. Percy winced, internally, before muttering a quiet apology.

The world was definitely going to shit, and he felt guilty for aggravating Bruce anymore, with Gotham as it was.

Bruce’s face softened, and the next words were stilted. “You shouldn’t have to apologize for your feelings. I…am sorry as well.” Percy blinked, almost rapidly, as he stared into the man’s light blue eyes, only seeing the truth. An apology from Bruce was almost as rare as an apology from Zeus, and Percy was shocked.

“You’ll skip orientation,” he continued, like nothing had changed, “as it was two months ago, but I’m assured that the staff and welcoming community will be more than willing to help you out on the first day.”

Percy nodded, his fingers twiddling as he worried about the first day of school. He’d be in a brand new environment in less than a week, while still having to deal with everything going wrong in both the mortal world and the Greek world. To say he was stressed was an understatement. 

After a goodbye nod to Bruce, who accepted it with a smile before turning back to the computer, for whatever he was working on, Percy wandered around the penthouse in search of anything to pull him out of the puddle of stress and boredom. Alfred had brought him to D.C. late the past night, and he hadn’t had time to explore. He knew the place would not be as well equipped as the manor, but it was impractical to assume that any place Bruce owned wouldn’t have a gym or some secret batcave to practice his moves.

Percy felt extremely restless, and needed to channel his energy into something physical, which is how he ended up in some secret room behind a bookcase. Sometimes, he loved living with an obnoxiously rich person, because where else would he be able to pull a perfect copy of what he assumed was The Art of War—it was hard to tell with the ridiculous cursive font—and have the bookshelf pushed away and a secret room opened.

Behind it was a supercomputer and an assortment of weapons and sparring areas. Percy smiled to himself, heading to the rack and picking up a practice sword before getting to work.

Two hours later, his mind was almost clear, the worries disappearing from his mind. The dummy where Percy was practicing forms and attacks was shredded, and Percy had to wonder how many Bruce had managed to snag for this random D.C. property.

***

Dinner was a quiet event, Bruce and Percy eating in silence. Bruce was focused on his tablet and the thousand items on his to-do list, while elevating his leg on another chair. It was one of the only times Percy had ever seen him take care of his healing in a healthy way. He excused himself after he finished his plate, taking his tablet and hobbling over to the kitchen.

Percy enjoyed the solitude for a moment, before footsteps slapped him out of his thoughts.

“We did not have the chance to celebrate your birthday,” Alfred said, standing behind Bruce with a blue cake. 

Percy grimaced. “It feels wrong when Gotham is literally on fire.”

“Gotham is often a disaster, but you only turn 15 once,” Bruce said.

He sighed and managed a smile, blowing out the candle with little fanfare. Technically, he’d already celebrated in New York, but they seemed desperate for a little light in the otherwise bleak times. Honestly, Percy could relate.

Alfred left for a moment, coming back pushing a cart, and Percy was surprised to see a large tank with a few clownfish and firefish, all of whom were clambering at the edge of the tank, calling out to him in his mind.

“Whoa,” Percy said, rising from his seat and running to the tank, dipping his hand in and watching as all the fish nuzzled into his palm. He was bombarded with prayers and greetings from every fish, all five of them dying for attention, calling him the “little lord” as they did.

“We know you love the koi pond in Gotham, and we hope they keep you company until we can return,” Bruce said, and Percy was surprised that he had paid enough attention to him to notice his interests. He continued to smile, small and secretive, as Percy was entertained by the fish, sending them back little affirmations silently.

Bruce’s phone rang unexpectedly, and he left the room to answer the call from a New Jersey senator. Alfred disappeared for a moment, mentioning something about blue hot chocolate (Percy was excited) when he felt a sea breeze on the back of his neck. 

Percy’s hand flew to his pocket, and he stood from his seat, turning around to find a familiar looking man, god, in the dining room. His eyes widened and he dropped the grip around Riptide, exhaling quietly. He stared at his father, who looked older than usual as he entered, wearing what looked to be Atlantean armor instead of the floral patterned shirt he was often found in. His eyes—Percy’s eyes—were weary, like he’d aged another thousand years in the past few weeks.

The fish in the tank went crazy, more excited to see him than Percy, their voices and prayers getting even louder. In response, Poseidon conjured up some fish food, placing his hand underwater and letting the fish come to him. They seemed to be fighting for his attention.

Percy watched the interaction for a few moments before opening his mouth. In another life, Percy might’ve felt bad for the words that immediately came out of his mouth, but he was simply exhausted. “You destroyed my city with that earthquake.”

The resounding smile was small, and almost pained. “And here I thought you were from New York, son.”

Percy scowled. “I can have two cities,” he said petulantly, fighting the need to cross his arms in defiance. 

After a moment, Poseidon’s smile faded. “Are you alright, my boy?”

“Never better,” Percy said, sarcastically. He was sure his father could see right through it, the bone deep exhaustion seeping through him, the pain of the last month haunting his eyes.

“I do not believe that at all. You look haunted, but I have heard stories and would like to hear everything directly from you.”

Percy sighed and told him everything that happened over the summer, from his experiences in the labyrinth, to Ogygia, and ending with the tunnel collapsing on Luke. Poseidon listened to him speak with rapt intensity, not blinking or breaking eye contact once.

“You spoke with him, the Titan of Time in the labyrinth, correct?” his father asked.

“I think I called him a little bitch, and told him he had a small dick, but I don’t really remember all too well,” Percy said, frowning as he stared out the window. “It’s a bit of a blur.”

Poseidon startled, a laugh almost coming out, but it halted. “That’s a choice.”

Percy shrugged. “If he didn't want to be called a little bitch then he shouldn’t have acted like a little bitch.”

“Did he say anything else of interest, perhaps something that would give weight to his next moves?”

He shook his head. “There were a lot of vague threats, but nothing substantial.”

Poseidon nodded, his face frozen as he pondered Percy’s words, but the demigod couldn’t stand in the quiet, wondering about what could happen.

“What about Luke? If his body is mortal couldn’t we just kill him? Maybe drown him in a lake or something?”

“Perhaps,” Posiedon acquiesced. “But there is something different about him, something he did to prepare his body for the possession, though I cannot tell you what it was. Unfortunately, there are other problems that also have my attention.”

He remembered something Tyson had told him in the beginning of the summer. “The old sea gods?” he wondered.

Poseidon nodded. “The old sea gods are rising, and even the ocean is at war with itself. The earthquake was…a reaction, one I cannot regret with the responses underwater.”

“Let me help,” Percy insisted. “There’s nothing to do here after the earthquake destroyed Gotham.”

His eyes crinkled and he shook his head. “You’ll be needed soon, fighting your own battles, but that reminds me…” He brought out something round and smooth, pressing it into Percy's hand. “Your birthday present. Spend it wisely.”

Percy examined the sand dollar, furrowing his brows. “You’re giving me a dead sea creature?”

“More than that, it’s a currency. Back in my day, you could buy quite a lot with a sand dollar. It can still buy a lot, if used in the correct situation.”

Percy blinked. “There’s sand dollar inflation? Wait, what situation?”

“When the time comes, you’ll know.”

He closed his hand around the sand dollar, confused about the turn the conversation was taking. His mind drifted to the half brother he managed to kill in the maze, who claimed to be Poseidon’s favorite son. Percy wasn’t jealous (he wasn’t) but it definitely rubbed him the wrong way.

Somehow, Poseidon was able to realize the predicament, and assured Percy that he could not condone the thousands of skulls Antaeus sacrificed in his name.

“Know, that you are my favorite child,” he said, before disappearing in a sea breeze.

***

Percy called Rachel after Poseidon left, disappearing to his bedroom and laying on his bed to check on her. She was alive, thank the gods, but apparently Gotham was more of a disaster than the last time they spoke.

He blamed Poseidon. It was definitely because of the ongoing war, so theoretically, Percy should be blaming Kronos. But he didn’t, because he had daddy issues the size of Wayne Manor.

“There’s like a power vacuum with Batman gone and no one to keep all the different groups in check.” Rachel shrugged, like there was nothing wrong, but Percy could clearly hear the gunshots in the background, the screams of those without anyone to fight for you.

“Dude, that is literally terrifying. I know Bruce is working on it, but it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.”

“Give it time, it’s only been like two weeks.”

“How are you so calm?” Percy demanded, staring at her serene face through the call. “It doesn’t seem like it can get any worse.”

“Well,” she said, laying down in her bed, “a bunch of humans in weird costumes is somehow not as scary as the Titan of Time, and I managed to knock him out with a hairbrush.”

Percy snickered, the image of Luke’s face with Kronos’s golden eyes absolutely shocked at the blue flying projectile hitting him in the face, before the entire cave collapsed. The good mood only lasted for a few seconds, however, and Percy was reminded of the lives lost and the upcoming battles that were sure to cause even more death and destruction.

“Didn’t mean to bring down the mood,” she said, her words hushed. “But don’t worry about me, when you clearly have your own problems. Gotham will be fixed soon.”

“I hope you’re right. I feel guilty.”

“Well you didn’t cause the earthquake.”

His left eye twitched. “No, it was my dad.”

“Well, shit.”

“Yeah…”

It was quiet for a moment, settling into the discomfort.

“Still, it’s not your fault. You can’t blame yourself for your dad’s actions,” she said, solemnly.

“I could say the same thing about you,” Percy added.

Her eyes looked larger than life in the moment, and Percy was reminded of their conversation with Pan, of the last words the god said before fading, and he wondered if Rachel could ever believe them.

Percy, two days later and still thinking about his conversation with Rachel, called Garth curious about the underwater war. If Poseidon managed to create an earthquake that devastated Gotham during a battle, he wanted to know what was happening underwater.  He was technically on the front lines even if he preferred research and nonviolence.

“The Titan army and their monsters have gained a foothold down here, my prince,” he said in an Iris Message, in a brief moment of respite. “I’m sure his holiness didn’t mean to destroy Gotham as he retaliated, but it was a terrible blow to our armies.”

Garth was…stressed to say the least. Despite his time with the Titans (superheroes rather than gods) he still preferred research over combat. The Atlantean seemed apologetic and embarrassed on the call, but Percy tried to reassure him that he had nothing to feel guilty about.

“My father’s insistence on mass destruction is not your responsibility,” Percy insisted.

Garth huffed a breath, looking to respond before there was a loud crash behind him. He looked panicked, his head swiveling quickly to the right, and Percy could see a bit of dust blooming in the water. “Apologies, my prince, but I have to leave.”

Percy wrinkled his nose at the title, but Garth was already bidding his goodbyes and waving a hand through the message. He collapsed on his bed, trying to keep his mind from running through every disastrous thing that could go wrong during this war. (It wasn’t working.)

***

Percy was bored out of his mind.

School started, that was true, but there was nothing to do. He went to class, returned to the manor, and trained for whatever would happen on his birthday. Percy kept in close contact with camp: Clarisse specifically, and Percy was surprised that the two of them managed to get along for as long as they did. It seemed that war brought people together.

Everyone who lived in Washington D.C. and the surrounding areas were so godsdam normal. He’d become so used to the insanity that was Gotham, and his classmates looked at him like he was either insane or like an exhibit. To some point, he could understand, with his surprise at how unprepared everyone seemed for something to go wrong. When there was a threat to the school, Percy was somehow the only one who acted, and he was even more surprised when it turned out to be a hoax.

Gotham didn’t have hoaxes. Someone always wanted to kill someone else, and it was sure to happen.

Most people he went to school with were the children of smaller politicians who spent their time in D.C. year round. They were still elite, but a different kind than the richest people who lived in Washington, many of whom sent their kids to boarding schools, often overseas.

At the very least, Percy had access to a shoreline that wasn’t overly polluted with the runoff from fear gas, joker toxin, and whatever else the rogues put in the harbor. Still, it wasn’t as clean as it could be, and the few remaining naiads and dryads were proof of that.

More so than ever, he found himself worrying about Gotham, and the people left behind. Rachel was fighting for her life, well not physically probably, but still. 

He made a decision, probably a stupid one, during his weekly Iris Message with Clarisse, when they spoke logistics and Pollux, the counselor for Cabin 12, burst in with a look of distraught on his face.

“I haven’t heard from Bernard in two weeks,” he said, breathlessly. “He left before the end of camp after…” Pollux gulped and shook himself, and Percy was reminded of the battle at camp, and the death of his twin. “He went back to Gotham and he’s been MIA, and I can’t lose another—” He sniffed, once, while eyes glancing between Clarisse and Percy.

Clarisse surprisingly looked heartbroken, her brown eyes crestfallen. “There aren’t enough people to spare for a trip to Gotham when the Titan forces have been spotted near Boston. We have to prioritize that.”

His face scrunched up. “I’m not allowed to leave camp right now, and someone has to find him. What if he’s been taken by the Titan’s forces?”

Percy winced, before saying. “I don't think that's what happened.”

Both pairs of eyes turned to him, gesturing for him to share what he knew and Percy took a deep breath before continuing. “Gotham is a dead zone right now. No one in and no one out, and the government cut them off. You probably can’t get anything through because of that.”

“Why do you know so much about Gotham?” Pollux asked, and Percy was reminded that only Annabeth and Grover (and maybe some kids in the Aphrodite cabin who’ve stared at pictures of Bruce Wayne and his kids in magazines) were aware of his connection to Gotham. He’s worked hard to keep that part of his life a secret. Clarisse might suspect, because of their quest to the Sea of Monsters, but they’d never spoken about it again.

He tried for nonchalant, “My friend lives in Gotham, and she’s been giving me updates.”

“Oh,” Pollux said, deflating.

Percy sighed, debating internally, before saying, “Let me see what I can do. I have a few contacts.”

“Thanks, Percy,” he said, sounding choked up. “I just… I can’t lose anyone else.”

I know the feeling.

***

“Hello second favorite immortal cousin,” Percy said when the Iris message connected.

Diana jumped from where she was looking over the art piece. As Percy was the only one who ever IM-ed her, she was not used to random messages from demigods at inopportune times. Percy snickered as she pressed her hand against her chest, attempting to calm her breathing.

After a moment, she managed to calm herself, taking a seat and facing the Iris Message. “Tell me, Percy, who is your favorite immortal cousin?”

“Thalia, who joined the hunters last solstice. But don’t worry, you’re above every other immortal cousin, and there are a lot.” He smiled.

“What can I do for you?” she asked with a sigh. “Is everything alright in Gotham?” Diana cringed immediately as she said it, realizing her mistake.

“Well, no, obviously,” Percy said, rubbing his forehead. “Speaking of Gotham, I need a sword—a mortal sword if you have a spare.”

Her face went through a thousand different emotions. “Why?”

“Gotham’s a disaster, and Bruce is focused on politics,” Percy explained. “Like I can’t blame him for it, but someone has to be Gotham’s protector in the meantime.”

“I was under the impression that you’d retired from vigilante work,” Diana said.

Percy shrugged. “Maybe I would’ve, but the city needs someone. Gods, I think I sound like Bruce.” He shivered.

Diana cracked a smile, small but meaningful. “It seems he has passed on the best parts of him to you.” She took a breath and continued, “But still, I’m not sure if going into the cesspool alone is a wise decision…”

“Diana, I literally just fought a battle where we were certain to die. I think I can handle a few measly mortals.”

She blinked, rapidly, her posture stiff all of a sudden. “Battle? What battle?”

Percy squinted, staring at her face full of confusion. “Kronos’s army invading camp. You know the usual. Unfortunately, we lost a lot of lives in our defense.” He sighed. “That’s part of the reason I have to get to Gotham. Your brother only has two sons alive, and I can’t let Pollux lose another brother.”

“I am sorry, I had no idea.”  She looked uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. “I wish that I could’ve…” Diana trailed off, unsure of what to say.

He tried to let go of the anger that was blossoming, taking a deep breath. “What’s done is done, but that doesn’t change the fact that I need to get into Gotham, and with the chaos of everything, I need a weapon I’m more than proficient in, one that will actually work on mortals and isn’t concealed by the Mist.”

She sighed, recognizing the change of subject for what it was. “Very well, but—”

“And you can’t tell Bruce,” Percy interrupted. She looked like she was on the verge of arguing, but Percy was one step ahead of her, holding up his hands in defense. “I can’t tell him that I’m going to Gotham to rescue a wayward demigod stranded, can I?”

She thought about it, then said, “I mean, you could…” Diana hesitated then continued, “If I understand correctly, you are not bound by the same bounds as I am,” Percy rolled his eyes at her statement, “It could do you some good.”

Percy huffed, “You sound just like Annabeth.” He ignored her inquisitive look, and the way she mouthed Annabeth’s name in confusion, “Maybe, if Gotham wasn’t on fire, but there are other things he’s busy with now.”

Diana nodded, understanding. “I shall pursue one for you. I wish you the best.”

A week later, when Bruce was meeting with the former congressman of Gotham—one couldn’t still be a representative when Gotham wasn’t part of the country anymore—Diana met him in a coffee shop a few blocks from the apartment building.

After he ordered a blueberry matcha, the only blue drink they served—gods, D.C. was bland with too many politicians—and Diana ordered her tea, she slid him the sword.

“Are you sure this is what you wish?” Diana asked. “Eris is ripe in the city, using the earthquake to further her agenda.” Percy thought back to the myths he had read about Eris, the only one he remembered was the way she essentially started the Trojan War.

Yikes.

Percy sighed. “Yeah, I need this.”

“Very well,” she said, gesturing to the blade, and Percy took the time to observe the handiwork. The handle was ostentatiously ornate an image of Ares carved into the handle. Percy raised his brows at Diana when he saw the artwork, as she would know of their legendary beef.

She shrugged. “I find that this one would be the best suited for you, based on its weight and balance. Its history is painful, however, a gift from Lord Ares to Otrera, the first queen of the Amazons, who was killed, ironically enough, by a son of Lord Poseidon.” She gazed down at the blade. “It was supposed to be passed down but was stolen and unfortunately lost for many years, stolen by Bellerophon, until I managed to find it in the last century.”

Percy stared at the sword, gently unsheathing it on the patio after looking around, to make sure no mortals were staring too intensely. D.C. wasn’t like Gotham, where people carried blades and weapons openly. The metal had a quiet shine, nothing as bright as celestial bronze, but it didn’t have the look of steel.

“Are you sure it’s alright for me wield this?” he asked, “considering the history.”

Diana smiled. “Yes, I think it’s meant for you.”

Percy nodded, stiffly. “Thank you, Diana.”

***

Percy stood on the roof of the building, looking around D.C. The city was a lot different from New York and Gotham, especially with so many “important people” around. Secret service, security, and federal agents were everywhere, and it was dangerous to look suspicious on rooftops.

He whistled once, then again, waiting for a shift in the wind, hoping he could be heard from hundreds of miles away. But Blackjack was a mythical creature, able to fly further and quicker than a plane when called by a son of the sea.

The pegasus landed on the roof, right in front of Percy, out of breath but excitable. Boss, this place has so many weird buildings, it’s crazy. Did you bring me donuts?

Percy smiled, taking out the bag of powdered donuts he’d gotten from a place in South East D.C. Most of his classmates were too scared to journey down there, but he’d learned there were a lot of great food spots that he enjoyed.

“In a few hours, I need to fly to Gotham for a bit,” Percy said once Blackjack had already munched on a few donuts.

The pegasus froze. Why do you want to go there? Pollution and there aren’t any hot mares to chat up.

Percy rolled his eyes. “Life isn’t only about mares, Blackjack. And I need to find a friend and stop some crime.”

Blackjack huffed, annoyed. We better get some good fucking donuts there.

Percy laughed. “Obviously.”

Gotham was dangerous, that much was clear, but it was a lot worse than normal. He knew it would happen, but the sheer number of gunshots and screams he heard still shocked him. After flying from D.C. to New Jersey, Percy stopped in the manor first, heading into the cave through the river to find a domino mask. He refused to put on any vigilante costume or suit, as he always fought best when he could easily move around. Besides, if this became a regular thing, and he expected that it would, he didn’t want an identity tied to some suit. It would be better to be an anonymous do-gooder. The dark colored cargo pants and non-descript hoodie would be enough for now.

He dropped Blackjack in the stables on the manor grounds, explaining it would be safer for him there than in the city. The pegasus didn’t argue for once, content to play in the hay. He wished there were some animals Blackjack could interact with, maybe one day.

Once he left the cave, domino on his face, sword from Diana sheathed on his hip, and a few batarangs and grapple gun attached to the utility belt he’d picked up, he took a bike into the city, heading for the address Pollux had told him to check. Percy had three objectives for his trip into Gotham: find Bernard, check on Rachel, and stop any crimes that seemed insane.

One of his goals was not like the others.

Percy wasn’t the most confident motorcycle rider, but something was in his blood that night, and he sped through the tunnels to the city, ready for whatever was waiting for him. 

What shocked him most was when he emerged in the center of the city was the upside down umbrella logo everywhere, marking the territory of the Penguin. He sighed, rolling his eyes and parking the bike down an alley, arming it with the electric alarm system, hoping no one would dare touch it, or they’d learn their lesson real quick.

Quietly and in the shadows of the night, Percy took out the grapple, the hook reaching the top of the building, and propelled himself to the rooftop. He squatted, careful to remain unseen, and  looked out over the city, hearing the maniacal laughs of the Joker, the explosions by gods know which gang, gunshots and screams and cries from helpless people everywhere.

Percy couldn’t focus on it, instead intent on finding the quickest way to Bernard’s home. He jumped across rooftops, avoiding the light, and ignoring the chaos of the city. He’d have time later to help in whatever way he could, but the demigod was the first priority. 

Eventually, he saw the building where Bernard lived, two rooftops away: the six-story brick building was slightly damaged and covered in graffiti, balconies on every floor were void of furniture. He jumped to the top of the building, quietly on nimble feet, remembering that Bernard lived on the fourth floor, seventh apartment from the right. Percy scaled down the side of the brick building, as slowly as he could move, before landing on the balcony. The lights were off, and there was slight movement, but Percy was prepared in case anything were to jump out at him. The door slid open slowly, and a head poked out, ready to fight if necessary. 

He came face to face with the familiar blond, who was wearing a headset that looked like it was for gaming. Bernard arched a brow, “I’m sorry, who are you? Is there a new vigilante running around?” He ripped off his headset, still frowning. “Am I being recruited, because I am not in the mood.”

Percy gingerly ripped off his domino, facing the other demigod, whose eyes widened as he took a step back. Bernard let him into the living room without arguments or complaints. “Percy? Why are you dressed like a knockoff vigilante? And why are you on my balcony?”

He stared at Bernard and his nonchalant expression. “Have you just been gaming when Gotham’s a dumpster fire?”

He shrugged. “What else am I supposed to do? No school, can’t get out of the city.” He paused, placing the headset on a kitchen island and staring at Percy. “How’d you get in? Unless you were already here?”

Percy nodded, “Fair point.” He placed his mask on the island and looked around the apartment, noticing that Bernard seemed to be alone, before watching him closely. “Your brother sent me, kinda, because he was worried. I can get you back to camp.”

“Why?”

Percy groaned. “What do you mean why? Because Gotham isn’t safe. Because your brother and father miss you and would be absolutely heartbroken if something were to happen that was outside of their control. I can think of a thousand reasons!”

He stared, eyes narrowing, before asking, “How are we getting out?”

Percy smiled, winning the battle. “I have a bike, and then a pegasus. Can you be ready in an hour and a half?”

Bernard nodded, almost reluctantly. 

“Alright, I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

“You’re not my only stop for the evening. Don’t worry, I’ll be back.” And with that, and a quick wink for good measure, Percy reattached his domino and exited to the building, climbing to the roof for his next stop of the evening.

Rachel lived a great distance from Bernard, but Percy didn’t want to ride there and draw attention to himself. He decided on the rooftops again, his demigod status allowing him to run further distances without tiring out. His ADHD was on alert as he saw the insanity that was the city. 

He closed his eyes, keeping an ear out for any cries for help in the city—he didn’t expect many with the Bat missing and a lack of vigilantes to be on the lookout for. Everything was almost too much for his enhanced senses, but a few blocks away, Percy heard something. Gunshots, screams, and pleas, not to anyone but the perpetrator. He was moving before he knew it: darting across the rooftops and perching on the edge, eyes peeled for what he heard.

There was a teen girl, someone who couldn’t have been any older than 18, pinned against a brick building, her body hiding a boy who was even younger from the men holding her. A huge bulky guy, dressed in all black pointed a handgun at her temple, with two others egging him on from the other side of the alley.

Percy felt his blood boil, and was ready to jump down, when another figure got there first, a cowl covering their face. He was nervous at first, hoping this was not another person intent on hurting others, but quickly realized they were on the same side, as the figure worked to incapacitate the people in the back.

Percy dropped down, knocking the gun out of the way in one swoop, delivering a kick to the man as he fell to the dirty ground. The attacker slowly rose to his feet, getting into an offensive stance ready to fight. He smiled, his blood singing as he readied himself as well.

He was cursed out, but as soon as Percy reached for the mortal sword strapped to his hip, he backed off, turning to run down the alley. He didn’t have the chance to get away, as the person dressed in what he now recognized as a Batgirl costume, ran after him, throwing a net to halt their retreat. The unconscious man was thrown unceremoniously on top of the other two.

Percy turned to the two victims, the girl’s eyes rimmed red as she shook out of her stupor.

“Can I walk you home?” Percy said, using his victim voice, attempting to calm them down, but he wasn’t sure if it was working, as she seemed frozen. Percy was unwilling to tap her shoulder, to touch her, but the boy behind her, who stuck out with his light blond hair, slowly massaged her hand.

“Hm?” she asked, finally turning to look at Percy, directly at his domino.

“Can I make sure you get home safely?” he asked again.

She nodded, and took him on a poorly lit walk a few blocks away, entering the apartment building with a quiet “thanks” and not looking back. The little boy waved as he went into the building, and Percy waved back gingerly.

He felt the girl in the mask behind him as he turned from the building. She had dropped down from a second floor balcony where she had been perched. He stared at the girl in the mask, who was certainly not Babs, despite wearing her Batgirl costume. Percy gestured up, knowing the conversation would be better on rooftops. He took out his grapple, aiming for the top of the building, and letting himself be carried up. The woman followed, silently, landing next to him on  the roof as Percy looked over the city.

“Who are you?” she eventually asked, and Percy turned to face her. 

He recognized the voice, but she was usually the huntress. “We’ve met, but it doesn’t matter.”

She leveraged a crossbow and pointed it, ready to make a thread, before she froze suddenly, eyes glazing over as she was focused on something else. The vigilante pulled out an earpiece and handed it over to Percy. “It’s for you.”

He groaned, putting it in his ear, once he realized who was on the other end. 

“Long time no see, Oracle,” Percy said, with a smile on his face. He could feel Huntress, no Batgirl, or whatever she wanted to be called, staring at him inquisitively, and wondered whether she had a camera in her cowl that Oracle was using to spy on the situation.

“Fledgling,” Babs said into the microphone, deadpan. 

“Not my name,” Percy responded, automatically. 

“Whatever you want to be called,” she sighed, “I don’t think you’re supposed to be here.”

Percy could hear her disappointment over the line, but shrugged, attempting to be nonchalant. “A favor to a friend. I’m smuggling someone out.” He neglected to mention his plans to come back again if necessary. “Don’t tell B, or Nightwing, please.”

He could practically hear her rolling her eyes over the coms. “It’s not safe without backup. Gotham’s not what you’re used to.”

“In and out, under two hours,” Percy pleaded. “You won’t even notice me.”

There was silence on the line, and then. “I’ll be watching you.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything different.” Percy picked the piece out of his ear and handed it back to Huntress. “Thanks for the assist,” he said, smiling. 

She took the piece and placed it back in her ear. “Will I expect you back?”

He winked and shrugged, deigning to not answer before diving off the building, ignoring the thundering in his heart as he shot out at the last moment. 

Percy made his way to the center of the city, stopping whatever small crimes he could see on the journey. There was clearly a lot of nefarious activity going on, but Percy could come back later with a larger game plan to slow the poison that was seeping into the city.

“I’m looking for a psychic redhead,” Percy said, with a smile on his face. He dodged a flying projectile with ease, but landed on the ground. Percy stared at the hairbrush that fell next to him, ripping his domino off to look back at Rachel shocked. 

“Is that your only weapon? How were you expecting to survive Gotham?”

“Percy? Why are you in my house? And if it works against gods, it works against mortals.”

He scrunched his nose. “I’ll get you something, because that’s crazy.”

She folded her arms over her chest, and frowned, looking one second away from tapping her foot. Her red hair was pinned up and there was a spot of yellow paint on her nose, as well as stains on her white sweater. “Why are you here?”

Percy shrugged. “Thought I’d smuggle you out of the city. Maybe in a week?”

“Nope.”

“Great so—what do you mean no?”

She blinked. “I’m not leaving.”

“Don’t make me ask your dad.”

Rachel’s nose twitched in annoyance, but Percy continued on. “You may not survive Gotham. You know it's true, I know it’s true. It would be better for you to be back in New York with your mom.”

“What about my dad?”

Percy shrugged. “Do you really want him to come with you?”

“I mean, I don’t want him dead!” she exclaimed.

“Huh,” Percy said, staring at her inquisitively. “Sometimes I forget you’re mortal.”

Rachel blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Percy laughed, mostly to himself. “I just think we have a skewed sense or morals, sometimes. I think I get it from my dad.”

“Ah, your father, who tormented a man for ten years after he blinded his least favorite son.”

Percy winced, “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds bad.”

Rachel stared at him, deadpanned. “It definitely was bad. But I can’t leave my father here to suffer, no matter how much he deserves it.”

Percy sighed, taking a seat in an armchair. “I’d have to get you out on a pegasus, so I can’t take him,” he said apologetically. “But wouldn’t he want you safe, even if you don’t think so.”

She shrugged. “I’ll call you.”

Percy took that as a dismissal, standing up and walking back towards the balcony. “Don’t be a stranger. And if you need help, I’ll be there for you.” He took out the grapple and nodded to her, before making another dive. He heard the gasp, smiling to himself as he made his way back to Bernard’s place.

Percy decided to fly Bernard back to camp, rather than take a car from the manor and drive him. After checking up on Rachel and stopping an assault (or four) he headed back to the manor through the tunnels below Gotham, parking the bike, then mounting Blackjack to fly to Gotham once more.

Bernard packed light: a single duffle bag that was full, but not with anything too heavy, a perfect amount for Blackjack to carry no matter how much the pegasus complained the entire way. Once they were out of the city, Percy ripped the domino off, letting his face breathe, feeling the wind coursing through his hair. He was sure that there wouldn’t be anyone awake at camp, but Percy didn’t want to take any chances.

He flew Bernard to camp, mostly silently, as it was difficult to hear over the strong currents of wind blowing hard. Once he dropped them off and arrived at camp, he watched as Pollux ran to engulf Bernard in a tight hug, and Percy stood off to the side to give them privacy. Mr. D nodded at him once, the most respect that Percy had ever gotten from the god before.

Before Bernard could be pulled back to his cabin, Percy gestured for a private conversation. Bernard followed with a nod, pushing his glasses back onto his nose from where they had fallen. “Can you not tell anyone that—”

“That you showed up to my apartment in a mask that looked very similar to how Batman dresses his Robins,” Bernard finished without a pause.

Percy blinked. “Well, yes.”

He winked. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. But, if Gotham ever gets better, I’m going to blog about this when I get back.” He turned his back on Percy, walking away, arm in arm with Pollux.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Percy called after him, but Bernard didn’t turn back.

***

Percy Jackson wasn’t bored anymore. 

Well, he couldn’t be, when every weekend he was either traveling to Gotham or with Clarisse and Malcolm to put dents into the Titan forces. That wasn’t even taking into consideration Nico’s constant harassment to take a dip in the River Styx. (You save a guy’s life once and all of a sudden he’s so insistent he repay you and save yours back, Percy didn’t understand it.)

While Percy Jackson was no longer bored, he was running himself ragged. Bruce was absent often, focusing on getting Gotham reinstated, which left Percy with Alfred, who for some reason, either believed Percy’s lies about extra curricular activities and study sessions (unlikely) or was fine with him disappearing every weekend, and returning a little worse for wear. Dick sometimes came by, but it was rare, especially with his own stress about Gotham, Blüdhaven, and Barbara in that order. 

The small skirmishes to halt Kronos from advancing and gaining more allies were going as well as possible, even with their army that was half the size of those that Kronos had accumulated. Luckily, monsters were a lot dumber than demigods, for the most part, and focused on food rather than the big plan. It was never easy when they had to face demigod traitors, however.

What was easy was Percy’s trips back to Gotham, even when Blackjack consistently complained about the pollution, air quality, and lack of donuts when he was forced to stay either in the manor’s stables or on Rachel’s rooftop.

He never felt any guilt about any goons he beat up, about reclaiming territory from different gangs and giving it back to the citizens who were struggling the most.

Percy focused on crime alley, in honor of Jason—if he were here, he’d want his neighborhood as safe as it could be while chaos roamed around. They’d begun touting him as their hero, and while Percy didn’t want special treatment, he was glad people didn’t run from him, especially when he didn’t have any bat emblems on his clothes.

But no matter how often he made it back to Gotham, no matter how often he could destroy a criminal syndicate and ruin their supplies, more continued to pop up. It was a lot like fighting a hydra, except there was nothing to blow up. For Gotham to change, they really needed to be reinstated into the government, but based on Bruce’s frustrations, it was a slow process.

On his third trip into Gotham, he was summoned to the clock tower by the Bat, as in Helena Bertinelli not Bruce. He should’ve known that Babs would not let him continue his streak without interference.

Percy prepared himself for the verbal beatdown from Babs, the scolding and the subsequent report to either Bruce or Dick. He was shocked by how fancy and high-tech the clock tower was, the space covered in screens and large windows, which would let in natural light if they weren’t in Gotham. (Sometimes Percy wondered why they even had windows in this gloomy city.)

She turned in her chair, almost menacingly, when Percy’s footsteps could be heard. “I don’t care that you’re obviously disobeying Bats and Wing,” she said.

Percy raised a brow, which surely could not be seen behind the domino, “You don’t care?”

Babs shook her head. “No. But there’s something more important going on right now.” She turned around and began typing, pulling up a few files with lots of letters that were too complicated for Percy to read with the font and the screen brightness. “Assassin reports in Gotham. A hit was taken out against Commissioner Gordon, and the chatter says they’re going to hit tonight. Bat’s going to be out there, but I need you there too.”

“Commissioner Gord—are you okay?” Percy asked.

She waved him off, but Percy could see her hand shaking slightly. “Please, do this for me, and for the city.”

“Obviously I will, O,” Percy said, with a mock salute, taking the comm link she threw at him before diving out of the window.

So he lied to Babs about not returning to the city while they were in this predicament, but she didn’t seem to mind, especially when Gothamites were fighting for their lives, and they had more important things to work on. Like the assassin that was after her father, for instance. How assassins even managed to get into Gotham, Percy had no idea.

Percy was stationed a few rooftops away from the Gotham PD building, which was barely standing after the rogue attacks from the past few months. Without Batman, they were less equipped to handle every rogue and gang member who wanted to gain a foothold in the city.

He watched the sniper who was ready to shoot, poised a few rooftops away. Percy was unaware if they could see him, but Percy was not going to let anyone assassinate Barbara’s father. Percy moved, quickly, not to incapacitate the assassin, but to get the commissioner to safety, in case there was a contingency plan from the hired killers.

There was a girl, completely silent, who walked behind him on the rooftops. Percy wouldn’t have noticed her, especially the way the shadows seemed to cling to her as she moved, if he wasn’t so in tuned with his senses, and the changes of moisture in the air whenever he wasn’t alone.

So he led her, towards a rooftop near the harbor, where the crime families were still working hard, but Percy had an advantage with the endless bounds of water. He stopped, abruptly, his breathing nearly silent, as he sounded out in clear concise syllables. “I know you’re there.”

Footsteps were still silent as she rushed onto him, but Percy sidestepped, hoping she’d fall. It was a fool's errand, clearly, because she easily caught herself before continuing again.

Percy drew his sword and the two were dancing on the rooftops, moving from a waltz to a tango as they engaged with each other. He lunged and she jumped back, then vice versa, but Percy’s blood was singing. It had been ages since Percy was in a real fight, honestly since the battle at camp, and he felt like an adrenaline junkie at that moment.

The figure grabbed a metal pipe that was sitting on the rooftop, using it to try and bat his sword away. She didn’t seem to carry any long range weapons (as expected by most rogues) instead relying on her body as the only thing needed to make the kills. She was definitely more precise in martial arts, but Percy had demigod advantages and strengths, as well as unpredictability, giving him an upper hand.

“Who are you and why are you fighting me?” Percy asked, when he had her pinned, but she moved immeasurably, a pipe bashing his sword away and she disappeared behind him. 

She said nothing, continuing her assault. Percy wasn’t sure what her goal was, but the fight should’ve been over. They were both avoiding going for the kill when everything clicked. 

“This is a distraction, isn’t it?” 

She said nothing, but jabbed forward with the pipe. Percy sidestepped the attack, and left her behind, running back to where he was before she began the attack. Commissioner Gordon was on the roof of the GCPD and Percy barely managed to move him out of the way of an incoming bullet. 

The assault didn’t stop there, as the same girl went in for a kill, but hesitated. 

Percy could use that. He yelled for the commissioner to get off the roof, still staring at the girl who looked horrified. Before she could flee, Percy tripped her, causing her to fall to her knees, and Percy used the momentum to pin her in place.

She stopped struggling.

It was a trek to get her back to the roof of the clocktower. She didn’t seem to mind or fight him, but she also didn’t say a single word as he grappled across Gotham.

Bertinelli was waiting inside the tower, mask obstructing her face, but Percy could see the outlines of a small frown on her lips. She was standing tall and obstructing, attempting to intimidate the girl that Percy brought back. (It wasn’t working.)

He watched her try (and fail) to interrogate the figure in all black, but no matter what Helena said, the newcomer was silent. Percy listened to Babs feed them information through their comms, and still the figure had no reaction.

She looked up, briefly, with the mention of David Cain and Lady Shiva, the two assassins who went after Gordon, but still said nothing. Her face was obstructed, Percy and Bertinelli unsure if her mask was similar to theirs, dangerous to rip off if you didn’t have the specific codes, and she wasn’t willing to take it off. Still, Percy could read the body language, no matter if she tried to hide it. She knew the two assassins, more than as coworkers, but as something deeper.

Percy had an idea, waiting for Helena to finish her statement before asking, “Do you know what we’re saying?”

She nodded, but said nothing. 

“Can you speak?”

She shook her head. 

“Ah.”

She tilted her head at Percy, staring at him curiously, and Percy did the same, studying her. The two sized each other up, and Percy recognized someone in her, but he wasn’t sure who—maybe it was himself, or who he wanted to be.

With some trust and understanding, her mask came off, her delicate fingers looping through the different hooks and latches, and Percy was face to face with someone who couldn’t be older than 18, and Percy’s heart immediately dropped. She had east Asian origins and bloodshot eyes as she took in her surroundings. Other than her eyes, which was extremely expressive even while she tried to control her facial features, she was stiff, exuding absolutely nothing.

Percy had a feeling, as he stared at her, that this moment would change her. Maybe Percy saw himself in the mystery girl, or maybe he only saw what he wanted to see. Either way, they shook hands, Percy smiling silently, and taking his own mask off, ignoring the protests from Helena and Babs in his ear.

He recognized the look in her eyes, seeing it in the looks of the campers, of Ethan Nakamura, of Luke years ago, and Percy made a decision.

***

The months passed quickly when Percy spent his weekends out of D.C. Half of the time, he was up and down the entire east coast, either flying on Blackjack—who was constantly working out even with all the donuts Percy fed him—or in a camp van. The other half, he was in Gotham, working with Huntress (she had gone back to her old name, giving up on the bat symbol), Babs, and Cassandra Cain, their newcomer. Gotham was still a disaster, a shit show, but the group was making as much progress as possible in reclaiming different zones.

Cass was an interesting addition to their crime fighting team. (Percy wondered if it was crime fighting if there were technically no laws in the city, and he felt his mind often wander to those thoughts during their weekly briefings in the clocktower.) She was the definition of silent but deadly, but she cared just as much, if not more, for the citizens of Gotham, and the new little friend group they had created. 

When they weren’t doing vigilante work, they tried to teach Cass how to speak. It was a slowgoing effort, especially for Percy, as someone who was fifteen and easily distracted. Sign seemed to be the first step, as ASL relied on very literal symbols, which closely aligned to how she could already communicate and understand the world.

Percy, for once, thanked the gods for Quinn at camp, who lost her hearing during a monster attack when Thalia’s tree was poisoned, and couldn’t be healed with ambrosia or nectar, which prompted everyone to learn ASL as soon as they could. 

With all of his side quests, the holidays flew past them, and Percy celebrated the New Year in Bristol, which Rachel, who still refused to leave the city, no matter how much he begged and tried to bribe.

They sat on the roof of the Wayne Manor, looking over into Gotham. Even though Rachel wouldn’t leave the city for good, she allowed Percy to bring her to the manor, every once in a while for a getaway, claiming it was “Gotham-coded”.

Percy was grateful that the manor was built in Bristol, on the mainland, and could still be easily accessed. Technically an unincorporated area, it was still connected to the rest of the United States, while Gotham was fighting for its life. He tried not to feel angry at the privilege of those who lived in the wealthiest outskirts of the city, but it was impossible. Everyday, the United States government proved to be a disaster.

“Are you absolutely sure—” he started, watching the fireworks in the city, that proved anything but a celebration, maybe a celebration of violence and destruction if anything.

“You should really stop asking me that,” she said, interrupting him, and Percy groaned, laying his back on the flat roof.

“So, what’s your dad doing about everything?” Percy asked Rachel.

She laughed. “He’s absolutely miserable stuck in the city, debating using all of his favors to charter a helicopter out of here. He’s too outsider for the true powerhouses to do any business with, which is honestly a good thing. I can’t imagine what would happen if he got in business with the Falcones.” She shivered.

“Do you really think he would turn to really illegal shit? Not just like rich people white collar crime, but get involved with mobs and gangsters?”

Rachel shrugged. “I guess we’ll never know, which is a good thing.” It was quiet for a moment, the distant sounds of fireworks and screams, before she asked, “What about you?”

“What about me?” Percy responded.

“You’ve been checking up on me, and doing good in the city, but not with a name. They’re calling you Zorro, you know?”

Percy snorted. He had heard this, and he always brushed Gothamites off when they gave him a nickname. “I don’t know why. Besides, he uses a rapier, which is nowhere near as cool as a xiphos.”

“Knowing the names of different swords makes you very dorky,” Rachel said, laughing. It was the first time Percy had heard her laugh in ages. She turned to stare at him, and Percy looked back, knowing that she could see a world he couldn’t imagine with those bright green eyes. “I’ve seen you fight, and you’re doing the city a lot of good until this nightmare ends, if it ends.”

“Well, you have some kind of meta powers about foresight. What do you think?”

Percy watched as she gazed at the chaos that was Gotham City, her eyes glazing over while they were still a shocking shade of green. “I think we’re closer than ever, even after these six months of pain, but you should be more concerned with what happens after.”

“With the war?”

“Not the one you’re thinking of.”

“Ominous,” Percy muttered, gazing back to the city. “I like it. You sound like our oracle.”

Rachel shook herself out of whatever trance she fell into. “Didn’t you tell me that she’s a mummy? Should I be offended?”

Percy snorted. “Don’t worry. You smell a lot better than her.”

She blinked. “Thanks?” Then, they both stared at each other, letting out loud laughs, losing themselves in the moment.

In the new year, there was much of the same, until a random day at the end of February changed everything. Alfred picked Percy up from school, and he was surprised when Bruce was already in the apartment, when he spent most of his time trying to figure out a solution to restore Gotham or lobbying politicians.

“B, is everything okay?” Percy asked, staring at him as for once he wasn’t wearing the suits he wore to network and lobby his way back into favor. 

“Yes, I’m going back to Gotham. As the Bat. The city needs me.”

Percy blinked, relaxing. “Good luck.”

He stared at Percy, unblinking. “Do you want to come?”

Before Percy could brush him off, Bruce interrupted him. “Don’t think that I don’t know that you’ve been sneaking off to Gotham every weekend.”

Percy’s jaw dropped. “How? Did she snitch?”

“I don’t need Barbara to tell me everything. I’m Batman.”

Percy snickered, his face going red as he tried to catch his breath. Bruce cracked a smile. “I’m sorry that was so lame.” He leaned into Bruce’s hand, finding comfort as he ruffled Percy’s hair, taking care to mess with the gray streak that was still bright and prevalent.

After a moment, he stopped, and took a look at the watch on his wrist. “Our backup will be here in two hours. Do whatever you need to do before then.” Percy nodded and ran to his room, emotionally and physically preparing himself for a fight for the books.

Bruce, Tim, Dick, and Percy were all in the Batcave, dressed in their uniforms. Percy wore  nondescript kevlar, more protection than had been used over the past six months.

“Is Fledgling finally making an appearance after all these years,” Dick cooed, and Percy had to slap his hands away as they made for his cheeks.

“Leave me alone, Dick.”

“Percy is here because he has the best understanding of the city landscape as we know it.”

Tim stared at him, brows furrowing. “How does he know that?”

Before Percy could brush him off, Bruce answered. “He’s been sneaking into Gotham almost every weekend to help.” He said the last word with apprehension, and Percy had to frown.

Dick gasped. “Alone? With no support? You could’ve been killed!”

“I had support!” Percy exclaimed. “For your information there is an underground network of dogooders in the city right now.”

Dick raised a brow. “Oh really?”

Percy huffed. “Yes, really. Babs is working the tech, and

“You’re telling me that Barbara Gordon knew you were sneaking into Gotham every weekend and said absolutely nothing to anybody.”

Percy blinked, realizing his mistake. “No.”

Before Dick could respond, Bruce stepped forward, defusing the situation. “We’ll have this discussion later,” he said, and gestured to the digital map of Gotham. “Let’s focus on the tasks at hand.”

Dick looked like he was going to argue, but wisely decided against it. Tim, on the other hand, did no such thing. “Where did you get a real sword?” he asked, pointing to the blade sheathed on Percy’s hip.

Percy looked down once, “I know a guy. But Bruce said to focus on the task at hand, so let’s do that,” he said, hopefully waving Tim off.

“Wait, you’re the one my moots write about,” Tim said, narrowing his eyes at Percy. “Sometimes they call you Zorro, which is a terrible name, and I would never have given that to you. But,” he wrinkled his nose, “they talk about how dreamy your hair is. I can’t believe Sandy wrote that about you.” 

“What the fuck is a moot?” Percy asked.

Tim opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, Bruce took control of the situation once again. “We’ll talk about all of this when Gotham is back. Focus on the mission.” Immediately, everyone stood straight, crowding around the map, and Bruce held out a pen, staring at Percy.

Percy stepped up to the map, taking the stylus from Bruce’s outstretched hand, and divided the city into the territories run by different groups, using every bit of knowledge gained over the past six months. When he finished his explanation of the different sects, including the order in which they should work to reclaim Gotham, where they could find allies, and the best vantage points with the damaged city, he looked up to see the surprised faces of everyone in the room. 

“What?” he asked, when the silence stretched too long.

“Very astute,” Dick said, a hint of a smile on his face.

“Good work, Percy,” Bruce said. “We’ll follow your lead. We leave in five.”