Chapter Text
Like A Victorious Hero
I call aloud; it hears not what I say
I stretch my empty arms; it glides away
Look, I’m going to be honest here: I knew I was going to be expelled from my school from the moment I first stepped foot in the building. I just never thought I would kill my pre-algebra teacher first.
My name is Percy Jackson and I’m sort of what you could call a “troubled kid”. At the point of the story I’m talking about, I was a student at a boarding school for troubled kids called Yancy Academy. It was one of our field trips—which were typically very boring—but this time, I was actually excited for it, as we were going to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to explore the different areas; including the Greek and Roman section.
Not only was my favorite teacher—Mr. Brunner, who taught Latin—leading it but it also meant my dads would be able to see things to remind them of home.
And that is my cue to talk about my dads. You see, my dads are… interesting individuals, mostly because of the fact they are kinda, sorta, maybe not breathing. Or alive. Or physically there. Because my dads might be ghosts.
Now before you leave, please just hear me out. (Or. Read this out? Read me out?) I know it sounds crazy but trust me when I say this is not the craziest thing about my life.
The two ghosts that have been following me around all my life are two Ancient Greek heroes: Perseus, slayer of Medusa, founding king of Mycenae, one of the first Greek heroes ever; and Odysseus, that guy who thought “hey! It’d be a great idea to say my name to this cyclops I just blinded!!” because he’s so smart like that.
And before you ask me why they’re with me, I’m just going to answer that with I have no idea. They showed up one day and I didn’t have the heart (or the ability) to turn them away. Also, I was kind of an infant at the time so there wasn’t much I could do anyway.
Moving on, my dads had been with me for as long as I could remember; always there when I needed support, always there when I was struggling with school work or classmates, always there when I just wanted some company—it didn’t take long for me to see them as my dads. Especially since my biological dad didn’t bother to be involved in my life.
So when I got the chance to tour an exhibit all about the home they wouldn’t be able to see in Uptown New York, I just knew I had to take them there.
Not that I really had a choice in the matter, but it’s the thought that counts, okay?
All in all, the field trip was going relatively well. The ride on the bus went smoothly, getting into the museum was a lot easier than it should’ve been, and Nancy Bobofit, a girl who loved to pick on my best friend Grover and I, didn’t even try to bother us once. I actually got to tour the exhibit with some of my favorite people and not want to wring her neck!
Ah, the good old days, when my only concern was not socking Nancy in the face…
Anyway, I had (mistakenly) thought that the day would go by without incident. Really goes to show how incredible I am in thinking ahead.
We were in the Greek and Roman sector of the Met and Mr. Brunner was telling us about something called a stele, a grave marker. Specifically, he was talking about the carvings on the side and while he did, my best friend, Grover, walked over to me. He’d been glancing around at other statues a bit beforehand and had just rejoined the group.
Grover had curly hair and a small stubble on his chin. He had a limp, a sort of muscular disease he told me, which made him an easy target for bullies like Nancy. He had a note and everything to excuse him from gym class permanently but trust me, he was an entirely different person when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.
“Look over there,” Odysseus muttered to me when there was a brief lull in Mr. Brunner’s teaching. “Do you see that sculpture of Zeus?”
I glanced over at what he was talking about. Before I could ask him what was so important about it, he continued. “Quite stupid looking, isn’t it? The sculptor was clearly skilled, it looks just like him.”
It took everything within me not to laugh, though I still let out a snicker. To my left, Perseus sighed, but didn’t say anything.
Mr. Brunner started talking again, so I turned back to the stele, not noticing that Grover was staring at me in confusion.
Mr. Brunner’s talk was genuinely very interesting but some of the kids, including Nancy Bobofit, kept talking. But whenever I tried to get her to shut up, the other teacher chaperoning glared at me.
Enter: Mrs. Dodds, the pre-algebra teacher. She’d replaced the previous one after they had a meltdown and ever since we met, she’d decided that Nancy was an angel and I was Hades-born. One time, I’d offhandedly mentioned how she just couldn’t be human and Grover looked at me real serious and said, “You’re absolutely right.”
Odysseus and Perseus eyed her warily for the rest of the week.
At some point during Mr. Brunner’s speech, Nancy started laughing with her friend at one of the naked men on the stele and I’d had enough.
“Can you just shut up?” I snapped at her, far too loudly. Everyone quieted and turned to stare at me. Great. Wonderful.
“Mr. Jackson,” Mr. Brunner said, looking more amused than angry though I still felt a bit ashamed, “do you have a comment to make?”
“… no, sir.”
He stared for a bit, studying, before nodding and pointing to a picture on the stele. “Very well. Could you tell me what this carving depicts?”
I glanced at it and relaxed. It was a story I knew well, thankfully.
“That’s Kronos,” I answered. “It’s him eating his kids, the gods.”
Mr. Brunner looked expectant. “And why did he do that?”
“After he cut up his dad with his siblings, the Titans, he received a prophecy that his kids would kill him,” I replied. “He was paranoid enough to the point that he ate every one of his kids when they were born. His wife, Rhea, was angry so when their final child was born, she tricked Kronos into eating a rock instead. She raised her son, Zeus, until he was old enough to free his siblings and overthrow Kronos.”
Some of the kids in my class started to snicker.
“Like we’re going to need this in real life,” Nancy muttered to one of her friends. “Our job interviews are going to ask us to please explain why Kronos ate his kids.”
“And why, Mr. Jackson, to paraphrase Miss Bobofit’s excellent question,” Mr. Brunner interrupted, “do you need to know this?”
“Busted,” Grover remarked, grinning.
“Shut up,” Nancy hissed, face as red as her hair.
Meanwhile, I was thinking about Mr. Brunner’s question. Why do we need to know this? I knew why I needed this information, so I didn’t die an early death, but asking the rest of the class why? I had no idea.
“I don’t know, sir,” I said.
Mr. Brunner looked disappointed. “I see,” then he continued his lesson. “Well, thank you, Mr. Jackson. You were correct. Zeus disguised himself as a cupbearer, served Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, and after he disgorged the rest of his children, they fought their father and cut him into pieces.”
There were multiple cries of disgust from my class. One of the younger boys looked physically ill and one of his friends patted him on the back.
Mr. Brunner grinned, taking far too much amusement out of grossing out the entire class. “Now, how does everyone feel about some lunch?”
Half of the class still looked sick while we walked out of the Met, the rest started messing around as always. Grover and I maneuvered our way to the fountain, where we sat to eat our lunches. Before that though, Mr. Brunner called me over.
“Percy,” he said once I walked over, “you must learn the answer to my question.”
“About the Titans?”
“About why we need this in real life.”
Odysseus and Perseus shared a suspicious look.
“Oh,” I said, intelligently.
“What I teach you is vitally important,” Mr. Brunner continued. “I expect you to treat it as such. I will only accept the best from you, Percy Jackson.”
While I appreciated the faith in me, I wasn’t quite sure if I could meet his standards. Even with the help of Odysseus and Perseus, I was far from a straight A student. Although, I didn’t understand what Kronos eating his kids had to do with my education.
“Sir?” I asked when he went quiet.
He didn’t reply, instead staring at the stele like he’d personally gone to the person’s funeral. He turned back to me and told me to go eat my lunch.
I walked back to where Grover was, by the fountain.
Overhead, a storm was brewing again, the clouds darker than I’d ever seen. The weather in all of New York had been off since Christmas.
“What on earth has angered him this time?” Perseus muttered in annoyance.
“Do you think it’s a tantrum storm or something more?” Odysseus asked him.
“Something more,” Perseus replied. “He isn’t being petty, he’s upset about something. Very upset. Poseidon must be too,” he said with a grimace. “This type of storm is more his domain, it’s too intense to only be Zeus.”
Odysseus frowned, mildly unsettled, but he didn’t say anything else.
Either way, nobody seemed to notice the storm. That, or they didn’t care much about it. Some of the birds were pelting the poor pigeons with their crackers—though it quickly came to a stop when one of the birds started chasing them. Nancy was busy pick-pocketing some lady and of course, Mrs. Dodds saw nothing.
“Detention?” Grover asked me when I sat down, unsure.
“No,” I replied, a bit sullen. Mentions of Poseidon usually put me in a bad mood. “Not from Mr. Brunner. I just… I don’t know what he wants from me sometimes.”
Grover stared at the pavement for a while, completely silent. “He… he just wants you to be safe, Percy.”
“Safe from what? Grades below a C?”
“You could say that,” Grover said ominously. I was so unsettled, I gave him my apple.
Eventually, Nancy seemed to get bored of being a juvenile delinquent and walked over to us, eyes narrowed as she threw her half-eaten lunch in Grover’s lap.
“Oops,” she said, crooked teeth bared in a grin. “My bad.”
I glared at her. I was already unsettled and irritated before she decided to start throwing her food around, she was only making it worse. I tried to keep calm, to do the breathing exercises the school counselor constantly told me to do, but I was so mad that a wave roared in my ears as I stood up.
The next thing I knew, Nancy was in the fountain, screaming about how I’d pushed her in.
What.
I glanced at Odysseus and Perseus, hoping they could give me an answer but they only stared at the fountain with expressions that could best be described as horrified. Perseus looked almost accepting, but I didn’t have time to think about it before Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us. She hurried over to Nancy, shooting me a nasty glare as she did.
Some of the kids started whispering.
“—did you see that—”
“—the water—”
“—almost like it grabbed her—”
Like it what?
Once Mrs. Dodds was sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to buy her a new shirt at the museum’s gift shop, she straightened, turning to me with a triumphant fire in her eyes. This felt different from the excited look in her eyes that she’d usually get whenever she got to bully a child. “Now, honey—”
“I know, I know,” I said, like an idiot. “Erasing textbooks for a month.”
Rule number one about getting in trouble: never guess the punishment.
“Come with me,” Mrs. Dodds said.
“Wait!” Grover interrupted, yelling. “It was me. I pushed her in.”
I stared at him in awe. Grover was terrified of Mrs. Dodds.
Mrs. Dodds glared at him so cruelly, I was surprised Grover didn’t burst into flames or die on the spot.
“I don’t think so, Mr. Underwood,” she said sternly.
“But—”
“You will stay here.”
Grover leaned back, but his eyes were narrowed with a look that could almost be described as vicious before it flashed back into fear.
“It’s okay, Grover,” I said. “Thanks for trying.”
“Honey,” Mrs. Dodds grit out. “Now.”
Nancy smirked at me, expression smug. I fixed her with my deluxe I’ll-kill-you-later stare I’d learned from Perseus when I was little. I turned to face Mrs. Dodds, but she was gone. I glanced at the top of the stairs where she stood, arms crossed and waiting. How’d she get there so fast?
“Something’s wrong with her,” Odysseus muttered to me, eyes narrowed. “Be careful.”
I nodded before hurrying up the stairs and following Mrs. Dodds into the museum. She kept walking until we made it into the Greek and Roman section. Besides us, the gallery was empty.
“Well?” she demanded.
“Ma’am, I don’t—”
“Your time is up,” Dodds hissed. Then the weirdest thing happened. Her eyes began to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretched, turning into talons. Her jacket melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn’t human. She was a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me into ribbons.
Oh shit. Oh, holy fucking shit.
“A Fury?” Odysseus yelled.
Suddenly, Mr. Brunner, who’d just been outside supervising a bunch of deranged twelve year olds, hurried in, a pen in his hand.
“What-ho, Percy!” he yelled as he threw it to me. What was even happening?
Mrs. Dodds lunged.
I yelled and dodged, her talons barely grazing my ear. Instinctively, I reached for the pen—but it wasn’t a pen anymore when it hit my hand. Instead, it was a sharp, bronze sword. What?
Dodds looked at me with utter distaste and lunged. Out of pure instinct, I slashed the sword, cutting her through the shoulder and straight through her body. With a horrid scream, she disintegrated into dust.
Then, I was alone.
Mr. Brunner was no longer at the entrance to the gallery. Nobody was there except for my dads and I.
My hands shook. Had I imagined the whole thing?
“Percy, oh my gods,” I heard Odysseus mutter. “Percy? Are you listening?”
I glanced away from what was once Mrs. Dodds and turned to him and holy shit, he looked as if he just had a heart attack.
“What the fuck?” was the first thing I said.
“Percy, are you alright?” Perseus asked from behind Odysseus, who glared at him.
“Of course he isn’t, elaphos! He just got attacked by a Fury!”
“I know, Odysseus,” he said, still calm as ever. I could see a hint of stress in his eyes though.
“I’m fine, Papa,” I said. They turned to me so quickly, I was surprised they didn’t break something. Could they break something as ghosts? “See? Everything’s okay.”
“Your ear, Percy,” Odysseus said, tone clipped.
I blinked, then raised a hand to my ear. There was a bit of blood on my hand when I pulled it back, but it wasn’t very much. “It’s just a scratch. Even then, she wasn’t the first monster I’ve ever encountered.”
“No,” Odysseus stressed, “she wasn’t. But she was the first that I didn’t notice beforehand.”
“Brunner handed you that pen,” Perseus interrupted, placing a hand on Odysseus’s shoulder. “What does the inscription say?”
I knew that he could read it himself, but I glanced at it anyway. “Ανακλυσμος,” I told him. “Riptide.”
He nodded. “We should find Mr. Brunner.”
I nodded back slowly before turning to walk out of the room, hands shaking.
I found Mr. Brunner hanging around at the top of the stairs. When he spotted the pen, he looked distracted. “Ah, that would be my pen,” he held out his hand and I passed it to him. “Please bring your own writing utensils next time, Mr. Jackson.”
“Mr. Brunner,” I asked after a moment. “Where’s Mrs. Dodds?”
He looked at me, confused. “Who?”
“Mrs. Dodds,” I said. “The pre-algebra teacher.”
He frowned and sat forward, looking concerned. “Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on the trip roster. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds in Yancy. Are you feeling alright?”