The One-Seven

Chapter 16: Threats

They returned to the department with their new information and set about finishing up the days work. They made their way through the rest of the financial statements, only to come up with absolutely nothing at all. They knew that their suspect wore a pig-mask, which was tugging something at the back of Percy's brain but he couldn't figure out what it was. They eventually grew too frustrated and called it quits for the day.

Percy went home and changed into some more comfortable street clothes. While he was changing, he reached out to some old contacts and he got word of some of the old demigods in town. Some of the people who would be in the know. Percy had a rough plan of attack. Meg was a daughter of Demeter, a woodland goddess. Meg would have a natural, communal link with nature, and by extension, dryads. She would have gone to them for help. The only problem was that dryads were wood nymphs. Tree spirits. Which meant they needed trees. Something in short supply in a city like Gotham. So Percy was going to head to a bar; a bar where he knew that the bartender was a demigod like him.

Percy pushed open the door to the bar, and was welcomed with the sights, sounds, and smells of cheap whisky, cheaper times, and cigarette smoke. Percy eyed the large Black man behind the bar, it had been years since Percy had seen him, but Percy recognized him. Approaching the bar, Percy sat down, the bartender was busy cleaning a pair of glasses, it was slow inside, being a Wednesday and all,

"What's your poison?" He asked dryly, not looking up from his task,

Percy arched an eyebrow and spoke low, so his voice would be nearly lost under the music,

"Got any nectar and ambrosia?" He asked, and the bartender nearly dropped his glass. He looked up, meeting Percy's smiling face,

"Prefect..." He whispered out,

"Not anymore Steph," Percy said, "Retired, like you," He reached out, and gripped the man's around the elbow. Steph gripped Percy back, just as tight. Stephan Gilmore had been in the Second. A few years older than Percy. He'd been a corpsman, as a son of Apollo, and had saved Percy's life on more than one occasion.

"Gods be good. Prefect-I mean Percy, what are you doing here?" He asked, then leaned forward, "You're not working again...are you?"

Percy chuckled, "No, I'm not. Not like that anyway. Got a runaway. Found three of her friends outside my apartment the other day. Their friend ran away from camp, Greek, daughter of Demeter, you familiar?"

"Yeah, I know the one," Steph nodded, "So you're looking for tree nymphs then?" And Percy nodded, "Makes sense," Steph said, nodding to himself, "Best bet would be Gotham City Park. It ain't the forest by any means, but that would be the only place for like fifty miles that a nymph would post up." He looked thoughtful for a second, then tapped the bar, "Let me go make a quick call, I'll be right back." Percy gave him a thankful grin and made himself comfortable.

Someone sat down beside him, and Percy did his best to ignore them. But he had the feeling that they were watching him so he looked up, and was surprised to meet the furious gaze of Sarah Rosthein.

"Counselor," Percy greeted, putting on his fakest smile, "What can I do for you?"

"You have a lot of nerve," Rosthein said, her body literally shaking in rage,

"For what, exactly?" Percy asked, though he had a feeling he knew where this was going,

"For killing Romanji like that?" She shouted, slamming her fist on the bar. The few onlookers looked up at the commotion, but went back to their drinks. Percy arched an eyebrow,

"Why the fuck would I kill the only good link we had between Falcone and St. Cloud?" Percy asked sarcastically.

"Because just like the rest of your corrupt department, you work for that rat bastard," She seethed, and Percy just scoffed,