A drop here, a drop there (a one-shots/snippet book)

Chaos' Favored 1 (Percy Jackson)

Red and blue. Red and blue. The lights of police cars and an ambulance bathed everything in those colors, switching between them back and forth in the night. A crowd of people gathered in front of an apartment building, a few officers serving as a barrier to make sure they don't go too close. The people pushed and whispered with each other, wide eyes and pitying faces.

"...poor woman..."

"...abusive..."

"...shouting every night..."

"...son?..."

"...bit of a troublemaker..."

"...poor boy..."

"...missing..."

There was one who was different from the rest. The man stood separate, blank eyes following as the body emerged from the building, carried in a stretcher. The crowd hushed silent at the sight. A pale arm peeked out of the white blanket.

The man's mouth twisted in an unreadable emotion, and he turned to walk away. He thought of the cuts and bruises that marred what was once smooth skin.

Red and blue.

Once he was out of sight of any wandering eyes, he disappeared without a trace.

———————

Just a few blocks from the scene, a young boy sat curled up in an alleyway. Tear stains decorated his cheeks, and small shoulders trembled, but no sobs came. He had ran out of energy to cry a few hours ago. Now he sat in the cold and trash, lost in memories and grief.

Trash...like himself. It was his fault. He made Gabe angry. He fought back when his mother told him not to. And his mother payed for it.

Percy flinched at the images that surfaced from his mind. The shards of glass falling to the ground with tinkling noises, followed by a limp form and drops of red. Then Gabe turned to him, and the boy had forcefully moved paralyzed limbs and just ran. His breath hitched, but no other sound came as he curled up tighter.

He remained unmoving for a few minutes, almost falling asleep, when something made him raise his head. It was a heavy feeling of being watched, of being in the sights of a predator, and it raised goosebumps in his skin. He felt like something had been looking for him, tracking him.

And that he had been found.

As if right on cue, growls rose from the darkness of the alleyway, the sound sending shivers down his spine. The boy trembled in terror, eyes wide and heart pounding in his chest, as black figures peeled themselves from the shadows, red eyes flashing and teeth barred.

He recognized them. How could he not? When his mother would tell him bed time stories on greek myths?

Hellhounds.

But he thought they were just stories! Percy thought hysterically as he stumbled to move away. But the hours spent curled up had left his legs numbed, and he fell to the ground with a cry. He screamed when one of the hounds pounced, teeth making contact with the back of his neck.

But the next instant it was gone, and the hellhound hit the wall with a pained yelp. Something landed gently behind him, and when he turned his head, he only saw a hint of pale skin under a hood before his saviour turned away, facing the rest of the pack.

"Leave him." The man ordered coldly.

The growls only intensified in answer, and they crept closer, waiting to pounce. The man sighed, annoyed, as if they're merely stubborn children that wouldn't listen. "So be it."

One attacked, jumping up with claws outstretched, but in a flash of silver it disappeared in a spray of golden powder. Percy slowly sat up, watching in awe. He barely even saw the man move, he was so fast.

The others followed after, blending in and disappearing into shadows, only to lunge from random different directions. But the man wasn't deterred. He weaved through attacks as if it was child's play, and struck with the silver dagger in his hands. The weapon dug into the skull of one hound, then with a turning crouch it sunk between the ribs of another. Both dogs yelped and whimpered as they too disappeared to powder. He then jumped up and landed on a hellhound so hard there was a dull crack, as if he somehow shifted his weight to be several tons heavier, and with a slash, another had its jaw separating from its head.

An uppercut landed on a lunging hell hound and threw it several feet away, and the dagger was thrown to hit one that was a little too close to the boy. Percy flinched and scrambled away, he hadn't noticed that one had gotten close. But then the child froze when two red dots suddenly appeared in the darkness in front of him, and he only had time to instinctively grab the dagger and bring it up before it lunged.

He was knocked on his back, his breath escaping him with a wheeze, and above him there was a low whine. Percy opened his eyes to see a cloud of gold dissapating in the air, and he slowly lowered his shaking hands. Then he hurriedly tried to get up cause there might be more-!

But the alleyway was silent, and the man stood alone amongst a layer of gold on the ground. He stared at the boy, eyeing the dagger and the gold dust coating the small form. Then, a small smile growing on his face, as he slowly crouched down as to not startle the child who stared at him with wide eyes. Letting down the hood of his cloak, he wordlessly held up a hand.

Percy stared uncomprehending for a few moments, before realizing what he wanted. Slowly, he let go of the tight grip he had on the weapon, and put it on the outstretched hand. Fingers curled around it, and it disappeared somewhere in the man's cloak.

With the hood down, Percy was able to see what his savior looked like. Pale skin, a contrast to his own tan, and pale blue eyes that bordered on silver in the right lighting. Short brown hair curled around his head, almost black. He looked human enough, but the speed and grace he displayed while exterminating the monsters made Percy consider that maybe it might not be so.

And if hellhounds exist, doesn't that mean gods existed too...?

Mom... Mom would've been amazed if she found out...

And just like that, the situation hit him again, and coupled with the stress from the near death, the boy felt tears prickle his eyes. He pressed his palms against his eyes in a futile effort not to cry in front of the man, but tears still escaped him a few seconds later. A keening wail tore from his throat, sounding more like it came from a dying animal than a human child.

So lost was he in his grief, it wasn't until a few minutes later did he notice that the man was now beside him. The man was kneeling on the ground, rubbing his back soothingly as he pressed the boy's head under his chin. It reminded him so much of his mother that Percy just cried even harder, clutching almost desperately at the black cloak.

He didn't know how long they sat there, didn't know how long the sobs echoed in the alleyway, he just knew that his mother was dead, and he almost died, and if–the stories were real does that mean she's in Elysium and–

Maybe he could've joined–?

But he was scared. He didn't want to die. And he felt grateful for his saviour at the same time he slightly cursed him for preventing him from seeing his mother again and–and–

He didn't know what to think. His emotions are raging around and he was blind, deaf, and dumb to the world around him. Percy curled up tighter, but the sobs were fading as strength left his body. Strong arms gently carried him from the ground, and his form slowly relaxed and became limp.

The last thing he thought, before unconsciousness claimed him, was to wonder whether this is what having a father felt like.