Percy shivered, pulling the sleeves of her sweater further over her wrists and rubbing her red nose. Bludhaven in the fall wasn't nearly as bad as winter, but she had greatly misjudged the temperature before leaving her apartment for the evening, the thin zip-up just barely keeping her body heat intact. At least, walking back from dinner, the warmth from the food pooled in her stomach, so she only had to worry about her extremities.
Percy didn't really like to eat alone, but recently that's exactly how she had been spending most of her mealtimes, and tonight wasn't any different. At least the food was good, she thought, sighing, as she crossed to the other side of the street, even if she did have to walk a whole fifteen minutes to get it. As she picked up her pace, bright neon storefronts shifted to dark brick house faces, the first sign she was headed in the right direction.
The trees that lined the sidewalks had turned to bright orange by this time of the month, and the first few leaves were starting to drift to the ground. She listened to the in and out of her breath, the crunching under her feet, and the slow hum of a car engine as it passed her. Through the cacophony of city sounds, something heavy slammed inside the alley at the end of the block.
Percy's ears perked up instantly, and she broke into a jog. It could be nothing, a trash bin lid snapping down, or the steel door of an establishment closing shut, but the prickle on her skin told her otherwise.
Pulling up short just before the corner, Percy slipped a hand into her pocket, retrieving Riptide, and peeked around the brick edge. Two large hulking figures, almost eight feet tall, even with their backs hunched, stood under a dented streetlight with thick iron clubs at their sides.
The one on the right turned. "You imbecile," he snarled to his companion, baring pointed yellow teeth.
The other one shrugged, shoulders lifting his club a few inches before lowering it. "I thought it was an enemy."
"It was a lamp," the first sneered, jabbing his club into the other's stomach and causing him to stumble.
The light above them flickered, giving Percy a clear view of their faces, bumpy and misshapen, with deep-set sickly eyes. Oh great, she sighed, reaching up and dropping her hood, laistrygonians.
The leader, who she had deemed the leader for apparently being smart enough not to whack a streetlamp out of service, sniffed the air suspiciously. The monster whirled around with a snarl, but Percy was already walking towards them, flicking her pen. She wasn't even trying to hide, the scent of the sea blowing from her free hair and into the alley.
"Poseidon spawn!" he roared, showing every single one of his teeth.
"Congratulations," she rolled her eyes, sarcastic, "You found—"
Suddenly, she paused, and narrowed her eyes.
"Hey, I know you," Percy realized, recognizing the extensive tattoo work along his arms, "You're Joe Bob!"
The last time she had seen the giant had been at Meriwether College Prep, back during her second year of being a proper demigoddess. By standards set later on in her life, that had been a pretty good day, all things considering.
"We played dodgeball," she reminded him, because he looked a little confused at being addressed by name. She turned to his companion. "And you're—actually I don't know who you are."
The other giant, a few inches shorter than Joe Bob and with sparser tattoos, raised his free hand in hello. "Skin Peeler."
Percy nodded slowly, fingers still spinning Riptide casually, for now. "Where's your old crew?" she asked, tilting her head, because these monsters tended to travel in packs, "Marrow Eater and, uh, Skull Sucker."
The larger laistrygonian growled. "You mixed up their names!"
She shrugged. "Strikes the same amount of not-fear. Plus, I don't hear them complaining."
"They never reformed," he said, lips baring harshly, "And I will get my revenge on you, sea spawn, for dusting my closest allies. And then I will feast on your bones!"
Percy mentally sighed. It was always the same thing. Why couldn't any monsters just want to kill her? Why did they have to eat her too? She pressed her thumb to the cap of her pen, but before she could flick it off, the tip of Skin Peeler's club touched the ground with a soft thud.
"I thought I was your best friend," he said, looking at Joe with a frown.
Percy held her hands up, taking a step back. "This seems like an internal issue, so I think I'll just—go."
"You will be, if you kill her," Joe ordered the other monster, then ran a tongue over each sharp tooth in his grin.
"That's so gross," Percy whined, but Skin Peeler only took a second or two to consider this offer before hefting his club up and charging at her.
The smaller giant was faster than she had expected, but she dodged the first downward strike of his weapon with ease, uncapping Riptide with a single fluid movement. He snarled, and reached for her again, but Percy took advantage of his height, ducking between his legs.
"You know he's exploiting you, right?" she informed Skin Peeler, but it seemed he would not be swayed.
He swung the club back around, just barely brushing the crown of her head. Percy slashed Riptide across both his ankles, and when he teetered to his knees, she kicked him powerfully from behind, his weapon clattering to the side of the alley. The giant toppled face forward, and she wasted no time in launching onto his fallen body and, with both hands, bringing Riptide down into the back of his neck.
Skin Peeler instantly burst into gold.
Percy looked up, blowing a few strands of hair out of her face with a sharp exhale.
"Are you this manipulative to all of your friends? It's no wonder Marrow Skull and Sucker Eater didn't come back."
Joe Bob's eyes flashed wild, as he discarded his club, letting it roll to the side of the alley. He hit one fist into the palm of his other hand, bulging muscles distorting the designs of his hideous artwork. "I will eat you!" he roared, saliva dripping from his fangs.
Percy yelped, and dodged the spit as he came at her with his bare fists.
"It's Marrow Sucker—" Joe grabbed her neck in his grip and squeezed, but Percy cut off the limb with her sword. "And Skull Eater—" The giant tried to ram his remaining fist into her stomach. Percy yanked it to the side and chopped that one off at the same place. Huh, it seemed like extensive linework like the kind he sported really did cost an arm. Or two. Glitter oozed out of both shoulder sockets as the monster stood, seething in fury.
"Skinny Skull and Eater Peeler?" she asked, innocently.
"Die!" Joe Bob screamed.
He hurled himself at her one last time, directly onto Riptide's razor-sharp point.
The echo of his last word dissipated into the alley along with the shiny gold dust.
Percy capped her sword, grimacing at the volume of the stuff that had stuck to her sweater. She tried to brush it off, but monster guts were known for being stubborn, so she removed the outer layer entirely, bunching it up and tucking it under her elbow. She only wore a thin t-shirt underneath, but at least she didn't look like a walking party city commercial.
The two iron clubs lay discarded amongst the broken bottles and cigarettes that littered the edge of the street. She should probably pick them up, she sighed, before some random civilian decided they wanted to try their hand at extreme baseball.
Percy leaned down to grab one, but suddenly, she felt the air above her shift, and her head shot up in response.
She nearly yelped, at Nightwing's upside-down face, swaying back and forth, level with hers.
"Need some help, miss?"
The club in her hand slipped, landing directly on top of her foot.
Percy shut her eyes tight. She had been stabbed, slashed, poisoned, shot with an arrow, even thrown off a cliff, but something about stubbing a toe surpassed even the most serious of her previous injuries.
"Oh shit, I'm so sorry," the hero swore, reaching up to unhook his legs from the fire escape and drop down, right side up this time.
He looked like he was about to kneel down to check out the potential broken bone, but Percy waved her arms hastily.
"It's all good, see?" she assured, and wiggled her shoe for him to see that she still had mobility, very purposefully hiding the wince that came with the movement.
"You're the girl from the bank robbery," he grinned wide, after confirming there was no permanent damage, "And the Wayne gala. What are you doing out so late?"
Percy felt herself blanking. The first time she had met Nightwing, as Percy, she had no idea who he was, and the second time, she had been too preoccupied with worrying for Dick to realize just how strange it felt to interact with him as her civilian self.
How was she meant to behave around someone she had gotten so close to when this version of her wasn't supposed to know anything about him? Only Perseus was supposed to know about that little smirk he gave when he thought of a really bad joke, or how his shoulders loosened the minute he was more than eight feet off the ground, or the way it felt to hold his hand and feel his pulse, slow and steady, against her skin. Percy, on the other hand, wasn't supposed to know any of that and she didn't know how to pretend she didn't.
She snapped her mouth shut, noticing that it had been left slightly ajar for far too long. "I was, uh, looking for something?" she tried.
Nightwing's grin turned mischievous. "Me?"
Percy wanted to throw something at him. And then maybe kiss him. She felt her face grow hot, ears burning against the cold wind.
Nightwing didn't smile like that, weirdly bright and knowing, at every civilian they rescued during patrol, so why was he looking at her like that? Or did he, and she just never noticed? Percy didn't like that thought of that at all.
"No," she scoffed out, trying to disguise embarrassment with annoyance, and crossed her arms. She couldn't tell if she was shielding herself or stopping her hands from reaching out.
Nightwing just huffed out a laugh, then peered closer at her face.
Percy's grip around her arms tightened, but he suddenly frowned.
"Are you okay?"
She blinked, a sense of déjà vu hitting her in the chest. Percy reached a hand up to where his gaze seemed to be fixated, and her fingers came back streaked with red. Skin Peeler, true to his name, had grazed her after all.
"Oh yeah, that, I'm fine," she said, with a short, stilted laugh, as she wiped at the cut on her forehead.
But Nightwing's brows just furrowed deeper, and he took another step closer.
"Were you attacked?" he asked, his voice suddenly flooded with concern.
This had to be the worst timing in the world. Why in Hades was her luck so astonishingly bad?
"Uh," she hesitated, grimacing, "Maybe just a little bit?"
"How do you get attacked just a little bit?" he repeated, incredulous.
Nightwing reached out and, with two gentle fingers at her chin, tilted her head down to the side. Percy held her breath as he inspected the cut. After a few seconds, it was all way too much, the proximity of his face to hers, the downturn of his lips even though she knew the injury was a mild one. Percy let out a nervous laugh, stepping out from his space and brushing his grip off.
"They came at me, so I fought them, and then they—left," she explained, wringing her hands and gesturing to the entrance of the hallway.
The wind had blown the gold dust in that direction, so technically she wasn't even lying.
"Who?"
"Who?" Percy echoed.
Nightwing ran a hand through his hair, jaw clenching. "Who did this?"
Percy froze again. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately. But this time, it was for good reason. She couldn't tell Nightwing the truth, that it was Greek monsters that had come after her because her blood apparently smelled tasty. If she gave him some vague description of fake attackers, as a superhero, he probably had the resources to look into her cover story. And Nightwing was smart, so there was a chance he could stumble on something he wasn't supposed to before Percy got the chance to tell him herself, with explicit permission.
Lips clamped shut, Percy shook her head.
"You don't know?" he said, confused, "Or you don't want to tell me."
"The first one..."
Nightwing sighed, and Percy cursed herself for being such a bad liar, but thankfully, he just leaned back, scanning her over once more for any residual injuries.
"Okay, you don't have to say anything. At least let me walk you home."
Percy knew from patrol that he was kind to all the victims of crimes they encountered after they had occurred, making sure each civilian was safe and okay to return home. It was one of the qualities she liked so much about him. But this time, it didn't feel the same. He looked insistent, like he was pleading for her to agree.
She knew she should say no, knew that it was the wise thing to do, but honestly, when had Percy ever been the one to choose the smart decision? The smile he gave her when she nodded yes was enough to make up for whatever way this would come back to bite her in the ass.
LINEBREAK
Dick felt like utter shit. He also felt a strange giddiness, a decent amount of concern, and a thread of nervousness. It was enough emotion to send Bruce to the hospital on a good day. Dick, however, plastered a smile on his face and continued to face the music.
"Are you cold?" he asked Percy, as they made their way down the street.
The woman shivered slightly, as if just now remembering that she was.
"Do you want to wear—" Dick hesitated for just a fraction of a second, a stream of thoughts and curses running through his mind, the most prominent being that he didn't have anything to offer her, "your jacket?"
"It's, uh, dirty," came her stilted reply.
Dick wondered why she was being so short with him. Was it because of what happened at the gala? Or maybe he shouldn't have teased her like that tonight, but in his defense, he hadn't noticed she was hurt until after the streetlight flickered on, and she didn't have any of the body language signs telling of an attempted mugging. He had also probably crossed the line by touching her face like that to make sure her head wound wasn't serious. So much for her favorite hero being Nightwing, he thought glumly.
The worst part was, he probably would've continued his harmless flirting if one, it had actually been completely innocent and not motivated by actual feelings, and two, if her response, an embarrassed scoff, hadn't reminded him so painfully of Perseus. His mood had dropped pretty quickly after that, the guilt he had become so familiar with shooting through his spine.
They completed most of the journey in silence, both of their gazes flitting left and right, Dick's to keep an eye out for more potential crime and Percy's likely to catch any bystanders giving them weird looks. He understood that having a vigilante accompany you home might raise some eyebrows, but he had always made sure that anyone he helped remained safe and he was not going to stop, especially now.
He couldn't believe the attack, however little she had said it was, had happened just two streets over from his apartment. Dick had been on a video call with Tim, looking for possible Blockbuster hideouts when he had heard a loud male voice yell something he could've sworn was 'die'. Naturally, he donned the suit and ran over, only to find Percy leaning over to pick a baseball bat off the ground. Oh, he realized, it was probably something the perpetrators must have dropped.
A stab of anger coursed through him at the thought of her being attacked with it, but when he snuck a glance over, she didn't seem to be in any physical pain. No visible bruises, no wincing or limping, there was nothing. Maybe she really was fine. One of these days he needed to be a little faster and actually see her in action.
"This is me," Percy said finally, her free hand coming up to the back of her neck.
Dick stopped, glancing to the side and recognizing the residential building. He passed it often on the way to work.
"Listen," he began, taking a small breath, "Even if you don't tell me, I think you should report what happened tonight."
He watched Percy ingest that statement, the way her lips turned down ever so slightly at the thought. Dick understood the hesitance, and if she didn't trust Nightwing, that was fine. It stung a little, but he did want her to tell someone.
The longer her eyes explored his face, the more it seemed to wear down her doubt, until finally, she sighed with acceptance.
"Talk to the BHPD," Dick said, knowing that there was only one cop at the precinct she would go to, "I'll know if you don't."
Flashing one more risky grin her way, he crouched and leaped up, swinging his body up the side of her apartment building and disappearing into the next rooftop.
It was selfish, he knew that, keeping Dick and Percy separate from Nightwing and Perseus. But right now, he couldn't bring himself to do anything about it.
LINEBREAK
The precinct was booked and busy the next day, and Dick had manhandled more perps into print testing labs and holding cells than should have been legally allowed in just a few hours of the morning. By the time noon rolled around, his stomach was screaming to be fed something other than protein cereal. He had gone back on his promise.
"Officer Grayson," a hesitant voice broke his getting-ready-for-break routine, "I have someone at the front desk here to see you."
Dick shot up from his chair to follow Denetsosie to the lobby, lunch entirely forgotten. He tugged his tie back into its proper place, just before pushing through the doors.
"Percy!" he grinned, and hoped that it came off less frantic than it sounded in his head, "What brings you here?"
She smiled back, a lopsided half-nervous thing that hit him straight in the chest.
"Apparently," she huffed, "I'm here to report a crime."
She had listened to Nightwing, he thought, skin buzzing.
"Sure, come through—"
"Can we go somewhere else actually?" she cut in, shifting on the balls of her feet and looking around like every distant movement in the precinct required her instant attention.
It was only natural to be on alert, especially after the last few close calls with crime she's had. Dick found himself nodding instantly.
"Have you had lunch?"
LINEBREAK
One of Bludhaven's smaller parks was only a block from the station and often had food trucks to help feed the afternoon rush of people trying to escape their places of work and have lunch in a meager thirty-minute break. Dick had signed himself out for an hour.
He learned that Percy loved burritos, making a beeline straight to the brightly colored red and green truck at the end of the line and checking off almost every single box in the add-ons section. He wondered how she would manage to eat it, but clearly, she had had practice, attacking it with a well-thought-out strategy to prevent spillage.
"So, you were attacked by two guys?" Dick confirmed her earlier statement, after swallowing a bite from his own wrap.
"More or less, yeah."
Dick was becoming increasingly concerned with her nonchalant attitude towards the whole situation. He glanced at her forehead. The cut was left uncovered, and while Dick would have suggested a band-aid, it was already starting to heal.
"Do you know who they were?" he asked.
"Canadians," she replied, instantly.
Dick's eyebrows shot to the sky. "Canadians," he echoed, slowly.
There didn't really see many people cross south of the border to visit Bludhaven, out of all places, let alone to settle.
"I'm guessing. From the, uh, accent," she finished, flushing behind her burrito.
Dick bit back a smile.
"What about a description for these maybe-Canadians?" he continued, instead of dwelling on the thoughts that pink hue brought on.
"They had tattoos sleeves, on both arms, but I don't remember any of the designs," she frowned, "And they were eig—tall. Very tall."
He couldn't really work with that illustration, however strange it was. Tall men with tattoo sleeves and an accent that could perhaps pass for Canadian wasn't enough to build an identifying profile.
"Did you catch any names?" Dick asked, suspecting that they wouldn't be stupid enough to mention them, but hoping anyways.
"Joe Bob," Percy said, and Dick raised his eyebrows again in surprise. Then, she closed her eyes briefly, a strange smile slash grimace expression crossing her face. "And Skin Peeler."
Dick choked on a mouthful of rice and beans.
"Code names, I'm guessing," he said, hacking the food from his lungs.
Percy laughed, amused by his suffering even though she was the cause. She and whatever idiot was running around attempting muggings with that god-awful name.
"Yeah, I bet."
"I'm starting to see now what Rachel meant about you being a trouble magnet."
Snickering at his comment, Percy forked left on the path, taking them through a slightly more secluded section of the park. The road still led them back to the entrance but took a longer winding route. Dick followed, knowing that it would likely make him return late to the station.
"I have never had a moment of peace," she replied, finishing the last bit of tortilla, and pausing to throw out the wrapper in a nearby bin they passed.
Dick wordlessly handed her an extra napkin.
"Really?" he challenged, needing to know more about this elusive past of hers, "What is... the craziest thing you've ever done?"
Percy snorted. "You're gonna have to be more specific."
"Specific how?"
"Pick a year?"
Dick thought this question through, ruminating around a mouthful of beans. It tasted much better than cereal. Should he pick sometime more recent? Or would it be more illuminating to choose something from long ago? He did very badly want to know about that manhunt period of her life, but so many other people had probably asked about that. He needed something to stand out.
"When you were thirteen," he decided.
Who knew, maybe the unlucky number would have the reverse effect this time, if everything else was chaos.
"Almost got eaten by the Bermuda Triangle."
The answer came instantaneously, almost a little too fast, just like how 'Canadians' had slipped out. This time, Percy did nothing but smile, wide and sharklike, as Dick sputtered in her face.
"Percy," he started, but her expression didn't change, "Percy, why were you in the Bermuda Triangle?"
She turned back to face the trees, but he could see the smile still playing on her lips. She balled up the napkin into a small, weighted circle and tossed it in another trash can, several feet away. It sailed through the air and arced down, entering the narrow, horizontal hole. A perfect shot.
"My friend Grover was missing, so I went looking for him," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Dick did not agree. He had several questions and even more concerns, but she fixed her eyes on his once more, and everything coherent suddenly left him.
"Okay my turn," she grinned, "The most... confusing thing that's happened to you."
Dick racked his brain. There was a lot he could say, but none very civilian-safe. He rifled through his recent memories, but they were all a lot tamer, so he went back a few years, to his young justice missions.
"Got lost wandering the desert and missing six months of memory," he mused, "I made it back within the week, thank god, but that was pretty disorienting."
He left out the part where it had actually been a league mission in Bialya gone wrong, leaving him and the others to fight Queen Bee's soldiers and Psimon while M'gann tried to restore their memories.
Percy gasped, and he looked over, wincing, thinking maybe that was a little too out of the ordinary, but she seemed to be trying to hold back a smile.
"Me too!" she said, excited, "Except I was in California, for nine months, and missing my entire life."
"What?"
Dick wasn't sure he heard that right. He hadn't, right? But Percy was grinning at him now, with faux innocence that did nothing to hide how pleased she was at knocking him off balance.
"You asked," she replied, shrugging.
"I don't think I want to play this game anymore," Dick muttered, pouting, which sent her into another peal of laughter.
The path was ending soon, coming full circle to the entrance of the park. The trees started to occur more sparsely in frequency, and the faint sound of chattering crowds reached their ears. A few of the trucks had driven away, leaving only the bright red burrito one and a popular grey one serving salad bowls.
Dick could see himself getting used to this, taking lunch breaks at the park, strolling down the shaded path with Percy by his side cracking jokes that had him coughing food out of his throat. In the coming weeks he could picture himself picking fragmented leaves out of her dark hair, and in the season after, sneaking glances to watch snowflakes flutter down to her lashes. It terrified him.
He knew he always got attached easily, gathering people he cared for and keeping them as close as possible, for as long as possible. Now, he was trying to squeeze two people into a spot he had only reserved for one, and it fucking hurt. He had to be some sort of masochist because he still stubbornly refused to do anything about it.
Instead, he swallowed, trying to lock those feelings deep down, and smiled back at Percy who was animatedly telling a story about her and Rachel and Grover at an environmental rally. It seemed she had found him, after all.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, in the middle of her story, "I forgot to tell you. Estelle named her cat."
Dick stopped in his step, genuine excitement under his skin as he nodded eagerly for Percy to reveal the name.
"Duckie. With an 'ie'."
"That's so cute," he cooed, "Duckie the cat. She's a genius."
An indescribably fond look came over her face. "Well, technically, my mom's the genius. Stella wanted to name him Dickie, but she vetoed that, obviously, so they had to compromise and..."
She trailed off, looking at his steadily dropping jaw. "What?"
"She named him," Dick swallowed, "After me?"
Percy flushed, almost instantly, shoving her hands in her sweater. "Yeah, I guess she did."
Dick ran a hand over his face, stopping briefly at his mouth. He was covering some sort of expression on his lips, but he could not tell what it was. He thought of that day in the park, of Estelle crouching down to the ground and pointing at a tuft of fur, insistent that he and Percy bend down with her to see. How the little animal had curled into her touch, purring and content, and how he and Percy had shared a proud, almost parental look.
Percy peered at him suspiciously. "Are you—"
"No," he blinked back, hard.
He dropped his hand, blinking twice more, before the revelation hit him all over again.
"Stop," he said, brows furrowing, "That's so cute, I'm going to cry."
"I think you already are," Percy pointed out, unhelpfully.
LINEBREAK
If listening to Nightwing was a mistake, Percy should take his advice more often.
Actually, the idea of one of her crushes helping her spend time with the other made her feel like willingly getting into an airplane, then sticking her head into a pile of Minotaur dung, and finally, sneaking into Annabeth's house and shredding her blueprints. Just any and all forms of self-punishment, really.
After they had returned to the station, Dick had asked her to wait for a minute or two in the lobby while he retrieved a form for her to fill out, to put the crime report into the system. She had nodded, not wanting to leave just yet but needing the small break to sort through her flailing emotions.
She had had way too much fun today, just eating a burrito and walking through a park for an hour and a half, for the fun to be credited to anything but Dick's company. That was a scary thought. That just the presence of someone could transform even the simplest of activities into the most joyful of ones. Nightwing, to her frustration, did the same thing, but it was a little less surprising, since most of their activities involved fighting crime and committing pseudo-crime, two things Percy found enjoyable anyways. Therefore, that specific criteria did nothing to help her decide between them.
Percy kept a mental, and physical, list of gods and Aphrodite was steadily climbing to the top. Whether it was a shit list or a hit list didn't really matter. They were one and the same.
"Can I help you, young lady?"
The gravelly voice interrupted her musings on how to murder immortals, and Percy flicked her gaze to who had spoken. The man was an inch or two shorter than her, but much stockier in build. He sported a full head of darkish hair, greased back to show off harsh, beady features.
"No thanks," she replied, politely.
The man's eyes narrowed, making Percy think her response had come out more sarcastically than expected. Something about him put her instantly on edge. Not in the way a monster did, but the leering glint in his eyes even as his frown showed displeasure made her spine stiffen.
"I'm sure I can be of assistance, Miss..."
"I'm fine," she snapped, inching away from him, "Don't you have a desk to get back to?"
"Did no one teach you manners," he sneered, "You come into a police precinct for help, talking back like you think your tax dollars are worth more than our time, but you don't get to do that. People like you need our services, and whether you like it or not..."
Percy promptly tuned the rest out, suddenly hating this nameless man she had only said a handful of words to and not wanting to hear any more from him. His mouth flopped open and closed, probably some lecture about the importance of police work, but she wasn't listening anymore. When the man took a step closer, realizing her eyes had glazed over, Percy tightened her fist. She had no problems punching someone at a police station, and if he would continue to invade her space, then that's exactly what she would do.
"Do you know who I am?" he ground out, the familiar and eye-roll-inducing words filtering through her ears.
Percy, naturally, rolled her eyes.
The man's face purpled, and he reached his arm out, for what, she didn't know, but Percy's clenched fist had already left her side.
A familiar hand settled on the small of her back, directly over her old Achilles spot. A current shot up her spine, despite not having the curse anymore, and Percy instantly dropped her arm at the sensation.
"Redhorn."
Dick's voice was calm and collected, but Percy could hear the poorly concealed thread of anger and hostility.
"Grayson," the man replied, his face smoothening into something even more displeased.
Redhorn's eyes flicked over to Percy once, peering curiously. She felt herself tense again, but Dick's warm hand pressed more insistently on her back, and she found herself unclenching her fist.
"I think I can take it from here," Dick said.
She didn't turn to look at his face, but she could feel the glare he was giving the other man. Redhorn scowled, looking at her once more and seeing the way Dick was standing, shoulder to shoulder. Percy just smirked and leaned into Dick's side. Redhorn's expression deepened. He turned on his heel and stalked back into the main area of the station. When he was almost out of sight, Dick dropped his arm. Percy had half a mind to call out Redhorn's name to get him to return, just to put it back.
Instead, she crossed her arms, opening her mouth to say something, but Dick beat her to it.
"I should've let you punch him, I know," he said. The amused twist of his lips was a stark change from his steeled voice earlier. "But that would make me look bad, if someone who came to see me knocked out the police chief."
"At least you're aware of your mistake," she sighed back, dramatically. Then, before she could help herself, "I'll just have to wear a mask to do it."
Percy snickered at her own joke, but when she looked up, Dick looked somewhat pained. Maybe, despite the way he had let her, as Perseus, use him as leverage against the other police officer, he didn't support vigilantism after all.
LINEBREAK
Which god would she have to approach in order to make two of herself? Percy chewed thoughtfully on a spoonful of rocky road and contemplated her options. Janus had two heads and was the god of duality. He was a solid choice. She could ask Annabeth to be sure, but Annabeth would tell her that duplication was not an appropriate solution to her current problem. Grover, her next closest confidant, if their empathy link was working properly, would be just as confused as she was. Thalia would tell her to drop both and join the hunt.
Percy was systematically coating the roof of her mouth in ice cream and staring blankly at the dark, powered-off screen of the television when her communicator buzzed with a message.
Bird brain: found the place, corner of 7th and Hartson, just above the business district. meet me in there in twenty?
Bird brain: bring weapons :)
Percy donned her suit with a speed that rivaled Estelle's favorite superhero and jumped out of her window in a dark grey and blue flash. Only several rooftops later did she realize she left her pint of ice cream on the counter to melt. On any other day, she might have hesitated and thought about going back to save it, but tonight she had a one-track mind. She didn't stop even once, just launched herself onto building after building until she reached Hartson Avenue.
There were no skyscrapers in this part of the city, wider than normal streets separating spaced-out forgotten buildings. Plots of land frozen in construction that would never be completed littered the area and discarded piles of bricks and rocks left to rot in the elements. There weren't many places to hide, but the street across their target sported a line of dumpsters, originally meant for handling excess constructional material. Percy dropped down behind them.
Nightwing didn't turn around, but she knew he had heard her approaching.
"Abandoned commercial building," he explained, in a low voice, still looking down at his wrist device, "Second floor is listed as a cleared-out gym."
"Checks all the boxes," Percy agreed, peeking around the trash bin to scan the four-story establishment.
It looked old, the kind of old that was newly built and instantly abandoned. The windows were dark and blurry, left to collect dust and never wiped. Nightwing joined her in her examination, leaning his head out farther.
"I can't see any movement," he said, frowning.
Percy hummed, seconding his statement. "Let's go."
"No plan?"
"The plan," she replied, twisting her neck to look at him, "is to walk in and bust blocks."
"I can get behind that," he grinned.
Percy went first, looking down the long empty roads before slinking out from behind the dumpster and crossing the street. She came up short against the front entrance, Nightwing joining her a second later. The other hero paused, checking for active alarms, and when he gave the signal, she wrapped her hand around the door handle.
She was met with immediate resistance, but Percy gripped it tighter and jerked her wrist down, snapping the tumblers inside. The metal screeched against the dirty floor as it opened, letting them inside.
"That door was locked," Nightwing said, dryly, as they made their way to the stairwell.
"Really?" she asked innocently, keeping an eye out as he connected his device to the building's system, checking for more alarms, "All I did was turn the handle."
He hummed, amused and unconvinced, as his fingers flew over the holographic keypad. Percy just smirked, climbing the stairs after his all-clear. Outside the opening to the second floor, they stopped again, against the wall. Nightwing reached back and unclipped his escrima sticks, Percy doing the same with her sword.
With her left hand, Percy pointed to her ear and shook her head.
I don't hear anything.
Nightwing's eyes widened under his mask, and he tilted his head.
Shit, a trap?
They both tensed at the revelation, but Percy's gut stayed silent. No alarms, no sinking feeling, no nervous tightening. Before he could stop her, she stuck her head through the opening, looking out onto the floor. She felt an instant grip on her wrist, to pull her back, but Percy swept her eyes across the vast concrete floor, the seams of the ceilings, and the columns that supported the weight of the beams above. Finally, she let Nightwing tug her back into hiding, and met his incredulous look.
"No," she whispered, breaking the silence, "No, I think this place is empty."
"There's no way," he insisted.
Carefully, they stepped into the gym, backs facing each other to minimize their blind spots. Percy felt him repeat her previous actions, cataloging every possible detail. After a minute, he slowly lowered his sticks to his sides.
"There's no one here," he realized, coming to the conclusion he hadn't wanted to.
A row of dark green lockers lined one of the corners, with a wooden changing bench bolted to the ground in front. The holed beams ran across most of the ceiling, exactly how Kai had described, save for a large square in the middle, the size of a traditional boxing ring.
"I thought—" Percy sighed roughly, sheathing her sword, "Is there another location?"
Nightwing made his way over to the lockers, the only equipment left behind, but they all had embedded combination locks, and there were no keyholes to pick.
"No," he said, shortly, with his back to her.
Percy watched the way his jaw clenched as he tried to spin one of the dials, ear pressed up against the thin metal.
"What about—hybrid gyms?" she asked, racking her brain for any other angle to this thing, "Generic ones with a small boxing room?"
He turned the knob the opposite way, stopping briefly, before switching directions again. Percy hadn't ever seen him like this. Around the Joker, he had been tense, yes, but still in control. Here, pressed up against the wall, stress leaked from every turn of the dial.
"No, I checked. There's nothing else," he ground out.
Finally, there was an audible click, and the locker swung open. He peered inside, hungrily, and Percy caught a glimpse over her shoulder. It was empty.
"Are you sure—"
"Yes!" he snapped, turning his head briefly to her, slamming the locker shut, and rattling the rest of them. "This has to be it!"
The tone made Percy's hackles rise instantly, shoulders coming up to prepare for another angry shout, but it never arrived. Nightwing fell quiet, facing the wall again, and though she could only see the back of his head, his frustration was clear as day.
LINEBREAK
In the silence following his outburst, Dick could hear Perseus's tense breathing. She didn't say a word, didn't step forward or back, just stood still, waiting, likely to see what he would do next.
The fight left him. Dick closed his eyes for a moment, leaning back to sit on the bench behind him. The old wood creaked under his weight but held. He ran his hand through his hair, tugging on his scalp along the way, as if the pressure would ground him, but the familiar technique did little this time.
"I'm sorry," he said, after a few seconds, "I shouldn't have snapped."
The locker door he had cracked, creaked back open. He watched it swing all the way, then oscillate, before finding a balance. There was still nothing inside of it.
"Yeah," she said, coming closer, but still a few feet away.
"It's just dead end after dead end," he sighed, leaning forward. The strands of his hair hung over the edge of his mask. "But I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
He hadn't been that aggressive, but Dick knew he had a bad habit of lashing out when he was frustrated. He had had other heroes and family members point it out before, but sometimes, even knowing about the habit wasn't enough to stop it from happening in the moment.
Perseus's hand settled on the back of his neck, at the start of his spine, fingertips resting on the beginning of his collar bones. Dick's shoulders sagged further.
"You shouldn't have," she said, "But it's okay."
"Still, I'm sorry."
"'Wing, it's okay, really," she replied, a finger tapping against the little sliver of bare skin his suit allowed, "You're not the only one with a temper."
Dick made some sort of noise, unsure whether it was in protest or agreement, but either way, he was grateful. His head felt clearer now, the momentary haze of frustration having faded.
"Thanks, Sef," he muttered, the nickname falling from his lips like second nature. She squeezed her hand gently in response.
"Besides," she continued, and Dick leaned his almost-cradled head back, to see her face above. Her eyes were far away, concentrated, and looking at the west-facing wall. "You're right. The plumbing is on, I can hear the pipes. Someone's been here recently."
He stood up immediately, at the new information, drinking in the gym under a new light. Perseus padded along as he walked to the far corners for clues of her theory. He couldn't really hear the running water like she could, but half an hour ago, he had watched her snap the lock of a door by just turning the handle, so it wouldn't surprise him if she had some sort of slightly enhanced physiology. That coupled with her friend likely having abilities and the attachment to Kai's situation, Perseus being a mildly powered meta was something he had already assumed to be true. And if he was wrong, well, Dick believed her about the pipes anyways.
"These scuff marks," he pointed out, looking up to confirm the area had a view of the punching bag support beams, "A hospital bed?"
"That makes sense," she agreed, "So Kai was here, and so was Blockbuster."
Dick crouched down to the floor, tilting his head to view it at an angle.
"And a whole lot of other people," he added, eyes narrowing, "There's not a lot of dust compared to the first floor. There had to be enough constant movement to sweep it all away."
"An army," Perseus hummed, thoughtfully, "You think Blockbuster housed a bunch of goons here."
Dick nodded. He was planning something, something big, and whatever it was, he had finished the preparations and dispersed his people until the showdown. He looked across the room to the lockers and scowled. Their best bet was searching through the rest of them, but there had to be at least thirty, and it had taken him almost two minutes to crack just one.
"I got it," Perseus said, breezily.
She must've seen the pained look on his face because she stalked over, weighted purpose in her gait. Reaching over her shoulder, she grabbed the hilt of her sword, and in the blink of an eye, crouched and swung across in one sharp motion. The blade sliced through the metal like soft cheese, just below the locks, and the bottom halves of the doors clattered to the ground in a waterfall of grating sounds.
"Been wanting to try that since the start of ninth grade," she grinned, after the residual echoes had come to a stop.
She twirled her sword dramatically out to the side, ending the performance by re-sheathing it and looking extremely proud of her handiwork.
"Bad high school experiences?" Dick raised an eyebrow, ignoring how much he liked seeing that particular stance of hers, "I can relate."
He bent down to begin searching for anything that might help them determine who the goons were, or what Blockbuster was planning.
"I got chased down by murderous cheerleaders at orientation," she chirped, her head inside a different locker.
Dick choked with laughter, nearly forgetting to duck when moving on to the next locker. Other than the night at the pier, Perseus didn't talk much about her past, and neither did he. They didn't exactly need to, for their partnership to work. The unspoken trust and mutual support were enough. But now, Dick realized just how much he had left to learn about her, and kind of hoped that she felt the same about him.
"I was a mathlete," he said, prompted by some unknown force.
As soon as he did, he wanted to throw himself into one of the cut-open lockers.
"You're serious," Perseus demanded, stopping to look at him, "You spent your free time after school doing more school?"
She sounded absolutely scandalized, and he bet there was a teasing grin playing on her lips, but he refused to look, hiding his face by searching the next compartment.
"And fighting crime," he protested.
"Nerd."
"Hey!" he yelped, pushing aside metal scraps, "I was popular too!"
Largely because of his status as Bruce's ward, but still, it had to count. He had had appearances to keep up, and even though they had been mostly fake, he thought he put on a pretty good performance. That's what high school was anyways, one big performance.
"I'm sure," she snickered, "Don't worry, neither was I."
The retort to defend himself died on his lips when the meaning of that hit him, and he turned to her, incredulous.
"You? Not popular?"
The thought sounded foreign to him. Perseus had this aura about her, that calmed even the most frightened of civilians they had helped, being able to talk them down from panic attacks and other post-crime reactions. She was kind, funny, incredibly friendly, beautiful, and Dick should really stop that list before he went down a dangerous rabbit hole, but the point was, he couldn't really imagine her not having many friends in school.
"Nobody wants to be seen with the girl who keeps blowing up classrooms," she snickered.
For a second, he wondered if it was on purpose or by accident, but then he remembered how she had eagerly set off the explosives at the gun warehouse, and decided it was best not to ask.
"Probably thought I was scary or something," she continued, laughing, like that was the foreign part to her.
"You are," he said, halfway to gaping at the dismissive tone, even pointing to her whole get-up, sword and all. Perseus peered back, confused and almost bordering offense, so before she could take it the wrong way, Dick blurted out, "I like it," and promptly shoved his head up another locker.
"So are you," he heard, mumbled faintly after a few seconds, and was glad that the, frankly, ridiculous smile that crawled onto his face was shielded from view.
"I got something," he announced with surprise, catching sight of a dark shape in the locker he had chosen to hide his embarrassment in. He reached up to unhook the fabric from the top and brought it out. "Looks like somebody forgot their jacket."
He held it out, and let Perseus dig through the pockets, her hand withdrawing with a small folded-up piece of paper with messily scratched numbers.
1:43, 1:51, 2:00, 2:09, 2:15
"They're times," he said, with a note of surprise.
He glanced up, expecting to see Perseus nodding along, but she was barely even looking at the paper, more fixated on his reaction.
"I'm dyslexic," she said, shrugging, "Looks like nonsense to me."
"Oh," he replied, adding that piece of information to the small bank of knowledge he had on her, and snorted, "Well, I'm not and it's nonsense to me too."
He read the numbers aloud for her, which made her smile softly, but in the end, neither of them knew what the timings corresponded to.
"And there's no date?" she confirmed.
Dick shook his head no. But there was no doubt, that whatever Blockbuster had planned, would go down soon. He had already mobilized his army, given them instructions, and sent them to lay low until it was time to resurface. And when they did, they would be armed with deadly guns made from Kai's blood. Perseus's face indicated she knew the same.
"We'll be ready," he promised her, though a sinking feeling had started to form in his stomach.
A.N.
One side of this love square has to be an utter train wreck, and I've decided that it is Percy x Nightwing.
Percy + Dick = sweet, too cute
Perseus + Nightwing = smooth, teasing
Perseus + Dick = kinky
Percy + Nightwing = awkward
Also! The new nickname for Perseus is Sef, because of the way the Greek pronunciation makes the 'seus' part of the name sound like a 'sehfs' Little does Dick know that Perseus 'Sef' is just the same as Persephone 'Seph'
just a little plot recap for anyone who might need: Dick encounters a set of strange guns at a robbery with weird purple liquid in ammo cartridges. Percy and Dick find Kai, a meta with unknown powers, in a facility with his blood being drawn and save him. They find out that Blockbuster has been using him to make the strange ammo, which emits a deadly laser-like beam. They need to find Blockbuster and stop whatever he's planning with the guns so Kai (+ any potential victims) will be safe, but when they get to the hideout, it's already been cleared out.