Percy

Ironically, the ideal time for men to operate with nefarious intent was when Diana's chariot was high in the sky, sailing its way through the stars. The darkness Diana's patrol brought with it carried a certain sense of danger; one that forced all the strong and able to seek shelter and solace. The only people left out in the cold embrace of the night were the weak and desperate, vulnerable to the elements, the wild, and things far worse than nature could ever bring. These people were the perfect prey for men like the merchant and his cronies. Men with a penchant for hunting those at the bottom of society for sport.

The merchant and his men were fools. They were fools who wore peaceful masks during the day and revealed their true selves when the hunting hour was upon them. As soon as the wine was flowing and the only thing to judge them were the stars, they were nothing more than a pack of ravenous wolves, stalking the street looking for anyone and anything they could use to satiate the lust of their blades.

It was only dumb luck their activities had carried on for so long unchecked. They had the guards in their pockets, sure, but when night fell, they killed indiscriminately, and indiscriminate violence created countless enemies. It was only a matter of time before they targeted the wrong man's family. It was only a matter of time before they hurt someone's daughter. Someone with enough aurei to pay for the vengeance his own sword arm couldn't reap. Someone who knew exactly who could deliver the justice that neither the might of Rome, nor the gods, had rendered.

It was because of their inevitable mistake that one blacksmith with a purse full of coin and revenge in his heart had found his way to Percy's master, seeking the aid of the young apprentice. The merchant and his gang's blades had tasted the blood of the man's daughter, and the blacksmith, though a large and burly man, had not the skill nor the training to bring the will of Invidia upon them, and so, he'd traded his gold for the merchants head. Even now, Percy could feel the coin purse dangling at his hip. It was a strange feeling to carry the weight of a man's life on your belt, but it was a feeling he'd experienced dozens of times before.

Up ahead, the sound of a rowdy group of men bursting onto the street caught his attention, tearing him from his musings about the power of the coin near his waist. There had to be at least twelve of them, all boisterous, armed to the teeth, and walking with a slight stumble indicative of one cup of wine too many. As the men began to leave the safety of the tavern's light, no doubt in search of their next victim, he couldn't help but roll his eyes at their arrogance. Their long streak of uncontested kills had made them overconfident, and that did not bode well for them.

'Overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer', his master would have said, and Percy couldn't help but agree with that sentiment. Since the dawn of man, the arrogance of fools such as these has led many men to their deaths. Tonight, a testament to the danger of having too much faith in oneself was going to be written across the streets of Ephesus. Tonight, the sins of a merchant and his men were going to paint the stones red.

The men were walking towards him from the cobblestones below, chattering obnoxiously with each other as they lurched their way through the streets. Percy held his crouched position on the rooftop, waiting for the most opportune moment to strike. He had no doubt that he could kill these men with ease, especially considering their drunken state, but it never hurt to be cautious. Groups of men such as these could be wildly dangerous, even when they were piss drunk. The pile of corpses they'd left in their wake in the past months could very well attest to that.

Down below, the group of men were just passing him by. Holding his hunched position, Percy started to trail them from the rooftops, his boots silent on the clay tiles beneath his feet. The men slowly maneuvered their way through the streets, unaware of the shadow lurking above them. They marched through the streets with the confidence of apex predators, but their pride was misguided. For tonight, they were the ones being hunted.

He trailed them for a while, getting a sense for the preparedness and ability of the men he was going to kill. Three of the dozen, he noted, were far shiftier than the rest. Unlike the others, their eyes darted back and forth, searching through the darkness as if they could sense what the others could not. Their primal caution was warning them that something was awry. He smiled to himself beneath his cowl. Whatever monster they thought was lurking around the corner, he was much worse.

When they reached a divergence in the road, the band of men came to a hasty stop. For a moment, he thought he'd been discovered, but a quick glance towards the center of the group showed him all the opportunity he would need. Two of the dozen men were nose to nose, hands inching towards the blades at their hips. It was clear these men were looking for a fight, if not with the innocents on the streets, then with each other. If they were so eager for a battle, he would gladly give them one. He only had to inch closer…

"I'm telling you," the merchant hissed, "No one is going to do shit to us. I've given the captain of the guard enough gold for him to fuck every whore from here to Rome three times over. We have free reign of the city to do as we please. For once just stop being such a coward."

"I'm not afraid of the guards, Vitus." The nervous man defended. "There are worse things to punish a man than the city watch."

"You don't mean the gods, do you?" Vitus questioned with a laugh. When the man nodded hesitantly, Vitus scowled before cocking his head to the side and spitting on the ground. "That's what I think of the damn gods. What have they ever done for me? I say fuck the gods, I am a god."

As soon as the words parted from his lips, a loud thunderclap pierced the air, shaking the earth itself. All the men flinched before shooting their eyes to the sky worriedly, scanning for a sign of Jupiter's wrath. Percy, noticing their distraction, decided it was time to deliver his own judgement. He didn't think the gods would mind too much. They hardly ever payed attention to their own children, there was no way they had time to waste energy on the insults of mortals. That meant that these men were all his.

With one motion, Percy rose from his crouch, leaping from the rooftop and towards the group below. As he fell, he drew his own dagger from his side, not even bothering to use his sword for these lowlifes. He wanted some semblance of a challenge after all. With a loud thump, he landed on the shoulders of one of the skittish men from before, hitting him with the full force of his fall. The man crumpled underneath his weight, slamming his skull against the cobbles below with a sickening crack. The man's lifeless corpse served as a perfect cushion for Percy's drop, allowing him to spring right into action.

"By Juno's tits!" The first man to notice Percy's attack cursed, reaching for the sword at his side.

Percy cocked his arm back, sending his dagger spinning end over end towards the man before he or any of the others could react. With a sickly thud, his blade sunk deep into the man's eye, slicing through skull and bone indiscriminately. The ten remaining men watched their friend crumple to the floor in shock. As one, they whirled on Percy and drew their blades, quickly maneuvering to surround him in a circle. Percy smiled beneath his hood; excited that they weren't dumb enough to charge at him blindly. He wanted to have at least a little bit of fun, and ten against one was hardly fair for them even in the best of scenarios.

"Who the fuck are you?" the merchant, Vitus, hissed, brandishing his gladius. "And what makes you think you can kill two of my men and walk away with your life?"

"Names are a tricky thing." Percy retorted; his voice slightly muffled by the fabric of his cowl over his mouth and nose. "I believe some like to call me 'the light', but I truthfully, I much prefer Percy."

Percy could see the ripple of fear that passed through the men at the mention of his other name. The name that the general populace, especially the ones with coin to offer, knew him by. It was a name as feared in Ephesus as Mors himself. No one dared to utter it for fear of him lurking around the corner, and for these men, that nightmare had just become a reality.

He saw a few of them glance between him, their two dead friends, and their ringleader, Vitus. They seemed to be looking for a signal that it was okay to be afraid. That it was alright to run. Unfortunately for these wicked men turned cowards, their boss showed none of their fear. That was no matter though. He had no doubt that the man will have pissed his britches by the time he was finished watching Percy slaughter his men.

"Well, Percy." Vitus mocked, ignorant to the trepidation of his men. "We have you surrounded, ten to one, and you're unarmed. I don't care if you're 'the light', Emperor Varius, or Jupiter himself, we're going to cut you open and leave your guts for the crows."

"That would be quite the tale, wouldn't it?" Percy taunted. "It's a shame you'll never get to tell it."

The merchant's face reddened in anger, and without another word, raised his gladius and charged. The men all around him followed as soon as they saw their leader take action, inspired by his lack of fear. As the circle around him tightened, Percy waited for the right moment. Their battle cries reached towards the heavens, no doubt drawing the attention of whatever gods were watching over Ephesus that night. Idly, Percy wondered if Diana, who was definitely overhead, was watching him slay these foul men with disgust or with pleasure.

As the men closed in, Percy sensed more than saw the first gladius closing in on him. It was a vicious stab aimed directly for his side. He twirled out of the way of the pointed blade, just managing to make it out of reach of the thrust. His dodge carried him right into the lap of another man, too close for the new adversary to use his gladius effectively. Percy savagely threw his forehead into the man's face, sending him tumbling to the ground with blood spurting out of his nose.

Taking advantage of the hole in the line, Percy burst out of the circle they'd ensnared him in, dashing towards the corpse that still had his knife sheathed in its skull. He grabbed the dagger, ripping it clean of the dead man's brain just in time to bring it around and deflect the thrust of the man who'd pursued him the closest. The man who'd attacked him had put all his body weight into the move, and when he met no resistance, he was sent tumbling by. Percy casually flicked his knife as the man stumbled past, slicing his throat in a blur. The man tumbled to the ground, blood rapidly soaking the stone and watering the street with what little life he had left.

Percy didn't have time to revel in his kill though, as by the time he'd slit the man's throat, two more of the gang were already angling their swords toward him. He quickly danced out of their reach, skittering a few feet back. All nine men were in front of him now in varying positions, giving chase as he rapidly backpedaled through the streets. They corralled him against a wall, surrounding him in a semi-circle. Once again, they started tightening their hold on him, moving a bit more carefully than they had before. If they weren't wary in the beginning, they definitely were now.

Given their trepidation, Percy decided to take the offensive this time, once again cocking back his arm and unleashing his blade. Faster than the eye could follow, his dagger whirled through the air and sunk itself deep into a man's heart. One of the other men's eyes left Percy and locked on their dead friend for just a split second, but that was all the opening Percy needed. He charged towards the distracted thug, hitting a slide between his legs and popping up behind him. The man tried to whirl around and face him, but Percy already has his hands on the man's head, twisting his neck and snapping his spine in one move. He was dead before his body hit the ground.

Percy swooped down and grabbed the mans gladius, grimacing at the balancing of the weapon. Still, he used it effectively to counter a few stabs form the two men closest to him, warding off their attacks as the others closed in. Before their support could arrive, Percy danced between both of their blows, reaching out and stabbing one man through the gut. Without even losing a step, Percy wrenched the gutted man's blade from his hand and spun around, burying the sword in the other man's chest.

Again, there was no time to rest, as the remaining five men were already closing in. One man was ahead of the pack though, moving just a step faster than the rest of his allies. Percy delivered a wild kick to the man's sword hand, sending his gladius clattering to the ground. Before the man could recover his wits, Percy dashed forward, sending a powerful jab to the man's throat and crushing his windpipe, leaving Percy with only four men left to fight.

Sensing danger from his side, Percy quickly dropped to his back, barely avoiding a man's gladius as it passed overhead. The blade whooshed through the spot where he had just been, carrying the off-balance wielder with it. As soon as the man stumbled over him, he quickly reached his hands back, pushing off the ground and kicking back to his feet. On the way up, he managed to scoop another fallen gladius, rearming himself to take on the last men.

With blinding speed, he dashed forward towards two of the men, unleashing gruesome stabs faster than they could react. His blade slid past their unready defenses, biting deep into their flesh. Like the others, the men crumpled to the ground in pain, leaving their remaining two allies with quivering legs as they stared down a blade drenched in the blood of their friends.

"What the fuck are you?" one of the two remaining men asked. His blade was at his side, and he'd clearly lost any enthusiasm for the fight.

"He's just a man." Vitus, the other man still standing growled, though his eyes said he didn't believe it. "Go on, kill him." He goaded.

Even as he said it, Vitus was backing away, slowly increasing the distance between him and Percy. The other man, however, was completely unaware of Vitus' cowardice, and was somehow emboldened by Vitus' uninspired speech. With a yell of defiance, the last remaining lackey charged Percy in the name of his fallen brothers. In just one fell swoop, Percy ducked under his raised arm and thrust his gladius into the man's armpit, sending the man on a one-way trip to join his comrades.

Percy quickly darted his attention to where he knew the merchant would be, only to see that Vitus was already half-way down the street, his legs carrying him on a full-fledged retreat. Despite the grim nature of his mission, Percy had to fight the urge to laugh at the man's desperate attempt for survival. The foolish merchant who'd gone criminal honestly thought Percy would let him get away? He was 'the light', one of the most feared assassins the Roman Empire had ever seen. He was a professional. He never let a target get away.

Reaching out into the air, he felt the water hanging in the humidity. With a tug in his gut, he willed the water to condense in his hand, forming a long and thin tendril. With a grunt, Percy threw his arm forward, sending his impromptu whip of water flying toward the fleeing man. The water wrapped itself around the merchant's ankle, sending him tumbling to the floor with a terrified yawp.

Percy slowly used the water to reel the man in, dragging Vitus over the road, through the blood of his men, and into Percy's reach. Vitus scrabbled and clawed at the earth below, but no matter what purchase he found on the stone walkway, the tug of Percy's watery appendage was absolute. Within a few moments, Vitus, the once arrogant and proud merchant who prowled the alleys of Ephesus now found himself on his back, staring up at the hooded face of death incarnate.

"Please." Vitus begged, tears running down his face. "I have gold. How much aurei do you want? I'll give you anything. Just let me live!"

Percy looked down on the man with disgust. How often had the man murdered someone who was groveling for their lives, just to turn around and do the very same. Percy was no saint, and he knew he'd killed many that didn't necessarily deserve it in the name of coin, but he would never dare to besmirch his honor by cowering at the feet of whoever had finally bested him. The only thing that gave Percy solace looking down at the pathetic man was the wet spot on the man's britches. He'd been right all along. Vitus had pissed himself. It was funny how things worked out that way.

"I'm sorry, Vitus." Percy said unapologetically. "But once the coin was in my hand, your death was guaranteed. Nothing you can do could ever change that."

At Percy's words, Vitus' pleads quickly devolved into sobs. He flailed wildly on the ground searching for escape, but the water held him in place while Percy searched the carnage for his knife. When he found it, he slowly wandered back to the frightened man letting out a sigh before crouching at his side and placing the dagger at his neck. The man's fearful struggling doubled, but no amount of trying could save him from Percy's dagger as it pierced his throat. Vitus could only stare up into the wild green eyes of his killer in horror as he slowly choked to death on his own blood. The eyes were merciless and cold, just like the man's voice. The last things he would ever see or hear in the mortal realm.

"Give Pluto my regards." Percy murmured. The life left Vitus' eyes.

Percy

The sun was just barely cresting over the horizon by the time he made it back to their camp. The orange and pink hues in the sky radiated vibrantly, casting a sort of ethereal glow on the small clearing. Before he was three steps from the tree line, the front of his master's tent blew open, giving way to the sight of the old man. As usual, a scowl adorned his wrinkled face.

"You're back." He called out gruffly, hobbling his way toward the near fire. "It took you long enough."

Percy frowned at that but knew better than to comment. Though his master appeared old and frail, he knew better than anyone just what the man was capable of. Even now that he had the strength of a demigod fully grown, and the training to match it, he still didn't like his chances against the grizzled assassin who'd taught him everything he knew.

"I got caught up." Percy explained, seating himself near his master by the fire.

"You mean you were toying with them." His master scolded, shooting him a grimace. "Your arrogance will get you killed boy."

"They were drunk." Percy defended. "If they'd been in their right minds, I would've been much quicker about it."

His master simply hummed in response, stroking his ash and pepper beard with one hand as he stoked the fire with the other. Percy studied the frown in his eyes, wondering just what it was the man was thinking. If the grim line his lips were pressed into were anything to go by, whatever his master was thinking of, it wasn't good.

"You used your powers, didn't you?" the old man questioned after a beat.

Percy balked, unsure how the man had known that. He was sure there had been no witnesses, if there had, they certainly wouldn't have made it far enough to tell anyone about him. No, this was just some bout of intuition that couldn't be explained. Another strange ability his master hadn't been able to teach him. Perhaps in the future he would teach Percy his odd way of knowing things without ever actually knowing them.

"I…" Percy almost went to lie, but the dangerous glint in his master's eye told him not to even try it. "Yes, I did."

"You idiot!" the old man hissed.

He lunged toward Percy with speed that didn't match his appearance, striking him across the face with the back of his fist. The force of the blow sent Percy to the earth, blood instantly pooling in his mouth from a cut that the strike opened on his lip. Though every muscle in his body yearned to strike back, he knew that would only end in more punishment. Instead, he just spat a glob of blood and spit out before sitting up and glaring at his assailant.

"No one saw me." He growled.

"Maybe not this time, boy. But one day, they will. When they do, the legions of Rome will come for you, and not even your father's gifts will be able to save you then."

"Let them come. I'd take thousands of them with me before I died."

"And you think Emperor Varius will care how many men it takes? He declared all demigods enemies of the empire, or did you forget? If even a ghost of a rumor of a demigod taking lives in Ephesus reaches his ears, he'll send all the legions he can muster to bring you to Rome in chains. Then he'll execute you in front of thousands on the sands of the colosseum. What will you say then when I ask you if using your powers on some lowlife thugs is worth it?"

"And if I don't practice all of my abilities, I won't be prepared to use them when the time comes." Percy argued, slamming his fists on the ground in frustration.

Normally, Percy would never dare to be so brash, but this was different. This was about his power. His birthright. The only good thing that being the son of a god had ever done for him. Ignoring the one gift his father had ever given him would be akin to spitting in the god's face himself. Though Percy had no surplus of love for any of the Olympians, his father included, he doubted turning down his connection to the sea was a wise choice.

"If you insist on using your abilities as a crutch, then you will learn to do it with me." The old man ordered. "You're not to practice your demigod side on the targets I find for you any longer. You're to do it here, where I can supervise and make sure you go unwatched."

"But…" Percy protested, but a raised hand stopped any further argument.

"But nothing! You don't need your abilities to kill the men you do. Believe me when I tell you, there is no substitute for a blade to the heart."

"I… If you're sure, master."

The old man stared back at him for a moment, his unwavering gaze of steel flickering over Percy's face for a moment. He seemed to be searching for any other signs of defiance, and though Percy disagreed wholeheartedly with the man, he wouldn't dare to voice his opposition. Instead, he forced himself to put on a façade of acceptance, even if his stomach recoiled against it. The sea within him did not like to be restrained.

"I'm more than sure." His master reaffirmed.

The old man paused after he'd made his point. Then, with a grunt, the old man pressed his hands to the earth, hoisting himself to his feet with a cacophony of cracking bones and muted sighs. He grimaced at the strenuous movement, the first time in a while Percy had noticed any sign of his age affecting him.

"Prepare your things." The old man said, kicking dirt onto the fire to extinguish it. "We're heading into the city."

"The city?" Percy asked confusedly. He rose to his feet already heading towards his own tent to tear it down. After all, orders were orders. "I just left Ephesus. What do we need to go back for?"

"A ship." The old man shot over his shoulder.

"A ship?"

"A ship. While you were hunting, I received a message from a courier. It seems there is someone in Rome proper who is in need of your services."

Percy frowned. In all his time operating as 'the light', he'd never once been summoned to meet a client. Anyone with the guts to seek the aid of a prized professional killer such as himself would surely know that the only way to earn Percy's services was to meet the old man face to face to conscript a deal. To summon Percy and his master as if they were slaves or servants was not only brazen and insulting, but downright unbelievable.

"Since when did we answer house calls?" Percy asked incredulously. "Anyone who wants us to kill someone would know that we only take deals from men willing to meet us on our own ground. Those are your rules, master. Why break them, even if it is for a contract in Rome?"

"Because boy." The old man snapped. "This isn't some run of the mill bastard who wants revenge. Your services have been requested by a senator of the Roman Empire itself."

AN: And we're back with the first chapter of my fourth story. It's good to be here, as I think this story will have a little something for everyone. In fact, I was so excited to get things started that I'm posting this right when I've finished it rather than waiting while I wrote ahead… Oops.

A few things about what you read, first and foremost. I'm going to be keeping things pretty close to the vest for now, which is why I'm not even going to tell you if Percy is a son of Neptune or Poseidon, who the old man/master is, or even who the senator wants Percy to kill. You're just going to have to stick around for those answers. What I will tell you is that yes, while the emperor has declared demigods a public menace to be hunted, as he views them as a threat to his rule, that does not mean there are no demigods. In fact, we'll be meeting plenty of our favorite characters along the way, whether they're in hiding, in open revolt, or somewhere in between.

As far as this Percy goes, you got a glimpse of it in this chapter. Of course, he's an irrevocable badass, but he has his limitations. For one, despite his own critiques about the thugs' arrogance, he's a bit young and overconfident himself. Also, as you can see, his master and the emperor have both made it pretty hard for him to practice his abilities, so he's not quite as badass as you'd expect with the water powers (FOR NOW. That will change as the story progresses). The good news is, I promise he'll still be just as sarcastic and Percy as he always is. One thing of note about him though, I don't know who I want to pair him with in this story. I was thinking Reyna, you know to match the whole roman theme, but nothing is set in stone and I'd love to see what you guys would like to read. Let me know! Either way, anything romantic is a long time off and you'll have plenty of time to see characters interact before deciding what you want.

Finally, I just want to mention one thing, considering the fact that this story is in a historical setting. Yes, I realize that some of you have vast historical knowledge, more so than myself, and while I respect that, I don't much care to read a comment about how peasants actually wore cotton tunics not linen ones. I will do my very best to match my story historically to the era I'm basing it on (Imperial Rome, around the reign of Commodus if you must know.) but so long as any historical errors don't affect the plot, I don't care too much. If it bothers you that much, just pretend this is some fantasy world and not Earth. Doesn't much matter to me, as the setting is just a catalyst for the story to take place.

Now, with that out of the way, I'd like to thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoyed, because I'm really excited for what this story has in store for us. With any luck, you guys are too. Sorry this was so long, normally these ANs won't be but since this is the first chapter, I had a lot to say. Apologies. Anyways, love y'all, and until next time,

Peace