Author's note: This story will be mainly exploring two things that have greatly interested me.

A) What would happen if the mortals realized the greek gods were alive and thriving, demigods were living among them, and wars have passed right under their noses?

B) How powerful has Percy really gotten, how powerful can he be, and what all can his powers extend to?

This will be a multi-chapter fic and will stick to canon pairings. Constructive criticism is always welcome. R & R

The end of the world, Percy decides, always starts with a field trip.

He's not sure why the early presentiments always seem to arise while surrounded by another thirty-some mortal delinquents, but, for whatever inane reason, it does. The gods knew he never had a good rep with these school outings in the first place, but this beginning of the end field trip predicament was honestly getting a bit old.

He knew it would be too much to hope for - one smooth going, uneventful, and, most importantly, mortal field trip to go uninterrupted. He assumed the four hour bus drive to Maine was certainly long enough to shake off any monsters trailing him from New York, despite how potent his smell may be. Not to mention that Paul was the only chaperone, and Percy was fairly positive that his step-father would not explode into a Fury trying to kill him. And just about the most exciting thing going on in Maine was cold weather so honestly, what was the worse that could happen?

They didn't make it two hours past the state line before things went horribly wrong.

Percy was tapping an erratic beat on his leg with his pen, the vapid chatter of the other two dozen students all but a dull buzz in his ear. He was trying to distract himself from the jittery prickles that had been tingling under his skin for the past half hour, an anxious feeling that constricted his airways and compressed his chest. He sucked in a deep breath but it didn't hold any relief so he settled to looking out the windows for the umpteenth time.

Maine was one of the gloomiest states Percy had been to. There was a constant cold in the air, tagged along with a dreary drizzle of rain and grey cloudless skies that reminded him a bit of the undertones of Annabeth's steel eyes, but they lacked the swirling shades of thunderstorms and overall ferocity in hers. The most vaguely interesting thing he had seen was a cow about thirty miles back.

Overall, a field trip he really should have passed on.

Snide laughter caught his ear over the quiet chatter of the bus, and his eyes narrowed on two girls sitting in the adjacent isle.

"Oops, I'm so sorry, Susan, it was a complete accident, swear." Haley Labelle was all innocence and pretty smiles as her manicured hands reached around the seat in front of her and fluttered apologetically in the air surrounding Susan Miller's distress. A large brown stain ran from the nape of the latter girl's neck and down the back of her white collared shirt, her back arching as if she could cringe away from the wet stickiness.

Susan Miller was a small slip of a girl with dark hair and wide glasses. She was generally ignored by most of the high school population but genuinely nice, if not a bit shy, based from the few conversations Percy had shared with her. Haley Labelle on the other hand, was pretty much the exact opposite.

Percy raised a skeptic eyebrow at the still half-full coffee container sitting in between Haley's legs - It would have to take a talent worthy of him to somehow accidentally spill something all the way up and over the seat ahead of you, considering you would have to stand up if you wanted to even reach the back of the seat in the first place.

"Shame you don't have a change of clothes with you." Haley flipped her blonde curls in mock distress. "Guess you'll just have to walk around all day like-"

The container exploded.

The lid shot off the ceiling and clattered to the ground as coffee spewed all over Haley in a manner similar to a geyser, the brunt of it catching her full force in the face before running down the front her uniform. Heads turned and chattered died as she sputtered in shock, coffee dripping from the ringlets crowning her face and mascara running in thick lines down her cheeks, creating the image of a waterlogged raccoon.

Percy unfurled his fingers and turned his head toward the window, biting his lip to keep the grin of his face.

"What the-"

"Dude, did you see that?"

"How the hell did that-"

"Percy."

Paul's voice was a quiet warning and his step-father gave a near imperceptible shake of his head from the front of the bus, both easily missed by the other students. In return, Percy held up his hands in a gesture that clearly said 'Dude, don't look at me, I'm just as confused as you are.'

Paul just sighed.

Percy knew Paul was going to get him for that later, but the notion of punishment was rapidly being forgotten as another matter came to the forefront of his mind.

His hands were starting to tremble, pins and needles jittering beneath his skin like angry ants, growing stronger than before, unable to be ignored with the slip of his concentration. He tucked his hands beneath his arms to quell his rapidly growing panic. Not now, not now, please not now.

But his mind was already becoming too aware, too awake, too perceptive, his body beginning to feel it all. The trickle of rain outside of the window was both clarifying and rousing, like a winding stream smoothing the harsh edges of rocks. Behind the mask of the light gray sky were the thunderstorms swirling, angry and aching to pour down.

Then came the nature, water enriching the damp soil for hundreds of miles far beyond the horizon and spreading it's life into the veins of foliage, giving them an energetic dance of their own. There was a river fifty miles west.

Stop.

The range grew, a circle being filled in from its edges inward.

Next were the mechanics, the maze of pipe works with an impure mixture racing deep bellow the the road, oil and gas being pumped and steamed and churned within the box on wheels. The next nearest car was about seventy miles away.

No.

Percy pressed his palms to his ears, clenching his eyes shut, in a desperate last-resort to stop what would happen next. But he knew that even if he blocked his audition and vision, the feeling could not be ignored.

Stop. Stop. Stop-

And then Percy was unceremoniously slammed into the seat ahead of him.

The bus came to a screeching halt, the students around him letting out surprised grunts of pain as it skidded across the asphalt. His instincts kicked in as the vehicle swiveled, his palms bracing the back of the dark rubber like plastic of the seats and his foot slamming down on his pen rolling on the floor just before it disappeared underneath the rows ahead of him. The bus shuddered as the momentum died, teetering towards the front wheels and slanting the occupants in a downward position.

There was a moment of confused silence, where everyone seemed unsure of what happened or how to proceed and then Percy spurred into action.

He swooped an arm down, snatching his pen from beneath his foot, while pushing himself of the slanted seat with the other. He strode down the inclined isle, gripping the edges of seats to keep his balance as he made his way to the door, his actions flowing into one seamless movement.

"Percy." Paul awkwardly beckoned to him from his wedged position between the floor of the front right seat and railing of the stairs. Percy gripped the older man's right arm and hauled him to his feet, his stepfather stumbling as he gained his bearings.

Percy turned briefly to check on the bus driver who seemed to be bearing the accident surprisingly well, if not a bit confused, despite his old age. His knobby fingers fumbled with the buckle of his seat belt as he struggled to get out of his seat. "Two flat tires? How in the world… must of hit some glass…"

"Is everyone alright?"

Paul's question was met with groans of affirmation, students grappling with the back of the seats as they hauled themselves into upright positions. His step father nodded and rose his hand in a soothing gesture. "Everyone just try to stay calm for the moment's notice, everything will be fine."

Paul swiveled back to Percy and lowered his voice in a panicked manner that told everything was definitely not fine. "Is it…" Paul adjusted his glasses, "Is it godly business?"

Percy shrugged uncertainly. "Maybe, it might just be flat tires, but…"

"But probably not?"

Percy grinned. "Be right back."

Percy tugged on the lever that opened the doors, ignoring the outraged cry of the bus driver, and was greeted by a blast of cool wind as they parted, sweeping his hair back, sending goosebumps racing up his arms, and filling his senses with the clearing scent of fresh nature after an April shower. The bus had veered halfway onto the grass bordering the right side the road when the tires burst, the doors facing the broad expanse of forest that ran about six feet away from the lane.

Percy uncapped Riptide as he stepped onto the grass, tightening his grip on the hilt of the glowing bronze sword as the light rain misted over his face.

The front two tires were gone. Not flat or punctured, not in pieces of shredded rubber scattered several yards down the road, but completely missing, as if they had never been there, only trashed metal disks remaining in place. Percy's scowled as his suspicions were confirmed.

He hefted Riptide in a defensive position, the blade angled protectively across his chest, as he slowly rounded the front of the bus, ready to fight whatever was waiting on the other side.

Nothing prepared him for the sight that met him.

The world seemed to freeze as his breath escaped his lungs, his blood turning to ice within his veins as Riptide clattered to his feet. The palms of his hands started to tingle.

The blood red apples and cherries glistened in large wooden buckets, looking perfectly delectable in the ray of sunlight breaching through the clouds as if it was a spotlight only for them. Walnuts and apricots sat farther back, overflowing the boxes placed on tables and tumbling to the ground in delicate pyramids. To the left were jugs of cider, cooling in all too familiar claw-foot tub of ice, condensation swelling over the containers in quenching droplets.

Three old ladies sat in the center of it all, swaying in white rocking chairs. They were mirror images of each other, complete with colorful bandanas protecting white shocks of hair, bony elbows, and bundles of green yarn in a large wicker basket at their feet. The sound of knitting needles clicking against each other was like knives on a cutting part.

Percy wanted to throw up.

How many years had it been since the first time? Five years? He suddenly couldn't remember, his mind foggy.

"Thank god." Chase Brown was walking pass him. "We're not getting any reception out here, maybe they have a-" Percy's mind kicked into gear, his hand snagging the kid's shoulder before he could go across the street.

"Dude," Chase shrugged his hand off, staring at Percy as if he lost his mind. "What's your problem?"

Percy's lips went dry as more kids flooded by, ambling towards the fruit stand. Chase followed, and this time Percy was too confused to stop him. What the hell-

"Percy."

Percy startled, flinching at the voice directly in his ear and his arm automatically raising the blade that was no longer in his hand but in his pocket again, before realizing it was only Paul. He turned.

"Can you see the Fruit Stand?" He demanded, his eyes blazing and probably not sounding too sane.

Paul looked at him strangely. "Yes… why wouldn't I?"

Percy glanced back at the students for a long moment as they gathered around the buckets of fruit. "You shouldn't be able to."

He nervously traced the outline of Riptide's pen form through the denim of his jeans, hesitating to follow them. He obviously couldn't leave the kids over there by themselves... but would something happen if he neared them? He didn't even know it was actually possible to get near the alleged fruit stand, much less unaware mortals to be able to.

Paul spoke. "Percy, do you know how long you stood in the street? Five minutes! Just staring! I could only keep them in the bus for so long before they got too antsy-"

Percy wasn't paying attention. Julie Marks had plucked an apple from out from the bins and he acted without thinking, sprinting across the street like a mad man and smacking it out of her hand. The apple splattered on the dirt, the ruined edge mushing flatly against the soil. Only seconds later something strange happened - the fruit started to shrivel and brown, slowly to a sickly green mush then to a stiff rotted black. Then it shrunk farther, death consuming it until it was merely dust that scattered in the breeze. Percy swallowed thickly.

Julie scowled at him, rubbing her hand, completely missing the fact that her apple had completed it's entire life cycle within a matter of moments at her feet. "Hey! I was going to pay for it-"

"How are you seeing this?"

"What?"

Percy spun around, his vision flying over the impossible scene unfolding before him. Kids were milling around the tubs of food, some with cell phones in the air, struggling to find reception. Others were horse playing, guys trying to shove each other in the tub of ice. Percy's eyes narrowed on the old ladies.

They were expressionless, no indication that a herd of kids had just invaded their fruit stand or that he was all but three feet away, but just continued knitting with the green yarn, their eyes glassy and dull.

The middle one reached into her bag.

Percy's eyes widened. "Wait-"

The shears were large, rust forming around the screw that held them in place. Wispy swirls were engraved into the metal, traveling over then handles in a morbidly pretty pattern, fine detail that he couldn't see from his first time. A small hysterical part of his mind wondered idly what would happened if he took them and threw them into the forest.

Before the plea could even finish leaving his lips, she snipped the yarn, producing a sharp ring of metal screeching against metal, something that he had only heard once before. Something he had never wanted to hear again.

It jarred him to the very core, his heart leaping to his throat and his muscles tensing as adrenaline entered his system. The sound seemed to catch everyone's attention, fruit and cider dropping to the ground as they turned to them, discomfort and confusion painting their faces.

After an immeasurable moment full of silence, Percy found his voice. "What did… who did you-" He found himself unable to finish the words, his voice thick.

The three merely peered him, their gazes' unwavering, and he was suddenly very afraid.

"Percy." Paul tugged on his arm. "What is going on?"

Percy faced him, staring at the older man's face, trying to process everything running through his head. At Paul's expression, he wondered what his own looked like. "Percy." He prompted again.

"The Mist…" Percy didn't realize he was speaking, an odd quality tainting his voice. "I think the Mist is failing."