Percy:

A good night's rest is hard to come by when you're on a quest. Or a mission. Or if you're a Demigod. Or Avenger. Or a fugitive.

… Coffee. Coffee was the answer.

So to a coffee shop he went.

Percy stopped briefly into his interspace dimensional room to grab his laptop when the door had appeared in his motel room closet, but had otherwise no intent to use the room itself. Even though it had a coffee maker inside that Tony had picked out for each of them a few Christmases ago (matching presents to match our team, he'd said), Percy didn't mind a cup from Starbucks every now and then.

It was sweet, whatever it was. Percy didn't drink coffee much. Clint would've liked it. Wanda wouldn't have. Natasha would've given Percy a hot chocolate. Vision would have held the cup for an hour without ever drinking it.

Percy kept having these one-note thoughts as he typed away at his computer, wondering if the end of the world was one week away or two.

The entire night had been a bust- nothing from Rachel's prophecy coincided with any event or group that Percy could find. The prophecy gave him nothing to work with. He'd stayed up, running the list of possible enemies that might match the animal or the demon. Not friends- enemies. Friends had lost out a while ago.

Unless Frank was the animal. Which was a complete possibility.

… but how do you ask a Roman Praetor to skip Legion duties to go on a quest with you across the country? Percy doubted he'd be getting an invitation to Camp Jupiter anytime soon. At least, he wouldn't RSVP if he was going to show up. Which would make grabbing Frank harder.

That was why Percy decided that the demon and the brotherhood were going to be easier… once he knew who they were.

Percy didn't know any demons- monsters, he knew plenty, but no demons. There were several agents from various government organizations across the globe with some kind of nickname that meant demon or devil, but Percy didn't think any of those guys were the right fit for a dangerous quest.

Brotherhood was just as bad- nothing superhero-esque seemed to fit into the kind of quest Percy believed he was about to go on. Even scanning quick ads and articles on the Olympus Weekly didn't offer any help.

Percy sighed, closing the laptop, gathering his stuff, and tossing his drink in the trash on his way out. Grover would've wanted the rest of it.

He was in a white Nike shirt, grey pants, blue converse, and a backwards Nike baseball cap today. All for the purpose of blending in as he visited a contact or two in the Bay Area. He'd ended his day late yesterday- now, with an early start under his belt, he was going to find leads on this brotherhood and demon. In his disguise, he would be invisible. A real typical white dude.

He hopped on his skateboard and started down the boulevard.

"The fire last night was contained well- it barely took firefighters twelve minutes to extinguish the flames." Daedalus said. Percy's sunglasses hummed in the early morning sunshine as smaller articles in local papers spewed words across his glasses. Percy only skimmed the headlines. 'Bar Burns Brightly' was his favorite title out of them.

"Put a suggestion on the board to make it a parking lot or a park- or a splash pad for kids in the neighborhood." Percy said, picking up speed as he went downhill. The picturesque view of the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance tempted him to actually buy a postcard and send it to the tower. Tony would get a kick out of that. "Anything to keep Mist or monsters from gathering there again."

"You sound less enthusiastic about destroying a den. You've never suggested a parking lot before a splash pad, either." Daedalus observed. "Something bothering you?"

Percy took a sharp turn, veering down a side street to let the flat ground slow him down. Thinking and riding his skateboard never ended well at high speeds. The grinding wheels against the pavement and the rush of wind against his face was pleasant. "You lived a long time- any chance you came across a demon that wanted to save the world?"

A rough bark of laughter from the old inventor. "Rarely did you ever meet a demon in Ancient Greece that didn't view his efforts as saving the world." Came the humorous reply. "But if you're asking if there were any demons who exist with the desire to help vanquish evil… there is one."

Percy didn't like the way Daedalus said that. His tone was heavy when he'd spoken. However, the fact that Percy had been looking for leads all night and hadn't turned up anything while Daedalus had been holding back on him made him mad. "What, and you didn't think to mention this until now?"

"I had hoped your more intensive investigation would bear fruit." Daedalus admitted. "The deal you must make to work with him will cost you much."

His 'cost' didn't make Percy think of money. Percy gulped. Deals struck with demons made Percy think of the occult- that wasn't a road he wanted to go down yet. Hope would never be allowed to watch any of The Conjuring films as long as she lived with him, either. Not because he was scared. Gods were just a pain to work with, and they cared for humanity (kinda). Demons would be awful.

"Is he, by any chance, in the Bay Area today?" Percy asked tentatively.

"You'll have to make a stop somewhere else. I'll send you the-"

Static cut Daedalus off from telling Percy anything more. At the same time, the dull whine of a jet engine shrieked to life behind him. Percy didn't have time to react before the prap-prap-prap of short burst arms fire began to chip the road behind him. Multiple assailants, three at least. Percy took a sharp left on his skateboard and crouched low to make himself a smaller target.

A Quinjet- old propeller model and jet engine, before Tony had given SHIELD access to his repulsor engine tech. It streaked down the road Percy had been skating on and slowed to try and match Percy's movements, gently spinning to realign the shooters with their target.

The effect it had on the streets was instantaneous, even for something as surprising as a jet full of bad guys. Civilians ducked, screamed, and ran for any cover they could when they realized what was happening. Storefront owners were ushering people into their establishments, whether to sell them their overpriced products or just offer shelter.

Percy patted himself down, satisfied that nothing as deadly as a bullet had hit him. His shins stung from bits of pavement flung into his skin, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. He took a sharp left, leaning into the turn and disappearing down a narrow side street.

Speed and stealth were his priority now. He kicked the concrete as he mounted the curb and started weaving between pedestrians. Two women holding hands didn't notice him and Percy had to jump between the two. A guy scooped up his poodle and had to jump into the street to narrowly avoid a collision.

Panic wasn't setting in yet on these smaller streets, but Percy had to reach somewhere open to confront a Quinjet full of baddies. That would be harder to do, since he was in a tightly packed city like San Francisco- but there were open spaces. Especially big ones in this area.

Percy caught a glimpse of the shooters in between buildings- the bottom of the Quinjet was hanging open, a small platform hanging down from the jet's underbelly. Three men in harnesses and carrying assault rifles were scanning the streets, speaking into their headsets. They wore dark clothing with a distinctive red patch on their shoulders.

Great. Hydra washouts. Just what Percy needed. But why now?

Percy continued ducking between streets, trying to make his way downhill. He could see Alacatraz already- far out into the bay. He'd have to go further down, though, if he wanted to make it anywhere close to the water.

Without warning, the sound of the Quinjet was right above Percy. The sun was momentarily shadowed as the jet passed by. Percy cursed as the gunfire started again.

Reluctantly, Percy willed his white shirt to morph back into it's breastplate form. He turned his baseball cap forwards, and with a loud snap he pulled the bill outwards. The bill disconnected from the hat and Percy pulled it down until it covered his face, but not his eyes. The material hardened until his reinforced glass helmet enveloped his skull. The HUD blinked to life as bullets deflected off his armor.

"Daedalus, you there?" Percy asked. When he didn't get an answer, he didn't try again. Daedalus going silent meant something was disrupting Percy's equipment.

Percy quickly shot lengths of hydrowire as far down the road as he could, then pulled with all his strength. It wasn't as fast as he had hoped to accelerate to, but the shooters emptied the rest of their clips over Percy's head as he disappeared beneath their line of sight. He took another hard left, narrowly missing a car trying to frantically park as the road splintered ahead of it.

The Quinjet was already in pursuit, trying to realign the shooters with Percy. The pilot wasn't sloppy- the next round of gunfire landed several rounds into Percy's back. He grunted at the pressure, but his breastplate kept the rounds from reaching his skin.

However, Percy lost control at a very high speed and tumbled off his skateboard.

The 'tuck and roll' was out of the question- Percy somersaulted like a trained acrobat down the road while his skateboard hit the curb without him and crashed through a pet store window. Dozens of birds exploded out of the breach and took off into the sky, momentarily catching the shooters off guard.

Percy traveled twenty feet, head-over-feet, before standing unsteadily. He didn't have time to orient himself- he took off down the road at a dead sprint. At the change in exertion, Percy's HUD switched from a Miles Per Hour display to his own vitals- his heart rate was displayed in real time, along with a map of the streets.

Speaking of, the streets were in a panic now. As Percy ran full speed, debating between putting the civilians on the sidewalk in danger of being collateral damage or risking getting smashed by a car, another barrage of gunfire slammed into the cars ahead of Percy- the tires were blown out, the glass exploded inwards, and the vehicle, a 2009 red Versa, veered into oncoming traffic. The cars on either side of the road began piling up from there.

"Get police and first responders to… Midway and Bay…" Percy panted, taking the corner and facing a much more open street than the previous one. He had to get Hydra off the streets- fast. One bad move and he'd have something worse than a pileup on his hands.

The Quinjet began making a wide, swinging turn behind Percy, moving ahead and towards the water. Percy cursed, realizing that they would cut him off before he could reach the bay.

Before he could think about what he should do next, Percy heard the screams.

Behind him, the Versa had changed from red to black. An inferno had erupted- right in the center of the multi car pileup. People were scrambling to get out of their cars, but those stuck in the middle of the chaos couldn't get out. The fire wasn't going to stop soon, either.

Percy skidded five feet before turning on his heel and dead sprinting back in the direction of the pileup.

"Move! Move! Out of my way, now!" Percy commanded, already pulling the men and women trying to climb over their own cars to get to the people trapped at the center. "You're brave, but stupid! Out. Of. The. Way!" Percy yelled.

Civilians tried to protest, but when they saw the trident on his breastplate they backed away wordlessly.

Three fire hydrants burst apart from different corners of the street, dousing the Versa completely. When the water touched his skin, Percy felt a surge of energy that even the coffee couldn't provide. He started grabbing the nearest car that wasn't on fire, pulling with all his strength.

The Versa fire might've been doused, but Percy could already tell that the hydrant pressure wasn't going to hold steady for long. If another car caught fire, or a gas tank ignited, no amount of water would help the people trapped in their cars.

The car moved two, three inches, then stopped.

One of the civilians Percy had just stopped from climbing joined him, grabbing the metal frame. This guy was already short of breath, the adrenaline in his system rapidly flowing. "You need a hand?" He grunted, pulling with Percy.

"I could use a dozen." Percy dryly responded, digging his feet into the pavement. The water on the ground was rushing towards the drains, but with a simple thought Percy redirected it back under the cars. If he could get less than an inch beneath the vehicles, moving them wouldn't seem so hopeless.

The screech of the jet engine and the chop of the twin propellers made Percy's train of thought fall off it's tracks. He grabbed the man that had been helping him by his white shirt collar and hauled him over the top of the car they had just been pulling on. Shattered glass rained down on them as gunfire peppered the spot they had occupied just moments ago.

"On second thought… my hands are going to be enough." Percy said, squinting at the jet hovering in front of them. The street was wide enough that, if the pilot had wanted, it could've landed on the road. Instead it kept itself aloft, twenty feet up, kicking water into the air and making the early afternoon sun ripple in the mist.

No good- the people at Percy's back, trapped in their cars. In front of him, three gunmen trying to get an angle on him from their narrow platform. He was wedged in a space barely big enough to hold him and a stranger.

Percy didn't have a length of hydrowire long enough to reach the Quinjet, or it's shooters. The water was an option- but a poor one as a weapon. Even if he managed to bring down the Quinjet, there was a chance that a jet crashing in the city would be a bigger problem than the pileup.

Another round of gunfire. Percy pushed the stranger deeper down into the crevice.

Percy took a deep breath, holding it in. There was a ringing in his ears. His gut was twisting as he tried to work out what he could do.

He looked between the Quinjet and the stranger. The sound of people slamming their fists against the inside of their cars began to overshadow the propellers.

The Quinjet had to go if the people were going to live.

He reached his hand forward and closed his fist.

Water kicked up by the propellers was thinly veiled in the air. It had gone everywhere- all over the road and the cars. All over the shooters, and above them, through the open doors and into the Quinjet. Even the back of the pilot and copilot's neck were doused.

In one quiet moment, the water temperature dropped below freezing.

It wasn't as if there was enough water to freeze the Quinjet in mid air- but the equipment inside wasn't able to handle the change gracefully. Percy had learned that firsthand, when he'd gone on a mission to the Bering Sea with a cold. Tony had paid the bill, but only to get access to the footage of the flash freeze happening.

Frost cakes the canopy from the inside and out. The pilots froze to their seats as the electrical systems (well into the millions of dollars) blinked out. The engine controls 'cla-clunked' as the jet stuttered midair.

All of the shooters, with water almost drenching them from head to toe, froze instantly. Their feet were stuck to the platform.

Percy's gut lurched- his stomach felt like molten lead. It always did after messing with temperature.

The stranger next to Percy lifted his head cautiously, sticking his head up just enough for his eye to peek over. "Are they done? Out of bullets?"

Percy put his hand on the guy's shoulder, trying to steady himself. The Quinjet wasn't going to hover forever- he had to set it right.

Percy climbed up, unsteadily, until he was on top of the car he had just been trying to pull away from the pileup. He stood squarely, shoulders back and legs apart. He took another deep breath, lifting his hands in a 'raise the dead' kind of way.

The water still gushing slowly from the fire hydrants, as well as what had gathered on the road, all began to gather into a ball in front of Percy. It grew and grew as water began to be sucked from everywhere- storm drains, pedestrian water bottles. Sewer water- and everything that comes in it- swirled together until the ball was big enough to reach three stories high.

People were either backing away, or taking out phones to get pictures.

The fogginess that had taken over Percy's head cleared. His gut was pinched still, but less than when he had frozen people. This was just him, pushing a ball of water. He used to roll balls of water at Hope in summers like these- she'd cool off in them and swim around for a while.

Even though the bad guys and the crowds couldn't see it, Percy had a lopsided smile on his face when he pushed his hands outward.

The ball rolled and enveloped the entire Quinjet. The frost and ice that had accumulated weakened, and the engine died. The key to this trick- Percy could hold the Quinjet, as long as it was submerged. He set it down gently, the platform snapping under the weight of the entire jet. Once it was completely even with the ground, Percy pulled the ball back.

"Woah! Hold on!" The stranger yelled as the ball of water rolled over the entirety of the pileup. Percy effortlessly pulled all of the cars apart now, the water doing all of the work. It all took less than twenty seconds.

Percy looked at his work, sighing in relief when he saw all of the car passengers safe. No fire left to extinguish, either. He began lowering his hands.

The water dropped, emptying into storm drains and traveling downhill like a river rapid. The cops had arrived- when? Percy didn't know. They got splashed, along with just about everyone else on the street.

"You okay?" Percy asked the stranger beside him. Percy was dry- the guy was not. His blue collared shirt was clinging to him in what Percy guessed was an uncomfortable way. The smell of sewage covered the street- along with his hair. There was a candy wrapper stuck to his stomach- probably trash from the gutter.

The man was about to answer Percy, but several officers were also approaching them- bulky SWAT guys, full tactical gear.

Percy raised a hand in greeting. "Officers!"

They didn't respond in kind.

Instead, Percy felt something jab into his side. A searing pain made his back arch and stole his breath from his lungs. He saw spots- and then he hit the dirt.

The man with the blue collared shirt was handed a tactical vest. He put it on gratefully as the rest of the team extracted the target: two men carried Theseus, three men kept their rifles up, ready to fire if anyone drew attention to them.

The back of the SWAT van opened. A man in dark armor, wearing a white painted tactical helmet and mask watched coldly as his team re-entered the van.

The kidnappers didn't linger. Once everyone was seated, Theseus restrained, the van began its journey Eastwards.