The day began like toilet seat.

To say that it was frigid, shockingly cold and not only counting the temperature. It felt as though everyone held they're breath and bit their tongue.

That particular analogy also worked with how it was simmilar to fecal matter, given that all anyone could muster up was a scowl or a vacant look. No one was particularly expressive anyway, but at this amount, the usually busy city was erie and unnerving.

They, above all else looked scared. The news anchor on the downstairs TV that Alfred had turned on was reporting news with wide eyes, heart vacant from the already fake smile that graced her lips. The people on the street I glanced at through the car window scurried around like rats. Solemn faces was all I saw as I passed kids in halls, it was quiet, like they were mourning.

But they were, because out of hundreds of high class children that roamed the halls, 24 had died less than two weeks ago.

I didn't feel up to much smiling either.

So yeah, the world felt quite like a toilet seat at the moment, vacant and empty. Though, the difference was that toilet seats tended to warm up as you sit on them, the longer I sat on the feeling that I wished was apathy, it only got more bitter and raw.

On the car ride home, I looked over at Dick sitting across from me and staring out the window with a fist propping up his chin up. I wanted to ask him if he was alright, if it felt cold to him too. I knew the answer already though, we all felt the tense disquietude and foreboding recreancy in the air around us, as suffocating and revolting as breathing into a paper bag for too long. It made me lightheaded, having a clouded mind like looking through the thick fog in your life and trying to decide if the object a foot away was a car or a tree.

I opened my mouth to speak to him, tell him that I was sorry that I never really spoke to him, sorry that I still haven't spoke to him. To be honest, in light of it all, the shear amount of things that have happened just over the past few months, I had no earthly clue where to start.

But I had to start somewhere. So I looked to him and opened my mouth, letting the the world's bullshit fall out.

"What do you know about time travel?"

His head snapped sideways to look at me, mouth slack and eyes wide. I internally cringed. It had been so quiet today, my hoarse voice sounded deafening in contrast. Also, why the hell did I chose time travel?

"Um...well I've read some theories about it, honestly if you want to know about time travel, Flash is an expert there with how many times he's changed it." He squirmed then before staring back out the window.

"What do you believe? I mean I know there are alot of differnt theories." I questioned, not letting the optertunity of easing the tension slip out of my hands.

He just shrugged, opening his mouth to reply but closing it again and shaking his head to himself.

"Some people think of time like a river." His eyes flicked back toward me as I spoke. "That no matter how much you through rocks into the river the stream will always go in the the same direction and the current will always pull the water back on course. The theory that the universe always self corrects and you may change some events but it will always end the same way."

He bit his lip before seemingly deciding something a d turning towards me.

"It's an okay anology, but honestly, I chose to believe that things can be changed. If something happenes that you have the power to fix but end up not changing anything, than that's depressing." He spoke lightly, part inhibited, part suspicious.

"I don't think that we can, I mean, somethings can't be changed." This was not a good topic, why did I bring this up?

"That's not any way to live, thinking that you can't change things."

My eyes avoided his face and I turned back towards the window, not responding to his comment. I felt his eyes linger on me for a moment more before he turned his head and mirrored my actions.

The rest of the car ride was spent in silence, partly to the fold of thoughts that overcame the need of conversation, partly because neither of us had any more to say. What could I say? I might die soon fighting a dude that calls himself the lord of time and I just wanted you to know that maybe we're not as close as I wanted to be? But sorry yeah, I'm going to die and there's nothing you or I can do about it, tough break. Have you seen the news? It horrible.

Whatever I had to say to him, I had a feeling that the right words were never going to come out, no matter how much I tried not to be a fumbling idiot who takes socially inept to a new level.

The silence could eat me alive and I would let it, because having nothing to say was better than having nothing good to say.

Thankfully, silence did not devour my soul that day, and our personal brooding time was cut off by the sound of a chime coming from my pocket. I pulled my phone from my pocket, frowning at it. Due to me being me, I only had five contacts saved, two of which were currently in the car and the other one was a thirty year old man at work who happened to enjoy calling more.

That left two options? First, Nico freaking di Angelo who was off on a quest to bring his dead sister back to life through his magical alien necromancy powers and whom I hadn't spoken too in a month. Partly because I was mad at him for selfish reasons, partly because I didn't know how to say that I was sorry. His name seemed to always flash on my contact list like a fire alarm, a warning for trepidation, but something that couldn't be ignored. So, I ruled that one out.

That only left Thalia Mystery Last Name. I had given her my number to tell me, A: when she needed help, B: When she had information, or C: when she wanted to discuss crazy conspiracy theories. She took that last one as a joke, so I doubted that it was what she wanted, but I was being completely serious. I mean things like the flat Earth and the moon landing being faked were bull, but I know enough aliens to not rule out that some of the government officials are implanted lizard people.

Back to the point, which had been lost somewhere between dead sisters and lizard people. I turned on my phone and unlocked it, pulling up the messages app.

Thalia- We need to meet.

I bit my lip, glancing at Dick who was still staring out the window, but you never know how much other people know. I looked back down before cradling the phone closer and replying quickly.

You- Spring bridge near Robbinsville, 9pm. I'll find you.

And I would, that was going to be the easiest part of the night. Finding her along the sidewalks and pulling her into an abandoned warehouse near there, because I had the feeling whatever she had to say did not include self preservation.

Thalia- Armed.

I bit my lip. I was starting to regret my decision of ever becoming friends with her. She seemed more trouble than she was worth, but then again, so was I.

I shut my phone off and shoved it back into my pocket, not liking the queasy feeling that had settled in the pit of my stomach. I glanced at Dick, who still stared out the window, pitifully ignoring my existence. I deserved that, but I doubted we would get to talk any time soon.

I sighed in discontent before leaning back into the seat and wishing that the world would go away.

---

The thing about telling someone to be armed, you must specify, or there will be confusion. I mean, not confusion as in, oops, I forgot my arms. But when you're looking at several knifes laid out on your bed, freshly sharpened and then you look at your pockets and wonder how many will fit in there, it's good to have specification.

I decided on four of them, two for the inside pockets of my jacket and two for the sheaths I had strapped to my waistband. Then I had no idea what to do with the other eleven throwing knifes on top of my comforter, but the meet up was five hours away and I was bored, so I went back to sharpening them.

Then there was a knock on the door and I stopped mid motion bringing the sharpening tool against the blade, frozen.

"Percy?" Fucking Bruce. "Can I come in."

Let me get this straight, I didn't squeak per say, but neither did a grunt in a manly fashion. I dropped the knife instantly on the comforter and ripped the blanket over them to cover the collection of knifes splayed out over the bed. He opened the door as soon as I made a noise that could have been 'come in' or a pained wail.

"What do you need?" I asked with a smile that I really hoped wasn't suspicious.

He eyed me, probably knowing something was up because he is Batman and he knew everything, but he must have determined that it was unimportant and turned to look at me with that goddamn calculating gaze.

"I have an assignment for you." He walked across the room, giving glances to the advanced computer setup and no doubt the bulletin board pitifully covered in the corner. You know, the one about my moms murder.

"An assignment?" I cocked my head and laid back on the bed, carful to avoid the place where the knives were poorly hidden.

"Yes." Was all the answer he gave me, staring at me with the eyes that could see through solid steel. I squirmed and crossed my arms over my chest. I waited for him to continue, but he just stared.

"Do go on." A broke into the staring contest, it was starting to become uncomfortable. I could tell that he was to caught up in his thoughts to notice. Something...personal perhaps?

He stood still for a moment longer before coming towards me, and it took me half a second to recognize that he was a second away from sitting on the pile of freshly sharpened knives. My mouth opened, no longer putting reason behind my words.

"Wait!" My voice came out as something like another embarrassing squeak, but much more alarmed and much louder.

He paused mid motion, about to sit, but then straightened again and gave me a curious glance. One laced heavily with concern.

"Percy, what's under the blanket?" All the sudden I felt like a five year old, telling an adult a didn't eat the last cookie as crumbs are sprinkled like confetti across my chin.

"I think the question you need to ask yourself is what not under the blanket." I pressed my tongue against the front of my teeth.

"Percy." He growled out in a sense of less concerned father and more terrifying vigilante.

"It couldn't possibly be puppies, no matter how cute, I can't handle the responsibility. I-" He cut me off by pulling the covers away and I groaned.

Maybe if I ignored it, it would go away. I closed my eyes and pressed my cold hands over my forehead, I couldn't see it, it wasn't there. He would walk out the room like nothing happened and I would continue my night in peace, meeting up with another legacy of a lost alien race and then procede to probably get myself killed soon in the near future. If anything other than that happened, well, maybe it could be the death part.

"Why do you have knives on your bed." Back to angry dad, so maybe that death part would still play out.

"I was sharpening them." I responded simply, innocently. Yeah fucking right.

"Any particular reason you are sharpening knifes?" I risked a glance up to him, he didn't look angry per say, more amused than anything. Fucker.

"Any particular reason you dress up as a bat and beat up criminals? People do what they do. You do you, I do me. We're all happy." He leveled a glare to me that wasn't as severe as I thought it was going to be, more a puppy that couldn't catch its tail.

He picked up the file on the desk he had set down earlier, and didn't hesitate to give it to me, then get the hell out of dodge.

I opened my mouth to say something but there was no point, he walked out and I closed my mouth. That alone was a miracle.

With nothing else to do other than reel at the terse interaction, I sighed and hoisted the thick manila folder into my lap, ripping the top open. What was inside would have given me an aneurysm if I hadn't already had enough surprises today, but my threshold didn't stop my eye from twitching.

Because on the stupid page was Luke Castellan, and I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming out in frustration. I had an assignment, I was going to be expected to do that assignment.

Name: Luke John Castellan
Age: 13
DOB: 19 May 2004
Gender: Male
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color: Blond
Race: Caucasian

My eyes danced along the page, it was a basic identification, as if I could ever forget what he looked like, as if his fathers face wasn't forever burned in my retina. I turned the page with a lethargic swipe, as if all the sudden my hand now had to carry a family of mammoths. I swallowed thickly and read the damn thing.

No known powers over time recorded, though does show skill in swordsmanship and slight of hand. Is now in hiding after the incident that resulted in the death of Annabeth Chase, but does not remain in contact with operative Kronos. Location unknown.

Objective: Gain knowledge of location and make plans for contact.

I rubbed my forehead, reaching up to swipe the hair that had gathered in my face. Bruce would love to know where Luke was, the gist of the entire encounter. So would I, but I was never that simple. He was friends with Annabeth, meaning he knows how to shield him mind better than Batman himself. The wards that Annabeth left in his mind were unbreakable.

I threw the paper to the side, partially landing on a knife, and collapsed back into the mattress. Disappointing Bruce was not going to be a fun occurrence, but neither was looking through minds for hours on end for no reason. Neither alternative was pleasing.

Sighing, I looked to the side of the dresser, the clock read 6:20. I wanted to groan, but instead I gripped a knife in hand and lopped it at the board that hung the lord of times vandalized face. It hit the middle of his forehead.

It didn't take long after that to push my arms through a coat sleeve, stick another knife into the boot side and climb out the bedroom window.