Gotham is beautiful, in it's own way.

It's ridden with crime, mutilated by poverty in most downtown areas, filled with the remaining gangs that wouldn't stay gone and run by corruption and selfishness. Gotham is hostile and awful, but it also has history. The amount of things that had happened behind closed doors and inside the safety of walls was immeasurable, but it was shaped through years of hardships and so many people making the wrong choices.

It's old and cruel, but it's still beautiful. Beautiful in the way blood bounces against snow, in the existence of beaches with shores made of shattered glass, and in the way that beautiful people can be monsters inside themselves.

Monster, "an imaginary creature that is typically large, ugly, and frightening." The monsters I saw were never imaginary, the were as real as the pain caused by fighting them. Wasn't that the purpose of monsters? Not to be imaginary, not to be the embodiment of the creature that once hid under your bed. The purpose of monsters were to stand in your way and make you doubt, doubt who you are, doubt the purpose of why you are alive and the real monsters aren't the ones that hide in your closet or meet their end at the tip of their blade.

The real monsters were the ones inside yourself, so to a point, monsters are imaginary.

But google said that monsters can be monstrous people, and that man certainly applied to that. His soul was corrupted, his life filled with pain and death and the only thing that filled his consciousness was for me to die so he could live.

Killing changes people, I had changed. He was a monster.....but so am I.

---FLASHBACK---

Thalia, being herself, is someone you didn't give orders to. She would listen lightly and be polite enough to let you explain why your right and then give you this long suffering stare before tearing you apart bit by bit as if she had brought a PowerPoint essay and was about to earn a doctorate in the art of telling people why they were wrong.

This is honestly one of the best things about her. She's smart, but not an asshole about it. She's stubborn like a pickle jar lid when it doesn't matter and even more so when it does. She doesn't care about what you do in your past time, but only what you could offer her. She is honest when she needs to be and can lie like a god of mischief when she doesn't.

Most of all, though, she cares. She won't admit it out loud that she cares about things, most likely a response to how many things she cared about were taken. She doesn't need to tell anyone though, it showed in her actions, buried deep under the layers of leather and spikes. She walked around with a heart of silver, where, unlike the non-reactive gold, her presence warded off evil. She shined in her own way without needing to be polished and coddled.

She has good judgement to, she says someone is evil, evil they are. She points and says jump, you jump because if you don't then it will most likely end in you being injured to some extent.

Kronos, was someone I had meant once in a dream, and then not. Both times were nightmares filled with death and fear.

Kronos was a monster, a filthy monster who killed and ordered killing and did it with a smile. He was pitiful, the lowest form of low that you could reach in society. A liar, thief, Murderer. He was evil. Sold his soul the first time he decided  to take another.

And I was going to kill him.

It was only fair, he had taken the lives of so many people, kids, parents, people that didn't deserve to die. My mother didn't deserve to die and neither did Annabeth's mother, Annabeth. The lies I had been fed in the process of luring  me to my ultimate death. Maybe that would happen today, maybe it wouldn't .

"Percy." My head snapped up at her soft tone, bloodshot electric blue eyes bored into me, ripping apart any pretense of secrecy. "Are you up for this ?"

We had relocated to a warehouse closer to where Kronos laid in a deluxe suit , nursing his broken ribs, hiding out like a clam closing it's shell. 

I pursed my lips, rubbing my elbow in thought. "I don't see how I have much of a choice, It's predestined, he's injured, your injured worse."

"You always have a choice, at least in this, murder's a big step." She pried further, taking the hand the she held her side with and laying it on my shoulder. I swallowed thickly and shrugged it off softly, not looking up to see her reaction.

"I never had a choice in this Thalia, not from the moment I came into this world, definitely not when I leave it ." I nearly shivered at how cold my own voice sounded to my ears. Thalia was undeterred, grabbing my chin. 

"For gods sake you're to young." Her eyes bored into me. "You shouldn't have to sound so old."

"Neither should you, I know you've been alive for longer than 100 years, suspended in time, but you shouldn't have to fight this. All of you dying is on me, if I was never born, none of this wouldn't have happened." She shook her head at me, releasing my chin from her grip.

"I'm 236, spent half of that time as a tree. I've seen people being born and die before fate stuck his hand into it. None of this is on you Percy, the only thing I can tell you that you have to do, is remember why you are doing what you do." Her voice turned watery, in a moment of lost composure.

"Tha-"

"You're not here because of fate, not because I've told you to kill the lord of time, but because inside the nine year old that doesn't act like a nine year old, you have the goodness and the purity of the brightest light on any planet, in any galaxy. " She poked my chest with her index finger. "I know you'll do what is right, because you, Percy, can never do wrong."

"There is no one who can do know wrong." I choked out.

"Well, I think Tom Hiddleston is someone who exists, so either he's not perfect, or your a liar." Despite the tears threatening to spill over, a laughed forced it's way out of my throat.

She smile despite herself, picking her leather clad self of the floor and walking to the window. She looked into the night and breathed, obviously trying to keep her composure. She and so many others needed me, it wasn't just me trying to save myself. There were larger things.

"I'm up for it." I spoke up, shakily. She tilted her head to the side, she almost look disappointed that I didn't refuse. Nonetheless she nodded in acknowledgement. Her heeled combat boots clinked onto the tile as she stepped back towards him.

"Then we do it."

---FLASHBACKOVER---

My head still hurt, a pounding in the frontal lobe like a war zone pulsing with shockwaves from an explosion.  I stumbled along the sidewalk, tripping over my feet with blurred vision in a daze. Nothing looked right, it felt different here, it was all too much and I felt if I kept looking at where I was it would finally show it's true form and disappear.

It was still Gotham though, I would be a fool if I thought I could have escaped it's soul draining force. The buildings were familiar, the same alleys laid between concrete buildings. It looked a step cleaner than the Narrows, but I couldn't place where I was.

It was still dark, despite it being dark when it had happened, and nearly sunrise. How much time had I lost? I Twirled around the way I came, looking back up the street for any familiar structures. A car horn blared through the cities noises, lights flashing.

Bile piled at the base of my throat, I felt like dropping and falling asleep on the cold concrete. I would probably end up dying like that, but the thought was nice in passing even though it offered no comfort.

I wanted to go home, dig under the blue comforter and sleep of the feeling of sickness, the feeling rising in the back of my throat. Something told me that I couldn't go home right now. That though hadn't offered any comfort either.

A man running down the street gave no acknowledgement to my exsistance in passing, and I had to swivel my torso to avoid getting knocked to the ground. Being invisible wasn't something you need a high-tech suit for, apparently. He was obviously a criminal, but all of those thoughts felt so far away, like they didn't matter. The only thing that felt like it mattered was the feeling of something deeply wrong, like a crawling under my skin.

I took a calming breath that did nothing to calm the rising anxiety, a pressure in my chest, and looked again, bit everything just seemed wrong, like a dream.

"Excuse me." I asked to a lady sitting on her balcony smoking something that I knew better than to assume was a cigarette. "Can you tell me what part of Gotham I am in? I seem to be lost."

The woman pushed a strand of frizzed  brown hair out of her vision and took a long drag of whatever she had, barely sparing a judging glance before answering with dry wrinkled lips "The wrong part, kid."

"Yes, I've figured that out, care to elaborate further?" I pried. She blew out a breath of smoke, tapping the roll on the side railing to take the ashes off.

"Get outa my sight, twerp." Her Gotham accent showed loudly, she sounded like she wasn't in the mood to be bothered and I slowly backed away and turned away. I needed to get somewhere where things made sense.

I had a feeling, this one not comforting nor optimistic, that I'd never reach that destination.

---FLASHBACK---

"Hey, Nico." I began into the recorder. "I know your not going to get this immediately, and that you'll hate me for this, but I need to ask you for a favor."

I tried not to choke on my words, but my throat was closing around them, not wanting to let them self be known and the feeling off suffocation had to be rationalized and swallowed .

"You see, somethings about to happen, something not good, and I think it's the time we talked about before. The one from the dreams. I have something that I would like to get back to my family, and they disserve better then being left in the dark. I'm going to leave my fathers ring on the roof of the warehouse, the one where you stayed for a while. I need you to take it to them, tell Leo to transfer all data to the Bat-computer and then tell Leo to open the voice message 'Sparks'." I took a deep breath, trying to think of what to say, or if I should just end it there, clean cut. He didn't deserve that though.

Nico was like me, he knew loss and death, was a part of them. He didn't need another botched goodbye, not this time. He knew saying goodbye was going to be the hardest part.

"I....I'm really going to miss you, I hope you can forgive me. I let you down, and I guess I'll never be able to make up for it. I should have helped, or at least not let you shoulder it alone. I know you might hate me, and that's my fault I guess, but they say things are worth more when the creator is gone, and that it isn't until your dead that people will start listening to what you said. You're my best friend, and maybe it was a short time that we knew each other, and maybe we fell apart, but I wouldn't change who you are for the world. I hope you find what you're looking for, Death Boy. You deserve it. I'll see you on the flip slide."

I ended the call, tears prickling at the back of my eyes, like a pressure that would never go away. I came back into the room and Thalia turned her head to stare at me, eyes zeroing in on the ring in my palm. 

"What's that?" She questioned, backing away from the window and taking a cautious step towards me. I cleared my throat, it was scratchy and I didn't trust my voice not to crack.  

"It's my note."

---

Slipping into the building unnoticed wasn't the hard part. I had bat training, that entailed being able to defuse a bomb blindfolded with a paperclip and a piece of gum. Getting into a highly secure building with no casualties and limited defense information was like riding a bike, or fitting into old cloths, or a hundred other analogies that defined the situations simplicity.

The hard part also wasn't setting the distraction, I had read War and Peace several times, I knew the art of strategy. The planning of details and tricks were something I could do, unlike singing.

The point was, none of the things that should have been hard, were not. All of the action I was expecting: fighting of security, other descendants, Kronos' lackeys destroying me. Instead, what I got was what I feared most.

You see, I was expecting a movie ending. The hero dies saving people in an extravagant battle of good versus evil. There would be explosions, death, punches and needless battle. That's how it should have been, except I got the worst thing, a human ending.

My dagger was gripped tight in my hand, Thalia had given it to me after I asked her to take my ring that contained the sword to the warehouse.  I didn't feel the need to take it with me to my death, something like that contained memories, and my AI.

Kronos just sat there, looking out the window with a glass of and amber colored alcohol in his willowy hand. He looked devoid of life, this wasn't a heroes ending, not the heroes ending I wanted. The man lifted the drink to his lips before exhaling and letting his head fall back onto the chairs cushioned headrest. He knew I was there, I knew he knew I was there, but I was frozen.

"In all my life." His voice was crackly, weak, his injury. "I have never met someone so willing to die."

He paused, considering his words, or perhaps waiting for an answer. He wasn't going to get one from me.

"I had hope once, hope that the world would finally begin working in my favor once more. The you were born and then I was back to square one." I swallowed.

"Many people have died fighting so that I could live, the last remaining lord of time. The one who rose above and changed the course of history without anyone," he chuckled dryly, "anyone knowing."

"I haven't aged for a thousand years, more or less. I've watched the world move around me, the ones I didn't care for dying, the ones I did care for encased in time before the natural cycle took them out too. All to come to an end by one, little boy who doesn't know the fear that comes with my name."

I found it in me somehow to speak.

"All of that life, it passing by you. Is it lonely?" My voice acme out less confidant that I wanted it to, but the meaning came across none the less.

All he replied with was a laugh.

"What little boy? Do you want to justify your fate by rationalize that you're taking an old, senile man out of his misery?" He turned around in his chair, golden eyes lit like fire and a nose that was upturned to the world. " I wouldn't give you the satisfaction."

I flinched without meaning to. All I could do was breathe, but that didn't seem to be going to well.

"I'm not doing this for satisfaction." I found myself replying, tone slightly more even.

Another dry laugh.

"Tell me why you seem to torment me from the day you were born to the present, I killed both of your parents for a shot at delaying my inevitable end and yet here you are and here I am." In his fury, he hauled himself up from the chair painfully, and grabbing his side with his arm. His tone was like venom. "You want to kill me, and if it's not for revenge, then do tell me what it's for."

What Thalia said came to mind then, her words filling my brain. A taunt of 'don't lose sight of why your doing this'. It wasn't for revenge, not anymore.

"It's because it's the right thing to do." Came the simple answer for a very complicated question.

You could rationalize it, try to understand decisions with an ounce of philosophical ideas. You could have a speech about facing your demons and then making the right decision, and murder was...well murder. I could have done this for a number or reasons, fate, revenge, psychopathic  tendencies.  I didn't have any anger in me, not anymore.

This was just something that felt like it needed to be done, and that man didn't need to be alive.

Kronos went quiet over my answer, turning his head to the side to avoid looking in my direction. He didn't reply.

"What do you have to live for. Is there anyone for you to love anymore? Or are they all just pawns in your life, sacrifices on a big chess board." He sighed.

"What does it matter, just kill me already." He closed his eyes as if waiting for his end to come.

I swallowed thicker, I would have rather had explosions and death and pain. These weren't the circumstances of heroism. It was far too late to back out now. 

"Any last words?" I blinked back the tears.

"Who will be able to hear them? We both know that your coming with me." I shrugged.

"I'm sorry this is what fate made." He shook his head.

"It's not your fault, little boy, I made you this way. " He took my hand with the knife in it and placed it next to his heart. "Make it quick."

I choked back a sob and plunged the knife into his heart. This what it was, there were no explosions, no dramatic acts of heroism.

Just a world enveloped in blinding white.

And then nothing.

---

I picked up a sheet of the newspaper for sale. The overwhelming sense of wrong made sense.

The timestamp.

1987.

25 years in the past.