Hello!

No, no, no. That was to forthcoming...

Hello there.

That sounded like a mix of social awkwardness and stalker tendencies.

Que Pasa?!

That sounded good, just ignore the fact that it's in Spanish.

I'm sorta kinda sorry that I haven't updated in awhile other than the April fools prank that I did not expect you guys to fall for in the slightest. Well here's and update, are you proud of me?

Even though I have no soul ( I sold it to Crowley to get an A on my Algebra exam) I can feel that your proud of me.

Now you people have been waiting long enough!

The chapter!

_

"Why don't you start from the beginning Percy." The woman flash me an ebullient smile and twirled the pen in her hand expertly, like a pen gymnast, in pen Olympics. I could have learned the art of pen gymnastics but then my streak of laziness would be broken. My head relinquished against the arm of the couch with a movement of vexation, a long, drawn out sigh escaping my lips.

"Well Mrs. Lance you see it all started when I was born-" she cut me off there.

"Not that far in the beginning. This is serious Percy, you need help," her voice came out softly. I closed my eyes and turned my head away before responding.

"I know this is serious, if it wasn't then I wouldn't be here. If They didn't think that my entire existence was serious, then I wouldn't be here on this couch being softly interrogated. Whether I need help with anything other than making sure i'm psychologically stable, now that's debateable." She scowled at my words, most likely mulling over the options of a psychological evaluation.

"Do you know who I am?" She looked generously curious, which was a strange sight on her face. Her eyebrows were slightly scrunched together, almost like confusion, but not. Maybe it was an attempt at looking innocent and filled with curiosity as a way to get me to open up. Then the changing the subject, leaving the wounds to heal and then returning again, this was all to psychological for my fragile mind to take. Then again, so was the prospect of having superpowers in a world filled to the brim with villains, aliens and superheroes then ending up living with a billionaire uncle who dressed up like a bat.

"If I didn't know who you are, I would disown myself." Her curious looked turned back into her usual poker face, which was much less disconcerting and I was grateful.

"Then you know why you being, as you put it, 'Softly Interrogated'." She put her hands us in quotation marks at that.

"Oh I know exactly why i'm being ever so gently coerced into spilling all the information I have to you Mrs. Lance." I grinned with vexation. "But what I can't figure out, is why Batman feels the need to hand me off to you to find out instead of softly interrogating me himself with his gruff dad voice."

"Well you did refuse to tell him. Could that possibly be a reason?" She inquired almost sarcastically.

"I didn't refuse to tell him," I felt my eyes roll, matching the tone of my voice. "He refused to listen to anything I had to say that wasn't related to his precious knowledge. I actually wanted to tell him what I know, but talking to him about something other than information on the next target of the Justice League would have been nice."

"Well that's the difficulty with getting information out of people who you are close with, that you know about other than a name and a grudge. Your thoughts become clouded, empatize and trust too much, not such a reliable story then." She responded.

"I guess that does make sense, a unbiased opinion on the situation." I concluded, biting my lip. She continued after a moment of my sulking.

"So," she twirled the pen in her hand. "Start from the beginning."

"I told you before, it really did start when I was born." She raised her eyebrows as I mumbled the words. "9 years ago, a man named Poseidon Jackson faked his death to the Titan gang in Gotham and moved to New York to live with his wife, Sally Jackson, and his son, me."

"A woman named Athena Chase found him, she was an active member of the gang. She wanted his help to bring it down, she had just had a daughter and was being forced to give her up for adoption to remain a member of the Titans. She was angry, really angry and threatened Poseidon and his family until he agreed to help her take down the gang. He would take out shipments in secret, cause chaos and eliminate members one by one. She would manipulate the system from the inside." I forced myself to swallow my emotions.

"The plan was flawed though. You see, every single member of the gang was a descendant of an alien race whose name is lost in time. Most of them have powers, psychics and seers. He was a manipulator of water and user of REM, the dream realm. It was only a matter of time before time caught up to him."

"What does this all have to do with you committing a felony?" She asked, cutting me off quite rudely.

"Shh. I still have 9 years left." I answered with about as much a condescending tone as a could conjure. She just sighed.

"When I was 4 months old he and Athena were killed by a man that goes by Kronos. If you couldn't guess by the name, he can manipulate time, by how much is unknown. Then Batman uncovered a money trail, someone who paid off my stepfather to kill my mother. The transaction was under the name Kronos."

"So this man that killed your mother and father, he's after you?" She questioned.

"It would seem so Mrs. Lance." I rubbed my red lined eyes. "I get these dreams, visions. They show me things. I can control where I go in my dreams, places and inside others people's dreams, and then sometimes the dreams control me and pull me in to see random places and things. That was until I started to see things that were important, my father's death, places and important events"

"You said initially that you started the fire because of fate." She commented.

"It was fate, the sidekicks were meant to find Cadmus, I saw it. It began months ago, the visions. They had to be there." My voice was unintentionally fragel.

"To rescue Superboy." I nodded.

"When I see it, I know that it's important, the visions wouldn't stop even when they rescued him." I continued.

"Why is he so important?" She asked.

"All of them are, the sidekicks. They save the world from an unbeatable force, a force that I didn't even understand. Robin, the son of the Bat, knowledgeable and full of mystery. Kid Flash, what holds them together with his consistent lightheartedness and sense for adventure. Aqualad, a strong and steadfast leader who isn't afraid to make hard decisions. Superboy, the brute strength with even an undertone of innocence. Miss Martian, the girl who may act helpless or weak at times of peril but has tremendous power behind her words, power she doesn't even know she has. Then there will be others, others that have not even come to the light yet. They are the only one who can beat them."  

"What force?" Her voice was forceful all the sudden.

"I can't tell you Mrs. Lance, if I told you them I would be manipulating the future, possibly making it worse."

"Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey?" I snorted.

"Glad I am in the presence of a another Doctor Who fan." She smiled softly, making me question how on Earth she could look so intimidating in costume, but then I remembered she could slam me into the floor in less than half a second.

"Your file said that possible ways to connect with you would include making references from popular television shows." That had me straight cracking up, holding my stomach.

"Never has a file ever been so accurate." I breathed in a broken up manner. She let an amused smile grace her lips, once again a strange sight to see in contrast to her usual stone cold killer matrix vibe.

After that, silence enveloped us. I twiddled my thumbs and stared at her expectantly. You see, this is what people would normally call awkward silence. I do not enjoy awkward silence in the slightest bit, maybe it's the awkwardness, perhaps it's the silence. I'm going to call a draw and say that is both. If that concluded the end of my hardcore therapy session slash soft interrogation then I would have to say that i'm relieved, though again, we come back to the part where it's awkwardly silent and no one knows what to do.  

"So Mrs. Lance, does his conclude my stern talking to for the day or will I be standing in the corner for the remainder of my childhood for doing what Fall Out Boy told me to do?" I shot out into the silence, raising my eyebrows. She stared at me for a second with unreadable features before nodding. 

I've wouldn't have darted out of there faster if Miley Cyrus was chasing me with a hammer.  

I found myself settled on Batman's twisty chair in front of the batcomputer only hours later. The batchair, as I had come to call it in spirit of things, was about three times my size. My feet hung off the edge, not even reaching the ground. I hated how pronounced my size was, like a small child, which I was. The light from the computer shined off my face, pronouncing my features in a blue glow. 

Night had fallen hours ago, the man who's chair I was sitting was had been gone of a multitude of the day, and I had been alone to deal with my thoughts. You see the problem with being socially awkward, no, socially incapable to the point where it was just depressing, was starting a conversation a conversation that you had meticulously planned to the last detail. Talking to someone around the same mindset and maturity about the last marvel movie and how the entire marvel universe connected, sure, talking to an adult about the future would make any highschool student literally run for the hills. For a socially incapable person such as myself, that was the equivalent of holding someone at gunpoint and realize that you have the wrong person at gunpoint, ending with you searching awkwardly in a crown with a gun looking who's brain to blow out. A crude equivalent, but no less accurate.

I still didn't think I was ready to have this conversation though. The process I had gone through to find the right words didn't even reassure me that I wasn't going to make a full of myself. I mean, I hadn't planned for hours to think of all the scenarios and how to ask him, how to convince him, I planned for months. I had wrote an essay on how to talk to people in awkward situations, not even for school, just as a reference to life. I had researched handling authority, read countless of books and spent hours watching Netflix to analyze how the younger generation handled adults. Most of them were total blowout tween dramas that were so inaccurate they almost made my brain bleed, but watch them nonetheless I did. 

I had meticulously planned everything, the talk, the kiddy league forming, all of it. Countless days were spent calculating multiple outcomes and different situations in account to the addition of each members personality and human error. In the end, Superboy stood tall and strong in front of his would be father and told him to move the frickle frackle out of the way. Not the way I expected it to happen, unforeseen, but not unwanted. Either than that, everything happened the way I saw, fate had played out.

Now all I had to do was tell one of the most powerful man on Earth to politely shove it up his non-hetero frickle frackle location and teach me how to be a real boy.  

What could possibly go wrong?

You know what, let's pretend those words were never thought, you didn't read that. Everything, if done correctly, could go wrong. In reality, I had estimated based on a worldwide survival outcome, my chances of dieing while compelling my argument were about 26%. The chances of me actually succeeding in my original goal without any repercussions or argument was less than my chances of pushing one of the wiggles off niagara falls in the middle him singing poker face by Lady Gaga. To bad it wasn't less than the chance of me actually feeling remorse for that action. 

I had a plan that was a bit more successful than the others in the estimation of success, but that may or may not have included chloroform, hydrochloric acid, three different brands of hard liquor and apple juice. If you were to ask why I even had a plan such as this one, all you had to do was check my Tumblr account.     

The mental issues of over planning a not so simple conversation and everything tumblr were irrelevant though. The good thing about today was that I had a plan in the first place and I wasn't chickening out. I had come to find that thinking about speaking and speaking were two contrastive adjectives, one is undemanding of too much effort and doesn't require you to go through much pain, the other makes you want to claw your heart out and feed it to the wolves. When you put on pen and paper, which I did, the words seem so natural, but then I know once I stand in front of him that I will loose my nerve. 

Well at least i'm not cliche, a young child wanting to become a hero. All that stands in his way is an sorta-overbearing-parent-on-certain-subjects-but-completely-ignores-you-when-your-problems-don't-relate-to-him-in-any-way and social anxiety. I mean who's wrote that before?

That was a rhetorical question by the way.

So I guess that I should observe what's on the computer so that iIl have something to do while I wallow in self pity. It really wasn't that interesting to be honest, just old case files. Well some of them were interesting. They dated back as far as 20 years ago, all solved by Jim Gordon back when he was just a detective determined to clean up the Gotham police force. Alot were petty thieves and murderers over stupid payback or the overused backstabbing to get all the money ploy. Some of them though, they were origin stories. 

I had read most of them, and there was a lot in the 20 years that the now commissioner Gordon had joined the force. From the beginning he was dealing with some big foes and gangs in the city. The story of how Jonathan Crane had become insane was his favorite so far. It was quite the depressing story. Daddy thinks he can cure the world of it's fear, uses his son as a test subject after he 'vaccinated' himself.  He ends up giving son way too much of the drug on his son as they were being shot at by the feds and son doesn't react too well. Doctors reported that, due to the drug, John see's his worst nightmare every waking minute of the day. 

Makes my daddy problems seem like the equivalent of being taken to a Justin Bieber concert by force. 

I was snapped out of my thoughts as the sound of tires screeching against metal echoed off the walls of the cave. I had to force myself to breath deeply, just to keep my heart rate from breaking my already damaged rib cage. It was show time, I was the protagonist of this lame life. Then again I was probably also the antagonist, and all we need now is a love interest... damn you! getting off track. 

There was no car door slamming shut, no hearable footsteps. There was nothing to warn me of the person standing behind the chair, but I knew he was there. Even in his own home-er, well cave, he didn't have the audacity to not seem all dark and mysterious like a freaking creep. As to better my score, I did not flinch one bit as he spoke.

"Is there a reason your sitting in my chair?" He demanded almost condescendingly in his gruff Batman voice, like a father asking their child why their entire house was in ruins, but with more masculinity. All I did was pull my legs off the sticky leather and pull my knees into my chest. I clicked the mouse and moved onto the next page of the file, before even glancing up at him.

"Is there any other chair in this entire cave that you would rather me sit at? Perhaps I can pull up the stool from the M.E. office. You know, the one that's covered in blood and other questionable substances." I turned my head away from him and stared back at the file, screaming in internal victory for not stumbling on my words and remembering the burn from a pre scheduled list of comebacks that I had made.

He gripped the back of the chair, viewing the file that was on display with squinted eyes, wow those masks that shape with eye movements were a well endowed investment. The dead body on display was gruesome, arms detached from sockets, blood coming out of orifices that even Jeffrey Dahmer "The Milwaukee Cannibal", wouldn't find appetizing. The girl's name was Leah, only 16. She was picked up as a hitchiker and then raped and murdered by the two men that were in the car. It seemed like the guys took there sweet demented time in killing her based of the body.

"You shouldn't be down here." He growled out after a moment of silence. "You shouldn't even be awake." 

"Yet here I am. Tada! Magic and unicorns. Would you like some cake to go with your miraculous discovery?" Also from the list of comebacks.   

He glared at me, his eyes burning down on me through the whites of his domino mask. A scowl looked like it was permanently chiseled into his features, set in stone like the dramatic stances of historic statues. I could feel my heart quicken slightly in response in being at the receiving end, but I would not, for the life of me, turn my gaze away. So that was what it was for only a brief moment in time, his burning whites against my raised eyebrows. It was only seconds of silence, but I couldn't breathe.

"Why are you down here Percy?" He finally asked, voice still deep and gruff as if he was growing.

I felt my tongue press against my teeth, anything to keep me from noticeably clenching my jaw. As I averted my eyes to remember how exactly I phrased the answer in all of those months if thought, the edge of a metallic aftertaste seeped into the back of my throat. My eyes found their target again after a moment, his scowl did not change, he didn't twitch the slightest bit.

"I've been planning on talking to you for a while," I began biting my lip. "I mean, I hope you have time. It's just, some words need to be said."

He eyed my over, analyzing my form and every single detail on my presentation along with tone changes in my voice. If anything, he wasn't clueless, he could connect dots I couldn't even see. I was kidding myself, he probably knew exactly what I was going to say. Then he would have a counter argument, eventually winning and crushing all of my hopes of actually getting anything accomplished.

Dick flung himself out the top of the bat mobile, landing neatly on the car's circular pad. There was more silence, not really awkward per say, but like a standoff of thoughts and controlled emotions. My eyes grazed over both of them, they didn't look to be to seriously injured. No cuts littered their skin, no blood came seeping out of hole in their suits, the kevlar paddings that hide the vital areas in a protective shell weren't damaged or dented by a bullet. They must of had a tame night compared to what they usually face on their nightly outings, which included stray gunfire and a multitude of injuries. 

He was standing by Batman for a few second before he even noticed me in the chair, very perceptive Wonder Boy. He removed his mask and opened his mouth like a fish, the lack of words on his tongue becoming emphatic with each passing moment. Bruce dragged his cowl to his shoulders, revealing a head of inky thick tousled hair and eyes noticeably sunken yet unrevealing. I turned around and fully straddled the form fitting black chair that towered over me and silently begged him to concede to the best of my ability. 

He glanced over his shoulder to Dick, whose mask was now in his hand, and nodded his head toward the stairs. Dick followed his gaze and nodded, conveying that the 'Bat Speak', as people referred to it as, was received. There was a long time spent in silence as he striped out of his suit and elegantly climbed the staircase unlike anyone should be allowed to at 3 am in the morning. 

I then had his full attention, which was one of the most hardest things in the world to accomplish. 

"The dictionary definition of a hero is a person who is admired or idealized for courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities." I began, my voice uncharastically low. "I want to help, and I know that the definition of hero is so much broader than that vague lackluster idea. I never really want to be recognised, I don't think that I would ever be able to withstand the pressure of so many eyes focused on my actions, but I want to help."

He eyed me face, analyzing what my intentions were from the depth of my features. The only thing I had to hide hadn't even happened yet, so the only intentions I had was to not let the world be destroyed. I needed his help though, I needed him and I hated that I couldn't do on my own will. 

"What is it exactly that you want?" His voice was low, only a step away from being explosive.

"I want you to train me." It came out soft but firm and about as confident as I could manage. 

I didn't know what I was expecting, maybe for him to explode, maybe for him to straight out tell me no and shut me off completely. In full belief, I was ready for a screaming match, a fight. Calculations all led to the most likely possibility of failure, some to total disaster. I had created contingency plans for the contingency  plans of my contingency plans, but most if not all simulations showed that I was a giant wimp and I would never be allowed in the basement again.

He just stared at me though, thinned lip and narrowing eyes. I found myself holding my breath, staring with the closest thing to fear into his blue eyes. Without his cowl pulled down, he almost looked human, with vulnerabilities and terrors keeping him up in the night like the rest of us. The lines on his face were still hard and cold, but talking to a regular guy seemed a lot better than talking to an unbeatable myth in the night. Was it? I still don't know.

"Your strong Perseus," he finally spoke, his voice still gruff and deep. "You understand events better than I did at your age, and your one of the most intelligent children I've ever come to know,-"

"I am quite pleased with your flattery." I muttered under my breath.

"-but you don't want to be dragged into this world. Finish highschool, make connections, have a life."

"The way you say it makes it seem like I don't have a choice." I crossed my arms, unyielding to agree.

"You always have a choice." That left us in silence.

I needed this, to win just this once against my would be oppressor. So yeah, defence was strong in this one, because I can be Yoda if I want to be Yoda.

"In Greek mythology, there's this hero, kin of Zeus and one of the most famous ever known. Killed the immoral monster with a head if snakes, he rescued the princess Andromeda and was known throughout Greece." I started recalling the story.

"My namesake, my mother didn't choose him for my name because he was a hero though, she chose him because he survived." I looked back up into his eyes and was surprised to see general interest.

"You and I both know that I'm already in the rushing rapids up to my neck. To run from it would be foolish and put me in even more danger. I'm different in a world of people who don't like different. So I'm already here, I the closest thing to a hero that I can see, but I will inevitably die if I can't swim." At this point my voice was commanding, and I felt something like anger bloom deep in my ribcage.

"So, in favor of not dying." I pause and glared up at him. "Train me."

"The way you say it makes it seem like I don't have a choice." He responded using my own words. It voice was still set in a low growl, but somewhere deep in my heart I felt an ounce of humor and sarcasm that provoked the beginnings of a grin.

"I wonder why that is?"

We were in another round of silence, holding my breath again as he analyzed me with blank features. A silent standoff, battle of wills.

"Meet me down here after school tomorrow and we'll discuss things  further."

"Thank you."

"Go to your room and sleep, you have classes in the morning."

Closest thing to a 'your welcome',  I was ever going to Get.

Yay chapter! Thank you everyone and goodnight!