Gah, so, I might not have updated this book with an actual chapter in like a month and a half. And to be truthful, I don't have the decency to explain myself. 

So, I pulled myself together and wrote it all in one day.

I may be sleep deprived also.

Some things are about to go down.

So, according to ancient laws, there is a limit on how many curse words can fit into a sentence. Someone, probably Plato or some other philosopher that I can't think of at the moment, put a restriction on what makes up a sentence and the words stuffed into that sentence. This is where my problem lays, I was never one for following the rules, or like any kind of authority once so ever.

I could cuss filthier and more colorfully than a truly american pirate, or I can recite the long, soul draining tail of how it all went wrong. I could curse my entire existence till my mouth goes numb or I could tell you how I almost died, again. I actually can't decide.

Now I know what your thinking, everything will be the cliche hero antic and you will come close to death in the middle or your character arch just so you can progress into the story and grow into your climax all the while fighting the hardest conquest you have faced yet! And I'm here to tell you, yes, because for some reason I am a self destructive idiot as much as I am a know it all nine year old with recessive ego qualities.

So, this is the story of how I die. Well not right now, but I guess it will happen sooner rather than later and it sounds cooler than the story of how I survive and...you get the point. Anyway, like all tragedies, it started with the cruel subjectification of juvenile species in an environment that's fitted best for only a fraction of the population. In other words, school, the horror started at school.

Gym to be specific.

The lockers rattled sharply as a hand forced my head against them and the back of my skull stung on the impact. To be honest it caught me off guard to be slammed against a piece of metal, painful also, and i'm not scared to admit it. My eyes wandered upwards slowly up the pounds of muscles towering over me, quite intimidatingly if I was to go into detail. A small nine year old in a gym of people over five years older than me, this my friends, this is what can go wrong. A major height difference that was just plain unfair.

I met his almost too smug gaze with nothing more than defiance, which no doubt angered him. Oh the meat suit that was Theo Drake, or as I liked to refer to his as, Poly. You know, every person has that one guy. The Jock, dating the head cheerleader and sharing all of his life on his twitter account by taking pictures of his muscles and making bad jokes about the male anatomy. The guy that pushes the younger members of society against lockers just to look cool in front of his friends and show the other male his place. I'm pretty sure there is zero character depth there, like no drive or reason for his horrible choice of personality. If there was anything in his tiny little heart, my money's on daddy issues, even I had daddy issues.

"Hello Poly, steal any candy from little children today?" He snarled and griped my gym shirt tighter pulling my non existent body weight up the locker like I was an inanimate weight lifting exercise.

"I bench 200, you bench marshmallows. I wouldn't be talking squirt." his grin widened and he pushed me farther into the lockers.

"1, i'm pretty sure you just made a reference to spongebob, which by the way,not shaming you for watching. 2, what does squirt even mean, it's not an adjective or noun, it's a verb. As in, don't squirt the water. I mean would twerp be better? 3, I happen to love marshmellows-"

"Is this a face that cares?" He taunted cutting me off.

"You realize that I have no idea of idealizing what you care about through your facial structure?" I smiled innocently.

Obviously his only feasible response was to punch me in the ribs. Poly may be a jackass, but he's also the school's quarterback and heavy lifting champion, so he has to muscle power to back it up. He dropped me to the floor and griped my hair in a tight fist.

"If this gets any more cliche, I will not be able to survive my life choices." I coughed.

"Listen twerp, you even glance at my girl again and I will crush your skull." he snarled into my ear.

"Do you realize I am a 9?" I scoffed, elbowing him sharply in the chest.

He released his hold on my hair ruffly and I stood slowly glaring at him. I brushed off my crinkled shirt and leaned back against the locker with the strongest source of indignation I could muster. Oh he may have been the fresh meat of bull but he was as about as bright as a jellyfish. The lack of area for a brain was one of the most compelling similarities.

"Thank you for considering the word use, fits me better." I smiled brightly.

"I will break you." he snarled back.

Well wasn't that pleasant? I wouldn't care about threats under normal circumstances, but, then again what in Theo was considered normal circumstances. He just didn't care about the things I cared about. He could keep his promise on breaking me just fine without caring what was to come his way. In his mind all that mattered was the social order, the fishes trembling in fear in his power and the sharks laughing along with him.

I wasn't necessarily scared of him, I wouldn't forgive myself if I was scared of a teenage boy with a too tight of a jock strap. But he had always unnerved me, jumbled up my emotions to the point where I was over thinking the meaning of life.

"Theo, leave the guy alone. You're already on parole." a new condescending voice rang out through the decaying gym lockers.

My eyes ran over his form quickly, and was he a sight for sore eyes compared to the hockey puck looming over me. He was tall, and large, very large. I'm my time in this school I hadn't met him, then again, I only new about 20 persons name total and that was just from unrelieved stalking.

His hair was tangled around his head in a light brown frizzy mess, dark aviator shades casting a cool kid look over his eyes. In completion with the black suit and tie dress code he looked like the typical semi nerd, semi 'I sit at the popular table worship at my feet' teenager you see in mean girls 2. At least he seems to not want my guts spilled out onto the locker room floor tiles. That's an upside.

"Awe come on Ty, just having a little fun." Ty raised his eyebrows at Theo's version of fun.

The bell pierced through the ever loved conversation and that jackassical excuse for the human race had the audacity to flick finger guns my way before falling through the locker room door. Character development at least.

I closed my eyes and slid down the lockers quite pathetically as everyone cleared out to their next class. I had class to, but to be honest I gave no feculence or foul excrement about math at the moment. I just sat by myself in the silence for a few moments cursing out every member of the human race for existing. At least I thought I was alone.

"Sorry about him, sometimes I wonder why I even try." My eyes snapped to him as he closed in on my location.

I gazed up at him confused, why the hell would he even care. He wasn't supposed to care, this was Gotham, it held the worst people in the world and I'm pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be nice. To be honest I don't even think I would be this nice.

He held out a hand to me and I stared at it hesitantly. After a moment I took it and he pulled me off the ground with some amount of strength that I was sure was illegal, or just physically impossible for a highschool student. I think I got some sort of nausea just for that.

"I'm Tyson but you can call me Ty. Luckily I got stuck with the more fortunate name, my brother on the other hand...his full name is Polyphemus." My mouth twisted into a smirk.

"My full name is Perseus, but those who currently don't have a vendetta against me call me Percy." I replied with a bitter edge.

Tyson laughed, and at that point I was convinced that this guy had some ulterior motive, no one was this nice. Not in this city. But the laugh, I could tell it was genuine, the shades hid his eyes but I knew that the sides of his eyes crinkled as he released the sound.

"Well it was nice to meet you Percy, no matter how we met." He was about to walk out of the door when he suddenly twisted back around. "And Percy, if Theo gives you any trouble, come to me. Okay?"

Somehow he had rendered me speechless. That was quite the accomplishment as I never shut up.

"Um, sure." he gave me a mock salute as he walked out and the mahogany door slammed behind him.

I put my face in my hands and the sound reminiscent of a dying whale escaped my lips as my head slammed back into the lockers. 

I would never pretend to understand how the brain works, in all its twist and folds, the dark places that no one ever likes to visit. I don't think I wanted to understand why people did things either, what happens to them to make them be a psychopathic killer, or just another bully pushing you up against the lockers. When that happens, when you understand what people are and why they do what they have done, you can no longer blame them like the rest of the world.

I couldn't blame Poly for what he is, not really. His mother was killed in front of him when he was six by his dad. He was in an out of foster care for three years, alone and living with people who didn't exactly care about him, wouldn't get teary eyed if he had slit his own throat. Now he lived with Gotham's elite, surviving in an environment made up of people that only cared about him if he had a dollar sign above his head. He might be a major jerk, wanting to push other to the ground so that they knew their place, but he didn't have a choice. In his life it was adapt to live with the wolves around him or become their next meal. I knew a little bit about fighting alone...

His brother on the other hand, I did not hack into his file, but I assume he got the long end of the stick.

The more I find what makes people the way they are, why they do what they do. It no longer becomes dark against light, order fighting chaos, it's becomes the same people fighting themselves in different bodies. I desperately want to understand what makes people the way they are, but at the same time, it unnerves me to know that everything is not as simple as it seems.

 It not just that a man is evil, it is that the man has been beaten down his whole life, made fun of and told that he was weak. Then reacting with every single action possible to become strong, no matter how questionable, because he needed to prove them wrong, because they were what made him that way. It's not just a nice man, it's a man that grew up in a trailer at the edge of town. A man who wanted to follow his dreams, but learned young that it was impractical and that few seldom even got what they needed. A men with parents that just wanted him to be happy, that told him they would support him no matter what, even though they didn't have much. A man that found that the only thing that mattered, I mean really mattered, was the ones around you that were nice back to you. 

No, because when it's no longer black and white, all you ever see again is gray, either with not a single soul to blame for their actions, or to blame everyone that had ever touched you. After that, I found their was no going back to seeing two dimensional faces in a crowd. Soon, nothing really feels the same. 

Classes burnt out quickly, lost their fire within a month of attending. They may have never had the fire to begin with, just an illusion of light from the prospect of learning. Learning, that was something I enjoyed, but being around teenagers who, despite being older, don't understand that the social hierarchy never mattered. People who claim they have matured and are grown up, then crumble at the act of real responsibility, blaming everyone but themselves for their failure. The ones that cry over broken hearts for too long, and never understood that the ones they gave their hearts too, never cared about their love in the first place. But that wasn't just school was it? No that was life. 

Maybe it was because I was nine, not old enough to understand why things had to be the way they were, but how old I was never mattered did it? And really, it didn't matter if it made sense or not, nothing would ever make it change.

I slammed my door shut, maybe a little too hard, but I didn't care. I was angry, angry at the world for being they way it was, angry at the people who didnt understand, angry and frustrated with no one to blame, because the only fault was mine for being angry. I clenched my fists into balls and my nails dug into my palm trying to stop thinking about everything. 

My head told me nothing really mattered, that I would never make a difference anyway, things never changed as long as they never learned what from the pasts of others. My head told me that there would always be people in the world who thought different, that the world was doomed from birth to fall and die just as everything else does. But then again, my head tends to be kind of a jackass.

My hand combed through the thick black hair that I refused to gel back as I released a shaky breath, opening my eyes to the room close to near darkness. Alone at last. Except I wasn't alone. My body went ridged and the air caught in my throat.  

A silhouette made itself known to my eyes placed in my favorite black twisty chair. I mean, there was like four other chairs in the room alone, not even counting the bean bag, was it customary that someone sit in that chair? To be honest, as I stood frozen in the dark, I was more peeved than anything.

Then the person turned their head, then I would admit I was a little hesitant to confront the dark shadowy figure that could potentially be here to murder me. The dark figure stood up to full height, which wasn't really that height to my great relief, and walked into the light. At this point I really wanted to make a Doctor Who reference.

"I assume you're the son, huh." The person walked fully out of my favorite brooding corner-an holy crap she looked like she choose the blue pill. "I'd thought you'd be, you know, more."

Oh she did not go there.

"Well hello to you miss monochromatic, glitch in the matrix?" I put my hand dramatically on my hips. Emphasis on the point and all.

To be honest, she looked as if high school musical had become a gothic outlet. She had spiky black hair that framed her face and a spiky leather jacket that held so much teenage rebellion, it would sell on the black market for a human soul. I mean, the whole getup had me reling to get enough sarcastic comments ready.

"Where do you think I got my style? Barney and friends?" Oh you could just hear the dangerous edge that lingered on her comment.

 Black heels clicked softly onto the floor as she took steps towards me. To be a decent human, I decided to meet her halfway. I was met staring up into fierce electric blue eyes.

 "Hello there Thalia, I thought we would never have the opportunity to meet" If she was surprised at me knowing her name, sh didn't show it in her feral grin.

"So, I guess we don't require introductions." She shrugged.

"No, not really, but it's always nice to know why someone breaks into your house and waits in the darkest corner of your for the sake of feeling awesome." I relented. "Not judging by the way, we all have our hobbies. I stalk people, you sneak out of dark corners.

"You don't know a thing about me." She scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. I just raised my eyebrows.

 "Thalia Grace, 16. Well I mean you've been pulling some Edward Cullen shit, but yes, you're physically 16. Date of birth unknown to any database, and you harness the powers of electricity."

 To be honest, it didn't take very long to be up against the wall with a sword to my throat. You haven't known real fear until you have a mean teenage Goth push you onto a wall with a sharp object to your throat. 

"Come on, I haven't even got to Star Wars puns yet." She pushed the knife further into my skin and raised her eyebrows. 

"You know, if your going to kill me, can you do it soon? I have a test in math tomorrow and I'm already dead inside." She made a frustrated noise akin to two birds fighting an alligator and took the knife off of my neck violently. 

"I'm not here to kill you, I need your help." She sighed like she was ashamed of herself, not going to lie, that sort of hurt.

"You must be truly desperate, what could you possibly need that I can help you with?" I answered quite flabbergasted.

"I'm going to kill Kronos." My head snapped up and my mouth shut off any supernatural reference that would come crawling out of my mouth. She was kidding, she had to be kidding. 

There was a lot of silence as I looked at her frozen once more. Her gaze was stern and serious, she was serious. 

"How can I know to trust you, I only know you by your file. I was an idiot once, I don't feel like going down that hole again." I finally said. 

"I don't know you, only heard a couple of stories, but from what I can tell there's no room for worry. You're already an idiot, being one a couple more times isn't going to change things." I shut my eyes tight and tried my hardest not to make a rash decision. 

Oh well I tried.

I reached a hand out for her to take and she took it.

"You stay in wonderland, and i'll show you how deep the rabbit hole goes."

I pulled her to the edge of the room, finally turning the light on, before pulling up a string to reveal a typical board filled with pictures and red string. The product of hour of boredom and an obsession.   

"Did you draw a mustache and devil horns on the lord of time?" She asked in disbelief.

"Don't  judge me."