Apparently flashing various bright lights into a war veteran's face is not a good idea. Percy persevered though. It did however, give him one Hades of a headache.

He strode in with the other Avengers and sat down, taking his place beside them as the cameras drove him insane by cutting off his vision. He didn't like not being able to seem but didn't even break his stride as he crossed the room.

"Mr Stark! Mr Stark! Who is this!?" Tony was leading the conference. The others had said that was a terrible idea, which it was, but he was the one with the most experience. Apart from Thor. But he's Thor.

 "When were you going to tell us about this new player?!"

 "Why are you endangering  a child, Mr Stark?!" 

"Has the government approved this, Mr Stark!?" Stark gave his most shit-eating grin.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen and welcome to the latest Avengers press conference. I trust you all bought a ticket and donated the appropriate amount to charity." Natasha elbowed him in the ribs. "Ouch, Pepper normally goes for the shins." He muttered so no reporters could hear them.

"I'll remember that." She assured  him, her smile was as sharp as her knives, which, naturally, she'd managed to sneak into the press conference. Mettle detectors had nothing on the Black Widow.

"Sorry, Folks. I like to open these with some humour as most of you probably know." He smiled again. "So, who wants to start?"

His question triggered a renewed explosion of camera flashes, which didn't Percy's headache.

"Mr Stark! Are you trying to trick-"
"Mr Stark! What example is this setting-"
"Mr Stark! Are you deliberately endangering-"
"Mr Stark! Are you promoting child labour-"
"Mr Stark!-"

"Mr Stark!-"

"Mr Stark!-"

Percy sighed and rubbed his head as Tony answered.

"Yes? You in the blue shirt with the brown hair. In the front." The reporter leaned forward in his seat as he was called on, like a baby bird begging for worms.

"Mr Stark, I think I'm addressing the elephant in the room when I ask: who is this Seventh Avenger?" His vulturous gaze slipped to Percy as he finished his question. The hero resolutely kept his head down and tried to make as little of him visible as possible. He didn't like this much attention. The last time someone and looked at him like that it had been Tart-him and it had ended with a knife and pain and-

He stopped that train of thought as Tony responded.

"He's Admiral and he's our newest member. Admiral was a soldier who we, incorrectly, thought was a threat. When we arrived we realised he needed help and after dealing with that he became one of us. Since then he has helped us a lot, most recently in the confrontation you saw." That was certainly one way of putting it. They'd carefully decided how to describe their meeting before hand.

"Mr Stark! Why weren't we told sooner? Surely the public has a right to know what super powered individuals," He didn't say heroes, "are fighting in our streets." Or protecting.

"We are all doing our best to protect all we can and we couldn't tell others sooner because of the trouble we mentioned that Admiral needed help with."
"Mr Stark! Could this 'trouble' endanger New York citizens?! Is Admiral bringing danger to honest citizens?!" It was the blue-shirted reporter from before.

"Admiral is an honest citizen. And that danger was specifically towards him due to some unfortunate events in his past." Even Stark cringed a bit at that.

"If he has such a dangerous past why is he working with a team of so called protectors and if he's so 'honest' then why can't we know his real name?!" Natasha kicked Stark in the shins this time.

"He's working with us because he saves lives and he can't give you his original name because he has to protect those he's close to and because we do appreciate what privacy we can get." His faux smile had turned almost as sharp as Natasha's.

"An honest person who can't even answer for himself!? Is even old enough to speak for himself or are you acting guardian?" This time it was a woman with bleach blond hair and enough Botox pumped into her face that she resembled a hunk of glazed marzipan.

Now Percy had to step forward. When he spoke his voice was soft but confident, if slightly rough from previous abuse to his throat. He brushed it off though, as if it had always been like that, making it seem as if it was his natural voice. Even Natasha was impressed.

"I assure you I am definitely experienced enough to hold my own, whether that is verbally or physically." He delivered his response perfectly and didn't even flinch as the flashes of light blinded him more than he was comfortable with and the masses of reporters packed into the hot room like sardines cut off his best escape routes.

Sadly, it wasn't his voice which caught their attention.

They'd finally seen his scars.

There were a few muffled curses before the shouting started again, this time directed at him.

"Admiral! What happened to you?!" 
"Are you a threat, Admiral?!"
"Can you really defend yourself, Admiral!?"
"Are you fit for combat, Admiral?!"

Percy, impressively, remained calm. After all, he'd argued with Gods titans. He went for the charming approach this time though.

"Do I call on someone or should I wait for you to decide among yourselves?" This stumped the reporters for a moment.

"You call." Stark replied with a smirk. He liked having someone else who would play with the paparazzi. 

"Ah, lovely. Red shirt in the second row. What do you want to know?" A man again this time; he had hair with enough product to make it flash when the cameras did.

"How did you get those scars and are you fit for duties as an Avenger?"  Percy looked him dead in the eyes.

"The scars are from my," Percy swallowed, "past, which Stark mentioned and encounters with the danger he also mentioned. It's all been dealt with now and yes, I am fit for duty and all responsibilities those duties may entail. I assure you."

The reporter carried on despite the obvious avoidance.

"And what are these dangers you've mentioned? How did you come across them? Can you give us any details or is that as secret as your name? You can't be over 21 and yet Stark spoke as if you're a seasoned veteran. Care to explain that as well?" 

"The..." This was going to be hard for Percy to answer, "The family I come from is....violent and has what could be called wars between some generations and others." He had to word this very carefully both to maintain the demigod secret and prevent him having a flashback in front of all these nice reporters. That wouldn't do his newly created public image any good. "I am the son of one of the powerful members of the generation preceding mine and so I was expected to lead the....force. A lot happened, there was a lot of fighting, a lot of friends were made, a lot," His voice finally broke, just slightly and he recovered admirably quickly, but it was enough to be noticed and notice the reporters certainly did. "of friends died. One thing lead to another, I got these scars and the dangers I faced were made so that they are no longer dangers. That is where my experience comes from and I assure you, it isn't a threat anymore."

He inhaled shakily: this was proving more difficult than he thought it would be.

"Are you saying that you were a child soldier?" The question was asked almost quietly, like a whispered oath before a massacre.

Percy's blood froze like the ice he wielded.

"I-," He steeled his nerve, "Yes, I am. But it is no longer a problem." As if something like that could ever stop affecting someone, "And before you point it out: yes, this is the occupation I want-need-to be in. The...circumstances of my childhood meant that I didn't receive much of an education and I was in trouble with the law, hence the Avengers originally thinking I was a threat. So even if I did want a civilian job, which I might one day-another reason to retain my identity-I wouldn't have the qualifications and background needed. I know my past, I'm working on my present and I hope my future will be helped by my time with the Avengers. Please let me help."

The reporters apparently didn't know what to say to that so they tried a new route.

"Admiral! We saw in the footage that you're hydro kinetic. Where do you get your powers? Was it science? Are you a mutant?"
Another question he had to answer carefully. His headache was not getting any better.

"I get my powers from my father, where he gets them from I have no idea." He smiled again, rather proud of the omission based in truth, "Maybe he ate some cursed sea-weed." There were scattered laughs at that, but one journalist wasn't impressed.

"You keep telling us you aren't a child, Admiral, but you can't seem to treat these matters, which dictate who lives and who dies, as anything more than a game! How can we trust a child we've never met?"

"I am not a child, in experience or years, and I can be deadly seriously if you want me to. But Ma'am, I've been fighting for my life every other day since I was twelve and in that time I've learnt something important. No-one, no-one, is too young to die. Life can be short and cut off in an instant, so yes, sometimes you either take it seriously or die, but when you don't have to, when there isn't some monster or murderer trying to kill you right that second, then I've always found that you should try to enjoy life while you can."

Stark cut in there, it would've easily escalated if this reporter continued, Percy's headache was not improving and this conversation was only reminding him of the friends he would never see again.

"I think one more question, then we'll wrap up for the night, people." He was trying to diffuse the situation but he didn't know that this next question would be the worst of them yet. "You, in the grey suit."

"You mentioned your father, but where does the rest of your family factor into all of this? What about a partner?" Percy clenched his teeth; his jaw tense; eyes hard.

"My mother is dead. So is my half brother, half sister and step-father. So are my cousins and brothers and sisters in arms. My uncles and aunts alternate between trying to help me, ignoring me and trying to kill me and...." He took a deep, shake breath. "I don't-I don't have a partner." It was the first time he'd truly stuttered all evening.

"What happened, Admiral? Why are you hiding this from us?" The reporter continued before Tony could stop them. Clint's fists clenched as he glared at the reporter. The archer hadn't had high opinions of journalists to begin with, this tore down what little respect they retained from him.

"I-" A salt water tear fell from his dark, sea green eyes. His voice turned dark, almost bitter as his sarcasm turned caustic, "My fiance died in one of those wars I mentioned. As you've probably gathered by now, not many from my generation of the family survived." His words were careful yet brittle, "The fact that I did is what I'm offering to help protect this city and the fact that they didn't is what I'm offering to prove that I wont betray you." 

He had fought all his life and he didn't have anyone else to protect anymore. There was only the little ones at camp and he didn't judge himself as safe enough to be anywhere near them. They needed a safe, steady environment to recover and grow in. He couldn't offer that. So he offered what was left of his life and expertise to this city. 

After all, it was his home.