'Awakening'

01-Jul-2030, 0730R

LCDR Percy Jackson, US Navy, Son of Neptune/Poseidon

DEVGRU

Temple of Apollo, Olympus

Just so we're clear, a last stand is never a good idea.

It can look astounding from a third-person perspective (especially with some epic action music and slow-motion footage), but in actuality... it's terrifying, unless you've resigned to your inevitable fate: death.

Frankly, I wasn't ready to die, considering that I have a sister, mother, stepfather, and a troop of SEALs to return to. Besides, it would be very difficult to explain to my men that their commander—an operator in the Teams almost twenty years—died while on leave.

On leave, of all things. Not in Afghanistan getting shredded by a terrorist with a DShK, not in Iraq getting blown up by an IED in a wall, but in the United States getting sliced and diced by some giant scorpions... while on leave.

They'd certainly give me hell about it when they reach Elysium.

Okay, technically we weren't on leave as much as we were on Navy Reserve service, otherwise known as part-time service. Luckily, we didn't have the same drilling requirements that regular reservists had (i.e., a minimum of one weekend per month plus two weeks a year), thanks to orders from up the chain of command. We had practically been working overtime for years on a certain high-value target (HVT), and we finally got to go home for a decently long time before going back in. We had been hunting the HVT for years, and we needed to rest before jumping back into the fight.

But I digress. I was alive, for starters, which was a pleasant surprise. I opened my eyes with some difficulty, and was in a stark white room.

Must be a hospital.

I confirmed this when I discovered that I was wearing a hospital patient's gown, and was tucked under clean sheets and a thin, yet warm, blanket. Furthermore, there was also an IV in my left arm. I slowly turned my neck to look around. As it turned out, I was in a hospital room. However, I wasn't alone.

Thalia sat in a reclining chair by my right bedside, fast asleep. Alive.

She was wearing her standard punk attire, albeit with a new T-shirt), and she had shed her black jacket, which lay on the floor. Her head slumped over on her left shoulder as she snored, her arms lying limp over the armrests.

To the best of my ability, I gave her a look-over, trying to determine the status of her wounds. The bruise on her head had faded, which was a relief. Plus, considering that she was here and not in a cot herself, her leg was evidently healed, which made me smile.

Mission accomplished.

I was rather touched by the fact that she stayed with me for at least a night. Call it cheesy, but this felt like one of those "power of friendship" moments during which a musical score comes out of nowhere and everyone bursts into song (i.e., rom-coms, musicals, and Disney/Pixar movies; trust me, you see a lot of them when helping raise a little sister).

After slowly shifting to my right, I reached out to tap her on the shoulder and let her know I was awake, since my throat felt incredibly dry.

No dice.

After the only response elicited was snoring, I tried patting her left cheek while increasing intensity before she finally stirred.

Bingo!

Her eyes fluttered open as she let out a yawn, rubbing her cheek as she slowly looked around until her gaze focused on me.

"Y'know, Thalia," I rasped out. "I was stupid. You're not a combat controller, since you're not the kind of person to be a one-man air traffic control tower, and also since you hate flight... you're probably more of a JTAC (joint terminal attack controller). I mean, you can direct CAS—lightning—right onto the enemy, but you probably wouldn't want to direct a pegasus or some flying object to land or take off. Looks like I was wrong earlier. I guess I'm a terrible judge of abilities, eh?"

As it turns out, my jargon joke was the worst possible thing I could've said. I was met with a blank stare and silence before her face contorted into one of fury as she shot up to her feet.

"PERSEUS JACKSON!"

I get injured and she gets mad? Sounds like something out of a dumb story novel.

"Yes?" I croaked, unfazed. Like I said, I've seen some terrible things. An angry Thalia is like a grumpy Golden Retriever pup in comparison. Yes, I'm speaking from experience.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING, TRYING TO HOLD OFF A HUGE FORCE ON YOUR OWN AND GETTING HURT?!? YOU HAD ONE JOB!"

"Yes, and I did it. Those Hunters and I saved your ass, LT," I replied, rolling my eyes. "After that, I had a second job: to go home in one piece. Thank you for pulling me out of there, by the way."

She glared at me before surging forward and grabbing me tight in a hug.

A surprise to be sure, but a welcome one!

"Whoa—hey! Nice to know you at least missed me!" I chuckled before I heard a sniffle. "Er, Thals? You good?"

"You... damned... idiot..." she murmured. I then felt a few drops on my shoulder, prompting me to return the embrace.

Wow... that concern goes far beyond what I expected from her.

"Aw, c'mon. Don't be sad on my part, cuz! I'm fine!" I said soothingly, rubbing circles on her back. "You've seen me in worse states, Pinecone Face!"

"Percy... you were almost dead. You had to go be a hero, didn't you?" she choked out.

Oh boy... was she really that shaken by my injury?

As a feeling of guilt began to come over me, my thirst seemed to fade away, and I felt physically spectacular for a guy that apparently came close to dying. It reminded me of the time I drank a glass of nectar after my first battle of the Minotaur. However, I never consumed anything while in the hospital.

"I'm just a guy doing his job. Out of curiosity, though, what happened to the rest of the Hunt?"

"Pretty banged up, but they'll live. They owe you their lives."

"I dunno about that, Lightning Bug. I think a few would rather throw themselves into oblivion before having to meet me again, so they might not be as appreciative as you," I chuckled. "That aside, what happened to me? How am I alive?"

"I can answer that," said a new voice. We turned to see the Twin Archers themselves: Apollo and Diana.

Diana hadn't changed much since I saw her last: about seventeen or eighteen years old with auburn hair in some complex braid pattern, although she now wore a more traditional Roman dress rather than the modern clothing of her Hunt.

Apollo, on the other hand, looked rather different than the last time I saw him nearly two decades ago. He looked a little over twenty years old, his rather short hair a shade of dirty blond. He wore a toga and held a clipboard and pen in his hands.

"Lord Apollo, Lady Diana. You'll forgive me if I can't bow before you. I'm still having difficulty moving," I stated.

"Are we... interrupting something?" Lord Apollo asked, looking quizzically at us. Lady Diana followed suit, her silver eyes shifting into a hard stare. Oddly, it seemed a bit more directed towards my cousin than I.

Hunt regulations, I suppose.

"Er, no!" Thalia said, quickly releasing me and backing away from my bed.

"Alright. Anyways, how are you, Perseus?" Diana asked.

"Alive, ma'am," I replied bluntly. "Also, after being awake for a few moments, I feel ready to go on a long run. Why is that? Besides, what time is it?"

"It's 7:45 AM Eastern," the twins answered without missing a beat.

The sun and the moon can tell the time on a dime... makes a lot of sense.

"Oh, great! Plenty of time to make it back for breakfast!" I joked.

The twins looked at each other, then at Thalia, who turned towards me nervously.

"Percy, you've been in a coma for a week," she told me slowly.

I felt my eyes widen at her words. "How?"

"I'm to blame for that," Apollo said, stepping forward. "You see, I used a technique called a 'stim burst,' which helps a patient hanging by a thread or requiring immediate revival from an asystole (flatline). It ends up using a great deal of energy, often draining me."

"Draining you, sir? But I'm mortal! How exactly do I have the ability to drain you if you're already a very powerful god?" I spluttered, confused.

"Because, the 'stim burst' is the immortal variant. In other words, it involves so much power that it only works for immortals, meaning that mortals and half-immortals would be burned to a crisp. For the latter two groups, I use the 'stim shot,' which requires less energy to prevent obliteration."

"But sir, why didn't you just use the shot?"

"I was about to use it when I took a closer look at you. The shot, frankly, wouldn't have done a damn thing," he replied, rolling his eyes. "The burst was the only option with any chance."

"And because it's a technique used for immortals, I couldn't just walk away easily. The consequence was that I ended up in a coma... for a week..." I deduced, shocked.

"What were those nicknames you were given? 'Kelp Head?' 'Seaweed Brain?' Wildly inaccurate, if you ask me," Apollo said, grinning.

"What can I say, sir?" I replied with a shrug. "Gotta keep people guessing', huh?"

"You're one with the element of surprise," he chuckled. "Speaking of surprises, the burst didn't actually fix everything about you. You unfortunately have those burn scars on the left side of your face and your left arm, along with that bullet grazing on your right arm." He proceeded to conjure a small mirror, allowing me to see my face.

It was true: a decent bit of my left cheek, the left half of my forehead, along with a significant portion of my left arm, were a bit "rough" due to an injury from a mission. Long story short, an IED went off, and since there was a lot of petroleum, I got burnt pretty badly along with a few of my buddies. Thankfully, the only major damage was to my looks and pride, as the burns didn't affect my eyes or anything else of importance.

As for the long, dark line that stretched from the middle of my outer forearm to a spot between my elbow and shoulder, that came from an insurgent with a PKM. I couldn't move my arm for a bit, but the hostage I was covering did make it out in the end. The insurgent, though? No longer a problem, since he got turned into pink mist by one of my guys.

"And my mother wonders why I'm not getting any action with the ladies," I laughed. "Who'd want to go out with a frickin' undead dude? I look like a demon from Hell itself!"

Yeah, I'm not particularly self-conscious about my looks, considering that every operator I've met has had their moments of looking like crap. The closest I've gotten to being shy was that one time when Mom and Dad were out of the house and Estelle was having a playdate with her little friends (she was maybe six years old at the time). Her friends were a bit unnerved by a burn mark on my face (a different injury), so I minimized my interactions with them, checking in occasionally while bringing snacks.

Plus, my humor? It's a mix of family-friendly and godawful, with the latter being dark, dirty, and rife with self-deprecation.

Diana's eyes widened and Thalia's jaw dropped in shock at my words, while Apollo raised an eyebrow.

"Dark humor? Last I checked, that wasn't your style, Jackson," he commented.

"I'm sorry, sir, but didn't you say I was the one with the element of surprise?" I quipped, making him chuckle.

"Touche."

Suddenly, Apollo began to glow golden for a few moments. When it stopped, he looked different: his blond hair was cropped short, and his toga was replaced by a US Air Force OCP uniform. Above the "U.S. AIR FORCE" patch over his left breast pocket was a patch reminiscent of the angel on the crest of CROs and PJs, whilst the name "APOLLO" was on a patch over his right breast pocket. Directly between the pockets was a patch with one star: the O-7 rank insignia, which in this case referred to a brigadier general. On his left shoulder was a patch that showed membership in AFSOC, while a patch denoting service alongside the 24th Special Tactics Squadron was on the right. A stethoscope was resting around his neck.

Apollo glanced down at his attire before looking at me with a small smirk. Meanwhile, Diana and Thalia stared at his new form with expressions of confusion.

"Care to explain, Perseus?" he asked, almost teasingly. I was initially confused, although it didn't take long for me to realize that this new look was relevant to my own interpretation of him.

"Well, sir, you're apparently Brigadier General Phoebus Apollo of the US Air Force and a combat rescue officer," I explained, remembering the insignia. Then, I noticed that the patch on the right changed to that of... the Air Force Medical Corps? And the Medical Service Corps? Enlisted Medics? Was his uniform alive or something?

"Scratch that, now you're part of the Medical Corps—wait, Medical Service Corps," I added before the insignia changed back. "And now Enlisted Medical, and now a PJ. Actually, while it says you're currently in AFSOC, you had service as a combat rescue officer, medical corps officer, medical service corps officer, enlisted medic, and pararescueman—and in the latter two, you're apparently Chief Master Sergeant Phoebus Apollo. You're simultaneously an enlisted man and commissioned officer, covering several medical fields. Perhaps it's due to your general domain in medicine?"

"Interesting," he muttered before turning back to me. "And yes, it makes sense. My medicine domain is rather broad, so it would explain the changing insignia. And I've seen plenty of combat, so I'm not surprised that the unit this attire assigns me in is a combat-oriented one."

"Brother, I hate to interrupt your bonding session over military medicine, but what about Perseus's health?" Diana interjected, albeit not as aggressively as I once saw her do over twenty years ago to others.

Then again, that was Artemis... not Diana.

"Thanks for the reminder, Sister," Apollo replied with a small smile.

Interesting... a friendly interaction between the twins. It seems that both of their forms are far more mature as Romans. Plus, their relationship might actually be healthy.

"Anyways, I'd like you to complete a few tests before I release you from my care. Remember: you survived something only meant for immortals, and this hasn't exactly happened before."

"Fantastic. What do I need to do?" I asked, sitting up.

"Can you step out of bed?"

I extricated myself from my covers, preparing to get off my bed's left side. As I prepared to move, I noticed that Thalia had moved over towards me, apparently watching to make sure I didn't fall. Getting up was easier than anticipated, and I stood before the others, feeling my bones crack as I stretched my joints.

"I must say, I didn't expect the fast recovery," Lady Diana remarked, her eyebrows raised.

"Okay, walk towards me and bring the IV pole," Lord Apollo ordered.

"Aye, sir," I responded automatically, walking forward with the IV pole. I felt strangely fine, save for the IV in my left arm.

"Excellent. Let's begin," he said with a grin.

I then completed several more exercises testing gross motor skills (i.e., large muscle movements such as walking), fine motor skills (i.e., small muscle movements such as grasping), and cognitive functions (e.g., memory, processing). All the while, we were accompanied by Diana and Thalia, who largely stayed out of Apollo's way, barring a few questions I could not hear.

Finally after nearly three hours of testing, Apollo had given me a clean bill of health.

"Now remember: take it easy for a bit. I'll check in with you every now and again to make sure all's well. Understood?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," I responded.

"Brilliant! Now, in regards to your equipment that you used in the raid, it was unfortunately destroyed. Plus, I don't think you're going to want to go home in that," he said, pointing at my gown.

"Oh, I don't know, sir. I think this is what's trending in men's fashion these days," I replied sarcastically, causing the corners of his mouth to twitch upward.

"Trust me, Perseus, I don't think you would understand fashion if it hit you in the head," he deadpanned. "For that reason, you have visitors. You may enter!" he called, turning to the door.

It swung open to reveal four people: Vulcan, Father, and two goddesses. Vulcan seemed rather apathetic, Father seemed pleased, while the goddesses looked utterly peeved.

Oh no.

"PERSEUS JACKSON!" they shouted.

What is it with people yelling at me today? I guess that's a consequence of nearly getting killed.

"Juventas. Trivia," I replied coolly. We had a brief staredown before the former leaped forward, crushing me in a hug.

Meet one of my friends on Olympus: Juventas, the goddess of youth and rejuvenation. She's also one of my thousands of cousins on my father's side, being a daughter of Jupiter and Juno. I usually see her as an eighteen year-old, approximately five-and-a-half feet tall with long brown hair typically kept in a ponytail. She usually wears a flowing Roman dress, although I have seen her in mortal clothing before.

Twenty years ago, she gave me her blessing, and over the years, she has been teaching me to age and de-age myself, making sure that my partial immortality wouldn't keep me from fitting in with my fellow SEALs. Initially, we had a relatively professional relationship, but we became good friends.

While she lives on Olympus, she doesn't talk to too many people, nor does she really have the best relationship with her own husband, Hercules (who apparently was a bit of a jerk... I honestly don't know too many details). She doesn't go into the mortal world either, so when she would visit me for my lessons in Virginia, I would take her out for strictly platonic "dates."

We also bonded over—oddly enough—my time in the military, in which she became curious, asking about it. This isn't entirely surprising, considering that the military is often referred to as a young man's game (keep in mind, however, sometimes the older men in this profession are some of the more dangerous operators). I didn't divulge any information beyond what was declassified and answering her questions, which were focused on basic training, base life, and the general culture of the military.

"Hey Juve," I replied, hugging her back. "How's it hanging?"

"Percy, you moron," she scolded, drawing back and pulling me down to meet her at eye level. "Why in Olympus do you always insist on doing everything except take care of yourself? You could've been killed!"

"I'm wondering that myself," Trivia jumped in. "Honestly, I blame you, Neptune. You men of the sea have two major characteristics: unpredictability and loyalty. Unfortunately for Percy, the latter trait is a bit too strong in him. His natural protective instinct has skyrocketed because of that."

"You can't argue with good genes, Trivia," Father said with a shrug. "Percy, my boy, how are you doing?" he asked as he placed a hand on my shoulder, facing me with a look of concern.

"Fine and dandy, Father. Good to see y'all," I replied, patting his hand.

"Anyways, come here, you," Trivia said, lifting me as she gave me a gentle, almost motherly hug.

Meet Trivia, the goddess of crossroads and magic. She has long, braided black hair and stands at six-and-a-quarter feet tall, like my father, appearing perhaps forty years old, also similarly to my father. She wore a Roman dress like Juventas, but it was a darker color, and her magic torches hung on her belt.

Now Trivia and I have had a different kind of friendship. Like with Juventas, we initially had a professional relationship in dealing with the Mist, and she performed a very complicated ritual to eliminate my "scent." This ritual, by the way, is more convoluted and dangerous than one might think, which is why she can't do it for every demigod, nor why nobody else, not even her children, can pull it off.

Don't ask me about how the process works because to this day, I still have literally no clue. All I can say is that it involved Mist, potions, electricity, air, fire, soot, several buckets, a lot of food, water, a gym, a bathroom, and a bed.

She became my friend in the same way you could call your teacher or older neighbor a friend. She was full of wit and wisdom, and at some point, I honestly started thinking of her as an aunt. Despite her rather dark and mysterious persona, Trivia is surprisingly warm and affectionate, albeit with a few certain people.

We bonded over discussions of certain aspects of magic—albeit mainly those relevant to the Mist—and she taught me how to manipulate the Mist.

"Nice to see you too, Aunty," I replied, returning her embrace before she set me down. "Still magicking about? Any black cats and broomsticks?"

"Pfft! You mortals and your misconceptions," she scoffed. "Wildly inaccurate. As far as 'magicking about,' there's been nothing out of the ordinary. Have you been practicing with the Mist like I told you to?"

"Yes, Triv. But it's a bit tricky to do so around the guys—"

"What happened to that famous military discipline? You're shirking responsibility!"

"You know better than I do that it's a bit risky doing it around mortals!"

"Ugh, fine. But you better keep at it. Understand, young man?" she asked sternly.

"Yes, Mother Hen," I replied with a sarcastic salute.

"Good."

"If you're quite finished bantering," Vulcan interrupted bluntly. "I believe we have other matters to take care of."

"Oh, yes!" Juventas said. "First of all, you need to get yourself out of that gown."

"Juve, nobody gets free shows. Pay up," I joked. Father, Trivia, and Apollo snickered while the Vulcan and the rest of females in the room facepalmed at the innuendo.

"Olympus's sake," Juventas groaned. "I forgot about your terrible sense of humor. Just let me handle it!" With a wave of her hands, I was surrounded by a flash of white light. When I looked down, I was back in the same clothes I was wearing before the mission: a navy blue T-shirt, tan cargo shorts, black tennis shoes, and my black FDNY ballcap.

Why an FDNY ballcap? The same reason I also occasionally wear an NYPD ballcap: to honor the first responders that gave their lives on 9/11.

"I'm sorry, this compliments my looks, how? Now I look like a zombie that came from playing golf!" I said, throwing my hands up in mock indignation.

"You're impossible. You and your dark and dirty sense of humor," Juventas said with an eye roll. "Just take the clothing!"

"You may need this too," Vulcan added. He held out his hands, and a backpack appeared in a flash of fire. I accepted the bag, opening it to find several smaller boxes of ammunition. These included, but were not limited to, 9x19 mm Parabellum, .45 ACP, 5.56x45 mm NATO, and 12-gauge rounds.

"Sir, not that I'm ungrateful, but why have you given me all this ammunition?" I asked, confused.

"I did some testing while you were unconscious," he replied, looking excited to discuss the ammunition. "Neither I nor any one of my children were actually involved with the creation of firearms, just their use. Yet, I've never gotten much of a chance to build one, as nobody wants them. Well, except for Mars and Bellona, but even so, it isn't often. Anyways, the rounds are all made of a special compound of Imperial Gold and Celestial Bronze, so as to maximize their lethality. There's a few silver ones too for werewolves and other such threats. I know that you have no scent thanks to Trivia here, but I thought it would be prudent to have a viable self-defense option beyond Anaklusmos."

"Hold on, won't he need special firearms to use that ammunition, or at least have modifications done to the ones he and his family already own?" Father asked, frowning. Yes, he is aware of the properties of firearms, and is capable of using them. Dad actually taught him how to use a firearm safely and effectively during what Mom liked to call "dad duo bonding sessions."

I know, I have a very interesting family. Life is just like that sometimes.

"Well yes, but actually no. You see, I may have made you an M4A1 last time, but after further testing, I was able to develop rounds that are compatible with regular mortal firearms. Thus, the ones that Perseus and his family use can be utilized in the event that creatures from our world attack them," Vulcan replied. "It would certainly be viable if you had to shelter other demigods who still possess their scent."

"Fair point," I conceded. "Thank you, sir!"

"I usually don't give anything for free, but I will make an exception. I quite enjoy exploring mortal technology," Vulcan replied with the faintest smile on his lips.

"Did you just smile, Vulcan?" Juventas teased. "Haven't seen one of those in decades!"

"No, Juventas," he groaned.

"Is everything finished here? Because Paul, Sally, and Estelle are worried sick. They're also rather 'ticked off' at your injury," Father interjected.

"I'm in danger," I laughed half-heartedly. "So much for staying safe."

"Don't worry, I don't think they'll be too bad," Trivia said, patting me on the back. "You'd better get going, or you'll be late for lunch!"

"Gods, yes. I'm starving," I grumbled.

"Very well. We'll leave as well," Diana said with a nod. "Oh, and Perseus?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Thank you for saving my Hunt... I am indebted to you."

"It's fine," I responded with a shrug. "Just a day in the life of Percy Jackson: doing ridiculous acts and somehow living to tell the tale! Thalia, great to see you as always," I said, putting down the bag and giving her a hug, which she hesitantly reciprocated.

"Come, now. Don't treat me like a piece of glass," I joked. "I'm still functioning."

"Be safe, Percy. Okay?" she asked softly, her tone surprising me. "Stay alive and don't do anything stupid. I'd hate to lose my favorite cousin."

Awww. Thalia does care. It's always nice to see a hardass's softer side.

"No promises, cuz. But I'll do my best," I replied with a small laugh as I released her and picked up the ammo bag again. "Take care of yourself."

"Time to leave," Father said, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. "Good to see you all."

"Have a good one," I said with a smile and wave as we teleported out of Olympus back to the front door of my house in Virginia Beach, VA: a modest two-story home with a decently sized backyard. The house was in a quiet neighborhood a relatively short drive away from the Dam Neck Annex, where DEVGRU is headquartered.

"You know, son, it never ceases to amaze me how much you've changed from, going from New York to Virginia," Father remarked.

"Don't get me wrong, I love New York. Especially 'cause of the pizza," I chuckled. "But... There's something about Virginia... okay, not Virginia, per se, but the South. It's peaceful, more open. A bit liberating, to be honest. Plus, the people are nice, too."

"The charm of the South," he agreed. "It's no wonder Paul enjoyed growing up in Georgia."

The mention of my stepfather brought me back to reality, as I realized that I was in for one helluva tongue-lashing from my parents. Yes, I was nervous about facing my parents, despite being thirty-six years old and having faced down some of the worst people on the planet.

"Here we go," I said as Father knocked on the door. A few seconds later, and we were met by the woman that birthed me. Following closely behind was my stepfather, and both were looking madder than a couple of wet cats.

"Perseus Blofis Jackson..."

Here we go again...

"I LIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!" - Mushu, Mulan

It's been a while, hasn't it, folks? I do apologize. I don't get to check Wattpad as much these days. Plus, while I've got plot ideas, I'm having trouble articulating them in writing, and I don't think bullet points make for a good story.

ETA on the next update? No clue.

Question for everyone, though: considering that service members (especially those that see combat) cuss a lot, how far should I go in?  In other words, what words will result in Wattpad marking this story with the "Mature" label, even though I may not?  Should I label this as "Mature?"  Which cusses are T-rated and which are M-rated?  I'm not including any sexual content in this story (the heavy stuff is violent, dark, and simply cussing like a sailor—which Percy is, to be fair).  I know this is a long question, and it seems a bit out of hand, but I do need help on this.

There will be more character development in the next chapter, so be on the lookout for that.

Once again, thanks for continuing to read! If you've got any questions, drop them in the comments! I'll respond when I can.

Until next time. Stay safe, and don't forget to hydrate!

- ADF-2