Well, my muse has just been refusing to sing the Pokémon theme song, so instead she started singing with a British accent, and now she's started singing in Ancient Greek. This story started kicking around in my head a few weeks back, and, much like Magus et Ensis, it just WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE! Plus, I really like the idea. So I'm just going to write it in the hopes of satisfying the muse. (Considering how obstinate and difficult she's being, I'm pretty sure her name is Thalia). Anyway, I was reading PJO stories, and I thought "Wow, Percy and Co. are pretty badass. But what if we turned it up to eleven?" Sally Jackson always struck me as fiercely protective of her son. So what would happen if she decided to make sure that Percy could defend himself?
Not sure about what the pairing will be. Ricky did a pretty nice job of setting up Percabeth, but I also like Perlia and Pertemis. So…we'll just have to see.
Now, just because everyone is more awesome doesn't mean that it will be instantly easier for them. Think of this as being Hardcore Mode.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians : τρόπο του ήρωα

Montauk, Long Island, NY

Twelve Years Ago

The sky was overcast, the same grey color as the ocean that crashed mournfully onto the beach. A man and a woman stood at the edge of the surf. The woman was crying.

"Please, can't you stay? Just for a little bit longer?"

"I'm sorry, Sally. Amphitrite is already beginning to wonder where I've been disappearing to for the last few months. And if Zeus finds out…" The implication went unsaid, but both man and woman tensed when a rumble of thunder rolled across the sky. A moment later, the woman gasped, and both of her hands flew to her distended belly.

"He kicked…"

The man with wild black hair smiled, and placed a hand on her stomach as well. "He's going to be a feisty one… What are you going to call him?"

"Perseus…"

"I hope you're not trying to appease my brother…" The man's green eyes were laughing.

"No…He was the only hero with a happy ending."

The man's face grew serious again. "I see. Perseus Jackson. A strong name for a strong child."

Silence hung between them, broken only by the sound of the waves.

"They will come for him. Children of myself and my brothers attract the attention of monsters and gods alike, without fail. When that day comes, send him to Camp Half-Blood. They will train him there. He…he'll be safe."

Her hands tightened protectively around her middle. "No…"

"If you flee to the darkest corners of the earth, Hades will find you. If you journey under the sky, Zeus will see you. And if they find you…they will kill you, and Percy."

At those words, a fury seemed to light in the woman's eyes. "No… I don't care how many gods come after me. Percy is going to live. I'll make sure he lives. Even if I have to fight every monster in Tartarus myself until he is strong enough to stand on his own. My son will live. I swear this on…"

The man lurched forward, alarmed. "Sally, wai– !"

"the River Styx!"

Thunder boomed overhead, and a sense of heaviness made itself felt, as if a great weight had been lowered onto the shoulders of both the man and the woman.

The man's face was stricken. "Do you know what you have done?"

The woman was resolute, the same spark of determination in her eyes. "What is necessary to protect my son."

He sagged. "Very well. If that is what you wish. Sally…I'm…"

The woman cut off her companion with a finger on his lips. "I know what you're going to say. I made this choice myself. There is nothing for you to apologize for."

She embraced him for a long moment, then let go.

"Go."

The man hesitated, taking a half-step towards the waters. "I love you, Sally."

She smiled sadly. "Goodbye, Poseidon."

He smiled back, and a great surge of seawater rushed forward to engulf him. When it faded, the god in mortal form was gone, leaving behind a glinting bronze dagger. With a slightly trembling hand, Sally picked it up. The edge was razor-sharp, and the weapon itself gave an impression of sadness. Engraved on the blade was a name, written in Greek.

"Prostáti̱s," murmured the woman.

Protector.

Her hand clenched around the handle, and she gazed out to sea, a tear falling from her eye.

"Thank you."

Then she turned, and walked away.

New York City, New York

Present Day

Percy

Percy Jackson sighed as he threw his bag onto his bed, and threw himself down next to it. Even with the door shut, the sound of ESPN and stupidity leaked through. The twelve-year-old "delinquent" flipped a halfhearted bird in the general direction of Gabe's poker game. God, he hated his stepfather.

Glancing around the room, Percy tried to look on the bright side. At least Gabe hadn't done anything to his room. The first time Percy had gone away to boarding school, Gabe had tried to claim Percy's room as his "study" (Despite the fact that Gabe needed a study about as much as a shark needed a snorkel.) But before he could so much as touch the handle, Percy's mom had called Gabe into the next room for a "discussion." Percy wasn't sure what his mom had said, but whatever it was, Gabe avoided Percy's room like the plague, and whenever Sally Jackson picked up a knife in the kitchen, Gabe would leave the room as quickly as possible.

It wasn't the first time Percy's mom had done something like that. When Percy was seven, she had taken him for a walk in Central Park, and they were interrupted by a man holding a knife. Before the man had even had time to ask for Sally's purse, the woman had lashed out and grabbed the hand holding the knife, broken the mugger's elbow and shoulder, and thrown the knife into the nearby woods.

Then she had given the mugger a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, taken Percy by the hand, and walked away.

Percy was of the firm opinion that his mom was the coolest person on the face of the earth.

The sound of the front door opening interrupted Percy's contemplation of the ceiling of his room. Light footsteps padded up the stairs.

"Percy?"

Percy Jackson's day had just gotten infinitely better. His mom had a way of lighting up any room she was in. No matter what mood he was in, talking to his mother made him feel warm and safe and happy.

(So he was a mama's boy. Sue him.)

The door to Percy's room opened, and Sally Jackson stepped in. She was dressed in casual clothes and was sweating ever so slightly. She had, as usual, run back home from her afternoon classes at the mixed martial arts center on Fifth Street. Her bag slung over her back probably had her Sweet on America uniform in it, as she usually went from the morning shift at Grand Central straight to the MMA Center. (His mom could take down a grown man twice her weight in seconds, and she sold candy to children the rest of the day. When she had time in the evenings, she worked on her novel. What has your mom done lately?)

"Hi mom."

She hugged him tightly. "Look at you! You must've grown an inch since I last saw you!"

They sat together on my bed and ate the free (read: lifted) samples of candy she brought from the candy stand whenever Percy came home. He told her about his year since Christmas. For her sake, Percy tried to put a good spin on Yancy Academy. The fights weren't really that bad (Okay, that wasn't so much spin as a blatant lie). He had pretty much lasted until the end of the year (And that was a record). The archery captain had wept when Percy got expelled (Although having a guy throw himself at your feet begging for you to stay was a little disturbing). He had enjoyed himself. (Hah!)

Percy had almost convinced himself that he had enjoyed himself, when he got to the trip to the museum…

"Percy? Is something wrong?"

Percy swore in his head. Sometimes he thought that his mother could read his mind. "Nothing, Mom."

She didn't believe him, he could tell, but she didn't push.

"Got a surprise for you," she said, deftly changing the subject. "We're going to Montauk."

Percy's eyes lit up. "The cabin?"

She nodded. "Just give me enough time to pack my bag and…convince Gabe to let us go."

Her son nodded, already moving to grab clothes from his dresser. They hadn't gone to Montauk for the past two years, because Gabe said there wasn't enough money (Why they didn't have enough money for a drive out to a cabin that cost maybe $50 a day for was beyond Percy, but for some reason, his mother hadn't argued the point).

In less than an hour, they were ready to go, and Percy was loading his and his mom's bag into the back of Gabe's Camaro, while the slime himself griped about losing his car for the weekend.

Then Sally walked out the door, and Gabe shut up.

Percy shut the trunk, and Sally got in the driver's seat. Gabe took the opportunity to leer menacingly at Percy.

It didn't look very menacing.

"Not one scratch, brain boy."

As he walked back to the stairs, Percy made the same gesture for warding off evil that Grover had. A three-clawed gesture over his heart, and a thrusting motion away from him. The screen door slammed shut, smacking Gabe in his butt and knocking him into the stairs.

Percy didn't stay long enough to see Gabe's reaction. He jumped in the car and told his mom to step on it.

She did.

The report of a '78 Camaro going thirty over the speed limit leaving Queens had nothing to do with them.

As they got closer to Montauk, Sally seemed to shed ten years from her frame. She sat straighter, her smile was wider, and her eyes sparkled like the ocean.

Percy knew why his mother loved Montauk. It was where she had met his dad. They had only had a summer together at the cabin before he had been lost in a storm at sea, but Percy had a strong memory of…something. A warm glow and a smile, but nothing more.

They got to the cabin late in the afternoon, opened all the windows and shook sand out of the sheets. Then came Percy's favorite (and least favorite) part of visiting Montauk.

Training Review.

Since Percy had been coordinated enough to not hurt himself, his mother had trained him. She had beaten (literally) fighting into him. She mixed jiujitsu and kung fu with capoeira and Muay Thai. She seemed determined that Percy would not only be as good at fighting as she was, but better. Oddly enough, Percy took to the lessons like a fish to water. The physical, fast-moving style that seemed to result was fantastic when combined with his ADHD. When his mother decided that she would add weapons to the menu a year after they started, Percy thought she was crazy. How likely was it that he would be swinging a sword around in a street fight? But when she put the double-edged practice sword in his hand, it felt like he had been born to use it. The sword became an extension of his arm, to the point that not even she could touch him when he was using it. Knives and spears were a close second.

Archery, on the other hand, Percy had been absolutely awful at, to the point where he couldn't hit the target ten yards away on a clear day with no wind.

But Sally had refused to let him stop. She made him drill with bow and arrows again and again and again and again and again and again until his shoulders screamed and his fingers were nearly bleeding. But it paid off. Although he still preferred the sword, Percy could shoot bulls-eyes at nearly sixty yards. In his opinion, the greatest satisfaction came with the glowing smile she treated him with when he put ten in a row into bulls-eyes.

Sally and Percy faced each other on the beach. Sally was waiting in a traditional ready stance, hands up, with her left foot forward. Percy, on the other hand, was shuffling back and forth in ginga. His mother was incredibly fast, so he needed every starting advantage he could get.

Then, Sally darted forward with a rapid shuffle, her left leg shooting up in a testing kick. Percy fell backward onto all fours, then pushed with his arms, lauching his legs forward, sweeping at her back leg. With almost no visible effort, Sally sprang backward with her one planted leg, landing on her hands. Percy was already moving, kicking off with his left foot and driving his right foot out in a snap kick. Sally's left hand came up off the ground and caught Percy's ankle in an iron-hard grip. She pulled, and Percy hit the sand with a grunt.

Like lightning, Sally was behind him, her arm snaking around his neck.

"Yield," she hissed.

"Sorry, no." Percy's elbow smashed backwards into Sally's gut. She gasped, her hold loosening for a split second.

It was enough. Percy grabbed her arm, and threw her over his head. Her other hand swiped at Percy's ankle again, but her son had reacted before she could make contact. His leg was pulled up as the hand lashed through where it had been. Then his heel came down on her upper arm, and the lower arm went limp. Percy's hand came down, pinning her other arm to the sand. His other hand went to her face, hovering just over her eyes.

"Yield."

His mother struggled for a moment, before Percy remembered the other part of this hold.

"Or you'll be buying a seeing-eye dog."

She smiled at him, and relaxed against the sand. "I yield. Nicely done, Percy. You didn't slow down at all since last time."

Percy released his grip and rolled sideways onto the sand next to his mother. They were quiet for a moment, before kipping onto their feet in near-perfect synchronization.

"Archery next?"

His mother gave him the same beaming smile, with just a hint of bite to it.

"While running."

Percy groaned.

"No!"

Percy shot bolt upright in bed as a crash of thunder rumbled through the cabin. Waves pounded the beach like the fists of a giant, and the wind howled like a demented beast. The next thunderclap woke Sally, and she was out of bed in an instant.

"Hurricane."

Percy was about to say it was too early for hurricanes, but froze with his mouth half open when he heard another sound over the wind. A chorus of angry howls, three screeching hisses, and one furious bellow. His mother paled, and vaulted out of bed, pulling her clothes on as she moved. Percy followed her example. In less than a minute, both were dressed, and Sally grabbed a slim black backpack – a parkour bag (Sally could do that, too) – and thrust it at her son.

"Put it on." Her tone brooked no argument, and Percy obeyed. A split second later, there was a pounding on the door. Every muscle in her body taut, Sally pulled something else out of her bag – long and glinting dully in the darkness. She threw the door open, aiming the shotgun at their uninvited visitor.

It was Grover. But below his waist…

"What do you want, satyr?" Sally's voice was cold, and the shotgun hadn't wavered an inch.

The apparently non-human Grover didn't even seem to register the gun in his face.

"You have to go now! They're coming!"

"Who's coming?" Percy managed to ask, but his mother had already snatched the car keys and was pushing him out the door. Grover followed, his hooves (Hooves! What the hell was going on?!) thudding sharply against the ground.

They piled into the car, and Sally jammed the keys into the ignition. For one terrifying moment, the engine sputtered, before roaring to life. Ms. Jackson slammed the accelerator all the way to the floor, throwing Percy and Grover against the seats.

"Where…where are we going?"

"A place I hoped I would never have to send you, Percy." Replied his mother, her attention jumping between the road and the rearview mirror.

Percy knew what she was talking about. She had mentioned the summer camp that his father had wanted to send him to two years ago. He didn't understand why sending him to a summer camp would mean losing him forever, but the fear in his mother's eyes when she talked about it was enough to convince him to not want to go.

"But –"

"At the moment, Percy, I have no choice. There are too many of them for me to protect you alone."

"Them?"

"Oh, just the Lord of the Dead and the worst of his creature," Grover snarked, clearly too panicked to be thinking clearly."

"Which ones?" Sally asked, her jaw tensed as she threw the car into a skidding drift around a sharp corner.

Grover's chin trembled a little. "Hellhounds. All three Kindly Ones. And…Bla-hahaha!… Pasiphae's son."

Sally cursed. "Percy, what happened at the trip to the museum?"

Percy managed to choke out the major details of being attacked by Mrs. Dodds. His mother's shoulders seemed to slump just a little bit.

"Nothing for it," she murmured. "If they didn't already know, they do now."

Her foot pressed even more firmly against the pedal, trying to draw every last bit of speed from the car.

"We're almost there," Sally said. "Percy, if I – "

Then there was a blinding light and an explosion of sound.

Percy groaned as he came to a few seconds later. The car had swerved into a ditch on the side of the road. All the windows were shattered, and the roof had a gaping hole in it, the edges sizzling as raindrops hit them.

Lightning? On top of everything else, they had been struck by lightning? Was there no justice in the world?

"Percy?" His mother's voice snapped him out of his fugue.

"'m all right, Mom."

"And Grover?"

Wondering how his mother knew the satyr's name when they'd never met before, Percy glanced over to his unmoving friend. A trickle of blood ran down the side of his face, but his chest rose and fell normally.

"Out cold."

"We need to get out of this car."

Percy nodded, and the two of them dragged Grover out the passenger-side door.

"Percy, do you see that tree?"

The twelve-year-old glanced where his mother was pointing. On the crest of the nearest hill stood a massive pine tree.

"That's the property line. If you get over that line, you'll be safe."

Even as she said this, Sally was dragging the gas can out of the trunk, which popped open when the car crashed, and drenched the inside of the car with it. Down the road, a mass of motion was just barely visible in the downpour, moving closer with every passing second.

"Mom, what are you – "

She ignored him, pulling a lighter out of a pocket, flicking it to life, and tossing it onto the passenger seat. Then she turned, and took Grover's other shoulder.

"Come on, Percy. The fire should keep them at bay for a little bit."

Then the car actually exploded, creating a ball of heat and light that lit up everything around it.

In the flickering half-light, the moving shapes became visible. Twenty massive black dogs, with slavering mouths and glowing red eyes snarled and backed away from the fireball. Behind them loomed what would have been the largest man Percy had ever seen. Easily seven feet tall, and built like a pro-bodybuilder, he was almost completely naked, with the exception of a pair of bright white underwear. Above his shoulders, though…it was like he was a reverse Grover. He had the head of a bull, with great, yellow-white horns curving outward. But what was fluttering above the horde of monstrosities was what caught Percy's attention. They looked like old ladies, but with massive, gnarled claws and leathery, batlike wings.

"Is that -?"

"Don't say their names. Names have power."

"But that's Mrs. Dodds! I- I killed her!"

"Monsters never stay dead." His mother's voice sounded frustrated. "Come on, Percy, let's move."

Mother and son braced Grover onto their shoulders and sprinted towards the hill. Behind them, their pursuers realized their prey was escaping, and circled around the wreck of the burning car.

Percy chanced a look back.

"They're gaining on us, Mom."

By then, they were on the slope of the hill, almost halfway up.

"Okay then. On three, we turn and run backwards. One…"

Sally slung her shotgun up on her free shoulder. "Two…"

She glanced over her shoulder. "Three!"

As one, they swung about, and Sally fired a blast of the shotgun at the hounds, who were closest to the fleeing humans (and dead-weight satyr). The sound of the gun was lost amidst the thunder, but five of the massive dogs vanished into yellow sand. Sally tossed the gun into the air, caught the pump-grip, and cocked the shotgun again.

Three more blasts and reloads later, there were no more dogs, and Mrs. Dodds and her bat-lady sisters were hanging back even more. The bull-man – Minotaur, Percy dimly thought, somewhere in the back of his adrenaline-pumped mind – simply continued to advance, albeit more slowly.

For a moment , Percy allowed himself to hope. Then, Mrs. Dodds shrieked aloud, "All three of us at once!" and, true to her words, the three bat-women went into a steep dive.

Sally cursed again. "Percy, go!"

"But – "

"GO!"

Percy almost hesitated, but his mother's tone changed his mind. Steeling himself, he hoisted Grover over his shoulder, buddy carry-style, and sprinted up the hill as fast as his legs could carry him.

He heard a screech behind him, followed by the roaring thunder of Sally's shotgun. A second later, a second screech was interrupted by another blast of the heavy weapon.

Then, Percy was at the crest of the hill. He could see, a long way away, the lights of a large farmhouse. But it was a half mile away, too far to get help. Percy set Grover down ("Food?"), and turned to see his mother and Mrs. Dodds facing each other. The (Goddamn) Batwoman was trying to get around Sally, but the human kept her at bay with the threat of the shotgun. Percy could just barely make out the conversation the two were having, carried to him on the wind.

"Just give up, mortal. We have no interest in you, only in the hero. Surrender now, and you can still walk away."

"No way in Hades." His mother's voice was firm and unyielding, not a trace of fear in it. (It was the same voice she used when she haggled in the street markets.)

Mrs. Dodds' eyes narrowed. "On your head be it, then."

Then she lunged, claws outstretched, at the human woman.

Sally didn't even bat an eye. Her shotgun came up, drew a bead on the diving monstrosity, and fired, blowing Mrs. Dodds into dust like a clay pigeon on a shooting range.

There was a beat of quiet, before a blur of motion slammed into Sally from the side, grabbing her by the throat. The shotgun went flying, landing farther down the hill. The Minotaur roared in triumph as Sally struggled in his grip, punching at the arms wrapped around her neck. Then the hands tightened. There was a flash of light, and in a shimmer of gold, Sally Jackson was gone.

Rage wasn't enough to describe the cold fury that surged through Percy at that moment. Without a word, he started back down the hill. Picking up a rock in the grass, he hurled it with pinpoint accuracy at the Minotaur. The stone struck it in the eye, and it turned with a bellow of rage toward Percy. It snorted, stomped a foot, and began to charge.

His blood like ice, Percy began to walk faster, and then run full-tilt toward the Minotaur. The bull-man lowered its head, its horns tilted forward to impale him.

Twenty feet…

Fifteen feet…

Ten feet…

And then, just as the Minotaur was about to take Percy's life by horns, Percy leapt straight upward, vaulting up over the Minotaur's head, and landing squarely on its back. The monster's head jerked up in surprise, and Percy grabbed onto the horns to steady himself. Even as the Minotaur bucked and thrashed, trying to throw him off, Percy's ADHD brain was working at top speed. The main thread of thought running through his head was "I need a weapon." (Some of the others included. "I wonder if Gabe's car is insured against pyro mothers," "Ugh, I think the blue corn chips are trying to come back up," and "HOLYCRAPHOLYCRAPHOLYCRAPHOLY CRAPI'MRIDINGTHEMINOTAUR!")

His mother's shotgun was too far away. Even if the Minotaur was facing the other way, he would be run down before he could get there. The Minotaur would gore him with the razor…sharp…oh. Now there was an idea.

Percy switched his left hand to the right horn, and pulled with both hands at the curved piece of deadly bone. He felt a slight give, then –

Crack!

The Minotaur screamed in pain, and Percy tumbled off its back, landing with a thud on the grass. Clenched in his hands was one of the Minotaur's horns. The beast swung around, snorting furiously, and barreled towards Percy.

There was no thought in what Percy did next. As the Minotaur thundered towards him, he rolled to the side, coming up on one knee, the horn held like a knife in both hands. Then the horn thrust forward, slipping between the ribs of the Minotaur like a hot knife through butter.

There was a spurt of dark liquid from the wound, covering Percy in blood, before the horn reached the heart. The Minotaur screamed, and then dissolved into yellow sand that was whisked away by the rain and wind.

Dazed, Percy dropped the horn and stumbled back up the hill to where Grover was. He felt something hot and wet running down his cheeks, but he couldn't tell if it was the rain, or blood, or tears. Picking up Grover again, Percy started again toward the lights of the farmhouse in the distance.

Time seemed to thicken and stretch as Percy half-carried, half-dragged Grover down the hill and across the field. His world became a blur of rain, a weight on his back, and the next step towards the dim lights in the distance.

Finally, after what was both hours and a few seconds, Percy collapsed at the stairs to the lit porch of the farmhouse. As his vision began to swim, he caught sight of a familiar-looking man and a girl with curly blonde hair.

"He must be the one," she was saying, sounding fuzzy and distant.

"Peace, Annabeth," replied the man. "Help him ins…"

But Percy had finally lost his tenuous grip on consciousness, and whatever else the man was saying was lost, as he fell, down, down, down into blissful blackness.

So. First chapter, yeaaaah. And yes, as it says on the tin, Sally Jackson is a badass. Her skill with a shotgun is actually canon, I just took it to the illogical conclusion of her dusting twenty hellhounds and all three Furies. One-handed. Then again, at this point it's not her first rodeo. She's been protecting Percy since he was born, so she's pretty good at fighting monsters and mortals alike. Her training Percy is another extension of her oath. In order for him to have the best chance at surviving, she's making sure that he can fight with anything that falls into his hands, or without weapons if he needs to. I'm basing Percy's fighting style on the description given in Son of Neptune in the mock-battle towards the beginning. Percy is mobile, unpredictable, and a pragmatic fighter. So I figured I'd work in that direction, and have his mother teach him a bunch of martial arts that mix practicality with unpredictability and agility. Muay Thai and Jiujitsu for practicality, capoeira and kung fu for agility and unpredictability.

By the way, credit to the VERY Talented PumpkinSoup on Deviantart for drawing the background for the cover image. I bow to the superior artists of the world. (To be honest, I've been profiled as a child of Athena, but I blow at arts and crafts.)

Not sure when the next chapter will come out, but this story will take a backseat to MeE and IS. Unless my muse is extremely stubborn, and delivers this one's next chapter instead of those. Please, Thals?

Well, that's all for me!

Αντίο, φίλοι!

CracktheSkye