Hey guys. Pwnie3 here, got the idea from NikiD1233's Suicide is Murder, I liked it for some reason or another. It's slightly different due to my preferences, mainly because I'm in a Percabeth hating mood. This will most likely turn into one of those Chaos-like stories, only with Ouranous instead. Enjoy.
disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan. Screw you, Rick.
The young man walking home from work at the fast-food restaurant.
The young men who were desperate for attention from the popular girls beside them, waiting to jump the young man with knives gleaming white under the pale moon.
He walked beneath them, a streak of grey shining in his pearlescent black hair, falling into his sea-green eyes that held so much sadness. This was the moment they had been planning for weeks. They stepped from the shadows, the knives glowing in the soft moonlight. The man looked up. A single set of words escaped his lips.
"If you can, make it quick. I have killed too many to hurt another soul."
The kids at school thought him
Stupid, the first word carved into his chest.
He had dyslexia, he couldn't read.
He had ADHD, he couldn't sit still in class.
He excelled in sports, he must not study.
He barely ever spoke.
The teachers, students, girls shoved away called him this, behind his back, some even to his face.
Gay, the second term whittled into his torso.
He never had a girlfriend.
He pushed away all the girls who threw themselves at him.
He never sighed dreamily at any girls like the other boys did.
The pictures in his locker only had the faces of boys, the girls' faces blotted out.
The teachers, students, girls shoved away called him this, behind his back, some even to his face.
Weak, the third concept chiseled onto his body.
He never fought back, not even when the scrawniest boy in school hit his best.
He never was mean to anyone.
The teachers, students, girls shoved away called him this, behind his back, some even to his face.
Freak, the fourth phrase hewn into his flesh.
He worshipped gods that he alone believed in.
He had scars all over his body.
The teachers, students, girls shoved away called him this, behind his back, some even to his face.
What they didn't know, was that slowly, surely, they were killing him. Killing him with their words. That they were doing the best thing they could to him. That they were sending him to the love he never realized he had until she was dead. That they were freeing him from a prison he could not break out of.
A silver arrow whizzed past the ear of one of them. A girl in silver with black hair and electric blue eyes stepped from the shadows and ran to the young man.
"Percy, stay with me. We can fix this. We'll get you back to your mom and to Paul and Ariadne, too. Come on, Perce, don't die on your family like this"
Another girl, and another, and another followed her. Many more came, and all parted as a little girl with silver eyes and auburn hair passed through them. She saw the light in his sea-green eyes fading, and rushed to his side.
"Perseus, stay with us. We can fix this"
"Lady Artemis, I do not fear death. If anything, I want to die, but was too cowardly to bring death upon myself. In death, though, I am free" he whispered with his final breath, and a wispy, colorless essence drifted from his lips. The little girl caught it, and tossed it to the sky. The vapor caught beside a constellation, and the stars reconfigured themselves. Now, standing next to The Huntress in the sky, was The Hero, a last tribute to the Savior of Olympus.
In the court of Ouranous, the fabric of reality shimmered as a new seat appeared at the table decorated with the Milky Way Galaxy. On it, as with all the other seats, was a constellation. This one was of a man holding up a sword, and as the constellation became more lifelike, it was of a man with shaggy, pearlescent, black hair and sea-green eyes shining with triumph. He was right next to The Huntress, Zoe Nightshade. The plaque on the back of the chair read:
Perseus Orion Jackson
Son of Poseidon
Savior of Olympus
Killed by those who just didn't understand
August 18, 1996-August 20, 2020
The Hero
A young woman appeared in the seat beside that of the young man, and he materialized in it. The woman smiled.
"Zoe?" the young man asked of the woman. Her smile brightened.
"Welcome home, Perseus. Welcome home"
At school, all the teachers dressed in black. The students couldn't figure out why until they saw the seat designated for Percy Jackson, the only kid at school with perfect attendance, was empty. No explaining was needed. A memorial service was being held for Percy Jackson, and the teachers said that you got 20 extra credit points for going.
There, they saw maybe a hundred kids climbing out of strawberry vans, each wearing an orange t-shirt. Each held a candle, and 2 kids who looked about 14 carried a body borne on a litter with a sea-green shroud with a trident sewn onto it covering the visage and all else of the dead man. The students realized that this was Percy Jackson, borne by 2 kids who could only be his siblings. Suddenly, the students realized something. There was no weeping girlfriend that he had talked about so much, then suddenly stopped chattering over. Another van pulled up, and many of the kids in orange went over to it, pulling out more litters, each with a shroud and a body on it. A red one with a spear, and the name Clarisse LaRue crudely scrawledin brown; a green one with a caduceus, and the name Connor Stoll scribbled in black, carried by a girl with brown hair and brown eyes ahead of a boy with curly brown hair and blue eyes; a pale blue one with a silver goblet, carried by two 19 year old girls with curly, caramel hair and pale blue eyes, with a name stitched in silver: Allysa Trent; so many bodies, the students stopped counting. The student body then realized what they had done, shunning him when there were so many people to miss him. They saw a woman sitting with their English teacher, Mr. Blowfis, and both were crying. There was a boy in the shadows, almost blending in save for his pale olive skin. A man who looked like an older version of Percy sat on the other side of the woman with Mr. Blowfis. The girl from the scene of the murder was there, her electric blue eyes brimming with tears. The students quieted as the orange-shirted kids, after their comrades set sown the litters, began to hum.
THALIA POV
Why is the world so cruel? First Jason, then Phoebe, and now Percy too? I fear for Nico's life. Not Annabeth's, not after her betrayal of Percy's love for her. I can only imagine the pain he went through when he caught Annabeth kissing Marcus. I joined in as all the living people I knew began to hum. It was an old tune, led by the Apollo cabin, their unofficial-and-yet-not-an-Apollo-camper leader and the best singer at camp, Helen Hoffman, daughter of Rhea, augmented the ancient Greek lullaby with words in our tongue of bloodshed, and of war, and of death, then of peace, and of grief, and of loss, and of starting anew. Helen knew these things. Helen had lost many of her friends and family during the second Gigantomachy, including the guy she had always known as her brother, a son of Hephaestus named Franz Hoffman, her half sister and one of her best friends, Allysa "Gwen" Trent , and also the guy she had been in love with, Sorrel Winter, whom she had known since 6th grade. She had, in return to the monsters, taken on her true form as the mortal vessel of Lady Chaos, creator of the universe, and lulled Gaea back to sleep with honeyed words of peace and love.
Εμείς θα θέσει εδώ για να κοιμηθεί
Αιώνια οικογένειά μας
Θα σας στείλουμε στον Κύριο Άδη στο βραχίονα του Κυρίου Θανάτου
Δίνουμε εισιτήριο σας κάτω από το κρύο δάχτυλα αναίσθητος σας
Γύρω swod λαιμό σας
Ποια θα πεθάνει πολεμώντας με
Και κερδίσαμε τη μάχη
Και κερδίσαμε τον πόλεμο
Σας πραγματοποιήθηκε όπως είχε πεθάνει
Εμείς φώναξε και κλάψαμε
Ο εχθρός ήταν να οδηγηθούν στη δικαιοσύνη
Και προχωρήσαμε, αλλά δεν είναι αρκετά
Επειδή ακόμα κλαίω για σένα τη νύχτα
Αναρωτιόμαστε τι θα μπορούσε να ήταν
Αν δεν είχε λάβει αυτή λεπίδα για τους Θεούς
Αν ήταν ταχύτερη
Αν είχαν επιζήσει
Αλλά έχουμε προχωρήσει
Είμαστε σε ειρήνη
Έχουμε μετακινηθεί τόσο μακριά από τον πόνο όσο το δυνατόν
Και έχουμε αρχίσει και πάλι
Έχουμε ξαναχτίστηκε
Σας έχουμε τιμηθεί
Για την τελευταία φορά
Μέχρι τη στιγμή που ο Λόρδος Θάνατος μας παίρνει
Θα μας λείψετε