Chapter Text
“Think percy,” he muttered lowly to himself, eyes darting wildly around, taking in the multitude of buildings proudly displaying the city name. Metropolis. Metropolis with a famous flying superhero, his crest on every poster within a 30 metre radius. Metropolis which he had never heard of once in his life.
He reached into his pocket, lightly caressing the handy ballpoint pen that went wherever he went. It was a nervous tick he had picked up, an attempt at comfort “Fuck okay, I’m in a place I'm 70% sure doesn’t exist, Iris messaging doesn’t work, and there are aliens,” he was listing everything he knew. It wasn’t much, but it did his haywire brain well to list out all of the facts. “I'm so fucked.”
“Think Percy, let's cover our bases. Mom’s home phone went to some random person. I can’t reach anyone from camp. I’m in a city that didn’t exist yesterday. Shit, whats the date?” he muttered to himself. He kept his head low, hair obscuring his face as he stalked his way down the street, searching for a newspaper agency. He was praying good old grandpa didn’t have anything to do with this. One last great hurrah from beyond the grave.
His footsteps rang out against the cool pavement, clearly the city was more upscale and nicer than what he was used to. No one was out and about, the streets weirdly devoid of life. He supposed it could be because it was the middle of the night, but he knew cities better, the bustle never stopped.
He continued forwards, eyes bouncing between closed shop fronts, searching for anything that could be useful. A discarded newspaper, a dropped phone, any sign of life that would tell him what the fuck was going on.
The fates, seemingly taking pity on him, sent a gust of particularly strong wind at him, carrying a bundle of papers. The days- he hoped at least- newspaper. July 5th, 2010. Not forward in time, not backwards in time. At least that was scrapped off the mental list of what could have happened to him. And one less potential enemy that could have kidnapped him.
He also took note of the recent headline. ‘Superman foils domestic terrorism attempt on Cadmus, saves 1000’s’. Ah, no wonder the streets are empty, people are most likely shaken up, spending time with family, finding comfort indoors.
He let it go, the wind taking it away, before hurrying forward, right hand gripping the ballpoint pen, his left balled up in a tight fist, uncertainty, and righteous anger now coursing through his veins. The fates really never stop messing with him.
He continued slithering through the streets, letting his instincts guide him to safety. Well, relative safety, in the form of the ocean. He could practically feel it calling out to him, like a siren luring him in. It felt off, not inherently bad, but different.
He was used to the pull of the sea, like a maternal figure resting her hand on his back after a long day. But this was unfamiliar. When before the hand brought comfort and calmness, this brought zapping power and promise. It felt as though it was more… unrestrained. Without a god or a ruler keeping everything in order. It was pure potential.
It wasn’t too far as well, really only a few blocks before the overwhelming smell of salt, seaweed and fish clung to the air, reminding him of home. It was nice. It released the tension that had built up in his shoulders and clenching hand, letting him relax, his mind becoming clearer.
Tall, upward-reaching sky scrapers turned into low, solid buildings. Parks and docks littered the edge of the city, and he could see a multitude of massive boats still moving about. Commercial ferries, and large cargo ships still hustling in and out of the harbour, manned by sleepy workers practically dozing off on deck.
As quickly as possible, he slipped to the edge of the water, sticking to the darkest shadows cast by trees and moonlight. He didn’t need any nosy dock workers questioning him, though, at this time of the morning, he supposed they would probably be too tired.
He utilised the mass amounts of crates and and his heightened speed to dart between structures, keeping an ear out for any approaching footsteps or voices. There was none. The docks were fairly quiet, the soothing sounds of water beating concrete overtaking any quiet conversations, creating bubbles of irreplicable intimacy. The kind only found hidden in the slivers of the night.
The water itself was teeming with life, clearly not all that affected by the proximity to the metropolitan. Curious schools of fish and pods of lobsters inhabited the fairly shallow regions of the body. He could sense this from even the urban shoreline. His powers, or at least those that correlated with his awareness of the sea and the creatures, were increased, that he was sure of.
He tentatively reached a hesitant hand to the water, allowing it to breach the moving surface, submerging it in icy coldness.
Electricity ran up his arms. Almost akin to when his cousin would give him a friendly shock when he was being an idiot. Except this time the electricity did not mean to fry his nervous system, instead it rejuvenated him.
The physical manifestation of this surprising reaction was a slight glow his arm emitted when in steady contact with the water. This had never happened before. He was like some odd bioluminescent creature, except only certain water triggered it. Or at least, wherever he was now triggered it.
Cautiously, he submerged his other arm, seeing if the reaction could be replicated.
He felt it, the freezing sensation running up his arm, followed by jolts of something . Power, perhaps. Like his other arm, this one lit up like the sky on new years, emitting a glow in the otherwise inky darkness.
Taking a shuddering breath, he closed his eyes, before allowing the rest of his body to find comfort in the harbours depths, instantly feeling his face, neck, shoulders, torso and legs jolt with uncontained energy.
What was once a tug in his naval, evolved into a full body heaving sensation, feeling the sea bend to his body’s will was an addicting rush. He had once heard that the first high was the most impactful, that people will spend their lives chasing it, and he understood it. The feeling of raw, unfiltered power coursing through his veins, lighting his very cells up, felt like no other sensation. He could practically trace it, infecting his very being.
He felt every atom in his body supercharged, eroding, and reforming. What should have been painful felt invigorating. Probably akin to what the transition between demi-god to god felt. It wasn’t eradication, it was transformation.
His body trying to accommodate the newfound rush of power.
He could hear the deafening sound of waves, or his own blood, pounding in his ears, a stark contrast to the calmness of before.
His fingers, tingling and shaking at the arsenal at his disposal, balled into tight fists at his side, in a poor attempt to stop the full body shudders that had overtaken him. His eyes, once closed, were now violently twitching uncontrollably.
His heart was stuttering, pounding out of his chests, skipping beats, practically sucking his rib cage into it, like an all devouring black hole, ripping indiscriminately.
What was once addicting turned painful.
His lungs cracking, his bones burning, his muscles contracting so violently they felt as if they were tearing themselves up. His blood was simultaneously ice and lava flowing through his arteries, poisoning.
Amidst it all, he could vaguely feel a sharp something digging into his neck, scratching and pushing down his back, separating every single disk in his spine. Pop. Pop. Pop. Tear. Tear. Tear. Down. Down. Down.
He writhed and thrashed, trying to escape the hand of doom, but there was no getting away. It was following him, never leaving his skin, pushing and clawing till it made it to the small of his back.
Still highly sensitive from the invulnerability, no matter now that it’s gone.
He felt a bloodcurdling scream rip from his throat, shredding the inside of his mouth, feeling warm, sticky crimson gurgle in his windpipe. The hand, seemingly finding its final destination, started pushing through his skin, separating skin from skin, skin from muscle, muscle from tendons, tendons from bones, bones from bone.
A hand of pure pain ripping his essence apart, reaching through his weak point, and slithering up his torso, grabbing his heart and squeezing .
His eyes, now free from the rabid trembling, widened in unbridled pain and fury, seeing everything and nothing. Being in a state of total awareness, yet not being able to focus on anything but the torture his body was undergoing.
All at once, darkness crashed over him, his body, mind and soul succumbing to the grip of fate, allowing a blanket of cold peace to settle over him. Unsettling in its abruptness and unfamiliarity. Not quite right, like it was trying to replicate the feeling of comfort, yet only ending up with a cheap imitation that set his nerves on edge.
Static rumbled deep in his ears, his body was numb, his mind quiet, save for one word, seeing alien, like his brain couldn't quite process it.
ovem.
There was something inherently wrong.
oMev.
Something that was so out of touch.
Moev.
So close, on the tip of his tongue.
Move.
Huh?
move. move. move. move. move. move. move. move. move. move. move. move. move.
It was foreign, indecipherable, like looking at something for too long made it feel out of place.
“Movɘ.” Tʜiƨ timɘ, wʜiƨqɘɿɘb in ʜiƨ ɘɒɿ, ʜɒɿƨʜ ɒnb bɘmɒnbinϱ. It ɿɘqɘɒtɘb, ɔʜɒntɘb ovɘɿ ɒnb ovɘɿ ɒϱɒin, bɿowninϱ oυt tʜɘ ʇɒυx-qɘɒɔɘ. “Movɘ.” It tolb ʜim. Tʜɘγ tolb ʜim, 3 biƨtinɔtlγ inbiƨtinɔtivɘ voiɔɘƨ. “Movɘ”
What does that mean?
”evoM“ .seciov evitcnitsidni yltcnitsid 3 ,mih dlot yehT .mih dlot tI ”.evoM“ .ecaep-xuaf eht tuo gninword ,niaga revo dna revo detnahc ,detaeper tI .gnidnamed dna hsrah ,rae sih ni derepsihw ,emit sihT ”.evoM“
What?
“Move.” This time, whispered in his ear, harsh and demanding. It repeated, chanted over and over again, drowning out the faux-peace. “Move.” It told him. They told him, 3 distinctly indistinctive voices. “Move”
Oh.
He was limb locked, unable to force his legs or arms to do anything. His mind was still unpleasantly foggy, yet the blanket had been given eye holes. This minute disruption to his descent into . into . into .
His descent been veered off course, a sliver of reality slithering into his consciousness, allowing for him to spread his senses - even if it felt like most of them had been burnt to the nub and plucked out - to the surrounding indefinite space.
He had enough sense and control to be able to feel a faint heaving somewhere, like a metaphorical tether, he reached out and grabbed onto it, plastering it around himself like a constricting snake, tightening. Secure.
It seemed to cut through the forced senseless feeling, tugging and dragging him through the space around him, that was once uninhabitable, and unrecognisable. Now he had the faintest prickling, as his awareness settled in him once more.
Slowly, like holes had been made within the fabric of his confines, water trickled in, pooling around his arms, easing him back into this reality, and away from wherever he had been before.
His world materialised around him, crackling and twisting into his vision, which was slowly returning. The first thing he noticed was brick, or stone, or something of the sort. Clearly human altered with its meticulous line work, no matter how weathered it was.
The next? The staring face of his father, unblinking and unmoving, locking him in place.