Three's A Crowd

Chapter Fourteen

Percy's been punched before. Of course he has—you couldn't hold the title of hero if you haven't been socked in the face at least once. But never to that magnitude. It was as if a hunk of metal was slammed into the side of his face at the force of five semi-trucks. He lost feeling in the spot for a solid twenty seconds. Spots danced in his fuzzy vision. Once he regained his composure, however, he was livid.

Jason had really punched him in the face.

It was only fair that Percy pay back the favor.

"Who do you think you are?" He heard Jason snarl distantly through his ringing eardrums. "Why would you say such cold things? To your own brother?"

Percy spat the blood gushing to his mouth on the ground. His molar tooth was cracked and he was even more pissed. Percy uncapped Riptide. It's bronze tip winked wickedly. Jason stared at Percy's straightening form. He unsheathed his gladius at lightening speed. Percy could strike at any moment. Jason will only have a moments time. He had to be prepared for anything.

Percy glanced over his shoulder at Jason's glistening sword. A trace of a smile flickered across his lips. With the blood coating his lips cherry red, and the rampant gleam in his clouded eyes, Jason could truly say that he has never seen Percy look so manic. "Haven't you learned your lesson before? I could've killed you that day in Kansas. You're picking a fight with the wrong guy, Grace."

Jason said nothing. Deep down, Jason knew it was true. Percy was an astounding fighter. His combat skills were incomparable. He's trained himself to be the best he could be. He's taken on legions of enemies, that of which included powerful forces such as the war god himself, Kronos, Atlas, Hyperion and so many more remarkable battle figures. At such a young age, Percy was a force to be reckoned with.

Jason was groomed as a leader. Not an individual warrior. One-on-one battles made him weary. He couldn't depend on his skills alone to make it out of the battle alive. He largely had to rely on the power inherited by his father. Without it, Jason was afraid that he wouldn't last long.

Of course, his ego wouldn't allow him to admit all this out loud. But it was a factor to take into consideration when sparring with Percy Jackson.

"I'll take my chances."

It felt as if that would be Jason's last words.

Their swords clashed in mid-air. Jason had no idea when Percy came at him. Jason's body took over. If it hadn't been for muscle instinct, Jason would be bleeding on the grass below them.

Up close, Jason could see the anger boiling in Percy's eyes. Jason didn't like being on the receiving end of that anger. But Percy had insulted him so deeply. Jason was prepared to do just as much damage as Percy intended.

Percy had the upper hand. He retched their swords loose and gained momentum for a swift slash at Jason's torso. Jason barely missed the blade. Percy allowed him no time to recover. He slashed once more, at Jason's face. This time Jason wasn't as lucky. A gash ripped from his cheekbone down to his chin. The movement was so harsh, Jason grunted in pain.

Percy didn't even falter at the sight of Jason's blood. He swung his right elbow into the side of Jason's face. Jason ducked, not knowing that that was what Percy wanted all along. Percy drove his left knee into Jason's face. Jason endured the full impact of the blow. Something cracked in his face. His nose surely was broken.

Jason spat his own blood on the grass and backed away from the whirlwind of destruction that was Percy Jackson. Stars of black dotted his vision. It took everything he had in him to simply remain standing. Blood like a waterfall gushed from out of his nostrils, coupled with the blood seeping from the gash on his cheek. Jason could only imagine how terrible he must've looked by now. Surely as terrible as he felt.