Sunlight coated the streets, washing over everything with its warmth and painting alleys in shadows. Water dripped off of the slanted roofs into puddles or barrels. Busted glass and twisted metal laid pressed to the base of houses where plywood covered most of the windows. And those windows that weren't boarded and padded with phone books had metal bars bolted across.

I drew my bottom lip between my teeth as I twisted the pin. My fingers moved like they were supposed to, quickly and carefully with not too much force, so why was- The lock clicked. I breathed out and slid the picks back into my pocket. Pushing the handle down, I pushed on the door. It stuck. My hip hit the door, and knocked it free from the warped frame. Rusted hinges creaked, squealing like a monster stuck in a trap. I pressed my lips together. Hopefully no one heard that.

I didn't know why I was worried. No one cared about break-ins, not in Gotham. The only ones who might've taken it upon themselves to intervene were the ten decent cops, Batman, and Robin. And Batman and Robin were far more likely to deal with a drug ring in the middle of the night than a midday break in.

"Mom, I'm home," I said, dropping my bag to the side. I kicked the door closed with my heel. As I bent to take off my shoes, hard soles hit tile, and two hands plopped onto my shoulders.

"Well, I hope I'm getting something for Mother's Day then."

"Hope you like scrunchies."

"Is that really how you're going to greet me?" Dad squeezed my shoulders before dropping his hands. "I see how it is. Always the second choice." He hummed. "You didn't flinch."

He moved away. I turned, only to be met with the view of him digging around in the cupboard. Pans rattled and rang out with sharp clangs, until Dad slid out the one he was searching for.

"What are we having?" I asked.

"The souls of Batman and Robin."

"Are you at least not going to explode the macaroni this time?'

"You'll be blown away with how much better at cooking I've gotten."

I rolled my eyes and pulled out a box of macaroni for him. What he meant by him cooking, was meant to be heard as using me for everything aside from stirring in the cheese powder. Water gushed into the pan, and within only a few seconds it started to boil.

"Hey, Mr J? I brought- Percy!" Mom's sudden appearance startled me, causing me to drop my hold on the water. It wasn't easy to get it back either. Mom swept me into a hug, cradling my head against her bloodsoaked shoulder. Being held like I was, it was almost too easy to ignore the bound and gagged man discarded on the floor.

"Please tell me this is torture and then murder, and not a kink thing," I mumbled.

"He owed us money and refused to pay," said Dad. The stovetop clicked on. "Luckily he's pretty high on the ladder, so a few stabs and maybe a crowbar and we should be good for the next couple weeks."

Mom released me and grabbed the man's ankle. She dragged him towards the basement steps. I winced as I heard the thud-thud of a skull hitting wood. I wiped the blood from my cheek and turned back to Dad. He looked at me, face unusually grim, void of the smile he so often wore. A quick glance at the pot, two steps, and then I was wrapped in his arms.

"You worried us." He rested his chin on my head. "You disappeared and we had no idea what happened."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize. Just- Just don't do it again."

"Trust me, I'm not planning on that again." My fingers curled at the thought. I sighed. As much as I would have liked to ignore everything about the situation and lay on the couch with Mom and Dad, I couldn't. It would have been easier if there wasn't a man getting tied to the chair in the basement, but even if there wasn't there would have been something else. There always was. "How many?"

"How many what? How many times have I juggled? How many times have I switched personalities? Or are you asking how many times I've juggled my multiple personalities?"

"How many people did you kill?"

"Not important."

"Dad."

He dropped one arm. "The Justice League has a kiddie club. Robin and all the other little sidekicks. Should've expected for the adults to pass all the dirty work onto the kids sooner or later," he said, waving his hand. Neither of us mentioned what I've done.

"...That doesn't answer my question."

"Sixty-three."

"That's not too bad, I guess," I said. I wasn't completely against killing, it was hard to be, but I never knew who they killed and they'd never tell me. Too many sleepless nights came when they did.

Dad slipped away from me, humming as he dumped the noodles into the boiling water. "Thanks, kiddo."

"What happened to trump card?"

"You're not as much of a surprise as you were when you were six. Plus it's tacky."

"And Mom using a good bit of her actual name for a villain name isn't? At least you don't use yours." It always made for an argument when enrolling me in schools. Quinzel, Napier, or Jackson, some amalgamation of them, or just a fake one all together? It would go on for a couple weeks and then they'd drop my new name on me as I walked out the door. I didn't even know which one we used last, or how Dad kept getting me into schools without all the paperwork.

To be fair, it probably involved bombs.

The Mission Impossible theme started playing. Dad slipped his phone out of his pocket and answered it. "What?" He scowled as the other person talked. "Not my problem. Deal with them yourself." The phone snapped shut. "Those kids are a pain in the ass. Klarion's crying and whining about them hurting his cat, and I'm the one who gets to hear about it because of course I'd want to hear about that. Not like I don't try to have some sort of life outside of crime or anything."

"You don't," I said. "The most legitimate thing I've seen you do is order a pressure cooker and not use it to blow something up."

"You might be right, but that doesn't mean you have to say it."

"I really do."

Dad rolled his eyes and tapped the spoon against the edge of the pan. "They're really annoying."

"Pressure cookers?"

"The brats. I got paid good money to work with some others as diversions, and then they came along and ruined it. Only got half pay because of it," he grumbled. "Don't know how the Light's still working in the shadows."

"Have you even thought about what their plan would do?" He probably didn't. I only knew bits and pieces of it, things I'd worked out from getting information from lower level thugs on my way home. Half of it was probably wrong, but even if only half of it was right..."It- It would send Western civilization into chaos."

"And chaos brings plenty of opportunities for laughs."

"And it brings Olympus crashing down," I snapped, lips curled in a snarl. "Olympus will come down and we both know how the gods deal with threats." Dad's shoulders tensed, and he slowly sat the spoon on the counter. "You remember what Hades did when he thought I stole his helm? That was one god, mad at one demigod, without any proof backing up the allegations. They've erased entire cities over slights, made people's lives miserable because of one boastful moment. I don't think they'd have any hesitation killing the members of the Light or those under them. Which if you haven't realized, technically includes me."

The basement door opened and then shut. The lock clicked. Mom, finally changed from her costume, walked into the kitchen. Without looking at us, she pulled the fridge open and grabbed a water bottle.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Who are you asking?" I crossed my arms, but not from any teenage rebellion or sass, just so I could dig my nails into my arms. My powers were bubbling up, trying to react to my emotions. With boiling water on the stove and two people who didn't have resistance to heat, I couldn't afford to let them run free.

"Half the bottles of water in the fridge burst."

I frowned and looked away. I didn't even think about those or about the water running through the fridge itself.

Dad took a step forward. "Percy."

"I can't lose you guys too."

The world froze, silence closed in. As none of us spoke, the water in the pot bubbled and gurgled, caught in the throes of my powers. In two quick steps, Dad was in front of me. Concerned eyes and a few green stains below his hairline, he was familiar. Safe. I didn't fight him as he pulled me hard against his chest.

"You won't," he said, and he pressed a kiss to my hair. "You won't, kiddo. We're not leaving you anytime soon."

"You can't promise that."

"No, but I can promise that anyone trying to take you away from us again better be prepared for one hell of a fight. Harley, can you go find a movie?"

"Sure thing, Mr J. Finding Nemo sound good?"

Dad nodded. Mom walked out of the kitchen, leaving me pressed against him. He raked his fingers through my hair, nails scratching my scalp. The water continued to boil in the background, slowly coming down to a simmer. I heaved a sigh and pulled away. Dad's hands lingered on my arms, keeping me close, not letting me disappear. I rocked on my feet and brushed a piece of hair away from my face.

"Is that a tattoo?" asked Dad.

"Brand actually. Gotta love Rome. Which uh, Roman gods are a thing too. Like the universe really decided one group of fucked up immortals wasn't enough?"

"Klarion is also a fucked up immortal."

"Klarion is basically my dear old grandpa, if said grandpa was perpetually a two year old."

Dad snorted and let go of me. He picked up the spoon. He stared down into the pot. "They're probably done." Metal rasped against glass as he pulled it off the glowing burner. A plume of steam erupted from the noodles. "Thank you."

I pulled the fridge door open, wincing as more water drained out. I grabbed the nearly empty half-gallon of milk and bumped the door closed. A magnet fell off, taking what I assumed to be the grocery list with it. "Here's your milk."

As Dad mixed the milk and cheese powder in, I pulled down bowls for us, and a fork for myself.

"No silverware for me?" asked Dad, a mischievous smile on his lips. I took a step away.

"Eat it out of the bowl like a normal person."

A crash shook the house. My heart pounded against my chest, and it took me a second to realize the weight in my hand was Riptide. And that my fork was on the floor.

"Harley?"

"I'm okay! But uh, we might need a new shelf."

Dad snorted and shook his head. "I'm going to go help her. Your suit's in your room if you want to make sure it still fits. Get a new fork."

"It is a perfectly good fork." I pointed it at him. "A little dirt won't hurt me." I scooped food into my bowl before sliding into a seat at the table. Dad went into the living room, leaving me to stare at the wall. Not even the cheesy goodness of the food could distract me from the energy bubbling up. It had been so long since I was out.

Fuck, I was going to have to bring him brownies, wasn't I?

Hello and welcome to "I have no self-restraint 2 electric boogaloo" 

Anyway, consider this a teaser for a rewrite

Yes it's female Percy, yes this is also an edited version of the Masquerade with a much snazzier title and much better writing.

Yes this will NOT be updated for a while and if anyone tries to pressure me for an update, well, I'll leave it to your imagination

See yah