Just like V said, I'm let out from my cell by a few beefcakes..and I'm on my own. I think the musky smell of the cell sunk into my clothes, 'cause I smell like a hobo. I decide to call an Uber and drop by the apartment to get some fresh duds. It's empty of course; V never bluffs.
I head to my bedroom - yeah, me and V sleep in different rooms. Like a married couple shouldn't. She thinks I snore so loud I shake the place to its core. I dig in my drawers for something that's remotely clean, and not wrinkled. I eventually manage to pick out a Pink Floyd shirt with all those psychedelic colors. I look at myself in the mirror. Not much about me has changed since I was twenty-ish. I'm thirty five now. Scraggly black hair, blue eyes, a goatee. I'm not the strongest guy out there anymore. I blame the cannolis for my gut, that's becoming ever more present the longer I look at my reflection.
Welp, at least I still have my guns. My gaze flicks over to the photo on my dresser. It's me an' V an' Ana. My Anastasia. I dunno what I would do without her. She doesn't look like me, really. Or V. She looks more like my mom. With her round face, freckles, pale skin and such. Irish as heck. Her brown hair has some red in it when the light hits it just right.
When she was born, me and V were freaked out by her eyes. They were straight-up gold. That's when I feared she was special. I excused myself from her hospital room and booked it to the library - looking for anything that might explain it. That's when I found it, the myth of the Golden Fleece - basically, my dad wanted this princess named Theophane and he kidnapped her and they had a ram..for some reason? I don't really get it, either. Anyways, the ram was gold..and then these two kids skinned it and sacrificed it because logic. And voila, you got a fleece.
..That's when I realized; what if my daughter was the reincarnation of this..thing, and I was supposed to sacrifice her..or something? When I tell you I almost had a heart attack right then and there, I'm not kidding. The moment me and V brought her home, she never left my side.
But nothing ever seemed odd about her. She cried like a normal baby, she shat like one, she hit the milestones. And her eyes settled to a normal hazel color. She..she wasn't special.
But I am. There was a knock at the door. I went to go and answer it, like any functioning person would. I took a peek through the peephole and in the fish-eye lens, I saw..a guy in a wheelchair. I carefully undid the latch and opened it. The guy..was well-dressed for some slummy suburb in Beantown, I gotta tell ya. A blazer, tie, the whole nine.
"..Can I help you?" I ask.
He just..stares at me with these inquisitive brown eyes. "..I had my doubts, but you really are his brother."
"..I didn't even know you existed." He goes on.
"Chiron, let the guy breathe." Comes a voice from down the hall. I step out..and am met with..a younger version of me.
"Holy fuck." I mutter. The kid has the same messy hair, eyes. He has this godlike body - kinda. His muscles are all sinewy and lean. His eyes widen.
"..Poseidon's underpants." He mutters. I stick out my hand
He takes it. "Percy Jackson."