Percy didn't appreciate the shorts.

"Alright team! Today we're doing a fitness assessment to see how you lot are doing since last time we had a test." The class groaned. "Yeah, yeah, but it'll just be worse if you argue so get to!" He blew his whistle. Loud. The class cringed. "Start with 5 laps, 30 push ups then 15 pull-ups on the bar! Got it?!" There was mumbled assent. "Then go!" He blew the whistle again and the class started running as the shrill noise echoed through the gym.

Percy gave a small smile as he thought of Coach Hedge and laps with the Ares Cabin, falling back into the easy rhythm of training as footfalls thudded through the room.

"Faster! We're running, not strolling!" Percy all out grinned as he increased his pace. The other boys had fallen behind, but Percy barely even noticed as he lapped them: he'd fallen completely into the comfortable rhythm he'd spent more than the last half decade of his life in.

Percy let himself switch off as he ran, not even noticing as he got steadily faster. Only noticing when a foot wearing a reflective blue trainer was shoved into his path. Cursing himself for zoning out, he jumped over it falling into a roll and standing smoothly back up without missing a step. Still running, he didn't notice the angry glare of the jock who'd tried to trip him or the stare and raised eyebrow of the coach, who hadn't seen skill even close to that since he was a professional, and even then it was only hinted at.

It was after someone came a bit too close to knocking him over that Percy switched from the relaxed countenance he'd worked so hard to regain after the wars and back to the fully alert paranoia of a hunter soldier. Three jocks, normally easy, not even worth the thought, but he couldn't do anything to them and he wanted to lay low. He cursed in Greek under his breath, then Latin as he adjusted his pace.

Percy ran, being chased by three high school jocks, they weren't a threat, but they reminded him too much of being chased by something else entirely.

Your heart was pounding in time with your feet, which impacted hard on the mossy ground of the forest. Trees and branches whipped at your mud-caked face as he ran. Riptide hadn't returned to your pocket yet. You could hear the monsters chasing you, getting closer and closer and closer. They roared and hollered as they chased you. You were panting, the wound in your side making it harder and harder to breath as you ran for your life.

They were right behind you. You could feel their rancid breath burning you from behind as they reached out the razor sharp claws and lunged for you, they grabbed the back of your shirt as-

You gasped as you fell through the camp boarders, friendly hands pulling you to safety as the monsters crashed and riled against the shield. You blacked out, the monsters you'd narrowly escaped your last vision as the black took you.

As Percy resurfaced, regaining awareness of his environment, he crossed the finish line and transitioned smoothly to the next area where he executed a practice drop into flawless push ups and began counting. The jocks ground their teeth as they strained to finish their remaining two laps while Percy was rapidly progressing through his assigned work.

There were three jocks, the obvious leader; yellow hair with hints of brown with so much jell you could smell it; an unnatural tan and teeth that had been kicked in so many times they were beyond dental work, he obviously fancied himself a regular Narcissus and, Percy would later find out, was captain of the school's Rugby and Football teams. Then there was the next one, Erik Boats, 5'11 with arms like tree trunks, he was a quarterback on the Rugby team and a striker on the Football and he, along with Klyde More, did anything and everything Donny said. Klyde More, 5'10, dark green eyes and brown skin. He had shoulders like Captain America and a nose which had obviously been broken, a lot. He was also on both of Donny's teams.

They managed to finish their laps just as Percy jumped up and jogged to the high bar. The rest of the class was still on their fourth laps.  

"That lil' punk." Donny muttered, watching Percy's biceps flex as he pulled himself up, the rest of his body as straight as an arrow. He pulled himself up steadily, one after another, up and down, without pause or hesitation. Donny cursed some more.

Percy was annoyed. He'd worked so hard to maintain that air of 'non-paranoia' (that's what Stark had decided to call it: yes, he got slapped) and now three arrogant jocks had ruined that. He sighed as he lowered himself down again, taking in every detail, person and exit in the room. He closed his eyes, trying desperately to stem the flood of information that was giving him a Godly headache. He's stayed at a steady pace throughout, trying to tone it down. Even when he was out-pacing the jocks he maintained what was, for him, the equivalent of an easy jog. 

Percy'd been enjoying the practised release of physical activity until those idiot jocks ruined it. He sighed, annoyed, as he pulled himself up smoothly one last time and released, dropping down and landing perfectly on the gym floor, his ankles absorbing the impact and he uncurled himself and stood, surveying the room once again and walking calmly to the Coach and, resisting the temptation to stand to attention and give a salute, gracefully sat down on the gym floor and waited for the others to finish. He hadn't even missed a breath, after all, to him it wasn't even a work out and physical release was even relaxing. He definitely contrasted with the lines of panting teenagers still running around the room.

He groaned, carefully not responding, as the jocks rammed into him sitting down. Day one and he already had enemies. So much for social skills.

He sat and listened patiently whilst the other students sat down, breathing hard and the Coach wrapped up the lesson.

He sighed again as he jogged out with the others, still taking in every detail, and, consequently, he had already turned round when the Coach started calling for him.

The gym was empty, the other boys were in the changing rooms, the three jocks had been giving him dirty looks on the way out. He suppressed yet another sigh and a slight flinch as the Coach stood to address him.

"You're the new kid, right boy?" Percy nodded.

"Yes, Sir." He replied crisply. The man appraised him.

"You have some talent. Tell me, what's your heart rate right now, boy?"

"50, Sir." The Coach raised an eyebrow.

"You didn't have to check?"
"I keep track, Sir." It made sense, if he didn't stay healthy, if his body failed, he died. Simple as that. The Coach, Coach Turner, looked surprised.

"Why?"
"Have to stay healthy, Sir." Percy was quietly tapping his fingers against the side of his legs in no specific pattern. Some Morse code, a bit of the Apollo cabins favourite songs, a bar or two of the prayer they used on battlefields at camp and sometimes nothing at all, he flitted between tunes and patterns and taps without even thinking about it in an attempt to control his ADHD.

Turned shook off his surprise, filing the information away for later.

"You obviously have talent and you see exercise as more than just a way to show off." Percy shuffled his feet, "There're some open spots on the Football and Rugby teams is you're interested." The man looked hopeful. Percy grimaced.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but...I just don't like those sports and I'm already busy Sir..." He trailed off awkwardly. Percy would've loved the chance for honest team exercise that wasn't just training, he hadn't played sports since the beginning of the last war, not properly. The Coach seemed to pick up on that.

"Then what sports do you like, Jackson." Percy didn't even have to think.

"Swimming and Basketball, Sir." The man grinned.

"Then why don't you join them." Percy was lost for a minute.

"I..." Percy sighed, "I have some...issues, that stop me from playing well with others, Sir. I don't know if I'd trust myself to work with a team safely." He replied honestly. At least not a team that weren't expert assassins or soldiers or who could take a hit and were used to fighting. 

Coach Turner gave him a sympathetic look.

"I got the email about your ADHD, Jackson, and I can see you tapping even now," Percy instantly stopped, making the Coach smile sadly, "it wont be a problem, in fact it might help as long as we figure out how to channel it." He smiled encouragingly this time, trying to help the boy he say as a child.

Percy just grimaced again.

"It...," He sighed, "it's not just that, Sir. I'm sure-I'm sure the school was told that I joined so late and changed guardians due to a family tragedy," The Coach nodded, frowning, "Well...it...wasn't your normal tragedy. I-My friends, family and I were on a trip and...there was a terrorist attack, Sir." He swallowed thickly, even as a cover story it was hard to talk about them, "Long story short, Sir, they did some bad things and I was the only survivor. The doctors afterwards diagnosed me with...with PTSD, Sir. I-I don't like being touched and I haven't...I haven't really been close to many people, physically or emotionally since then, Sir. I just...I don't know if I could handle it, Sir. Especially a collision sport." He looked down at his shoes, his body language small and guarded.

The adult looked down at him, tears pricking his eyes.

"Oh, Son, I'm sorry." Percy shrugged unresponsively. "You do what's best for you, OK? But you ever know," he tried to smile helpfully, "maybe it'd help? You think on it and know that there's always a space for you if you want it." The Coach smiled at him as he looked up and, for once, Percy smiled properly back.