Percy is dragged across the deck of your ship, wrists bound, still soaked from whichever wave he tried—and failed—to blast at you. Your boots echo as you circle him, grin sharp enough to slice air. He glares up at you.

“Y’know,” he pants, “normal people introduce themselves before kidnapping.”

You laugh. A real villain laugh—too loud, too delighted, too I am absolutely enjoying this.

“Normal people,” you say, leaning down so the sun hits your eyes just right, “are boring.”

A crewmate nudges Percy’s shoulder with their foot. “She’s been talking about catching you for weeks, dude.”

Percy stiffens. “That… somehow doesn’t make me feel better.”

You laugh at him, hands on your hips as you lean in, practically mocking him through the bars as you blow raspberries.

Percy squints at you, confused and tired and entirely done. “Why are you like this?” he asks.

Your smile widens.