WARNING: Violent descriptions and drug use.

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Rick Riordan and not myself.

Part One

There is a rumor that the dingy streets of the city are now as close as a person can get to death. Jason disagrees. He has watched partners and coworkers die in front of his eyes, the ways the victims are strewn out like party favors for the vultures, and innocent children get swept into the dreams of being famous only to pledge themselves to the crime rings. No, Jason does not believe they live on the edge, but in the throes of it. Where it is strong and consumes in the dark, hidden behind the large orchestrated city lights and billboards that portray a fantasy land. But, in reality, Jason believes he lives in the breeding place of death. And it's getting to him now, after three months of constant taunts, he's ready to track down Death and give him a piece of his mind. Only, how do you find something that is so omnipresent?

When Jason was growing up under his suppressive parents' watch, he was inquisitive with a keen eye for detail. He always pointed out what he thought was unjust, stood up for the bullied kids, and worked his hardest to make sure everyone was taken care of. His stepmother once told him: "You have the strong qualities of a leader. Use your eye for justice my boy and you will go far." And like any young six year old, he ignored her and continued to play with his Power Ranger Action figures.

A little over fifteen years later, Jason disappointed his parents' hopes for him to enter politics or law. Even Jason surprised himself when he chose law enforcement as his career over a promising profession as district attorney after he turned down the internship his stepmother worked so hard to get him. In the same sense, he preferred a career where his duty and commitment to his community could be demonstrated with personal interactions instead of standing in a courtroom or speaking through the television. No, he was not going to follow his other family members in the same field. But, police work was not as easy as people portrayed it to be. So it should be no surprise when he received the fated call at 10:30 A.M, after his meeting with Reyna about another case. Another case that might go unsolved if he lingered too long with the inspection. Another case that gave a sickening twist to his stomach.

Jason had finished his morning routine. Every morning he performed a morning jog, helped the old Grey sisters with their bags when they got off the senior citizens bus, took a shower, and ate a large breakfast of eggs, pancakes, and bacon. Then, he would walk briskly and take the subway to his office an hour away in the big SPQR building. He would ride the lift with Frank and enter his office before 8:30 in the morning, working on mundane paperwork and typical housecleaning duties until 9 when he would visit the lab for the latest reports. The characteristic of his days since 2012 had been so dull he had no problem cooperating whole-heartedly in order to have something to do. That is, until three months ago.

Today, Jason stood behind his desk and glared at his sleek iPhone. It had been a habit of his for the past six weeks, awaiting the dreadful call that would either announce a missing person had been found—severely beaten or dead. Those were the only two choices he had and Jason always prayed for the former. God gifted him with the latter with every call. At 10:30, Jason answered the phone that gave a sharp ting and pulled on his suit jacket.

"Jackson, tell me this one is alive." He interrupted whatever introduction the other man may have given.

"You want good news or bad news." His partner continued unfazed.

"Tell me the bad. I'm in the elevator and no one is sharing the ride down with me."

"We found another body stuck in a box outside Mama Cyclops' Grill House. Good news is that we found Gwendolyn Harper."

"Thank God," He sighed in relief. Today was his day.

"She's suffering from some rope burn and dehydration, but she's alright. We'll have to question her later." Jason shook his head. He had no sympathy for those that tortured little girls.

"I'll be waiting in the lab."

"We'll be back in twenty. Waring though, this one is gruesome." Jason hung up and sighed. All in a day's work.

If there was one widely held opinion of the police department after the drug bust of '11, most would say the occupants of the building were overworked, overtaxed, and severely underpaid for their hard work. Not that their opinions did anything. The staff worked around the clock to bring down the violent crime rates that only seemed to escalate after the debacle the press so accurately dubbed the "Titan War". One year after the police brought down the Titan Coterie, one of the largest organized crime gangs in the past fifty years, minor groups banded together to create an even larger network of underground empires.

Now, most of the police department was suffering. Not from praise, but the hyped up demand to capture the groups behind the rising death rate. These accusations were only spurred on by the Apollo Sun, a prominent paper read by only the best of the best. And their lead reporter, Octavian, made sure his readers knew about the current death rate. Thirteen deaths, five missing persons reports, and no leads left everyone on edge. One of his most trusted colleagues, Annabeth suspected it was a new group trying to establish their presence in the gruesome city streets, but all of the actions were untraceable so far. Jason ruled out the possibilities of amateurs. It had to be someone professional. The trail has long gone cold and there were thirteen bodies lying in bags waiting for the next one to join the pile. Jason rubbed his temples and wondered 'when had this job gotten so complicated?'

Jason arrived in the lab nine minutes before Percy, recognizing Annabeth Chase among the lab technicians present. She was wearing her appointed uniform-a pair of royal blue cargo pants, black boots, a blue blouse and latex gloves. She was examining something at the lab station, her hands steadily holding the tweezers as she began to speak.

"Hello Jason." She whispered, intently staring at the mutilated flesh she was examining.

"Annabeth," He greeted. "Percy's bringing in—"

"I already know. Gardner sent me the details. You should tell Percy to hurry up. We know he is kind of slow." She joked and turned around, tearing off the gloves. Jason gave her a tight hug, feeling all the curves from the slight bump around her stomach.

"How's Nemo?" He asked. Annabeth's lips thinned.

"Why did he tell you to call the baby that?" She sighed.

"Because Finding Nemo is the best Disney movie ever made." Percy said as he entered the lab. Two technicians followed in after him carrying a plastic body bag. "Clarisse took Gwen to the hospital and her parents have been contacted."

"Good," Jason said, watching as the body bag was placed on the table. "The press didn't give you a hard time did they?" Snoopy reporters always followed with their cameras and recorders, trying to incriminate, dehumanize, and publicly humiliate any cop, politician or businessman they come across.

"Nope," he popped the 'p'. "I think Reyna raised hell at the Apollo Sun office after the last scandal. We didn't need a repeat for today." A tanned hand stroked through black hair.

"They were too busy at the tarmac." Annabeth supplied. "If either of you read the newspaper, you would know the major story is at JFK and not here. Now, if you want to gossip, do it later." She slapped back on her gloves and opened the bag. The first thing Annabeth did gag.

As he peered into the bag, he could see why Percy told him to be prepared for the body. The past thirteen deaths did not vary in style—all gunshot wounds. They were all staged to look innocent and accidental enough, just nicking a vital artery. But, the difference came with the style of this death. The victim had two bullet wounds to the chest, the blood smeared with dirt over pasty white skin and dark hair matted around her temples. Two slash marks covered her wrists and large finger prints marked where she was strangled. Her head had been smashed in with a large object and her eyes had been gorged out. Jason turned around and covered his mouth.

"The body looks like it was once Khione Wittman. Any reason why?"

"Because it is Khione Wittman. She's been missing for a week." There was a dead Canadian television star in the lab, brutally murdered. This next week was going to be rough.

"That's the third high profile death of the last two weeks. The press is going to be a shit-show." Jason could feel the gray growing into his temples. "I mean, I've seen her face on TV everywhere. How is she connected to any of this?"

"If you all want to speculate outside of my lab, thank you. I need to get to work." Annabeth ushered them out. "And send Kayla." She ordered before shutting the door.

The pair looked back at lab door and moved forward. "Annabeth will possibly have a theory by tonight."

"Yeah, she's Wise Girl. She'll have something put together, I'm sure of it." Jason nodded after Percy's confirmation. She was the smartest woman he knew.

"I'm just so sick of this case. I mean I love work and all, but I don't want to work on something like this. It's too inhumane."

"I agree." Percy paused, before looking at his friend. "Jay, if it gets to be too much, you should take a break. Do something you love. You know Piper came back yesterday from vacation. Maybe you two could—"

"I'm not leaving this case to date my ex-girlfriend!" People looked at the pair and Jason smiled apologetically as they got into the elevator. "I just can't stop now."

"I'm just saying that you don't need to burn yourself out for this. Hedge told us to take off when we got too involved and you seem to be at the tipping point. As long as we are not making substantial headway, you can take a vacation. I mean, when was the last time you took one?" The dark-head started to walk out for his floor, not expecting an answer. "Meet for lunch in another two hours?"

"You got it." Jason nodded and watched the elevator door close on his friend's smile. Then the smile dropped. When was the last time he had taken a vacation?

Hazel held onto the bar and lifted her legs higher. She had dedicated more than sweat, blood, and time to this performance. This would be her creation and presentation to the Paris Opera Ballet. She only needed to perfect her moves—she could do this. Her sister told her she could. 'One-two-three' she counted as she pirouette on the wooden floor. 'Again' she started a third set before lifting into a Grande jeté and landing in a plié. Breathing hard, Hazel stopped and stared at herself in the mirror, the puffiness beneath her eyes and the swollen cheeks and knew she needed to take a short break. She collapsed on the ground, tired and drained after consecutively rehearsing for six hours. She had rented out the room in the studio for six days out of the week, five of those days she would leave early and go to her lessons with Mistress Pasiphaë in Upper Manhattan. Yet, she needed those extra hours to practice her talent and craft it to get into the theatre of her dreams.

After stretching out her sore muscles, Hazel took a long sip from a cold water bottle, hissing as she simultaneously unwrapped the dressing from off her toes. Her big toes were bleeding again from dancing in pointe shoes. She massaged her foot before rewrapping them in gaze and sliding into some flat shoes. Hazel pulled on her yellow pullover and looked at the studio once more, gazing sadly at the mirror. Her mother would never see her dance, but she would always be with her in spirit. She exited the studio, with sore feet and a tired hunch. The life of a dancer.

Her feet made contact with the cool pavement of the sidewalk and she wondered how long she would be able to walk before her feet threatened to fall off, like yesterday or the other day. It was a familiar pain she resigned herself to. Her father continuously questioned her choice to pursue dance and theatre when she could work for the family company. He always forgot she and her siblings refused to be stuck behind a desk and worked hard to show it. Yet, slowly, she knew they would all be pressured into the family business and, despite how much she loved ogling diamonds and listening to music moguls sing, she wanted to dance. The stage made her feel weightless, the leaps felt like flying, and all her worries disappeared. Lost in her thoughts, Hazel almost missed how a tall man in black was tailing her. Almost.

She made her way through the crowds at the same pace, shouldering her bag higher on her arm. The man stayed twenty paces behind her, but Hazel could feel the weight of his eyes behind the black sunglasses. She watched the evening news and read the New York Times. Hazel was hardly as innocent as everyone believed and she knew there was a crazy killer on the loose in New York. And she was not going to be the next victim, she thought determined, as she palmed the pepper spray. Barely over five feet, drowning in a pullover and wearing leggings, the young girl did not look very intimidating.

"It's good to see I trained you well." She turned and saw the man had snuck up on her and took off his shades. She would not have recognized him in black business slacks and the tie on a gray shirt. The sight of familiar eyes and the appearance of an old smirk made her cry aloud with joy.

"Nico! Oh my god, when did you get back?" An exultant shout came from her mouth as she ran toward him and she jumped into his arms. Nico hugged her back, face pressed into her untamed curls.

"I got back two hours ago." He muttered and kissed her hair. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." Hazel went down to the ground again and smiled warmly at him. Then, she slapped his shoulder. "You missed my audition. I made it by the way."

He gave her a genuine smile. "I'm happy for you. I told you that you could do it. Sorry I missed it."

"Persephone recorded it for you." His nose crinkled when she mentioned their stepmother.

"Do you want to go get something to eat?" She asked, changing the subject.

"Lead the way. I haven't been in this district for eighteen months." He waved his hand.

"Yeah, how was the opening? I bet it was huge." Nico flushed a little as she gave him a proud look. Her brother had been gone, opening his own art gallery in Italy. Hazel had been one of the few people to have a glance at his portfolio before he left and she could admit he had some gorgeous pieces.

"When your father is one of the richest men in the world and your grandfather was the Italian ambassador, an art gallery is bound to get crowded, even in Venice." He picked up her bag and she held onto his arm as they walked in the crowded street.

"So, they loved it?" Nico rubbed through his curly locks and nodded.

"Papi said I should open a showcase here in New York, but it would be very expensive and I would need more pieces."

"Ask Father to pay for it. He would be more than willing." Nico snorted.

"He wants me to take over the business. Why do you think I'm back in the states? Besides visiting you, of course."

Hazel frowned deeply. "He's already convinced you to take the job, didn't he?" She knew that her brother and their father had some difficulties communicating, especially after Maria's death. But she wouldn't push on why he accepted. She would just wait this one out. It was the smartest plan she had at the moment.

Again, Nico nodded. His eyes were solemn and cold, an anger brewing beneath deep chocolate irises.

"It's just training and learning some aspects for now. He said I can keep my art and volunteerism as long as I pick up the company at twenty-five."

"That only gives you four years." She noted. He shrugged.

"I'm already working on one avenue. Another is not going to hurt." Together they walked, his shades covering his eyes and her hair falling in her face. Perhaps that was why the paparazzi could only get obscure pictures of the siblings. Because life was just fated to get in the way of everything. Or, as Hazel believed, Hadrian Michel was allowed to manipulate all aspects of their lives.

Jason returned from lunch with Percy, waiting for something to do. Instead, he worked on paper work, declining invitations to visit the family, and organizing patrols. He continued the monotonous work until Clarisse La Rue entered his office. She told him that Reyna required his presence in her office. Jason had been hoping for good news. Now, he was not so sure he wanted to stay.

"So we are just going to let him go!" Jason shouted as he entered his boss's office. He had heard the whispers on the way there about how their only possible lead would be leaving.

"He called in his lawyer and Janus made a big show of highlighting that we cannot keep him in custody for more than forty-eight hours if we can't press charges against him." Reyna growled back, glaring at a file in front of her. On a normal day, Jason could honestly admit he was glad to be working under such a firm and strict leader, who was more than willing to crack down on the growing gang problem.

"Then tell Annabeth to start piecing this train wreck together. We need something to charge him with." Jason sighed. "He is our biggest lead in this case and I can't lose him to some half-crazed bi-polar lawyer." Even after arresting one of the biggest possible gang associates and, by extension, a key informant, the police still had nothing. And Miles Crotone was about to be released from prison.

"And Chase is working as hard as she possibly can right now." Reyna rolled her eyes. "Good news is Janus left around 4:45 for another appointment." She gave him a look from the corner of her eye.

Jason just gave her a blank and unamused look. That had been approximately thirty minutes ago.

"Without his client might I add," Reyna stood from her desk and made her way to the door, giving Jason a predatory smile. "She just came back from vacation, but I believe she can do it. I sent McLean to glean some information. Want to go watch?"

Jason looked up, a crooked grin lifting the corner of his mouth. Ms. Piper McLean was one of the best they had for interrogations. The woman was capable of coaxing any piece of information she wanted from anyone's mouth. It was her secret trade and she was wicked.

Miles Crotone sat impassively in his chair in the interrogation room. He was very tall, an imposing figure with a pointed goatee and some gray hair around the temples that established a distinguished look. The only factor that made him remotely unattractive was the cruel, cold eyes that glittered as he looked around the room. Crotone was a business man used to making underhand deals and meeting with crooked cops. He was used to dealing with them, mostly men. But, he was about to face someone unlike any other. The woman pulled down her cream knee-length skirt, unbuttoned her white jacket, and fixed her lilac blouse. She nodded to herself. She was ready.

Miles glared at nothing with little interest until a beautiful woman entered the room. Her makeup was tasteful, attire modest, and she seemed to convey a shred of professionalism. She seemed so different from the scanty whore that got him arrested a little over a day and a half ago. Crotone had yet to discover how to explain the situation to his daughter, but he was not fully worried in the slightest. Janus promised to get him out and that was all he had to do.

"Hello, Mr. Crotone." She said formally. The woman sat down in the chair in front of him. "Your release papers are being signed as we speak."

"I refuse to answer any questions without my lawyer." He pursed his lips. The woman only smirked. Through the window, Jason remembered that smirk. It meant she was getting started.

"Of course Mr. Crotone. However, my superiors and the officer in here earlier forgot to mention we have something to charge you with. There seems to have been an incident involving the kidnapping of a man called Daedalus and the subsequent death of his son under the pen name 'Icarus'. And your name is written all over it." Piper patted herself on the back as Crotone's eyes flashed dangerously. His lips drew in tight for a second.

"I had nothing to do with that."

"I'm sure you do. They were trapped in your basement." She watched as he pale significantly.

"I told you that I am not going to answer questions." He responded.

"Look Miles, it is just you and me." She leaned over the table. "No one is on the other side of the glass and there aren't any recorders on my person. So, I will offer you a deal. You tell me about the cause of criminal activity and I won't mention anything about 'Daedalus'." Piper arched an eyebrow as the man considered it. He nodded, his features stoic and cynical. She smiled sweetly.

"So, start talking. We have less than fifteen minutes and I would be more than please to get substantial information about the gang's whereabouts." She leaned back in her seat, hitting the button on the recorder hidden in her lap.

"Miles said they're gathered at the Underworld." Piper said as she left the room, pushing her short hair behind her ear.

"I'm impressed. You are the first to make him crack." Reyna praised.

"I make everyone crack sooner or later." Piper exhaled. "Hello, Jason."

"Piper," He said cordially. "So, let's investigate the Underworld."

"We can't tonight. It would be awfully strange to have police crash the scene shortly after interrogating a member of a secret society."

"Well, we can't just sit and do nothing." Jason argued.

"No, we won't." Reyna agreed. "Do not wear the uniform and we'll go. Bring Jackson, La Rue and Zhang for backup." The tall Puerto Rican woman walked away. "And, Grace, wear those faded skinny jeans you have hidden in your closet."

Piper turned to him. "She knows what is in your closet?"

"We used to date." Uninterested in having a conversation, he started toward the door.

"Are we ever going to talk about it?" She called out.

"It's all you ever want to talk about when I'm around. I told you already. I'm over it. I'm done."

"Well, I am not done. You never gave me a true reason." Piper intercepted him, ignoring his irritation, and walked beside him. "Have dinner with me next Friday."

"I told you we are not going out again."

"And I never asked your opinion. We're going to out to talk, as friends and nothing more. You can calm down." She patted his cheek and then kissed it. "I missed you and I think we need to catch up. I'll see you later tonight."

-
The Underworld was located as a bridge between the upper ends of society and the dredges it left behind. Jason and his friends often visited the Olympia instead of this venue, but he was familiar with club set ups. However, this was very different.

Instead of the golden colored walls and the bright lights that made the atmosphere relaxed, the walls were a deeper, darker color. Black lights bounced around the room while white ones illuminated cage dancers and those occupying the dance floor. The bar was aligned toward the center, going around in a square with televisions playing above. The Underworld was a mix between a dance club and an average bar, with waiters going to serve people seated in the upper level. It was so spread apart that each officer got their own assigned position.

Currently nursing a gin and tonic mixture for his nerves, Jason glanced suspiciously around the area. The mixologist behind the bar was serving some patrons that did not look shady. If anything, Jason might have been considered unusual due to his attire—simple jeans, a white V-neck, and a plaid shirt. The rest of the patrons were milling about. Jason was not exactly sure how much information they would be able to recover tonight or if Piper could confirm Crotone's statement.

"You look good." Reyna said as she slid into the seat next to him. "But you shouldn't be drinking on the job." She admonished. Unconsciously, he checked her appearance. A simple French braid, short black dress and heels with dark makeup to match. If Jason was still dating her, he would be jealous.

"This is a club. Unofficially, I'm not working a lick." He downed the rest of his glass and motioned for another one.

"But officially, you shouldn't be drunk. You're our sober driver." Reyna joked. "I saw you talk with Piper. What happened?"

Reyna never seemed to care that she was his ex-girlfriend or that one of her coworkers dated her ex either. She moved on like it was old news and acted as his relationship coach. Sometimes he wondered why he could not have more people like Reyna in his life. The brunette woman tossed her braid over her shoulder, the lower strands pulled free from her dress strap.

"She wants to go out again." He muttered.

"On a date?" She questioned.

"As friends." Reyna looked at Jason surprised.

"Last time she said that, you two got back together for six months. Ready for a try again?"

"Hell no, I need a break." Jason tossed back another shot.

"Well, since you are off clock," Reyna gazed around. "Maybe you will meet another girl to bring home to the folks. There's a big crowd coming in now, so I'm going back to the dance floor." She leaned down to his ear. "Don't worry. McLean is upstairs." She stalked away.

Soon enough, the club was filled to the brim. For someone who had never been in the Underworld, Jason was surprised it could be so full. People milled about and started dancing on the stage. Jason lost visual of Reyna, but continued watching everyone run about and enjoy themselves. Although the atmosphere was different, it felt much like the Olympia. Jason let himself smile a little before going back to his drink.

A slender figure sat down two seats away from him. They waved at the mixologist with a single, pale finger. The person was wearing black jeans, a chain attached to his belt, and an aviator jacket. Long wavy hair covered the face.

"You should take a picture. It would last longer." The other person spoke, a male voice husky and accented. He turned around then and Jason reminded himself to breathe. It was like looking an angel in the face. Wide chocolate eyes, curved and plump pink lips, and a button nose. Jason's heart stuttered and Jason was glad the light enough to cover his blush.

"Sorry," He looked away.

"Don't apologize." The guy shook his head. "First time here?"

"Yeah," Jason nodded. "You?"

The other man turned toward him and smirked. "No."

Jason raised a single eyebrow. "Really, you look like you're used to it. Including the—"He gestured vaguely to the cages at the top.

"I've been frequenting this place since I had an I.D. So, yeah, I'm used to it." The man laughed, and Jason had never heard such an enthralling sound.

"Can I buy you a drink?" The words flew from his mouth before he could stop them and he really wanted to take it back.

"Sure. I've spent six months without American alcohol. I guess I can break the habit." The younger man left his seat and sat next to him. The bar was crowded by this time, people reaching over for drinks and various waiters racing around to get orders.

"Hey Nate, this guy is buying my drink!" The man yelled at the bartender. Another male, somewhat taller than Jason, walked over and smirked.

"Back for one night and you already got a guy in your pockets. Your sister would be ashamed of you, Nico." Nate shook his head fondly.

"I think she's a little occupied." He turned over to where Frank was dancing with a shorter black girl under the spotlight.

"You gonna let him hold her waist like that?" Nate was shaking a strange concoction of vodka, coke, and tequila.

"That's not American." Jason said dubiously.

"Never meant it to be." Nico, he knew his name now. And did it fit. "Everyone knows imports are the best." Jason gave him a shocked face.

"American is the best."

"Personally, the best hardcore liquor is in Russia, but European is more suited to my tastes."

"So where does tequila fit in it?" Jason leaned in. Nico licked his dry lip before whispering "It gives it an extra kick." Nate set two highball glasses in front of them. The drinks were garnished with a lime wheel, with a pink umbrella for Nico.

"To new friends?" Nico questioned, raising his glass for a toast.

"New friends." Jason laughed. "Cheers." The liquid burned down his throat and he was coughing and spluttering before finishing the glass. Nico's face was red, eyes leaking with unshed tears. Jason wondered what other ways Nico's face would turn red, but mentally slapped himself for thinking that way.

"I am so out of practice." Nico threw his head back to finish his glass. "You might have to buy me some more." He grinned, teeth sharp and lips pink and Jason felt himself nodding along. The night passed in a blur of drinks, an odd variety of colors and admiring everything about Nico's appearance.

"That was fun!" Nico slurred as they made their way from the dance floor. He tugged the taller man's hands to the farthermost part of the dance floor. They fit into the sea of bodies and Jason stumbled to follow. He did not down as many drinks as Nico, but he was feeling the strong haze, the lazy muscles, and the loopy grin spreading on his face every time the younger man talked. He was undeniably attracted to the prettiest thing in front of him. So, drunk and idiotic, Jason leaned down to rasp in Nico's ear.

"We can have more fun. Just come home with me." The shorter man looked up and a devilish smirk crossed his face.

"When do we leave?"

Around three in the morning, Nico emerged from the bedroom, reeking of sweat, sex, and cologne. Barely more than eight hours in the country and he had managed to bed someone. What was his life?

He had left the blond man, Jason he had learned, in the bed, knocked out and softly snoring underneath blue sheets. The one bedroom apartment was tastefully decorated, but lacked any personal decorations. Stale pictures of friends and family were stacked on shelves and artwork most likely bought from Pier 1 were placed strategically around the living room. Even the bedroom seemed to be bare of anything signifying that Jason enjoyed his home. Nico shook his head. It was a little disappointed, but Nico had yet to decorate his own apartment so he shouldn't be complaining.

Nico pulled on his clothes just in time to catch the dull tone of a ringtone.

"Hello?"

"We need you to come in. We found him." Nico nodded on the other end, even if no one say him.

"Thank you. I will be there shortly." Nico opened the door to the apartment and looked around once more. The other guy wouldn't possibly miss him at all. It was not like he could afford a private life at this time. He had too many personal issues to sort through first. Nico shut the door behind him, leaving behind a good opportunity.

"Look up!" Sharp light met gaunt flesh and Minos opened his eyes. He was tied to a chair, hands and feet dead bolted to a metal chair. A lamp was hanging precariously in the black room. Thanatos, his second-in-command, was standing over him, leering. Several of the Death Syndicate members were staring around the room, just staring at him. He had been making his way home from a night at the Delphi, when he had been tackled. Now he was here, bound and tied like a criminal like the very people he worked for. The metal door opened and the first thing Minos heard was the pounding of boots on the linoleum.

"I leave you in charge for four months and you manage to almost destroy my organization." The voice was rough, but it was also tempered as if the man was holding back his anger.

"I haven't done anything." Minos denied.

"Are you sure? Thirteen or fourteen deaths in the past three months alone. That doesn't have my name written on it." The prince was not satisfied. If anything, he was implicating a lot.

"I never orchestrated those kills. You should release me." He couldn't see the face behind the mask, but everyone could feel the coldness seeping from the masked man. Minos only chose ten to die, but who was truly counting. "Does Hades know that you are interrogating his favorite—ah!" His sentence was cut off by a sharp punch to the face, the brass knuckles breaking skin and bone. Minos could feel his nose bleeding profusely.

"The question wasn't answered. Stop deflecting. If I had it my way, you would have been gone a long time ago for what you did to my sister. But father kept you for a reason, but your usefulness has expired." The brass knuckles came off and a smaller figure approached, giving the Prince a tray of medical utensils.

"You sold out our hideout to the very people we don't want there. You gave away secrets to detectives, not to mention Janus. And Hades is very displeased with you. But, before we dispose of you, we can make this a little fun." He perched himself on a stool in front of Minos and cold hand forced his chin up.

"I have a few toys and you get to choose which one you want to be acquainted with." Mino's dark eyes widened with fear. On the tray was a scalpel, a knife, tweezers, and forceps. "You have ten seconds to choose or I will choose for you."

"No, no, no please!"

"Five seconds."

"I swear I didn't do anything. Nothing happened when I met with Augustus. Please! I have a wife and child."

"You have a whore and innocent daughter that is happily married to a better man than you will ever be." The prince cut him off and grasped the forceps. "Just remember Minos, I am the Ghost King." And then, the Ghost King threw back the stool, two members came forward and pulled Minos back in the chair, triggering the reclining function.

"I suggest you spill all that you know."

They had to clean up. The Ghost King was covered head to toe in blood, Minos's blood to be exact. The carcass had been disposed of by Melinoe and her pets. Minos's eyes and nails had been swept away into a basin and he felt as though he had killed Ice Princess all over again.

"You were very intimidating today." Thanatos complimented. He was older, an advisor and model to look at for the business.

"I don't take traitors very well." He shrugged and wondered how he would clean off his boots or out of his suit. "Had a message to send to everyone."

"So you made is graphic enough to look like Khione's death. Clever, but you do know that none of us killed Khione."

"She had it coming. No offense, but she was lying to Boreas and herself if she thought no one was going to catch her trying to ally with Augustus to take over the city's narcotic trade, especially in this area. Everyone knows that it is yours." Thanatos gave a toothy, but creepy smile.

"You ready to take over from here." The Ghost King smirked.

"I've been pulling the strings for the past six months in order to get Minos in trouble. I think I can takeover."

"So, who's next on the list of potential victims?"

"I'm going after the ones who killed my sister. Then, I'm taking their business." Thanatos nodded, knowing enough about the younger man to not question his logic.

"Oh, and I need you to add someone to the list."

"Who?"

"Jason Grace."