Hey guys! So, most of you wanted me to write this next, so I hope you like it!

CHAPTER I

The air was thick and smoky, as expected during the evening of New York. Everything was dark and hidden behind shadows, the only source of light being the small fire in the center of the alleyway and the glint of moonlight shining through the high crack between two apartment complexes. The asphalt was rough underneath my fingertips, as I lightly brushed them across the ground in anticipation. Most was silent, the exception being the cackling of flames and the soft murmurs of our victims.

Seven people cloaked in black huddled near the small fire, each wearing dark blue masks to masquerade their legacy. My group wore masks as well, ours gold, mainly to protect our identity likewise, though Malcolm insists it makes us look 'cool' too.

Malcolm shifted his weight from behind his box impatiently. I held up my hand, signaling for him to keep quiet, and he reluctantly remained still as I eyed the seven. When they didn't attack, I set my hand back by my side, and continued to listen. Hearing nothing important, I gave another moment, and sighed inwardly, tapping my finger.

Two.

Three.

Malcolm grinned, and immediately began firing his arrows, automatically killing three of the seven. Before they even knew what was happening, I had jumped out from behind my crate, unsheathed my dagger, and started swiping and striking at them. Two came at me, the other two at Malcolm, who which in response tore out his sword and began slashing in defense.

The first charged me, sword poised back and ready. I held my dagger in front of my chest, holding my breath and unearthing my mind for an area of defense. I decided to go with the practical disarming move, but he -she- had apparently seen that card pulled one to many times before. She simple deflected it and continued to press me further.

"Annabeth!" Malcolm yelled, and the ding of metal clanging on metal reverberated throughout the alley. I turned, just in time to see my second opponent racing towards me with his knife held out, ready to massacre my head. I ducked just barely out of the way, swinging my leg out to trip him, and automatically moving to his back. He began to panic, sprawling around underneath me for a way to get out of my reach, but it was to late. I had him down pat against the ground, and I wasn't going to let him up anytime soon. I slashed my dagger across one of the major blood vessels in his neck. He gasped in pain, clutching where I'd cut him, and knowing his death was fatal, hopped off his back and continued with my fight with the girl.

Apparently still recovering from her shock, I took this to my advantage, and charged in front of her.

Too late, I'd realized, as she quickly turned her attention back on me. She jabbed and punched and kicked, and I smirked, as I realized she was acting on anger and the yearning for revenge, rather than wisdom and logic. She lost all sense of her surroundings, and stumbled slightly after a poor attempt at aiming her sword towards my abdomen.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Malcolm struggling to overcome his opponent. I also -disturbingly- noticed the man I'd just recently killed squirm slightly.

Grimacing, I went to work at finishing off the girl to go help my brother. She swiped her sword against my cheek, and I felt the warm liquid begin to trickle down the side of my cheek, but I kept a straight face and continued with fighting off my opponent. She swept her leg under in attempt to trip me under my feet, but I simple jumped out of her reach. I jabbed, and she deflected. She was breathing heavily, and I realized how quickly I was tiring her out. I grinned.

She made a sloppy strike, and I took my chance, parrying her sword and dissarming her. She gaped at me, and I cornered her. She said nothing, but her dark blue eyes screamed for mercy. She managed a straight face, however.

I blinked. It made me feel vile about killing her. I knew I shouldn't be feeling this kind of sympathy; not when the world was at stake. But it didn't help the fact that I almost felt like a monster.

"ANNABETH!" Malcolm yelled, his voice wavering. It snapped me out of my day dreams, and without giving myself any time to change my mind, launched my knife into the girl's gut, twisting, and yanking it out. Her strangled cries filled my ears, and I had to look away as my throat began to constrict. She made an awful choking sound, and then she was silent. Her body collapsed, and blood spilled over the ground, forming a large puddle around her dead body.

I refused to look back as I sprinted towards my brother to find his last opponent on top of him, Malcolm twisting his head frantically to avoid getting stabbed in the face. I quickly smacked the butt of my dagger onto the back of her head, knocking her unconscious.

As her body fell to the mercy of the cold ground, I stuck out my hand for Malcolm, hoisting him up to his shaky feet. "You get her," I said, nodding my head towards the girl I'd stabbed, "and I'll take care of her."

He nodded, understanding what I meant by 'take care of', and slid off his pack, handing it to me and heading towards the other girl I'd murdured previously. I knelt beside the unconscious girl, and began assorting through the bag. Once I found what I was looking for, I started to pour the poison into the tube for the shot, and thrust it into a vain in her neck, pushing the drug into her system. Her shaky breath evened, but lessened still.

I looked over to Malcolm. "She's unconscious," I stated. He nodded. "Do you need any help with her?" I said, gesturing to the bloody girl in his arms. He shook his head solemnly, his dirty blonde hair sprawling over his eyes. "Nah," he said.

Nodding, I pressed my finger to my earpiece, speaking in a monotone voice. "Hey, Mom," I said. "We've finished. We need some back-up to help carry the bodies back, though."

Her voice came through not a moment later, in the same flat accent I used. "Okay. Travis and Connor are on their way." With that, she broke the connection, and I sighed. Of all people, she had to send those two.

I shook my head in attempt to clear my thoughts, and caught a glimpse at the girl's wrist; black markings were burned into it, ones I couldn't recognize. It almost looked like an 'h'. I couldn't recognize the language, or if it was secret code or something. I dug into Malcolm's pack again, pulling out a small notepad and pencil. I held the girl's wrist with my left hand, and began scribbling down the design with my right.

I noticed Malcolm silently peering over my shoulder. "What's that?" He said. I shrugged my shoulders.

"I have no idea."

A few minutes later, I could hear car wheels running over hard gravel, and I glanced up to find the van that belonged to my mother. Two idiots sat up front, Travis behind the wheel. Connor was doubling over laughing at something Travis must have said, and I rolled my eyes, beginning to pack the stuff back into Malcolm's pack and tossing it over my shoulder. I started to lift the girl into my arms, and carried her to the van where Connor was waiting, placing her in the very back that remained hollow for these purposes. Malcolm came around with the other one, and Travis and Connor decided to make themselves usefull by carrying the other two.

After we finally finished shoving the other three inside the van, me and Malcolm climbed in the middle seats, Travis and Connor up front, and we began to drive up the road.

"How come your mom always lets you guys have all the fun?" Travis complained.

"How come your mother gave birth to you?" I muttered. He kept silent after that, clearly sensing my bad mood, and decided today was a good day to be smart.

Most of the ride back was silent, thank gods. I didn't know why everybody kept sending me on these murder-missions. They obviously didn't get the memo that I'm in a crappy mood by the time I get back. I'm not the best at combat- Luke is. I'm not the best at fighting- Clarisse is. So why does she send me, of all people?

I get that I'm her daughter, but Malcolm is her son, too. Shouldn't she want to keep us of all people out of the fight?

I lowered my gaze to my knees, and resisted the urge to fall asleep. It had been a long day- school dragged on forever, as over-dramatic as it sounds, and my mother called me and Malcolm on the job not five minutes after we'd stepped off of the bus. I hand't eaten anything but an apple at lunch, and I was hollowed out. Blood began to crust across the surface of my dagger, and dry on my hands.

The tense silence began to settle comfortably and I was about to let sleep take me away when I sensed a quiet rustlig behind me. Just before I could turn around, Travis slammed on breaks, and I lurched forward.

"Let me out," a voice I couldn't recognize choked. "Let me and my friends go."

I dared to pier to my right, and what I saw made my heart jump.

The girl- the girl that was unconscious.

She was holding a knife to Malcolm's throat.

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