This is an Alternate Universe fanfiction, wherein there are no Olympians or Camp Half-Blood; though many characters from said groups should make an appearance. The Seven are central in this fic, as are a few select characters that have played quite significant roles during both the PJO and HOO series. However, for now all you're getting is Percy and Annabeth (though I fail to see how that could ever be a bad thing).

Disclaimer: Uncle Rick and the 1975.

Enjoy!

"Well, now that you've got your gun/It's much harder now the police have come/Now shoot him if it's what you ask/But if you just take off your mask/You find out everything's gone wrong, wrong, wrong."

They had their routine perfected by now.

The fine twist of wire remained straight and strong between his leather-coated fingertips. His prior doubts were swiped clean from his mind as he watched a lithe, blonde blur speed past him and land softly on the tiles below. Her flat shoes hopping nimbly between podiums and over suspicious looking footlights, as she slowly made her way towards what was obviously their intended target.

The 'Master Bolt' didn't look nearly as spectacular as he had previously imagined.

Sure, the strange, blue glow that seemed to eminate from the crystal certainly was captivating, but not nearly as much as the stormy grey irises that bore into his own at that very moment, screaming hurry the fuck up.

Percy nodded, slipping down the last few feet and coming to a land on the floor – in a manner that wasn't quite as graceful as Annabeths. But that was always the way, right? There was something far more entrancing and elegant about the way she moved, the tips of her toes twisting in a meticulously thought out dance. His attention was drawn back to the situation at hand as she pointed at a particular tile to the right of their target, mouthing the word trick. Nodding once more, Percy followed her delicately cut path (stepping over the aformentioned tile, of course) and made his way toward the raised podium in the center of the cavernous room.

Her quirked lips were parallel to his own as two pairs of eyes were drawn to the large, bolt-shaped hunk of unidentifiable crystal that lay between them. It seemed that Hazel (along with many of their unreliable sources), amidst her immediate excitement, had hammed the blue piece of overrated rock up a notch or two. Percy couldn't see the attraction, but he certainly couldn't let anyone else have it.

Carefully dipping his hand into the space between them, Percy's glove closed around the crystal, raising it up to eye level and rotating it in the air. He let out a low whistle, which Annabeth promptly scowled at him for. It certainly weighed a tonne, though he would never admit such a thing.

In a single move, Annabeth had the specially designed case cracked open so that Percy coud slip the crystal in, snapping it shut at the precise moment five hulking security guards opened the heavy metal doors and thundered across the marble tile.

Before reactions and fighting stances could be settled, Annabeth grabbed the handle of the case and held it tightly in her hand, running the few feet between her and Percy and placing her foot into his readied palms as she flew upwards, but not quite as high as the case that landed on the roof with a clunk.

She landed with a smooth tumble and immediately leapt to her feet, her back straight against Percy's as they circled slowly, eyeing each of their opponents up and succeeding in their attempts to appear intimidating.

Annabeth didn't need to look to know that Percy had drawn his sword, his green eyes menacing in the chamber's dim light. Her own dagger felt familiar and cold in her hand, though the splash of blood that soon coated it ensured that the bronze was now in a luke-warm state. The sharp tip plunged into the ribs of yet another guard as she ducked one of Percy's wide-sweeps and spun around to face him.

Their eyes met for short moment: "Three down." Before Percy sidestepped and Annabeth grabbed an arm from behind her, flipping one of the remaining attackers over her shoulder and turning away to face off the last one as the slice of a blade through flesh sounded from behind her.

"This is only the first, you know." Annabeth couldn't help but note the way each syllable oozed with admiration. Admiration for the black brief case that dangled precariously from the ceilings edge; his large, glazing eyes hadn't left it once. The man that faced them could barely keep himself up straight, his left hand trembling over the holster of his knife. Something that looked horribly out of place next to his security flashlight. "The beginning o- "

Before he could put an end to his sentence, Annabeth heard the all-too-familiar sound of a certain three foot long sword piercing through the gut of the dying man before her. No, she hadn't the time to strangle Percy where he stood. There was no point in doing so until she got the satisfaction of one-upping him at the very last second.

Even from here, she could see the slow and fading rise and fall of the man's chest.

Forgetting entirely about the trick tile that blocked her path, Annabeth made a beeline for the him, crouching down next to his blood-seeping form and tugging him up by the collar of his previously white shirt.

"The beginning of what, exactly?" she all but growled, bringing his face up to hers; almost nose to sweaty nose.

She would hear a huff of anger from behind her, the scuffling of Chuck's on marble, and the last breaths of the man dying in her sweaty palms. But not before she heard the two simple words that would fuel her mind with infatuation and fury for many weeks after:

"The end."

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