AN: To new readers welcome, to old welcome back, I was unhappy with how rushed the first arc felt and decided to go back and tweak them a little bit so I hope you enjoy the newly revised story, and look to see chapter 4 out sometime early in February

*Disclaimer, All rights belong to Marvel Comics and Rick Riordan

Hungary really was a beautiful place; the cities were fascinating and rich in history, and the countryside beautiful and sprawling. He would comment on how lovely the people were, but was finding it rather difficult at the moment considering the circumstances. Shockingly enough the locals didn't appreciate it when someone tried to "assassinate" local dignitaries. Even if he hadn't really been planning to assassinate anyone, and the entire attack, as well as his subsequent arrest, was all just a ploy to get one of their people out of the country. Their people had intercepted plans of a military coup a few days prior, hence their presence.

Which of course, brought him to the state of his current predicament. After being swarmed by twenty-some guards, he had been dragged into the dungeon like catacombs beneath the city-square and been chained, both hand s and feet, to the wall of the dungeon where he would await his execution in a few days time. His execution the next morning would mark the beginning of the takeover.

He raised his eyes to, once more, gauge the strength of the chains holding him in place, considering how much force it would take, and the leverage necessary to pry the chains, and subsequently him, from the shackles. Not that it did him much good mind you, the guards had been smart enough to ensure that both his legs were tight fastened to the wall, held tightly together, to ensure that, while he had enough room to keep from dangling, he couldn't gather any sort of momentum to push himself free.

Sighing, he blew a strand of his dark, sweat and grim stained hair out of his bright, sea green eye. His shoulders, right where the bone and socket met, were finally beginning to outgrow the dull, almost annoying ache, into outright pain. Having nothing but your shoulders to support the entire weight of your body for nearly thirty hours does that to a person.

He didn't even bother wiggling, in an attempt to perhaps loosen one of his binds, or even free an appendage. He'd tried that, some hours previously, when he was sure that it was just him alone in the dungeon-like cavern. Of course it hadn't worked, and of course he griped and groaned to himself about the unfairness of it all. The bad guys weren't supposed to be smart, that was most certainly not how this worked.

Unfortunately, for the past decade or so, the enemies of the world had finally gotten enough sense, probably through centuries of being beaten and pounded into paste, that they were over the ostentatious and outright comical, death traps and pitfalls, of which they had been privy to in the past.

A real shame.

He blamed pop culture. It was just so easy to see the stupidity behind long-winded monologues, and outrageous death contraptions, and convoluted plots of world domination that they were actually beginning to learn. And it had happened just as he was finishing his training too.

Talk about unfair.

He was broken from his mental ravings, he wasn't insane just incessantly bored, by the pain in his shoulders which were beginning to reach new heights. That was new, if not unexpected he lamented, more annoyed by the pain then anything. When you did the kind of things that he did, and had been through the, literal, hells he had, it became very evident very quickly, that pain was nothing more than a mental obstacle, one that, with enough practice, mental discipline, and a hell of a lot totally manly tears, can be overcome.

It was something that was never covered in the epic spy movies, the waiting. When the hero inevitably gets captured by the bad guys and is being held prisoner, and is waiting for whatever deus ex machina to miraculously show up and save the day, the movies never describe how boring it was to wait. He'd tried playing games to pass the time, but you can really only play "count the specs in the distance" so many times before it just got boring.

As another brief spasm, again in his shoulders and again cutting off his ADHD addled ramblings, he was able to make out a sound. To anyone else it could have been passed off as water dripping from the ceiling, or even some kind of rodent scurrying around, Percy had made friends with a few of them as he had been down here and knew for a fact that both Artemis and Apollo hadn't been down his end in nearly four hours, but his keen sense of hearing, as well as his rigorous mental training allowed him to decipher exactly what he was hearing.

He smirked.

Well it was about damn time. The careful and precise steps were those of someone looking to remain undetected, professional infiltrator. They knew how to hide their stepping patterns and knew the route well enough that they were even able to avoid most of the extremely squeaky and slick spots that Percy had noticed upon his arrival. It was fortunate that he noticed the noise when he did, if he hadn't then it was possible that his associate would have missed his mark completely, the bastards had taken him a slightly deeper part of the cavern than his had predicted and it could have proven costly.

Gathering what little moisture was still in his mouth, he swallowed, an attempt to dampen the insides slightly, before he used the back of his throat to make a high-pitched growl. It came out sounding like a series of squeaky clicks, instead of the guttural growl they had agreed upon, but the effect was instantaneous.

The careful, quiet padding transformed into a loud sprint, as the clicks reverberated off the walls, in less then thirty seconds a man's silhouette appeared in front of him.

"That you kid?" the voice asked, low and gruff, not even winded by the hundred-meter sprint he had just made.

"You gonna stand there and gape, or are you gonna get me down Tweety?" Percy replied, his own voice rough and ragged from disuse and a lack of fluids. "Should just leave you up there" the man grumbled under his breath, but with an underlying tone of relief. "What the hell happened? You weren't supposed to be this far north" "They decided that I deserved the luxury treatment" Percy snarked, the only acknowledgment was a slight grunt as the man patted his pockets, or at last that's what Percy thought was happening, he still couldn't see all that well. "Now where did I put-Ah-ha, gotcha!" he said after several seconds of searching for something.

The bright white glow of a flash suddenly erupted into the room so suddenly and violently that it actually hurt. Being in complete darkness for over a day affected ones sensitivity to light, go figure.

As his eyes began readjusting to the sudden light, he could finally make out the chiseled and ruggedly handsome man in front of him. Clint Barton, one of the other members of the team assigned to this mission, began examining the chains holding him in place. His dull blue eyes scanning up and down.

"Alright try not to move, might lose something if you do." Clint said, smirking slightly, clearly finding amusement in his struggles. Christ he was never going to let this one go. "If I could move, I wouldn't have had to wait for your sorry butt to get here." Percy snarked, albeit lightly. "Besides I wouldn't have had to have you rescue me in the first place if you hadn't freaking DRUGGED me" he growled out, his eyes flashing dangerously. As soon as the operation began Clint had slapped a needle into his neck, effectively disabling him and more importantly, making it damn near impossible enough for him to concentrate enough to use his powers. He understood the need for discretion, even though he had tried to "kill" a well politician but still, he was allowed to be a little annoyed.

"Pretty sure this makes it 5-4 in my favor boy wonder" Clint snarked back, electing to ignore Percy's petty whining, and he began placing a sticky, putty-like substance on his bound wrists and ankles, "No" Percy began fixing Clint with a glare that lacked any real heat, "This makes us even, that business it Latvia doesn't…doesn't count" He got a snort in response to that.

"I'd close your mouth" Was all the warning he got before Clint suddenly jumped away as the puttylike substance erupted, in a shower of sparks and the shackles fell to the ground, a smoldering mess. Coughing and rubbing his wrists together, he stood up with a slight grimace on his face. "Thanks for the warning man" he said sarcastically. Clint just shot him a smirk as he turned and began walking back down the dark corridor.

Taking the cue, Percy followed after. "We good?" he asked, as he rolled his shoulders in a deft attempt to regain some feeling. Clint glanced at him, "Nat got the HVT as they were taking you away, and they're waiting at a safe house just outside the main square." They turned and Percy nearly tripped over the bodies of the guards that had disappeared about 10 minutes previously, they came by about every couple of hours just to make sure that he hadn't somehow managed to escape. "A little close to the action don't you think?" Percy said, concerned.

Clint chuckled a little, "Probably, but the original LZ was too hot for a dust off, nobody at the embassy was sure if you were "acting alone" or not so place is still swarming, it'll be a while before everything settles down and there's nowhere better to hide then right under the noses of those you're hiding from."

Percy nodded in understanding, before stopping and groaning dramatically, "This means we're on overwatch, doesn't it?" His answer came in the form of a smirk. Percy groaned again, and resumed walking.

He hated being on overwatch, it meant twelve plus hours laying perfectly still, in a cramp, and often times overheated room, constantly scanning your field of view for any and all hostiles. Staying still and concentrated for that amount of time would be hard for anybody, let alone for someone with his ADHD, but he would suck it up and power through, he always did.

It took them nearly two hours before they finally made it back to the safe house, by which point; night had already fallen.

The safe house was located on the upper floor of a small bakery, what would normally be a modest and homely one-room apartment, had been transformed into modern OPS center, with enough equipment and TAC gear to make even Tony Stark green with envy.

Natasha Romanoff, clad in a skin-tight leather jumpsuit with a pair of handguns strapped to her legs, was bent over a computer when they entered the room. She didn't look up or even acknowledge their presence for several moments.

"I still can't get ahold of SHIELD." she said, annoyance straining her voice. "We'll be flying blind until we can get an AWACS in the area, but until then you two are gonna have to be our eyes and ears."

"Hey there Natasha, I'm fine thanks for asking, hope you're doing well too" He snarked at her.

She ignored him.

"You gear is over there." She said, pointing over to the corner of the room. Still not taking her eyes off the screen in front of her. Rolling his eyes, he made his way over to his gear, nodding briefly at the shaking HVT sitting on the chair, he grabbed his duffel and quickly changed into his TAC gear before nodding at Clint in farewell and making his way to his position.

An old school building, roughly half a mile from the safe house was his destination. Off limits to the public for fear of failing structural integrity, or at least that's what SHIELD was having people believe. On the top floor was his "nest" as Clint was apt to call it.

He pushed a pair of desks over to the northern-most windows, set his pack on top and pulled out the pieces to one of his rifles. Quickly assembling the high-powered rifle he put pulled out his sights and settled in for the night.

It was nearly noon the next day before his earpiece crackled to life, Clint's voice causing him to nearly jump. "Contact, multiple APC's heading our way, on your two Kid." Shifting his position slightly, he looked through his sights, scanning for some moments before finally coming to a stop. "Yeah, I got 'em. Nat, you guys ready to move?" Percy said, switching back to his view on the safe house.

"We're already a block away. See you boys soon. Have fun." He could practically hear the smile on her face. Fun, yeah-ok Nat thanks. Clint's voice once again rang in his ear, "Get ready to engage." "What's the go?" "You'll know when you see it." It was moments like this he really hated his fellow agents. Sure they were his best friends, his family really, but did they need to be so damn vague all the time?

Sighing slightly he started to attempt to steady his breathing into a calming rhythm, as adrenalin began working its way into his system. He saw the vehicles pull to a stop in front of the safe house, as a group of heavily armed men exited.

They grouped into formation and steadily, and professionally made their way forward towards the building. Rookies, Percy thought to himself, they hadn't even bothered to attempt clearing the area of civilians. This was going to get very messy very fast. He hated it when innocent people got caught in the crossfire. No that was too tame, loss of innocent life was the one thing that brought an unholy roar of fury out of the otherwise calm, happy go-lucky man.

They entered the building, leaving his range of sight. It was almost time; he could hear the blood pumping in his ears as he switched the safety off. A bead of sweat slowly made its way from his brow, rolling down the side of his face until it rested casually at the corner of his mouth. He ignored it, instead choosing to focus on his breathing.

In

Out

In

Out

In

He gripped the handle of his rifle just a little tighter and moved his finger onto the trigger. He was ready, any minute now. He was hungry, he noticed, maybe when this was all over he'd get a burger, or maybe tonight would a hotdog kind of night. These were the thoughts running riot in his head when it happened.

All hell broke loose.