Annabeth was angry when the phone rang. After her recent success with retrieving the flash drive, she was supposed to have a day off, and she had planned to stay home all day. But with the agency, terrorists and criminals don't take days off, so neither do you. Sighing, she picked up her cell phone and answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Sorry, Chase, I know it's your day off, but we need you to come in," answered the voice on the other end. It was Will Solace, who worked in the technology department in Annabeth's division; the Clandestine Affairs and Operations Division (AN: this is a made up division). He acted as her correspondent between herself and the agency, and communicated with her on missions. At the agency, they called these people techies.

"Ughh," Annabeth groaned. "I'll be there in twenty."

She hung up, and tossed her phone onto the bed. Mourning the loss of her relaxation day, Annabeth changed out of her sweats and into her suit. She wasn't known for being particularly girly, but Annabeth still wore heels to work every day. Not for fashion, of course, but because they improved her balance and worked out her calf muscles. As she pinned back her hair, and scrambled around her apartment to find her briefcase, Annabeth wondered why the heck she did what she did.

When Annabeth was young, if you asked her what she wanted to be, she wouldn't have hesitated before proclaiming, proudly, that she was going to be an architect when she grew up. She had her whole life planned out by age seven; after high school, she would attend Stanford University, graduate at age twenty-two, find a job at an architecture firm, get married at age twenty-seven, and have three daughters by age thirty-four. But here she was, seventeen years old, already with a job at the Central Intelligence Agency as an undercover operative. The CIA didn't generally accept teenagers, but Annabeth was an exception. After she hacked the CIA database for fun, and slipped into Langley to steal the laptop of the Director of Clandestine Services on a dare, the CIA had no choice but to train her as an operative, lest she make her way onto the 'Most Wanted' list instead. Now, Annabeth worked at Langley, living alone in Washington DC, her family under the impression that she had been accepted to college early. She never regretted the direction her life had taken, but she still wondered what would have happened if she had turned down the agency and become an architect instead. As an architect, she would probably never have to take an impromptu trip overseas because a bomb had detonated in Ghana (that had happened), or have to jump off a skyscraper in Tokyo because she was being chased by an arms dealer. And instead of scrambling around her apartment to find her CIA badge on a dreary Saturday morning, she could be hanging out with friends her own age, or waking up to the smell of pancakes wafting up from the kitchen. In the grand scheme of things, though Annabeth thought to herself, It's all worth it. This, she knew was true. She needed the field as much as the field needed her. Annabeth was never one for routine, and the CIA was anything but routine.

Annabeth didn't realize she was lost in thought until a car alarm went off on the street below, jolting her out of it. She looked at her watch, and cursed. She was supposed to be at Langley in fifteen minutes, and it took her eleven to get there, on a good day. Snatching her briefcase off the island, she resigned to the fact that she would have to forgo coffee if she hoped to be at the agency on time, and headed out the door.

"You're late," Will scolded as Annabeth stepped through the doors to the Clandestine Affairs and Operations Division.

"Two minutes!" Annabeth protested. "It was barely two minutes."

"Ms. Chase," Will said in a falsely stern tone. "This kind of activity is simply not acceptable!"

"Shut up," Annabeth elbowed him. "So, what was so incredibly important that you had to interrupt my day off?"

"Oh yes, sorry about that," Will apologized. "Something big has come up, and it has the whole division in a frenzy. Reyna won't tell me what the hell is going on, though. She's going to brief you, but I don't know where…there she is!"

Reyna, the head of the division, was walking towards us, and she looked like she was in a hurry. Reyna was a tall woman, with long dark hair braided down her back and intense eyes. She looked like the type of girl you wouldn't want to mess around with.

"Solace, Chase, briefing room," she called out to us. "Two minutes."

Without giving any more detail, she turned and walked away like she had much more important business to attend to. She probably did.

"I suppose we better get out butts over to the briefing room," Will said, standing up from his desk.

"If we're late, we're toast," Annabeth agreed. The pair of them speed-walked through the mess of people and desks that cluttered the main work area of the CAOD. The briefing room wasn't far, but Reyna valued punctuality, and if they showed up a second too late, she would not be pleased. Thankfully, Will and Annabeth walked into the briefing room moments before Reyna arrived. The room was busy, filled with the heads of multiple divisions, assistants and various operatives and techies.

"Thank you all for coming here on such as short notice," Reyna addressed the group. She pulled a slim remote control out of the pocket of her pantsuit, turning on the wall of screens behind her. "The CIA has recently been informed of a serious security breach in the British Foreign Intelligence Service, or MI6."

The screens behind Reyna were illuminated with photos and video footage of an explosion demolishing a wall of a concrete building; followed by security and EMTs swarming the scene. Faces of a few men Annabeth recognized as members of various gangs or criminal rings were pictured above, as well as several men and two women whom Annabeth had never seen before. In some of the pictures, the person's face was not visible, and in most it looked as though the picture had been taken without the knowledge of subject. Annabeth could tell these were suspects. For what, though, she couldn't say.

"This was the first of several attacks in various locations around Western Europe, particularly in countries with strong alliances to the United States," Reyna went on to explain, gesturing towards the explosions on the screens. "Three bombs were set off in three different buildings belonging to the MI6, and one in the MI5 headquarters. Carson, you ran point on Operation Trebule?"

Reyna was addressing Tom Carson, an operative to whom Annabeth had spoken to on a few occasions, but never officially met.

"Yes," Tom replied. "There was a suspected new terrorist group forming, and we had a mark, but we made our move too early and he backed out before we could apprehend him."

"It seems our man has made a reappearance," Reyna informed the group. She pressed a button on her remote control, and the screens all changed to various photos of one man. The man had olive skin, and his head was shaved completely bald, which revealed several tattoos behind each earlobe. "Emilio Daccini, born and raised in Italy, was the mark followed in Trebule, and his name resurfaced when we traced the purchase of recovered bomb parts from the explosions. We suspect he has been working underground since Trebule in '09 to continue the growth of his terrorist group."

Annabeth raised her hand, asking permission to speak. It wasn't as if she was in a classroom, but she didn't want to interrupt Reyna.

"If the man is smart enough to organize the bombing of three highly covert locations, wouldn't he be smart enough to erase any trails leading back to him through purchases?" Annabeth asked.

"We believe he did not intend for the bombs to leave behind any pieces, but the construction of one bomb was flawed, leading it to detonate only half-way," Reyna explained. "We have several small leads, and none of them would usually be large enough to follow through on. However, I have discussed with the DCS (AN: Director of Clandestine Services – for future reference) and several fellow division leaders, and we all agree that if this group is left apprehended, they could easily become a major global threat. We will be following through on all leads, so if you are in this room, we need you."

All of the screens simultaneously switched off. Reyna surveyed the room, giving time for the importance of the information to sink in.

"Chase, Solace, stay here," Reyna ordered. "Everyone else, return to your division or office, where you will be further briefed on your orders. Thank you."

As everyone filed out the door, Reyna shuffled all of the files on the desk in front of her into a neat stack. She tapped on her ear a couple of times, like she was activating an earpiece. Annabeth hadn't noticed the tiny microphone pinned to Reyna's collar until she spoke into it.

"Bring Jackson, ASAP"

Author's Note:

How was it? Let me know any comments, questions, concerns or criticism in the reviews.

Hope you enjoyed!

- Pepper