A/N: It's so rare of me to write a note at the beginning but this has to be done so, yeah. A very big thanks to Rosekie, her story kinda inspired this story of mine. And this is it! Oh, and I kind of changed it since I missed an important fact. Thanks to you for pointing that out (I somehow can't type your name on, but you know who you are). A big thank you to you! On with the story!


"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Annabeth was numb. Fear, fatigue, resignation – God only knew why. It made the rain seem like an autumn's day drizzle. The only thing she felt was the knife hovering millimeters from her back. Although her jacket was thick, she could tell that the weapon was deadly. Well-sharpened like the deep, low voice behind her. She slowly raised her hands in surrender.

According to Jason's report, he only attacked in closed alleyways and roads, she thought, trying to remember clearly despite the life-and-death situation she was in. We're out in an open street. The detective must've made a mistake

"Turn around." The voice commanded her, plunging the knife a little closer to her body. She heard her leather coat rip.

Annabeth let out a quiet gasp. This is my mother's gift for my 24th birthday! She thought. She couldn't move. Her whole body was stiff as a board. And even if she could, she knew she would've passed out at the sight of this man. She silently prayed to the heavens.

"Shit, I said 'turn around'!" he repeated through gritted teeth. The man was growing impatient by the second.

Annabeth winced a little from the pain of the knife. Just turn around, she told herself as evenly as her mind could muster. From the sound of it, he's not in a very good mood. Just give him what he wants and he can goWait? I could just— That's it! I hope my acting skills are still top notch.

"Damn it—"

She tried to stifle a wince as she took a small forward so that she could face the man. Her head was lowered, palms still raised, and her heart banging in her head and chest. "Please—just take what you want—" There was a lump in her throat. It made it painful to talk.

The man was careful not to leave any room for Annabeth to escape. But Annabeth already thought of something to escape. His hand holding the pocket knife, never budged as she turned around. He then slowly raised it to her chin. She shivered. The blade was as cold as death.

"Look at me," the man ordered again. His voice suddenly changed in tone.

Annabeth swallowed. Okay Annabeth, you got this. He had her at knife's edge. It was just an inch away.

He pressed the side of the blade on the tip of her chin and tilted her face up. Her eyes were hard as steel, her hair sticking to her face in wet clumps, and her lips were pursed trying hard not to tremble. It was a miserable state. His eyesight was this clear-cut even in the darkness. What a pretty face, he thought, leering menacingly. It's too bad...

Eyes filled with rain, Annabeth gazed at the face of the man in front of her. It was too dark to see. "I have money—if that's what you want," she said, lowering her hands to grab the purse tucked safely inside the pocket of her coat.

He thrust the sharp edge of the blade closer, but not close enough to cut her bare skin. "Don't you dare move." It was a demand not to be refused. "Tell me where it is."

Annabeth swallowed again. She straightened up her back. "Inside my jacket, l-left pocket," the words came spilling out, but she didn't take her eyes off the man as he slowly slipped his free hand into her coat. Annabeth felt her face burn with sudden rage and embarrassment.

As the man's hand was inside her jacket, she studied her surroundings. Swallowing the rage and embarrassment she felt. A wall, probably 10 feet away, and he has his back turned to it. Maybe the gods did hear her prayer.

She slowly inched her head to the side. I need to get this knife out of my neck. In a little while she felt the absence of the cold object from her skin. One down.

She felt the man's hand on her again. Just a little more to the left…a little more. And he grabbed it. Yes! She thought triumphantly. As the man grabbed her purse, she kicked him in the stomach. His hand holding the knife lunged forward and Annabeth missed it by an inch. He stood there with his back against the wall as he composed himself immediately. She pulled out her handkerchief and wrapped it around her hand. This is the hardest part. Disarming an armed assailant. She remembered the lessons her mom taught her.

The man lunged himself forward, surprisingly, with his left hand, the one without the knife. She ducked just before his fist collided with her face and grabbed the knife with her wrapped hand. She heard the cloth rip but it didn't reach her skin. She stepped back and eyed the knife, twirling it in her hand. I got you. She smile, a small smile of triumph.

Just when she was about to say something, a shard of white lighting swept across the black sky. She felt the knife slip past her fingers as she tried to cover up her ears. Damn this fear of mine!

She never was given the chance to cover her ears as she looked straight on the man in front of her. It was fast, but it was enough for Annabeth to get a glimpse on the face of the mugger. Her eyes widened. She felt color drain from her face as they were enveloped in darkness again. This isn't good

The man was aware of what she had seen. He knew he was in trouble. "Shit," he murmured as he picked up Annabeth's purse lying on the wet floor.

I've got you, Annabeth thought with determination. She didn't know how she worked up that kind of courage when the knife was still aimed at the hollow of her neck. Finally, everyone's gonna know the face of an asshole like you

The sound of police sirens echoed through the empty streets out of nowhere. It sounded like heaven. Annabeth's spirits lightened. She wanted to scream—

He looked at her intently. He cursed mentally. This would be the first victim who saw him face-to-face. His panic kicked in again, like it always did whenever he heard the sirens he feared more than anything.

"The police are coming—" she said, her sweat mixed with the raindrops falling on her face.

But the man wouldn't leave. He stood there gripping her purse. He was debating something in his mind. Annabeth's senses told her that he wasn't about to leave anytime soon. Or she could just—

Yes! She could just run!

Annabeth pivot turned, which was hard because of the kitten heels she was wearing, and ran. She heard the man mutter a curse under his breath. And she heard footsteps behind her. She willed herself to run. But it was hard. Damn this heels! She tried pull her feet out of the heels and run at the same time, damn, it was hard!

At long last she felt her feet free from the restriction of her heels and she could almost feel her sense of triumph. But then, hey joy was short lived as she felt two strong grips at her wrists, bringing them together. Shit!

The man was careful this time 'round, she noted. I could just back kick him she thought. He brought her smaller frame close to his body, making it impossible for Annabeth to do what she was thinking. It's like he could read my mind.

Annabeth felt something warm hit her damp neck. What the—

His head was buried between the place where her neck meet her shoulders. I thought he never sexually assault his victims! Jason said so! She thought as she felt his warm breath on her skin. Annabeth was caught off guard.

It was after a couple of agonizing moments before he spoke. She barely took in the last two words he whispered. A shiver ran down her spine.

"I'm sorry."

There was a flash of painful, unseen light, and everything went black.


"Hello?" Frank Zhang answered his cell phone hesitantly.

"Frank?" the voice on the other line asked. The service in the building was a little off, but he recognized the person instantly. His heart leaped with sudden hope.

It took about a couple of seconds for the man to reply. "This is Leo," he said through the static. "I have some news."

This made Frank stand up. He held the phone closer to his ear. "Do you have him?" he asked quietly, running a calloused palm across his face in a frustrated manner.

"That's the thing," Leo said, a hint of regret seething into his voice. "I thought we did," he finished.

Frank felt his heart sink into unfathomable depths for the umpteenth time around. He let an angry sigh escape his lips as he dropped to his seat. His knees gave out. "Damn it," he cursed onto the receiver. Frank didn't care. "Who is this guy, anyway? And how come he gets away with it every time?" he pressed on.

Leo took another couple of seconds before he answered. He wasn't sure he knew what to say. "If we knew that, we wouldn't be in this situation, Frank" he said, trying to comfort the man on the other line. "I understand what you and your wife are going through, but these kinds of things take time and effort to solve. I've got the best officers and even Jason stopped at working on the missing heir case to help—"

"Damn it, Leo," the enraged man cut him off. He stood up again, walked up a wall and landed a solid punch to it in fury. Pain shot up his arm. "How long have you been onto this bastard? My son is dead. My wife is in a ward—"

"I know, Frank. We all know and we couldn't feel more sorry and angry about that," Leo replied patiently. "But at this point, all you can do is wait," he added.

A very pregnant pause followed. Both men never made a sound.

Frank let out another sigh, this time of clear resignation. He let his arm fall limply onto his side. "Thank you, Leo," Frank said through the receiver.

"No problem," Leo said. "Just remember that we're always here for you. We'll find out who that mugger is and put him behind bars where he belongs," he added convincingly, his voice full of grit.

"Thank you," Frank repeated.

"Try to get some rest. You haven't had any sleep at all," Leo said. "That's a policeman's order." The playfulness in Leo's voice returned.

Frank chuckled softly. "Alright," he said. "Just fill me in on the new leads."

"I will."


"Ow—what… the h—"

Annabeth muttered and tried opening her eyes, but it seemed as though her lids were glued together. She felt the back of her head throbbing in big jolts, like small electric shocks.

What… happened? Even her thoughts were slow. Annabeth attempted to recall what she could as she grabbed the soft, warm sheets wrapped around her body. She then found herself wanting to get lost in them. Hmm… this feels nice...

Except for the fact that they weren't hers.

With that realization, Annabeth instantly stood up and gasped for air like a drowning victim after CPR. Her gray eyes were blank and wide-open, darting around in sheer confusion around the dim, unknown vicinity. She clutched the bed sheets and drew them closer to her chest.

Where am I? she thought, feeling hot blood pump through her cold veins. Her heart beat faster. What the hell happened?

"You're awake," a deep, male voice spoke from a dark corner of the small room.

Annabeth jerked her head towards the direction of the voice. Her vision was still blurred but she could make out a figure pacing towards the makeshift bed she was lying in. She looked up to see a familiar face that made her suck in air.

It all came flooding back to her.

The night… the rain… the knife… her bag… the man… the flash of lightning…

Oh gods, Annabeth couldn't think of anything else. The same phrase echoed through her head over and over again. That sensation came back along with her memories. Numbness was spreading through her body like wildfire. She wanted to get away, to run—

"Stay away from me—" Annabeth said under her breath, scooting away from the black-haired man who sat at the edge of the bed. "Who're you? Why did you take me here?" she asked him, her eyes clouded with resistance. Come on Annabeth! Think of a way out! Think like your mother!

The man continued to stare at her with his penetrating sea-green eyes. Annabeth gave a little shiver. The man was pretty good-looking, yet his gaze was bloodcurdling. "You ask a lot," he said plainly. It wasn't meant as a joke.

Annabeth was taken aback, her brows knotting. "What?" she asked him. "Why do you care? You don't even know me," she spat, letting hate seep into her voice. He doesn't seem to be dangerous now compared with last night.

The man just scoffed. His face remained emotionless and void as he stood up and slipped off his shirt.

Annabeth blushed, but recovered quickly. "What do you think you're doing, you perv—"

He threw the plain, white shirt at Annabeth, hitting her square in the face. "Put that on," he said indifferently, turning away, busying himself with the old, beaten-up stove at the other side of the room.

She felt more confused than ever. But that was before she was curious enough to take a peak under the covers. Annabeth's eyes widened, her cheeks burning. She quickly put the shirt on and stood up. It was big enough that it covered everything that needed to be covered. "You son-of-a—!" she yelled at the man, grabbing a rusty lamp from the bedside table and hurling it at him. Annabeth missed by an inch and the lamp shattered on the wall above the stove.

The man quickly whirled around. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked her, his face switching from bemused to anything but amused.

Annabeth had already grabbed an old-fashioned alarm clock about the size of her face. "What did you do to me?!" She threw it at him without restrictions. She wanted to hurt him badly. She never felt this angry in her entire life, like her dignity was taken from her. In this case, it was.

The man caught the clock just before it hit his face. His reflexes were amazing that she paused in astonishment. But she quickly regained herself. "You should thank me for that!" the man yelled back, walking closer to her, who stood her ground.

Annabeth gave him a look that spelled 'unbelievable'. The next things she grabbed was a sneaker on the floor. "Thank you?" she asked, dumbfounded. "You want me to say thank you for doing this to me—?"

"Damn it, you were soaked," the man explained, clearly pissed off at what she was doing. She took another step back as he closed in on her. He was taller than she was. "You'd think I'd be interested in someone like you?" he asked her, his was as deadly as when he threatened her before.

She glared, staring into the man's sea-green eyes. She wasn't scared, but something about the way he looked at her made her shut up for a moment. So that means that nothing... her thoughts trailed off in relief.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked him as he pulled away, though he didn't take his eyes of hers.

The man remained silent, his stance rigid and unflinching. His expression was completely illegible. Annabeth then noticed that he was shirtless, wearing only a pair of faded, worn-out jeans. His body's pretty nice, she thought. A soft hue of pink tinted her cheeks and neck. But her gaze was still unwavering. Damn it, Annabeth! Don't check him out just yet. He might kill you. Annabeth quickly regained her composure.

"Why did you bring me here?" she pressed on, her need for answers getting the best of her. "What's your name?" she asked, crossing her arms in front of her defensively.

Again, there was no answer. He just continued gazing at her as if not hearing a thing. This made Annabeth quite aggravated. She hated talking to unresponsive people.

"That's it," she said resolutely with aggravation. Annabeth turned around and looked for her clothes, but there was no sign of it anywhere. She turned back to look at the man. "Where's my stuff?" she demanded, her eyes glinting with pent-up exasperation.

The man didn't give an answer again. He didn't even blink.

"I need to go," Annabeth said, placing her hands on her hips. She was anxious, but didn't know what else to do or say.

He sneered at her annoyed face. This time he replied. But it wasn't what Annabeth was expecting. "You're not going anywhere."

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. "What?" she said, amazed at his answer.

"Are you that slow or do I have to say it again?" the man shot back. He was surprisingly witty even when he looked this serious.

Annabeth was heated up. There was no way that this man was going to have a way with words towards her. If there was anybody in this room that was good at words, it was her. She wasn't scared anymore, no. She was angry.

"Don't you dare question my intelligence, mister! And why am I not allowed to leave?" she asked him inquiringly, hands still on hips. She had completely forgotten the fact that she was completely naked except for a loose shirt. Her blonde hair was loose and was untidily tumbling down her shoulders. She looked anything but threatening, but Annabeth didn't care. "C'mon, enlighten me." She could be really scary as what her friends say but now…

The man scoffed at her angry expression. He thought that he looked kind of cute when she's like that. "You're with the police," he said to her. It wasn't a question but an assumption.

Eyes widening with surprise, Annabeth looked at him thoughtfully. How does he know that? "I can assure you, I'm not," she lied.

"I saw you leaving the precinct at the corner of 23rd and 4th last night," he said bluntly, his voice as piercing as his glare.

Annabeth's brows furrowed. "Wait, you were following me?" she asked, outraged.

He snorted in reply. "What d'you think?" It was a rhetorical question.

She let out air in an attempt to relieve herself of her aggravated mood. It proved useless. "Tell me where my clothes are before I—"

Annabeth was cut short when a jab of pain shot from the side of her head. She was blinded for a moment before her knees buckled from the sensation. She then fell back onto the bed, her hand gently touching throbbing area. "What the—ow—" she gasped, barely able to talk.

The man turned away and fumbled with something inside the freezer. He came back after a few seconds, carrying a small, improvised ice bag. Annabeth notice that it was made from an old handkerchief.

She looked up at him with surprise. Clever. "Thank you," she said, reaching out to get the ice pack, but he pulled it away.

"Let me," he said as he knelt in front her. He was the one looking up to her now. The man gently applied the ice on her head just behind her right ear. It was where he had hit her the night before. His free hand was settled on the bed, just outside of hers.

Annabeth shifted, but decided it was best not to argue. Blood came rushing back to her cheeks again. She could barely feel the coldness of the pack. Is this really him? she thought to herself as she got lost in his sea-green eyes once more. It felt odd when she felt that she was warming up to him all of a sudden. He doesn't seem to be that dangerous at all, she thought. Okay, minus the fact that he knocked me out just to give the cops a slip.

She cleared out her throat. "Hey, if you don't mind," she whispered to him, eyeing the slender arm working on the bump on her head.

"Hn," was his only reply.

"What's your name?" she asked him for the second time around. She then focused her eyes back on his.

The man's eyes narrowed vaguely, but he still continued holding the icepack against her head. It was a quite a personal question, Annabeth noted, but he didn't seem to mind.

"They call me Hero."


A/N: So how was it! How was it? Posting two chapters at one day is sure tiring. I could see a cliffhanger at the end! Haha. Sorry about that. And oh, by the way, for the people who reviewed and followed and favourited this story, I give you a thumbs up! Sorry for the grammatical errors and spelling errors I haven't re-read it so, yeah, I'm really sorry. And yeah don't forget to review, I would like to hear from you!

Dicaimer: I don't OWN the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series. They rightfully belong to Uncle Rick.

Annnnnnnd, that's a wrap! Peace out Demis.