As the hand gripped his wrist, Percy spun around and threw his fist out. His hand connected with the face of his attacker with an awful Crack! and the person stumbled backwards, holding her nose. She had probably a broken nose now. The woman glared at him.

But then two pairs of arms yanked Percy back, trying to make him motionless. He let himself fall to the ground, drawing the other two with him. Percy rolled to one side and heard a grunt from under him. Instantly he jumped up and turned to the other one.

The man wore white clothings, just like his two colleagues. On his belt hung a strange gadgetry, not the checking one from Red Shirt earlier this day, but kind of a pistol. The man followed his gaze and grinned evil, so Percy didn't thought it would do any good to him.

"Oh, this one?" The man asked and untangled the weapon from his belt. "You want this one? Okay. I'll give you this one." He unlocked the pistol and pointed at Percy with it. The tip crackled with electricity.

Percy heard shuffling around behind him and expected the other man standing up. The woman with the broken nose still winced in pain, but seemed to come closer.

"Jack no," the man from behind him said. "We aren't supposed to use the Launchers!"

"Oh yeah?" Jack asked. "Who said that? We are supposed to bring him to WICKED alive, we can use our own ways."

"Jack no," the man tried again.

"Go Jack!" The woman yelled with a strange accent through her broken nose. "Take him down!"

Jack wanted to pull the trigger, but Percy charged and tackled him to the ground. With a cry of surprise they fell down to the floor. The Launcher glided out of Jacks hands and Percy kicked him to the side.

"What do you want from me," he demanded.

Behind him he heard footsteps towards the Launcher and cursed himself. He didn't have a weapon against these mortals, just against monsters, and he kicked the only weapon away. That was totally his way of fighting.

"Please boy," the other man pleaded. So it had to be the woman who was running for the weapon. "You don't want to be shooted with a Launcher. Give up."

"Why should I?" Percy asked. "I didn't even know what you want from me."

"Go away, Jorge! I'm going to take him!" The woman shouted.

"I'm sorry, boy," Jorge said.

Before Percy could ask why he was sorry, he felt a strong fist connecting with his temple. His vision blurred, his grip on Jacks collar weakened and he drifted into the dark world of unconsciousness.

Percy woke up in a white room full of . . . well, nothing. There was a bed in which he laid. There was a door, but she has to be locked. He stood up and checked it regardless.

"Oh, the door? She is locked, of course," a boys voice said.

Percy turned around and saw a boy a little younger than him standing at the other end of the room and watching him. He had brown hair in the same hairstyle as Jason - a little longer to be cut short, but a little shorter to be messy like his. His eyes were big and brown, though his stand looked calm, his excitement was obvious. He wore light gray jeans and a white shirt, on which 'WICKED' stood in big letters.

Percy was confused. Was this boy really wicked? He had never met a monster or evil human that shows his character that clearly. They always tried to hide until they were near enough to attack. Then again, he was probably not alone here. On the other side, if he wanted to attack, he had done it when Percy was still asleep.

"Who are you?" Percy asked.

"Name's Thomas," he walked up to him and stretched out his hand. "And you must be Percy Jackson, right?"

"Do I have to be suspicious that you know my name?" Percy asked and shook his hand.

"Oh, yes, you know, I'm part of the most important organization in the world that is allowed to search data from every person in the world, so then you know that, you shouldn't be so surprised."

"Are you really wicked? 'Cause if you are, I have to defend myself." Percy pointed at Thomas's shirt.

Thomas looked surprised. "Wicked? No, WICKED is the name of my organization. I know, that sounds crazy, but WICKED is good."

"Uh what?" Percy asked. "You literally just said that evil is good."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "Oh man. WICKED is the name of my organization, so that means, my organization is good."

"Oh-kay . . . but why are you using such a dumb name? I mean, what's with 'best organization in the world'? That sounds way more logical."

"WICKED has a meaning. It stands for 'World In Catastrophe - Killzone Experiment Department'." Thomas smiled.

"Killzone?" Percy tried to look not too confused.

Thomas frowned. "You don't like reading placards, do you?"

"Well, since I have dyslexia, the answer is no." Percy grinned.

"And you haven't heard about it? Really?"

"Dude, no. I was a little bit busy in Greece the last days."

"Oh, okay," Thomas said, looking confused. "Uh, why exactly have you been in Greece?"

"Family matters," Percy hedged and quickly changed the subject. "So what is the Killzone?"

Thomas watched him for a second, then he sat down on the ground. Percy hesitated, then followed. "The Killzone is the region in your brain where the Flare does it's damage," Thomas began. "WICKED was founded to find a cure for it."

Percys eyes snapped up and he stared at Thomas. "A cure? I thought there is no cure?"

Thomas shrugged. "The logical way is, there is always a cure. Like Cancer - you just have to search hard. So, some scientists had an idea and we're now studying the brains of the Munies."

"So I'm here for your study," Percy summarized.

"Kind of." Thomas shrugged again.

"And you are one of these scientists? You aren't older than me," Percy said incredulous.

"Yeah, you know, apparently I have a special gift that could help them," Thomas said smiling. "I'm fine with it, I do want to find a cure for the Flare."

"Okay," Percy said frowning. "And what exactly happens now? Are you scanning my brain with more strange machinery or something? Can I at least send a message to my mom and girlfriend? 'Cause, well, you know, I had been kidnapped and it's normal for them to be worried."

"Sorry," Thomas said. "But WICKED has to stay a secret until we found the cure. We don't want the whole population storm our headquarters."

"That's sounds really nice," Percy muttered under his breath.

"With the question, what happens know," Thomas continued. "Our scientists'll graft a computer chip into your brain that allows us to -"

"Ow," Percy said and shook his head. "No, no, no, I don't want that."

"You don't want to save the whole world?"

"Again? No thanks, that's not my problem anymore." Percy said sarcastically.

"What?"

"Nothing. Inside joke."

"Well . . ." Thomas looked slightly uncomfortable. "They graft a computer chip into your brain -" Percy shivered. "- that allows us to study your brain."

"I don't want that," Percy repeated. "I'm done with saving the world."

"Whatever, bro. But you don't exactly have a choice."

"You wanna force me?" The demigod raised an eyebrow. "You know that that isn't allowed after the laws."

"Yes?" Thomas looked surprised. Percy nodded. "Hmm . . . yeah, you're right but WICKED is allowed to do that because it's for the greater good. People in the whole world would look up to you as their hero."

Percy frowned. "Listen, Thomas, I think you're really cool, but what you're talking about isn't what I want. I don't want to be their hero. Why don't you do this? Aren't you immune?"

Thomas hesitated. "I'm immune, but I'm not designated for this."

"For what? You told me that you'd just get a computer chip in your brain." Percy smiled about Thomas uncertain face. He had gone into the trap.

"Well . . . there is something more you have to do," Thomas said. "You have to go through the trials with some other boys. Some are immune, some aren't. It's just so we can study your reactions."

"What are the trials?" Percy asked.

Thomas grinned. "Since we're going to wipe your memorys, I think I can tell you," he said. I hate memory wipes, Percy thought. "We aren't sure what the second and third trial'll be yet, but the first trial is to find an escape out of the Maze."

"The 'Maze'?" Percy asked incredulous. "Are you serious?"

"It's not as easy as you probably think of it now," Thomas said. "I've been one of the Creators of the Maze. It's pretty impressive."

"Oh-kay . . ." Percy trailed off.

Thomas looked down at his wrist where a wristwatch hung. "We have two minutes. When we'll wipe your memorys, so you just can remember your forename, and you'll be sent to the maze. Any last wishes?" He snickered.

"Tell my . . . tell my mom, she should stay. And Annabeth and her family should stay where they are," Percy said tentatively. "Wherever my father's family is they would be safe. I'll come back to them. Please, promise this to me."

Thomas looked surprised. He hadn't really expected such a last wish. Maybe something like 'let me go, please' or 'don't wipe my memories' or something. Not 'tell my family they should stay'.

"Uh . . . okay, sure, I promise," he stuttered.

Percy looked indefinitely relieved. "Thank you."

Thomas raised his eyebrows. "I'm really sorry for you," he said.

Percy snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Honestly," Thomas asserted. "You weren't supposed to be here. Originally a boy named Maximilian should go in the maze, but he had some illness - not the Flare - with that he had never survived there."

"Oh great," Percy said. "Just leave me alone, Thomas."

The brown haired boy sighed and left the room. Percy leaned back against the bed and closed his eyes, the exhaustion overwhelming him.