Hello internet, and welcome to chapter four of Operation: Angry Gods! This chapter actually includes the very first scene I wrote out of this entire fanfic: The interrogation room scene! This whole fic started out as a quick write where everyone in our class drew two groups of people and a situation. The two groups I drew were "Greek heroes" and "Secret international organization," with the situation being "Group A is interrogating group B." I ended up having the seven of the prophecy as my Greek heroes and XCOM interrogating them. The end result was fascinating, but I wanted to find out more about this commander character I created, who was basically an assimilation of James T. Kirk and Sherlock Holmes, and his (PLATONIC) relationship with Percy and the gang. And that is how you got here!

Shoutout to the three favorites I have! They are:

Zer Author

danialzkz

And two more shoutouts to FlawedMortal and wasa999, the followers of this story (who are not on the favorites list as well). Thanks to all who favorite, follow, and otherwise support my writing!

One last announcement, I will be releasing a one-shot by the end of the month that will show how Mark was recruited as commander. While it is not important to the story I am telling now, I have quite a bit of background info just gathering dust, so I will start using it. There is also a poll under my profile that will give me an Idea what you want to see from future One-shots. Please respond to that. Now on with the show!

I do not own Percy Jackson or XCOM. Enjoy the chapter!

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(Annabeth's POV)

"You really shouldn't have stabbed the shotgun dude, wise girl."

Annabeth glared at Percy. About an hour earlier, she had woken up in what looked like a lab of some sort that had hastily been converted into a holding cell. It might be a lab made to study radioactive isotopes or alien weapons, if what Percy had said about the soldiers was correct. The room was the size of a large conference room, with a couple of cots placed inside the corner of the room. The door was vacuum-sealed from the outside, with a one-way mirror that might have doubled as a blast shield. All scientific equipment had been removed, with a table with five chairs remaining on in the center. After a quick conversation, and a follow-up discussion in Greek, she learned what had happened after she was knocked out.

According to Jason they had been lead onto the hover-plane the soldiers had arrived on, with Percy and Annabeth carried on, and all of them had been handcuffed and had a bag placed over their heads before they had landed. No one knew where they were, as Percy woke up shortly after Annabeth. All they knew was that the flight had only been a couple of hours, and they had been in the cell for two hours. They were not near any ocean, as far as Percy could tell, and the base appeared to be underground.

With that wealth of knowledge, the heroes conferred what to do in ancient Greek. Charmspeak wouldn't work according to Piper, as the soldiers here apparently had precautions against some type of mind control in place that happened to be similar enough to charmspeak to nullify that avenue. A straight-up fight was also out, as these soldiers were part of a mortal agency, and were very human.

A mortal agency. This worried Annabeth greatly. If these mortals found out who they were, they had no idea how they would react. These soldiers had been fighting aliens since at least late March, maybe even earlier, if these were the soldiers that had been seen and taped during the supposed alien abductions.

That thought was still hard to comprehend. Even when the terror attacks had happened, many people, including Annabeth, had still tried to prove the aliens were a front for a human terror agency.

Now, it was impossible to deny the truth. Seaweed Brain said that they were real aliens, and he was the one person she trusted everything that person said. He was her boyfriend, and wouldn't tell her "No, those were actually aliens on the news" and not be sincere. Also, what little she had seen of the UFO and the soldiers in this organization told her that there were aliens and, more importantly, people who fought them.

Annabeth was jolted out of her thoughts by the seal on the door hissing. A voice came over the intercom.

"Please stay clear of the door and take a seat. We will be asking you a few questions shortly."

The four heroes slowly took a seat, waiting nervously as the door revealed their interrogator to be… a lanky teenager.

Annabeth folded her arms across her chest and stood up along with Percy, Jason, and Piper as the teen moved away from the door. Studying him, he was unimpressive – on the surface.

At five-foot six, the new man was nowhere near being the tallest person in the room, yet the way he carried himself made him seem as such. An air of confidence and aloof intellect danced across the hazel eyes that his blond hair was pushed well clear of. While his smile had some mirth to it, his face looked like Annabeth's did when she was analyzing a person or situation. His eyes darted across the teens, taking in every detail: how they were paired off boyfriend-girlfriend, how they all would meet his stare, and how Percy and Jason were reaching for their pockets. His stance was that of a soldier, a professional one at that, and the button-up uniform jacket he wore may as well have been a dress outfit for the way the stranger wore it.

The way he walked, the way he commanded respect by just standing there, the way his eyes looked far older than the body they were in, Annabeth could be forgiven for mistaking this kid for a demigod under any other circumstance. However, given why they were here, she found that doubtful.

"A pleasure to finally meet the teens that have been giving the soldiers so much trouble," the teen in the green jacket greeted, reaching his hand across to shake. No one moved to intercept as the door was closed behind him.

"Isn't there someone who can make decisions we can speak with? I am tired of talking to people who just relay information," Percy said bluntly.

"Sorry, I should introduce myself first. Been a while since I have met someone new outside of a briefing or orientation. I am Commander Mark Johnson, the leader of the XCOM project, an international organization that is humanity's last line of defense."

The stunned silence was broken by the sound of someone headdesking on the other side of the glass.

The apparent commander rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on Bradford," he yelled at the glass, "we know who they are (more or less), and they want to know who we are anyways, they probably were going to find out regardless of who we sent in."

"I just hope you thought this through, sir."

Mark rolled his eyes again, then moved to shake the demigod's hands again. This time, they accepted. "Let's have a seat, shall we?"

As they sat down, Annabeth noticed the insignia on Mark's jacket and raised her eyebrows. "'Vigilo Confido'?"

Mark grinned. "Loosely translates as 'I trust in vigilance.' If you ignore the funky grammar, that is." Mark then proceeded to throw five Interpol folders down onto the table, one after the other. The first four were unusually thick, but the last one was thicker than the other four combined. It was Percy's turn to raise his eyebrows. "Who here made someone's government really angry?" he asked.

"All of us, apparently," Mark said as he gestured to the folders, "as we are in one of the only rooms outside of a prison where every single occupant has an Interpol file. Let's make a deal. I will read your folders in front of all of you, and then you," here Mark gestured to the largest folder, "will read my folder. Afterwards, let's fill in the gaps for each other. What do you say?"

Annabeth was beyond intrigued. How was someone with that thick of an Interpol file not in jail, much less leading a clandestine international organization? Also, how did he come to lead the xcom project? While the file might not answer all of her questions, it would allow an educated guess as to his motives and whether he really was the man in charge. She glanced down the table. Jason and Piper nodded, while Percy smiled slightly and squeezed her hand. Blushing slightly, she turned back to Mark. "Okay."

Mark clapped his hands together and moved all but one of the folders to the side. "Brilliant!" he exclaimed, "let's get this party started." The giddy commander set a white notepad next to the file he had pulled aside, but he then frowned and searched through his pockets. "Well," Mark chuckled, "this is embarrassing. Percy, may I borrow your pen?"

Annabeth's mind raced at a million miles. She started to think about the possibilities. They must have noticed the pen missing from wherever they were storing it, but why not assume it had rolled off the table or something? Unless they scanned him after the pen reappeared in his pocket. When had they done that? What did they know about the pen?

As if the world knew what she was thinking, Seaweed-brain decided to play dumb. "What pen?"

"That pen," Mark countered, pointing towards Percy's pants, "the one that forms the bulge in your right pants pocket. Your hands hovered over that pocket when I first entered, much like during the operation we found you four on. Now may I please borrow your pen?"

Percy bit his lip, but, seeing no way out, handed the pen over. Mark made as if to write with the pen, then stopped and looked at the inscription on the side of the pen. "Anaklusmos," he read, "Ancient Greek for 'riptide'." He stared at the teen's shocked faces, then stood up. "Yeah, Ancient Greece was a hobby of mine. Most ancient powers with big militaries are a hobby of mine, actually." He then looked at Riptide thoughtfully. "They say the pen is mightier than the sword, but what do you do if the pen is a sword?" He then uncapped riptide into sword form, and tested it a few times. "Beautiful xiphos," He commented.

Percy looked confused. "xiphos?" he asked.

"Iron age straight sword. This is a little longer than most, though. Anyways, I really do need a pen." Mark picked up the cap of the pen, paused, and put the cap on the end of riptide's hilt. It shrunk back into a pen, but with the cap on the end, open for writing. Mark wrote with the glowing bronze ink from the pen the words "Subject notes: Percy Jackson."

A man poked his head through the door. "Don't torture the poor kid, Mark. Here's a pen that doesn't turn into a sword."

"Thanks, Bradford." The man who had apparently been the one pounding an indent with his head earlier nodded and left. As Mark recapped riptide, Annebeth thought obout the last few minutes. He must have suspected that the pen was a sword, Annabeth deduced, but why the stageplay? Suddenly, she shot up straight. He wants us to know he is aware that we are armed, and he is not, but decided the risk was worth it. Mark handed Riptide back to Percy, picked up his new pen, and opened the first folder. "And so, let us begin."

Mark started to read the first folder. "'Name: Perseus Jackson. Birth date: 1993-08…' Funky way the rest of the world has, righting dates, eh? 'Birth mother: Sally Jackson. Birth father: Unknown. Related Case files…' You know what?" Mark looked at the Heroes of Olympus. "Let's skip to the juicy stuff.

"'Tenth of June, Percy Jackson and his Mother, Sally Jackson, are reported as missing when their 1978 Camaro was discovered to have been destroyed in an explosion.' You were eleven at the time, right? 'Percy Jackson is suspect in the disappearance of his mother. The resulting manhunt revealed that Percy Jackson was in fact being blackmailed by his kidnapper, who led him on a chase across the country. During the manhunt, Percy Jackson was held responsible for the destruction of a greyhound bus and the bombing of Saint Louis Arch…'" Here, Mark's eyebrows began their upward journey. "'But all charges were cleared after his kidnapper was witnessed fighting the subject with rifles in Los Angeles…' my, we do get around, don't we…"

And so it went. Mark would read the files, his eyebrow reaching ever higher, occasionally commenting on the contents of the files. Most of Annabeth and her friend's adventures had ended up getting the attention of Interpol, but, thanks to the mist, the details were skewed. What worried Annabeth was the look on Mark's face: it was the same look she had whenever she believed she was close to the right answer. Whatever he was thinking, it could not be good for them.

Eventually, he finished reading all four files. "Okay," Mark began, "those are the craziest files ever. I am seriously surprised none of you are on anyone's terror watch list. I do have questions, but, a deals a deal." Mark passed his file to the demigods, and Annabeth scooped it up immediately. At Percy's wounded look, she replied "Oh, don't give me that! I am the least dyslexic out of all of us. Also, you will probably get more out of it if I Just give me the cliff notes."

Percy shrugged, and Annabeth read the file.

Much like Mark, Annabeth's eyebrow rose and rose the more she read. And what she read changed her view of the teenage commander in front of her.

According to the file, Mark Johnson was born on July 16th to two mortal parents. She had triple checked the file, both of his parents were indeed mortal. This fact made the sheer size of what he had done in the 16 short years he had been alive all the more impressive. By the time Mark was twelve, he had earned two bachelor's degrees, eight majors, (English literature, British history, Chemestry, and computer science) and two masters degrees, one being in physics, the other a Masters in Military History. He had 4 critically acclaimed scientific papers to his name, and a patent on a type of computer chip.

All of these were attributed to an assumed name that had been tied back to him by Interpol two years later. In those two years, the file Annabeth was looking at had formed. Mark had become a hacker, one who appeared to be able to get into any database, no matter how remote. CIA, KGB, even NASA, had all had their databases infiltrated and copied by a kid with a laptop.

Interpol finally caught up to him when a hack into Interpol's own database left behind an IP address. Fourteen at the time, Mark's interrogation and psyche report were deemed important enough to have been included in this file. According to them, the whole reason behind his hacking exploits was that Mark was looking for knowledge.

"Lack of correct knowledge is one of the major catalysts of every error in human history. D-day only worked because the Germans thought that the real attack was happening in southern France. Hannibal screwed over the Romans so many times because he knew how their command tactics and structure worked. I want to know all of the facts, so I want to know what everyone thinks is the correct story. That way, I have the best picture of the world. Saying that I will never publish any compromising information on the internet unless it is a necessary evil."

When asked why publishing it would be a necessary evil, Mark had responded, "While lack of knowledge is a catalyst for failure, knowledge kept secret can be more destructive than a thousand Death Stars, and bring down civilization with more certainty than any misfired atomic bomb."

Mark had gotten out of the Interpol incident with no charges, as he had disclosed their hundred most wanted criminal's locations for freedom. All of them had been right where Mark had said they would be.

The next year, in late December, Mark Had apparently found information dangerous enough for every organization on earth to have a month-long manhunt that made the one during seaweed brain's first quest look like a scavenger hunt. In the end, both what the information was and why the manhunt had been called off had been redacted from the document. Mark had been relatively inactive for the next year (read: ten pages added per month instead of forty in that year) until completely dropping off the map in March.

The file completely read, Annabeth gave the short version to Percy, Jason, and Piper. Jason was the first to speak. "Did you ever have freetime, or a girlfriend?"

Mark grinned. "Yes to both accounts. I am a master at wargames (that's Avalon Hill-style wargames and command wargames, miniatures are not my thing), and I have had two girlfriends in the last two years."

At that moment, Annabeth was certain that her mom probably kept tabs on Mark, and would hit on him as soon as he came of age. A little bit gross, but that was one of the minuses to your mom being a god.

Mark then got a twinkle in his eye. "But enough freebees. Let's do these questions this way: I'll ask a question, you will answer it however you will, and then you will ask me a question. Clarification or definition questions are okay to ask out of turn, follow-up questions are not. Okay let's begin."

Mark seemed to think about what he was going to ask. Annabeth herself wondered what he would decide to question them on. Their frequent travels and disappearances? Their uncanny ability to cause trouble? The strange photos?

"Are all of you related via the unknow side of your parentage?"

The demigods started. Whatever they had expected, this wasn't it. "Why would you think that?" Piper said nervously.

"Well," Mark said thoughtfully, that would be one way how all of you know each other, as it would be a statistic impossibility for families from opposite sides of the country to know each other from casual meeting or school. Also, the ADHD, Dyslexia, et cetera: both of those have been hypothesized to be genetic." Mark waited for the reluctant response.

Annabeth could tell that offing it as a coincidence would not fly in this case. "Fine. You caught us. Our turn." Annabeth met Percy's sea-green eyes, then continued. "What exactly was the catalyst of the massive Manhunt?"

Suddenly, Mark got the most somber she had ever seen him in the short time they had been. When he finally spoke, he was completely serious. "In my hacking, I discovered six documents, barely a fourth of a megabyte combined, that, should they ever had been released onto the internet, Civilization as we know it would have collapsed by the end of the week, more decisively than any Atomic strike could have. What was on those documents almost made me want to push the Big Red Button myself. Naturally, everyone wanted to get their hands on it, either to use it, or hold it for ransom. All that destruction in one button click… That was way too much power for anyone. So, I destroyed the documents as completely as possible, wiping all trace of them from this earth. That almost killed me, and got me some attention I never, ever want to experience again"

There was a deadly silence, which was broken by a humorless chuckle. "You know, that was my name for it, the Big Red Button. Blame the sci-fi." After another pause, Mark was back to normal. "Okay, Masters of the universe, next question." He reached into the file and pulled out a shakycam picture from the battle of New York. "Is this a Drakon or a Dragon?"

Another shocked silence followed this question. Annabeth recovered first. "To avoid another lengthy and one-sided debate, yes, that is a drakon. How can you see it, and how long have you seen monsters and crazy stuff like this?"

"Besides the aliens, this morning was the first time." Mark shifted uncomfortably. "Keep in mind, though, the last time I was outside was March, I am kind-of running a war down here."

That was when it clicked for Annabeth. His fighting with the aliens, she realized, is what let the mist slip for him. He has come to expect everything, and accept the crazy reality that is life on Earth.

Mark paused before continuing, then grinned yet again. This one was different, though. It was a I just found the checkmate grin. "This isn't really a question. I have a theory that has been in my head since I heard your Greek and saw your ancient swords." Mark paused dramatically. "So here it goes: The theory is that the Greek gods are your parents and that you four have been fighting their demons in secret. How close am I?"

Four shocked stares – not ones that said "are you crazy," but ones that said "holy hell he found our secret."

The stares were broken by a loud boom, followed by a seven-foot tall god and a goddess appearing right in front of Mark. The goddess, Athena, spoke in her most booming voice of doom.

"So, mortal. You and your insignificant organization have discovered our most closely guarded secret, and dare to toy with our most courageous heroes. Prepare to face the consequences of your actions!"

For a second, merely Mark stared in mild shock at the two Gods, then he tapped on the watch he had on his wrist.

"Hey, Louis? Could you cancel my meeting with Van Doorn? My smiting might take all evening."