It's late. But I lacked motivation. Once again, it remains unedited. Any and all feedback is welcome and appreciated.

Chapter 8

Location: Goa, India

Date: 29/12/2012

Time: 08:47

Subject: Parker James

Parker could tell that someone was watching him, surveying his every move. Perhaps it was the tall guy with dark hair and sunglasses that stood beneath the shade of a palm tree. Maybe it was the small Asian woman sitting outside of a café. Or, it could even be the white van parked just off the beach. Maybe it was all of them. Parker considered his options. He could run, he could fight, or act oblivious. Well, technically, he was already running. And this was the first time he had noticed them, so either they had gotten sloppy, or this was the first time they were stalking him. Parker was usually pretty observant, so he decided to go with the latter.

He frowned, debating his options. He didn't want to lead them back to his hut. So that meant he would have to change his route. Alright, he decided, act natural, act exhausted, you're only half an hour into your run anyways. Parker slowed to a stop and bent over, resting his hands on his knees. He came up with a plan. He would lead them into the city, throw them off, head back to his hut to grab his stuff and leave. It was a shame, Parker loved Goa.

Straightening again, he staggered slowly up the beach towards the bustling city. He stopped at a vendor and bought a bottle of water and drinking half of it. He saved the rest of it, he might need it for later. He walked down the thin street for a few meters, noting that the man was walking about ten paces behind him. Parker could see no sign of the woman. He assumed (and of late, his assumptions had been pretty accurate) that the woman would try and trap him somewhere. But Parker had lived here for months, and he didn't settle down anywhere unless he had an escape plan. He had to draw the woman out, that the best solution. If he hurt the man, she would probably try to help her partner.

Parker ducked down an alley that was hidden behind a store. He strode down the narrow space, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder to see if the guy was following him. The guy turned into the alley, his hand at his ear. Good, Parker noted with a smile, he had to make sure that the guy went down noisily, to attract his partner to the scene. He ducked around a corner and waited, smirking slightly as he heard the guy swear. He was American, probably with S.H.I.E.L.D. The man rounded the corner, and Parker leapt at him, immediately punching him in the stomach. The guy doubled over.

The guy barked out a ragged cough, "I-I need back up." Parker nodded his thanks at him before dodging his punch and fly kicking him in the side of the head. Then, using a drainage pipe on the side of the building, he scaled the two-storey wall and crouched on the edge of the roof. The woman turned down the entrance of the alley, a gun cocked and ready in her hands. Parker would need to get that off her first, either that, or go for a sneak attack. He saw her look around warily as she almost tripped over the unconscious body of her partner.

Parker leapt off the building landing silently on the balls of his feet on the hard-packed dirt behind her. Taking a quick, noiseless step, he grabbed her head and slammed it into the wall beside him. She dropped to the ground unconscious. Parker wiped his hands on his shorts before exiting the alley, only to see the white van speeding up the road towards him.

"Shit." He muttered. He took off at a run, sprinting for his life away from the vehicle. He wasn't nearly fast enough to outrun the speeding van, so he had to make up for it somewhere else. In manoeuvrability. He dodged around a corner and ran down a side street, the van still on his tail. He took another sharp turn, into yet another dark alley. The van stopped before taking off again in a squeal of tires.

Parker sighed a breath of relief and ran up the alley, already knowing where it would end up, about a mile away from the beach. His run slowed to jog, no need to tire himself out unnecessarily. After fifteen minutes, he finally reached the end of the alley. He stepped out carefully, looking either way. He strode outwards, walking along the edge of the road.

Things then happened too quickly for even Parker to comprehend. One minute he was walking, then there was a squealing of brakes, crushing pain in his side, and he was struggling to his feet, easing himself out of the crater his body had made in the wall. The van had hit him.

"Aw, fuck." He groaned, holding his ribs. Judging by how difficult it was to breathe, he knew that they were broken.

Ignoring the pain, he stood up straight, fixing a wolf glare on the driver, a small man with curly hair. He flinched. With his eyes narrowed, Parker strode forward, advancing quickly on the van, which the guy was desperately trying to put in reverse. He slammed his hand down on the bonnet, feeling a surge of satisfaction when the metal crunched and crumpled beneath his hands. The wheels on the van spun quicker, smoke drifting upwards from the tires. Parker gave a carnal grin. He could hear yelling, confirming his suspicions that there were more people in the back, and, judging by the screams, they were female.

Easing his hands out of the hand shaped dents in the metal, Parker strode around the bonnet of the van, reaching for the door. Once he knocked out whoever was in the van, he would leave, disappear, evaporate. Just as he grabbed the handle, he felt something heavy hit him between the shoulder blades. He spun around, noticing the suited man with a smug look on his face. He held a gun.

Parker raised an eyebrow, they shot him? Ignoring the van, he strode towards the suit guy, not faltering as two more shots hit him in the chest. The bastards satisfied grin faltered. He could feel his movements slowing, and his brain grew sluggish. He ripped the gun away from the smug-faced suit before swiping his legs out from underneath him. The guy fell to the ground. A mist covered his vision, slowing his mind in waist a deep fog. He collapsed to his knees, breathing deeply. Parker immediately thought about getting to water, but he had left the water bottle on the roof of the building he had scaled. He staggered to his feet, shaking off the fog that cloaked his mind. Leaning against the wall, he raised his fist, about to knock out the suited man who was getting back onto his feet.

There was the rev of an engine, before something hard hit him in his already broken side. He hit the wall with a hard thud and a crunch before the world evaporated into darkness.

Location: Goa, India

Date: 23/11/2012

Time: 11:32

Subject: Leo Fitz

Leo was in a panic. Percy Jackson had clearly noticed Ward and May, somehow managed to take them out, and then managed to lose the van. Fitz was just relieved that Skye was on her laptop, using an aerial map to tell him where the alley would end. He didn't know why he was the designated driver, but Skye had to give directions and Gemma was on call if anyone got injured. Originally, Fitz thought that that was a bit over the top. He had never been so wrong.

He'd panicked, when he saw the guy exit the alleyway. He didn't know how to stop him, after all, he had basically used himself as a human bullet that ripped through the belly of a Leviathon. How was he supposed to stop that? So, he hit him. Accelerator pressed to the floor. Then he slammed on the brakes, checking that the guy was still alive.

He was alive alright, very alive, and very angry. It was understandable, his body had left a literal crater in a stone wall. Fitz would be angry too, well, slightly more dead and broken, but definitely angry. And then the guy glared at him, and it the scariest thing that Fitz had ever seen. And he lived on the same plane as Agent May. He didn't even notice that the guy had walked forwards until his hands had sunken an inch into the bonnet with an audible crunch.

Fitz desperately tried to put the van in reverse, his fingers fumbling at the gears and his foot slipping on the clutch. He could hear Simmons and Skye screaming at him in the back. The wheels spun and issued smoke. The man grinned. In that moment, Fitz knew that he had never been more scared, not when the Bus had a giant hole blown in it, not even when he was looking down the barrel of a gun. Percy Jackson was terrifying. Percy Jackson was dangerous.

Jackson walked around the side of the car, about to rip the door off like he had in Australia. And then Coulson shot him in the back. Fitz hadn't even realised that Coulson was there. The gun was only an icer of course, they didn't want to kill him, just restrain, asses and question him. He sighed in relief, believing that Jackson would go down. Once again, he was wrong.

Jackson spun around with blinding speed, striding towards Coulson. He fired twice more into his chest. He was slower, but no less efficient. He tore the gun from Coulson's hands and knocked him down. He tossed the gun away before falling to his knees, the dendrotoxin finally taking effect. And then he dragged himself up, leaning against the wall, shook his head, all slowness evaporated, and started to where Coulson was now climbing to his feet with a fist raised.

Fitz didn't think. He threw the van into first gear, revved the engine and slammed into him. Jackson hit the wall with a terrible crack and collapsed to the ground. This time, he didn't get up.

Location: Classified

Date: 23/11/2012

Time: 12:12

Subject: Parker James

When Parker woke up, he was cuffed to a table. His face was pressed to the cold surface, a cold sheen of sweat coated his body. He kept his eyes closed, there was no need to inform his captors that he was awake. Parker cracked his eyelids open slightly, peering around the room through his lashes. There was, as he had suspected, a camera on the wall in the corner. The room was grey, hexagonal patterns covering the walls. The table was a cold, metal grey, and a metal chair sat empty across from him. There was no one else in the room, but he knew that they would be watching him. They would always be watching him.

Parker sat up slowly, his face blank, showing no emotion, no weakness. He noticed vaguely that his ribs were still aching, well, he told himself they were aching. They screamed at him to notice them. He focused on the pain, it didn't seem that he had a punctured lung, at least something had gone right. It was only now that he noticed the sticky sensation on his skin, gluing his shirt to his injured side. The van had broken the skin. Then he realised, the plain, black t-shirt he was wearing now was different to the pale, faded blue one he used for his runs. They had seen his scars.

His face remained cold and unyielding. Parker itched to move, to twitch his fingers, tap his feet. He quelled it with some effort, before directing his gaze onto the camera in the corner. He narrowed his gaze, unable to know that when he did so, the six pairs of eyes staring at the feed from the camera flinched.

Ignoring the pain and his cuffed hands, Parker leant backwards and propped his feet up on the table. His ribs, once again, screamed at the movement. No emotion registered on his impassive expression. He counted in his head, and when the door to the room finally opened with a hiss, he estimated that approximately fifteen minutes had passed.

He had to remain cool, calm and collected. No feeling could slip past his guard. The small, Asian woman he had knocked out entered, and he noted with the slightest satisfaction that there was a small cut on her temple and a graze on her cheek. Their encounter had left a mark. The woman sat down across from him.

"I am Agent Main, from the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division, and you, Percy Jackson, are of great interest to us."

Percy stared at her coolly. She was lying. Not about S.H.I.E.L.D., not about him, but it was a false name, a cover identity.

"How can you expect me to tell the truth, when you won't allow me the same privilege?" He asked, his face blank, his eyes dead.

She started in response, her eye twitching in an infinitesimal movement. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Oh, I think you do." Percy chuckled without humour, "Your name isn't Agent Main, though I don't doubt that you are an agent." Her eye twitched again. "Main…" he said slowly, taking in the details of her face, waiting for the tell-tale signs of the truth.

"Mary… Melissa… Madeline… Maia… May." Her eyelid twitched on the last suggestion. Percy gave a joyless smile. "Well, Agent May, if you would please fetch your smug-faced bastard of a boss, I would like to speak to him."

May's face paled as he guessed her name. How had he known? How had he known? She stood abruptly, her chair toppling over. Percy stared at her as she hurriedly left the room before fixing his blank eyes on the camera once more. His feet still rested on the table. He could escape easily, if he wished, he would only need to dislocate his thumbs. But he wanted to know what S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted, aside from information.

In one smooth motion that was as quick as lightning, Percy swept his feet off the table, keeping his eyes on the camera. He knew that they would be talking, planning a way to question him, to make him confess his secrets. They would be sorely disappointed.

The heavy grey door swept open once more. Smug-face entered. Percy stared blankly at him, noting how the man's eyes attached themselves to him in interest. He sat, Percy stared.

Leaning forward, the man said in a voice that was as annoying as his face, "Mr Jackson, you are a very impressive individual." It was a statement, not intended to receive an answer. Percy gave none. "In addition to your rather colourful history and schooling, it appears that you have some form of super strength and the ability to easily jump 20 feet into the air. You are also rather accomplished in combat, as demonstrated in the Battle of New York, the event in which you lost your parents. Care to explain how you gained these abilities?"

A small smile curved Percy's mouth. "How about this," he suggested, "I answer your questions and you answer mine, because you know as well as I do, that the minute that I wish to break out of these cuffs, I will, and only a bullet in the head will be able to stop me. Now first, I will ask you an easy one, see how we go, okay?" He didn't wait for an answer, "What is your name?"

"Phil Coulson." The suit replied.

Percy leaned back in his chair once more, seemingly relaxed, "Your turn, Agent Coulson."

Phil simply stared at him. He wasn't used to someone else, especially someone so young, controlling the interrogation. Percy motioned for him to continue.

"What are your abilities?"

Percy shrugged, "Basically what you saw in New York. I'm fast and strong, and I can jump reasonably high. The names and roles of the people in your 'team', what are they?"

Coulson frowned, "I am the leader of the team. Agent May, whom you've already met, flies the plane, Agent Ward is a specialist, Agent Fitz is our engineer, Agent Simmons is our biochemist and Skye is our hacker. Where were you trained?" Percy noted that this 'Skye' person hadn't been addressed as an agent. Interesting.

"In a cellar by my captors." He answered. "Why have you been chasing me?"

"We were worried that you were a threat. You possess… remarkable abilities that could be dangerous if they fall into the wrong hands."

"You mean any hands that aren't S.H.I.E.L.D." Percy interrupted.

Coulson considered him for a moment before continuing, "We wished to assess you, work out where your loyalties lie, determine whether you are to be a member of the Avengers, an asset for S.H.I.E.L.D., or even, an independent party, such as a vigilante. How did you get your abilities?"

"Experiment by my kidnappers when I was twelve. Are you ever going to stop chasing me?"

"Sounds like you almost expect to be leaving here." Coulson said with an eyebrow raised. Percy grinned. "We will never stop chasing you. We will never stop hunting you, not until we know that you pose no threat to innocent people. What did this experiment entail?"

"I don't know. Needles? I was twelve. I've tried my damn best to leave that behind me. Before the Battle of New York, did S.H.I.E.L.D. have any knowledge or suspicion of me?"

He shook his head at the question. "There were alarm bells raised when you were accused of kidnapping your mother, but when that was cleared up, S.H.I.E.L.D. quickly lost interest. Apart from that, we had no idea of what you were, a fact that many in my organisation find highly disturbing. Are there any others like you?"

Percy cocked his head and considered for a moment. "No. I don't believe so. The only other person I saw, apart from my captors, was my mother, who was used as a hostage to make sure I complied. How did you find me this time?"

"Skye uncovered a photo taken by a tourist. You were in the background. It wasn't difficult once she had found it, she's had experience in searching for you before." Percy raised an eyebrow slightly and began to dislocate his thumbs in a subtle gesture. The conversation was reaching breaking point. But the knowledge that Skye had not only searched, but found information was intriguing.

Interesting, he thought once again, could she be the hacker who exposed him to the public?

Coulson didn't seem to notice his change in expression. "How did you get those scars?"

Percy masked his rapid intake of breath and slowly slipped his hands out of the cuffs.

"You know, the usual," he said shrugging, "torture and abuse. Nothing too creative. I believe it's why I now have such a high pain tolerance."

Coulson quirked a brow. "Pain tolerance?" He said, sounding confused.

Percy gave a mirthless grin. "Yeah, it hardly even hurt when I dislocated my thumbs." He wiggled his fingers in Coulson's face. He instinctively leant back, his eyes wide with shock. But Percy moved in a blur too quick for the eye to follow and leaning forward, slammed Coulson's head down on the cold, metal table hard enough to stun him. He needed him conscious. The man groaned. Percy stood up and strode around the small table, pressing Coulson's face into the table.

He knew that the spectators on the other side of the security camera would be panicking and rushing to help. It was just what he wanted. Percy leant close to the man's exposed ear.

His next words were barely a whisper as they tickled gently just loud enough for Coulson to hear it. "Is Skye the hacker that released my life to the public? Is she the one who ruined my life?"

Coulson didn't say a word, not willing to betray a member of his team. Percy smiled at him, just one corner of his mouth tilting upwards. "Loyalty." He said, savouring the word slowly, "Perhaps you're not as big a dick as I thought." Another punch to the head knocked Phil out.

Percy knew that wherever he stood in the small interrogation room, he would be in full view of the camera. So he merely stood in the middle, his posture seeming relaxed, but beneath it, was the almost invisible undercurrent of anticipation. A tensing of muscles, his feet slightly spread in a fighting stance, his hands still and steady. Percy was fully prepared for the fight to come. He welcomed it.

The tall, dark-haired man charged through the door first, a gun cocked in his hands. He fired immediately at Percy, who tumbled into a neat roll that brought him standing again, inside the tall man's guard.

"You must be Agent Ward." The man grunted, throwing a heavy punch at him. Percy ducked beneath it, before bringing one foot up and pushing the man back with a heavy flat-footed kick to the centre of his chest. He staggered back onto the wall and Percy aimed a quick, solid jab at the Ward's wrist, forcing him to drop the gun. He picked it up and pointed it at Ward. A small tag on the grip marked it as and icer, which Percy assumed was the same one they had shot at him in Goa. He took the chance, and fired it into Agent Ward's leg. There was no blood, but he dropped like a felled tree.

He turned, and, barely sparing a glance, he shot Coulson in the head. Tucking the gun into the waistband of his jeans, he peered carefully out the door before slinking down the hallways outside of it, his feet moving soundlessly over the ground. There were still four people to contend with on this craft (A plane perhaps? He knew it wasn't a boat.) and he wasn't going to let them get the better of him. His ribs still screamed and jabbed at him painfully, and Percy knew, that if he didn't ignore the pain and develop a good guard over that side of his torso, a well-placed blow could finish the fight for him. And not favourably.

Percy crept down the wall on silent ghosting feet. This was it.