WHEW. Finally! A little later than I wanted, but look at dat length. This one, I feel, might actually be worth the time it took me to write, haha. I kind of love it. Despite how stupidly long and rambly it is.
Why didn't I split this into two chapters? That's an excellent question. I have no excellent answer.
Anyway, thanks as always for reading, gang! Enjoy!
(I find it funny how appropriate this particular lyric is to this series, fyi. Haha)
Bring home the boys and scrap, scrap metal the tanks / Get hitched, make a career out of robbing banks
The next seven days were quite possibly the longest in Reyna's life.
She'd never been an impatient person. Years of martial arts training had impressed upon her the importance of calm self-control. Master your emotions, her sensei had always told her. Do not let them master you. It was what they'd practiced more than any other tip or technique. And Reyna had excelled. Dominance over her state of mind had always been her strong point, her greatest pride. Her nerves were like pythons—ever still and poised, coming alive only when the time was precisely right. She didn't lose her temper. She didn't give in to excitement. She didn't get scared.
That wasn't to say, of course, that life didn't tempt her. Her mother's abandonment, the arrest of her father, fights with her sister—all the difficulties that had dragged her down throughout the years had necessitated a firm mental stability. She'd needed to be strong, or despair would take hold and drown her. She knew that. But still, the stress of the week leading up to Olympus's assault on the CIA's main building was enough to unsettle even her. It was all too much—the man she loved was in trouble, more now than ever, and in order to save him she had to break into a government facility full of armed agents with a group of people she barely knew and get in and out past state-of-the-art security systems without getting herself captured or killed. It wasn't as though Reyna was having second thoughts, but the stakes were impossibly high. And suppressing her emotions was becoming increasingly harder, like she was trying to wrangle a team of snarling wolves that were growing hungrier and more unruly by the second. The reins in her hands were beginning to snap, and soon the animals would break free, shattering the wall she'd built around her mind.
Through the strain, thin ribbons of emotion were slipping out into Reyna's consciousness, more and more with each passing day of anticipation. She spent most of that week alone in her temporary room in the Olympus-owned apartment complex in Queens, practicing tranquility exercises as March faded into April. Not that it did her much good. There was too much to preoccupy her mind, to cloud her attempts at clarity. But spending time with the others was only likely to make things worse, as each of them was a glaring reminder of how much her life had changed in recent months.
Reyna had never been a stranger to underworld politics, thanks to first her friendship with the daughter of a crime lord and later her relationship with a black-market munitions and technology dealer. She'd always considered herself skilled at remaining calm and strong-willed in the face of danger. It was one of the reasons she'd so readily agreed to join Thalia and Annabeth in their vendetta against Zeus in January. What she hadn't expected, however, was the total upending of the semi-comfortable life she'd settled into.
She didn't blame Annabeth and the others, of course. How could she? They'd only been doing what they thought they had to. Annabeth had even apologized to her profusely during their road trip; it was very clear that the former assassin deeply regretted what had happened. But regardless of who was to blame, Reyna knew that after this whole thing was over, win or lose, her life would never be the same. And that realization, she suspected, was what shook her so greatly. She simply had no idea what was going to happen once this war she was caught up in was over. The darkness and ambiguity of it all chipped away at her emotional stability. Tiny sparks of fear and uncertainty popped continuously behind her eyes, constant flashes of light like her thoughts were pieces of tinder and flint striking together. And stronger than those was the anger—the oil adding fuel to those sparks. Before long, the tinder would catch, and everything would blaze out of control.
Frustrated, Reyna pressed her palms against her forehead and closed her eyes, letting her shoulders fall limp and dropping her meditative pose. Her nerves were far too wired for her usual yoga routine to relax them. No surprise there—she'd had the same result each of last seven times she'd tried. How could she expect something different on the very morning of their CIA infiltration? If anything, she was surprised she'd gotten as far as she had before giving up.
With a sigh, Reyna climbed to her feet and strode across the room, stretching her arms in the air as she plopped onto her bed. It was just past six in the morning, and the first floor hall outside her room, which buzzed with activity during the day, was silent and still. There were still quite a few hours until they were scheduled to leave for Virginia, but rest was the farthest thing from Reyna's mind. In a bit she would check in with Annabeth and the others, going over their equipment one last time and solidifying the plan, but until then she had nothing to do but try her hardest to set her consciousness at ease. She knew logically that a level head would benefit her greatly in their endeavor. But for whatever reason, it was something she was unfortunately unable to get back.
Well, not whatever reason. She knew the reason, and that was part of the problem. She understood precisely why her emotions were getting away from her, and all that understanding did was make those feelings stronger. In an increasingly-reflexive gesture, she reached for her jacket, which was draped over the arm of the chair beside her bed, and stuck her hand in the right pocket. Her fingers closed around a small, metallic object and pulled it into the light, other hand dropping the jacket and leaving it forgotten. A familiar tightness gripped her lungs as her eyes fixed on the item's reflective surface, and with numb fingers she flipped its lid open, igniting a tiny tongue of fire in her hand.
The lighter was one of Leo's most treasured possessions. It wasn't anything special—old and dirty, the shine on its solid bronze casing dulled and darkened around the edges with years of fingerprints. But he'd had it for as long as Reyna could remember. He usually carried it with him, but he must have decided to leave it behind during the assault on the Willis Tower—perhaps because of the potential danger—because she'd found it in the glove box of his Maserati a few days afterward. It was like a strange stroke of luck; if he'd had it on him when he was taken in, it would now undoubtedly be in the hands of Atlas and the CIA, lost to him forever. Reyna knew what it meant to him and was glad that hadn't happened, both for his sake and her own. Since retrieving the lighter, she'd developed a habit of taking it out when she was alone, sometimes spending minutes just staring into the flickering flame. She'd already had to refill it twice. She wished she could stop; watching it was painful. Not only did it remind her that he wasn't there, which was bad enough, but it also called to mind its purpose—the reason he needed it like he did. And that increased Reyna's worry tenfold.
Leo had a form of histrionic personality disorder. It wasn't extreme; more of a rare strain that manifested in less obvious behavioral tendencies. He lacked the mental stability to manage negativity, whether aimed at him personally or a general adverse situation. To others it appeared as though he never took anything seriously, when the truth was that he physically couldn't help it. He reflexively made fun of any dark or dangerous situation, employing humor or sarcasm to draw attention away from the negative. Consequently, he'd always had a difficult time letting others get close to him, Reyna included. Rarely was she able to make him talk about it; when he'd first told her, he'd insisted that it wasn't a problem—so he had a habit of staying positive. Where was the bad in that? But in time, Reyna learned that that wasn't true. Maybe on paper the symptoms didn't sound so bad. In reality, though, they were dangerous. His way of brushing off the diagnosis was a perfect example. She knew part of him was so afraid of depression that his mind tried to block it out completely.
Leo was fully aware that that wasn't healthy. The lighter, in fact, was what helped him deal with it. Fire was what had taken his mother's life when he was a kid. He'd been exposed to it at an early age, learned the hard way that it was powerful and destructive. Watching the lighter's tiny flame flicker and crack forced him to face the danger his mind was so against. It reminded him that bad things happened all the time, and no amount of running and hiding behind forced smiles and snarky comments could make those bad things better. It was a form of therapy, helping him maintain his focus in the face of powerful emotions such as anger or fear. It kept him calm and serious, the same way Reyna's martial arts exercises did for her.
But now he was without it, stuck in an extremely negative and dangerous situation. Reyna was afraid to think how the stress and anxiety must have been affecting him. Without a way to counter his mental reflex, any pressure the CIA put on him would likely only trigger his defense mechanism and make things that much worse. He wouldn't face much backlash at first, but the more it happened in sequence the harder the emotional and mental strain would grow. It hurt her to think it, but after two months, there was a good chance his psyche would be irreparably damaged. For all she knew, he could already have gone insane.
In a huff Reyna snapped the lighter closed, extinguishing the flame. She hated every thought going through her head, every image flashing behind her eyes. She didn't want to imagine her boyfriend crazy or broken, to entertain the idea that he would be a different person when she saw him again—if she saw him again at all. It filled her with a white-hot streak of anger, despite all her intentions to hold her feelings back. It just wasn't fair that he kept being made to suffer in his life because of things he hadn't done.
As her fist tightened painfully around Leo's lighter, Reyna bit her tongue and tried to calm down. Being afraid was one thing, but fury she had to contain. Anger was more dangerous than fear, she knew from her lessons. More volatile and unpredictable. Fear was like rain—heavy and clouded, pulling on a person like gravity and making their movements sluggish. In a pinch, it could be worked around without too much detriment. Anger, however, was like fire. It raged in the mind until it broke free and consumed the body. It bred destruction inside and out. Fear was to be avoided if possible, but anger at all costs. Anger was the enemy.
Still, knowing that anger was dangerous and being able to suppress it were two separate things entirely, especially in Reyna's current situation. All she could do was breathe deeply and tell herself that worrying was pointless—she and her friends were trying their best, however crazy their plan was. And that had to be enough.
For the moment, it didn't matter what happened afterward. Finding Leo was priority one. Risk or no risk, she was going to bring him home.
-0-0-0-
Never let it be said that being friends with the most powerful crime syndicate in the nation didn't have serious perks.
True, Olympus had been mostly responsible for Reyna's current predicament in the first place. But without their help, she would have had zero chance of getting anywhere close to the CIA.
She learned during the infiltration team's final meet-up that afternoon that a few of its members had been quite busy over the past week setting the stage for the operation. Olympus's top intelligence agent had procured disguises for them, transportation was provided by its head of communications and transit, and the senior equipment specialist himself had delivered them an arsenal of weapons and gadgets to get them in and out of the agency—which was heartening, because even though this was meant to be a stealth mission, it would be extremely foolish to break into a government building and not expect some opposition. In fact, they seemed so well-prepared when they set off for Langley that Reyna was actually starting to think the task wasn't as suicidal as its original idea suggested. Maybe she wouldn't have to reach so far for some hope after all.
"The real owners of these uniforms aren't going to show up to actually collect the trash while we're breaking in, are they?" Reyna voiced a minor concern as they drove from the landing site of their jet to the CIA building—more as a conversation starter than anything, as the silence in the spacious back of their borrowed cargo van was just a little too tense.
Sitting across from her, Annabeth shook her head. "No, we should be safe. That's taken care of, right?" She raised her eyebrows at her fiancé beside her.
"Yeah," Percy promised with a nod. "Aimee paid them to take the night off. And extra to keep quiet about it."
"Shame we couldn't have impersonated personal trainers or something," Piper complained from a spot near the van's rear doors. "This is extremely uncomfortable." She squirmed in her seat, pulling on the loose shoulders of her dark green jumpsuit. The suits were meant to be oversized, rather like industrial-grade coveralls, but hers took the word to a whole new level. She'd had to roll the sleeves and pant legs up three times just to free her hands and feet.
"Sorry, Piper." Annabeth winced. Her fingers tapped absently against the logo over her chest—jagged lines depicting electricity overlapped by bold, slanted text that read First Energy E-Cycling, Electronic Waste Removal. "That set was originally for Connor, back before you decided you were coming. We didn't have time to get another one."
"Yeah, yeah. Well, guess it'll just make me look that much more awesome when I still kick ass dressed in this clown suit."
Percy grinned. "That's the spirit."
Reyna couldn't help a smile as well. Leave it to Piper to help lighten even an environment as dark as the one they were in. Unfortunately, her smile faltered again when she realized Leo would've done the same thing.
Rolling her eyes, Clarisse rapped her knuckles against the frame of the wide, open window separating them from the front seats. "ETA?" she inquired. "I'm getting gabbing fever back here with these people."
With a frown, Piper said, "You mean 'cabin fever'?"
Clarisse shot her a dry look. "No."
"Don't blow a gasket, Clarisse," Travis said from the driver's seat. "As funny as that would be. We're almost there."
He was right—barely another few minutes passed before they pulled off the main road and drove a short distance downhill before coming to a slow stop. As the van idled, Reyna twisted sideways and craned her neck to see out the front window. Before them was a gate of tall, titanium bars in a crisscrossed pattern, blocking the entrance to a wide lot in front of several metal garage doors lining the side of what she assumed was their destination—CIA main headquarters. She couldn't see much else of the building, just a huge wall of beige stone rising up above their heads.
"State your business," a low, tinny voice ordered from seemingly nowhere. When Travis leaned out his window to respond, Reyna assumed there must have been some kind of security intercom device somewhere to their left.
"We're from First Energy," Travis told the voice evenly. "Here to snag us some e-trash."
"Hold your badge up to the scanner."
Travis did as he was told, and though they'd been given actual First Energy ID badges to modify Reyna couldn't help holding her breath. A few long seconds later, a high-pitched beep sounded and the disembodied voice said, "You're cleared. Go ahead and park by garage three. Someone will be down to open the door."
"Thanks, bro," Travis said as the titanium gate opened mechanically at the middle, both sides sliding apart with a steady thrum. He eased the van through the opening and brought it to rest sideways in front of the garage door painted with a large black number 3. He killed the engine, and the silence in the back became suddenly stifling.
"Finally," Clarisse grumbled, climbing to her feet at once. She strode stooping across the space and pushed the back doors open, hopping down to the pavement as Frank and Travis exited the front seats and slammed their doors closed.
Reyna was the next outside, glad for the fresh air. She took a few steps away from the van as the others unloaded and looked up at the building observationally. The fenced-in lot in which they were parked was lit by fluorescent spotlights mounted above the garage doors. It was after ten P.M., so most of the building's inner lighting was powered down, but a few of the rectangular windows lining the five aboveground floors of the facility were illuminated nonetheless. Far to her right and up the hill, she could see the edge of the New Headquarters Building, which Annabeth told them had been added on in the nineties, looking noticeably more occupied. It was a good thing that wasn't the building they were infiltrating.
Adrenaline had already picked up speed in Reyna's body by the time the garage door began to slide noisily upward, revealing a dimly lit warehouse-type room which housed piles of old and broken technical equipment, some boxed and some stacked plainly. Two men dressed in security guard uniforms approached them from inside.
"Evening, guys," the bigger, burlier one greeted them, inclining his head. "Big team tonight."
"Training some newbies," Percy explained calmly with a nod toward Reyna and Piper. Keeping her expression passive, Reyna waved, noticing that Annabeth had stayed in the van and out of sight. Maybe she recognized the guards. Or maybe she didn't want to be recognized herself.
"Ah, know how that goes," the shorter guard said, scratching his balding head. "Well, feel free to take your time. Things are pretty quiet here tonight so there's no rush." He unhooked a thick, black baton from his belt and held it up. "Just gotta wave you down and you'll be good to go."
Percy stepped forward and held out his arms, allowing the guard to search him with what Reyna now realized was a metal detector wand. It whirred scratchily as the guard swung it up and down, back and forth, and finding nothing out of the ordinary the guard nodded and moved on to search Frank.
The two uniformed men moved quickly through the process of checking each of them, but when the shorter one reached Clarisse something went wrong. The wand's low buzz heightened to a loud beep as it passed over in front of her, drawing the group's attention.
Showing no signs of concern other than a slight frown, the guard said, "Forgot to mention, make sure you lose all keys and electronics—cell phone, iPod… Got anything like that on you?"
"No," Clarisse responded, unperturbed. In a conversational tone, she told the guard, "That's probably my guns."
The guard barely had time to look confused before she reached into the open front of her jumpsuit and yanked out two pieces with abnormally thick barrels. She aimed them at both guards simultaneously but only fired from her right hand. The resulting projectile smacked the bigger guard in the chest and a sharp zap rang out as sparks flew from the point of contact. The guard convulsed like he was having a seizure and collapsed on the spot.
For a split second everyone looked stunned. Then, despite the fact that Clarisse's second weapon was still aimed at him, the remaining guard made a jerky movement as he reached reflexively for the gun at his waist. Travis, who was standing closest, blinked and jumped into swift action, snatching the guard's arm and pulling the gun from his slack grip. He pointed the barrel at the sky and said, "Slow down there, buddy, we just want to talk. And if you don't mind…" He reached around the guard's shoulder and disconnected the communication radio attached to the front of his uniform. "Let's keep it between us, okay?"
As the guard gulped and looked nervously at Clarisse's gun, Percy shot her a glare.
"Didn't we decide no heat until we know we're clear?"
Clarisse lifted a shoulder. "You decided not to pack. But come on, boss, what kind of idiots would we be to walk into CIA HQ unarmed? I don't know about you, but tonight ain't ending in a cell for me."
"It's okay," Frank said as he knelt beside the fallen guard. "They're mid-range voltaics. The ballistic triggers an electric charge but doesn't penetrate. No blood. So his uniform's fine."
Clarisse smirked in satisfaction. "See? And that's one down. I just made this job easier."
Percy rolled his eyes, choosing not to respond.
"Wh-Who are you guys?" the still-conscious guard, about whom everyone seemed to have temporarily forgotten, asked tensely. "What do you want?"
"We'll tell you," Annabeth cut in as she hopped out of the van and walked up to the guy, "if you answer a question of ours."
The guy's eyes narrowed as he looked her over then widened, his face draining of color. "Agent Chase?" he squeaked. His gaze darted between the rest of them. "Then you're… You're Olympus."
"Two for two." Travis grinned, twirling the security guard's handgun in his hand. "Give the guy a prize."
"The prize will be, he gets to live," Percy suggested as the guard eyed his own gun nervously. "If he tells us what we want to know."
"Which is what?" the guard asked.
Annabeth tilted her head to the side and fixed him with a stern look. "Word on the street is Atlas brought a con in a little while ago. New favorite of his—old favorite of ours. We need you to tell us where's he's keeping him."
"How would I know that?"
"Because you're lower level security detail," Annabeth responded, unfazed. "Which includes confinement. Unless Atlas is keeping our friend in his office, which I seriously doubt, you know where he is."
The guy's eyes darted around the group from person to person in hesitation. When he continued to look thoughtful but silent, Percy caught Travis's eye and jerked his head. With a sigh, Travis cocked the guard's gun and aimed it at the man's left shin. His finger tightened on the trigger and for a split second Reyna thought he was going to fire despite their earlier discussion to keep from harming the guards—but before he got the chance the guard took a hasty step sideways and said, "Wait, wait, wait, okay! I'll give you the location!" He nodded toward his fallen fellow. "But you gotta let me go, get help for my partner."
"Fair enough," Annabeth decided.
"Okay. …Your guy's in locker B-one-thirty. It's on basement level one, end of the south hall."
Annabeth smiled, meeting Reyna's eye momentarily. "Thanks. That's exactly what we needed."
"Our deal?"
"Of course. Soon as you wake up, you're free to go."
The guard looked mystified. "Soon as I—"
That was all he got out before Reyna, who'd approached him silently from behind, jabbed three fingers against the pressure point on the side of his neck. His eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out cold.
"Nice work guys," Percy told the team, stepping forward and gathering up the now-unconscious guard's feet. "Let's move."
Together the seven of them hauled the guards into the open garage and stripped them of their uniforms, which Frank and Percy quickly changed into while the others doled out equipment from the stash in the back of the van. Not five minutes later, they were loaded and ready to advance.
"Keep your comms on channel two," Travis told them all as he sat down just inside the van and flipped open a laptop computer. "Let me know if you get stuck, I've got those old blueprints Hank dug up. I should also be able to monitor upstairs activity from here and use those guys' clearance to watch for security flags in the system. I'll let you know if anything freaky happens." He looked up and grinned. "Good luck."
"We'll need it," Frank pointed out.
Percy led the way through Garage 3 to the security door against its back wall. He held the shorter guard's ID badge up to the scanner and the red light on it flashed green, triggering a loud click as the heavy door was mechanically unlocked. Frank grabbed the metal handle and pulled it open, allowing the six of them to duck inside.
Beyond was a dimly-lit hallway with a dusty concrete floor. Industrial light bars lined the ceiling, casting the pale gray drywall in a dull wash of illumination. It was rather unremarkable; nothing about it screamed 'high-tech government facility'. Perhaps this particular basement level was only used for storage.
"Stairs are down the hall to your right," Travis's voice spoke from the device in Reyna's ear. "You're only going one level up, so no point using the elevator."
"Roger," Annabeth replied into her radio, leading on at a quick pace. On the way, they passed two more security doors labeled 'GARAGE 4' and 'GARAGE 5', as well as several other ID-operated doors on the opposite wall. Some bore worn plaques reading things like 'SYSTEM BACKUP STORAGE', 'EQUIPMENT LIBRARY', and 'OPERATION ARCHIVES'. Others had no identification at all—maybe they were for building maintenance. At the end of the hall, the walls converged on a single door with a push bar and no ID scanner. Iron letters attached to it read 'STAIRWELL'.
As they climbed, Annabeth told them, "I'm pretty sure there are training rooms on this floor, so we might run into people. Let's slow it down and try not to be too suspicious."
Piper snorted and said in an undertone, "Have you seen us?"
At the next landing, Frank pulled open the door labeled B1 and he and Percy, both disguised as CIA security guards, led the way out into a hall very different from the one below. The floor was covered in thin, black carpeting to cushion against the concrete. The walls were painted a deep, regal blue and mounted with various portraits and plaques bearing neat descriptions. Covered bulbs on the ceiling gave a much more natural sort of lighting. While Basement Level 2 had felt like a ghost town, Level 1 actually seemed occupied.
Reyna was surprisingly calm as they trudged down the long hallway, her muscles tight and poised for action but her mind clear. It was odd to her that she would feel more at ease now, in the middle of an enemy stronghold, than she had in the safety of the Marten last week. The inactivity and anticipation of the days leading up to that night must have been what triggered her emotional disquiet. It was like she'd mentioned to Annabeth in Las Vegas—simply doing something, moving forward and getting noticeably closer to her goal, was more reassuring than anything. And now, that goal was at the end of this hallway. She thought of Leo's lighter, which was tucked safely in her utility belt. It seemed to grow heavier as they got closer, though that was probably just her imagination. Part of her knew she should've left it behind in case it got lost, but a bigger part didn't care. There was no more time to waste imagining worst-case scenarios. All of her focus had to be zeroed in on the mission at hand.
When they rounded the corner to the right up ahead, they came across a pair of men dressed in workout clothes heading in the opposite direction. They slowed to a stop as the larger group neared.
"What's going on, guys?" the taller, dark-haired agent asked with a frown.
"Nothing to worry about," Percy assured them as Annabeth let her brown hair slide forward and conceal part of her face. "Had some heavier equipment up here that didn't get brought down to the garage. We're just taking them to pick it up, and they'll be out of here."
"Oh." The agent glanced over Frank's shoulder and did a double-take—perhaps because all four First Energy movers were women. Clarisse raised an eyebrow as though daring him to comment and he quickly looked away.
"You look familiar," his friend said to Percy, squinting at him in consideration.
Percy gave the guy a funny look. "I should, I've been working here for two years."
After a few seconds, the blond agent shrugged, conceding the point. "Alright. See you guys." He and his partner waved and continued on past them.
Once they'd gone, Percy's expression darkened and he cursed under his breath.
"You think Kronos spread your picture around like they did Annabeth's?" Frank asked him in a low voice.
"He wouldn't have done to the whole agency," Annabeth said, though she didn't sound completely certain. "Everything regarding Olympus was always kept pretty need-to-know. So unless that guy's on the specialized team… Or knows someone who is…"
"Or unless Kronos is getting desperate," Clarisse guessed.
"He didn't seem to have figured it out," Reyna pointed out.
"No," Percy agreed. "But no more of this slow-and-steady crap. We gotta hurry in case he has a sudden brainwave and calls Atlas."
The end of the hall angled again to the right, leading to what Travis informed them was the confinement wing. It was blocked off by a heavy metal door surrounded by chain link gating that stretched from floor to ceiling. It looked like the sort of door that would trigger an alarm system when opened, which wasn't exactly a reassuring thought.
Fortunately that didn't seem to happen, as the security guards' ID badges granted them access with no sound other than a quiet, cheerful beep.
As they stepped in turn through the gated doorway, the atmosphere changed immediately. No adornments hung on the walls, the blue paint on which was cracked and peeling, and fewer lights provided scarcer lighting. A single row of metal doors lined the right wall, each one plain, lonely steel with a single square window near the top. There was no carpet in this section of the hall, and the concrete floor was scuffed and dirty. Some of the stains were a dark burgundy-gray, like spots of blood that couldn't be washed completely clean.
"Anybody else feel like we just stepped into a horror movie?" Piper whispered, apprehensively eyeing a chipped dent in the wall that looked suspiciously like a bullet hole.
"It's meant to scare anybody brought in here," Annabeth explained—though she too looked uneasy. "Most of the marks and stains are theatric."
"Most?" Reyna repeated. Annabeth shrugged weakly.
"How do we know which one's locker B-one-thirty?" Frank wondered, stepping up to inspect the nearest steel door. "There're no numbers."
"There're windows, aren't there?" Clarisse said dryly. "Besides, that guard said 'end of the hall'. So let's check the end of the hall."
They started down the hall at different paces, someone peering through the tiny window at each door. The rooms looked to be simply adorned, set up rather like prison cells. Each contained plain walls and very little furniture. Halfway down, Reyna found one that was occupied and felt her heart skip a beat as she took a closer look. But the sleeping man inside was unfamiliar to her, so with a shaky breath she moved on.
"Reyna!" someone called urgently, and Reyna turned quickly from the room she was searching to see Annabeth leaning against the last door in line. She looked at Reyna with wide eyes and the martial artist knew they'd found the place.
As everyone hurried over, Reyna bolted past them and reached the door just as Annabeth stepped aside. She brought her face close to the window and felt her heart leap into her throat in an unmasked mixture of excitement and agitation.
Leo was inside.
Visibility through the dirty glass was poor and she could just barely make him out, sitting still on the cot against the back wall with his head bent low to his chest. He was dressed in gray coveralls like an inmate and she couldn't see his face, but she recognized the shape of his body and his dark, shaggy mop of hair. It was really him. She'd finally found him after so many long weeks of searching.
"Let's get in there," Percy said, voice stern and serious. Frank swiped his badge through the scanner beside the door handle, but rather than flash green the red light only blinked defiantly.
Brow creasing in concern, Frank tried again. Still nothing.
"The guards don't have access?" Piper summed up, looking over her shoulder nervously.
"We can use Hank's re-coder," Percy suggested, pulling a small, black, mechanical box from a pocket in his uniform, "but it'll take some time." To Clarisse, he said, "Go keep watch. Warn us if anyone comes close." With how tense the atmosphere had become, Clarisse didn't shoot back a response. She followed her boss's order at once.
Percy pressed two buttons on the device in his hand and an orange light flickered to life on its surface. When he held it against the security scanner, it stuck as though magnetically charged. The orange light flashed twice and Percy slid his stolen ID badge into a narrow slot at the top of the device. The light immediately turned yellow and began to pulse at a steady rate.
While they waited for the gadget to rewrite the access coding on the guard's badge, Reyna returned her attention to her boyfriend's cell. Upon prolonged inspection, she noticed that he looked thinner than usual, like he hadn't eaten properly in quite some time (which probably was entirely true). She could make out a few frightening red patches on his clothes that she hoped weren't blood (unlikely). And—perhaps most disturbing—he wasn't moving. At all.
Reyna's heart rate had increased greatly by the time the pulsing yellow light on the re-coding device turned green, and she had to force herself to step back from the door as Percy removed the box from the scanner and slid his ID through it. All four of them seemed to collectively hold their breath in the split second before the red light finally flashed green.
"Yes!" Piper cheered. Percy grabbed the now-unlocked handle and tugged open the door, and Reyna would have burst into the room if Frank didn't grab her shoulder to hold her back.
"Wait," he cautioned. He peered into the room and located a single security camera mounted on the ceiling corner to their immediate left. He held a hand out to Annabeth, who reached into her utility belt and took out a circular black disc the size of a silver dollar. Keeping his eyes on the camera, Frank lobbed the disc into the air. It stuck against the surface of the camera and a tiny red light began to flash. It synced up with the light on the camera for a few seconds, before both lights stopped blinking and began to glow steadily.
"Okay." Frank stepped out of the doorway. "Camera feed's frozen. We have five minutes."
Wasting no time, Reyna dashed past him. "Leo!" she said in relief, sliding to her knees in front of the cot and grabbing her boyfriend's shoulders with shaking hands. When he didn't immediately look up, she called his name again and tightened her grip, panic welling inside her.
The tightness in her chest burst when Leo finally responded with a low groan and his muscles tensed. With what looked like great difficulty he lifted his head and looked at her through heavy, clouded eyes.
Unexpectedly Reyna's relief disappeared, replaced instead with a powerful swell of anxiety. He was alive, yes—but by the look of things, barely. His face and neck were dotted with bruises and scratches like a watercolor painting. His bottom lip was split and swollen, and one of his front teeth had been broken in half. She could see dried blood on his forehead beneath his overgrown bangs. Her eyes inspected him more closely and saw that his left wrist looked clearly broken and the back of his right hand had numerous tiny holes in it—like needle puncture wounds. She became very aware that the blood on his left shoulder beneath her hand was still damp.
"God, what did they do to you?" she demanded in a harsh whisper, again feeling fiery sparks of anger try to take hold of her mind.
"Reyna…?" Leo said in apparent surprise, his eyebrows knitting closer and his eyes attempting to focus. "You're not…"
His voice was so gravelly that Reyna wouldn't have recognized it had she not been staring him in the face. "Yes, it's me," she told him, pushing his hair out of his eyes and pressing her hands to either side of his face. His skin was feverishly warm. "I'm here. We're getting you out of this place."
"Not real…" he muttered deliriously, shaking his head weakly as his gaze drifted downward. "No games… Not again… I can't…"
Heart breaking in dread, Reyna leaned closer. "No, it's me! It's me, Leo, please don't—don't do this. Not now."
"We should go," Percy said urgently behind her.
"Wait," she shot back haltingly. On a whim, she dug a hand into her belt and snatched up Leo's lighter. She held it up and whipped it open, flicking the hatch so a warm wisp of fire burst to life between them. "Look," she said evenly, successfully keeping her voice from quavering despite its apparent determination to do so. "Leo, look at me."
His eyes focused slowly on the flame and the layer of haze faded from them, as though the heat had driven it away. His dark irises reflected the dancing orange and yellow light, bringing a familiar life back to their depths.
"My… lighter…" he recognized the object, his voice rising a stitch in volume and strength. His eyes lifted back to Reyna's face and widened. "Reyna?"
"Yes!" Reyna's heart flipped in her chest. She snapped the lighter closed and threw her arms around him, unable to hold herself back. She was too relieved and excited—he wasn't gone, not yet. He recognized her. He would be okay.
Leo breathed in sharply and grunted at the sudden pressure and Reyna let go of him at once. "Sorry," she muttered with a smile. He gave a weak grin in response and she felt her smile grow.
"Guys, you got a problem," Travis's tense voice interrupted in Reyna's ear, startling her. "Someone flagged the security system—code seven-five-Charlie, whatever that means. Lot of movement on the upper floors. Fast movement. You guys didn't trip any alarms or anything, did you?"
"Seven-five-Charlie," Annabeth repeated uneasily. "That's security level three—aggressors in the building."
Leo glanced up and frowned at Annabeth, quickly surveying the room's other occupants. "You guys…"
"They know we're here." Scowling, Percy slid his gun from the holster he'd stolen from the security guard. "We're leaving. Now."
Reyna turned back to Leo. "Can you walk?"
He grimaced. "Define 'walk'…"
She grabbed his arm and tried to help him stand, but he was clearly in no condition to do so. His face screwed up in pain and he stumbled back to the edge of the cot almost at once.
"Plan B?" he said weakly, sweat beading on his forehead, before his eyes slid closed again and he slumped forward against Reyna.
"Frank," Percy began, but the bigger man was already moving. He knelt beside Reyna and heaved Leo onto his back like a knapsack, then climbed back to his feet with a steely expression.
Gunshots and loud voices from down the hall caught the group's attention and after a brief exchange of glances they raced out of the room. Clarisse was running toward them, M-10 in her hand, but she skidded to a halt halfway down the hall when she caught sight of them.
"Trouble's here," she told them grimly. "Took two out, but I'd be surprised if more weren't—"
"Freeze!" a new voice bellowed, and Clarisse spun around to reveal a suited agent standing at the end of the hall, gun trained in their direction. He pressed a finger to his ear and said, "I've got Jackson, he's in the confinement wing of level B-one. Requesting immediate backup."
A bouquet of curse words sprang from at least half their group. Percy yelled, "Down—now!" before raising his gun without pause and firing at the agent. The man returned fire, but his shots flew over the others' heads. Percy's third and fourth bullets pierced the agent's chest and he crumpled against the wall.
"Guess they recognized you after all," Piper pointed out unnecessarily.
"It's tough being this popular," Percy replied, though his voice was hard and devoid of humor. "Come on."
They ran down the hall, but the instant they turned the corner they were met with a barrage of semi-automatic gunfire. Reflexes taking over, Reyna threw herself backward out of the way, grabbing Frank and Piper as she did so. She heard Frank growl in pain and had only a second to wonder if a stray bullet had struck him before she forced herself to focus and produce a weapon of her own from inside her jumpsuit. She wasn't much of a marksman—she much preferred close-contact, hand-to-hand combat—but when the situation called for it, as it did right then, she could handle a gun well enough.
Fortunately, those more skilled with long-range weapons than she was took quick control of the situation. Clarisse leaned around the corner and fired her machine pistol as Annabeth crouched by her feet and provided her with some cover fire. Reyna couldn't see what was happening out in the main hall, but after a couple pained howls Clarisse grunted, "Clear, go," and Annabeth led the way through the gate.
They ran past Clarisse one by one while she kept watch and hurried at a run down the hall. Frank's expression was tight with pain but he seemed to be moving normally, so for the time being Reyna didn't bother him about it. They rushed past the locker rooms, elevators, and the first few training rooms before two earsplitting gunshots and a sharp cry interrupted. Reyna slowed and turned to see Clarisse stumble backward against the wall, clutching her left arm, as a tall, stocky man brandishing an assault rifle stepped out of the middle elevator.
"Nice of you all to stop by," the man said coldly. A smirk broke his harsh, brutish face, but his dark eyes were icy and full of fury. "Sorry to cut this little visit short."
"Atlas," Percy, who was closest to the man and Clarisse, said tensely.
"Evening, Jackson," Duke Atlas said, pivoting to aim his rifle at the leader of Olympus. "You know, I gotta admit you got guts. I almost didn't believe 'em when they said they saw you down here."
"Well, you know," Percy replied conversationally. Reyna could see the tightness in his body as he squeezed the handle of his gun, though he made no move to raise it. "You dropped in on us a while ago. Thought we'd return the favor."
"Mighty thoughtful of you. Too bad this'll be the last time we hang out."
Time seemed to slow as Atlas's finger tightened on the trigger and Reyna and the others (whom she noticed and stopped behind her) just had time to dive aside. Percy ducked the shot and somersaulted forward, coming up in a crouch and tackling Atlas. He flipped over the agent on the floor, grabbing Atlas's rifle in the process. He yanked the rifle against the man's throat and dug his knee into Atlas's shoulder, gripping the Deputy Director in a tight chokehold.
"We'll hold him off!" Percy shouted down the hall as Atlas struggled against him. "Get out of here!"
"No!" Annabeth shot back, pushing through Reyna and Piper and aiming her gun at Atlas.
The look in Atlas's eyes intensified. "Chase!" he croaked. He pulled a leg up and drew a long, pointed blade with no handle from his boot, swinging it blindly over his head in an effort to break free. By a stroke of luck—good luck for Atlas, anyway, bad luck for the rest—the blade sliced across Percy's forearm and he loosened his grip, allowing Atlas to jerk forward and give himself enough room to drive an elbow into Percy's stomach.
By this time Clarisse had regained her bearings, and though her left arm hung limply at her side she was able to stagger forward with a growl and yank the rifle from Atlas's hand before he got a chance to aim and fire. She drove the butt of it into the agent's neck, knocking him sideways.
Percy stood up unsteadily, doubled over from Atlas's blow, and yelled to Annabeth, "Go! We'll be right behind you!"
Annabeth still seemed reluctant. "But—"
"GO!"
Atlas punched Clarisse in her bad arm and turned back to Percy, lashing out with his blade. Reyna stepped forward and grabbed Annabeth's shoulder, turning her away from them. "Come on," she said urgently. "They'll catch up."
"But what if—?"
"They'll catch up," Reyna insisted with more force.
Finally the former assassin relented. She gripped her gun and weaved back past Reyna, Piper, and Frank, leading the way down the hall in the direction from which they'd first come.
They rounded the last bend just in time to see a small group of agents—some dressed in business casual wear, some wearing workout clothes, all holding guns—burst out of the stairwell door. They faltered in surprise as they saw the infiltration team, possibly not expecting to run into them so quickly. Annabeth, however, seemed to experience no such alarm. She immediately dropped to a steady stance and unloaded her Browning in their direction, causing them to scatter. Two went down under fire, three ducked back into the stairwell, and the other two fell to a crouch and brandished their own guns. Reyna threw herself in front of Frank and Leo, completely ignoring the bullet that grazed her left thigh, and returned fire. Her shots were a bit wild and served better as a distraction than a threat, but it was enough to force the closest agents to throw their hands over their heads in defense. Losing track of what her friends were doing, she rushed the nearest woman and drove a knee into her chin before she got a chance to steady her weapon. The agent flailed backward and managed to aim her gun with both hands, but Reyna was too fast. She pushed the woman's arms up, causing her to fire into the ceiling, and side-slapped her bicep, breaking her arm as easily as though it were made of porcelain. The woman made the mistake of rolling sideways as she groaned in pain, allowing Reyna to drive a palm against the back of her head and knock her out cold.
Someone grabbed Reyna's braided hair and pulled, sending tendrils of pain across her scalp as she was yanked backward. The barrel of a gun appeared in her face and she had a split second to rock back and swing her leg upward, kicking her captor's arm and diverting the would-be-fatal shot. She let her momentum carry her legs up and flipped backward into a standing position, swinging an arm to block the blow the man aimed at her with his right hand. She pushed his arm sideways and spun around to elbow him in the chest, causing him to stumble backward. Then she grabbed his collar and pulled him into a stoop as she whipped around and wrapped one leg around his neck. She somersaulted in midair and dragged the man to the floor, pressing her hand and knee to his neck until he passed out from lack of oxygen.
Instinctively Reyna ducked as gunfire flew past her, and a quick survey of the area proved that only one agent was left standing. Not that she lasted long—the next time she leaned around the stairwell doorway to take a shot, Piper, who was waiting on the doorway's other side, punched her in the face and sent her crashing down the metal stairs.
"Come on!" Annabeth said, sprinting for the stairwell. Reyna let Piper and Frank follow, bringing up the rear so she could keep an eye on her unconscious boyfriend.
No one was waiting for them on level B2. The storage floor was just as eerily quiet and abandoned as the first time they'd traversed it that evening. Frank's stolen badge got them into Garage 3, the door of which was still open wide, and together they rushed out into open air.
"About time!" Travis greeted them less-than-cheerily. He'd closed his laptop and was crouched inside the back of the van, both hands gripping an automatic rifle. Reyna saw bullet holes in the van's side casing, and a glance to her right showed more near the security gate. Two men in guard uniforms lay nearby, in addition to the two they'd knocked out earlier.
"Sorry," Annabeth said breathlessly. "You were right, they were on to us."
"Nice of them not to close the gate." Piper nodded to the still-open security gate at the edge of the fenced-in lot.
"Oh, they tried," Travis promised grimly. "I jammed the automatic system. It can still be closed from here, though, so we'd better boogie before they send more guards to do so. That him?" He jerked his head at Leo, and Frank nodded in affirmation. "Good, mission accomplished then. Wait—where are Percy and Clarisse?"
Annabeth winced. "Atlas intercepted us. They stayed back to hold him off. We have to give them a few minutes—they said they'd meet us here."
Frank shot a nervous glance at the door across the garage. "I don't think we have much time—"
"We're waiting," Annabeth cut him off with a glare. "I'm not leaving anyone behind. Not this time."
Reyna glanced at Leo and felt she understood exactly what the former agent was thinking. Leaving someone behind was precisely what had gotten them into this mess.
"Annabeth's right," she said aloud. "We can't leave yet." Annabeth looked at Reyna and gave her a small, grateful smile.
Swiftly they began loading into the back of the First Energy van, keeping watch from both ends of the lot. Frank collapsed into a seat the second he let go of Leo—it turned out he'd been shot in the side back in the confinement hall, but he hadn't brought it up as he was the only one capable of carrying their rescuee. The wound wasn't terrible—Annabeth was certain that his life wasn't in danger—but he'd be unable to provide any additional help would they need it that evening.
The next few minutes seemed to pass painstakingly slowly, and the tension was so high that the second the security door at the back of the garage opened, Annabeth, Travis, and Piper all whipped around and almost filled Percy and Clarisse full of lead.
"Oh, thank God," Annabeth breathed, lowering her gun. Reyna didn't know how they'd gotten away from Atlas, but it must not have been easy. Clarisse was leaning heavily on Percy, one arm around his shoulders and the other hanging at her side and drenched in blood. Percy had a slice across the side of his face that oozed blood down his jaw and was walking with a slight limp. As Annabeth hurried forward to help them, Travis jumped into the driver's seat of the van, chucked his rifle into the passenger seat, and started the engine.
The second they closed the back doors, the van surged into motion. Reyna heard gunfire and a furious, guttural yell from outside, but they were moving too fast, and in seconds it had grown distant. They barreled quickly up the hill and back to the main road, setting course for their jet landing site, where Connor Stoll would be waiting to fly them back to New York.
As their speed leveled out, Percy broke the silence by releasing a short, breathless sort of laugh. Everyone looked at him in mild surprise. He was leaning back against the side of van, watching the ceiling with a derisive grin as though it had just told some sort of joke. "This settles it," he said matter-of-factly. "We're insane. All of us."
Beside him, Annabeth chuckled and rubbed a hand fondly along his arm. Frank shook his head with a smirk, Clarisse rolled her eyes, and Piper said, "Damn straight." Reyna glanced at Leo, who was lying on his back across two seats beside her, and couldn't help an amused smile. They'd known from the beginning how utterly crazy this plan of breaking into CIA headquarters was. And yet somehow, against all the odds, they'd pulled it off. They'd all walked away. They'd actually won.
Reyna gripped Leo's hand in both of hers and brushed her fingers across the dotted skin on the back of it. She lifted her hands and pressed her lips to his knuckles, her adrenaline finally fading into full-body relief. Their mad plan had worked—she had him back. She could see him again, feel him again. And despite his battered appearance, he was better off than she'd worried he'd be. For once she didn't even try to suppress her emotions—she let herself feel completely the anger, fear, uncertainty, and hope she'd been holding back for weeks. And she let it all go. None of it mattered anymore—not the pain in her body or the exhaustion in her mind. She glanced across the back of the van and caught Annabeth's eye, giving her friend a smile and letting her gratitude show plainly on her face. Annabeth seemed to understand. She smiled back and nodded encouragingly.
For the rest of the drive, Reyna didn't worry about what would happen in the future. She only felt the present, and the warm, reassuring company of the people who'd risked their lives to help her save the person she loved most.
Looking around at them all, Reyna smiled. Maybe these Olympus guys weren't so bad after all.
Told you things would pick up. Now we're halfway through this story, but there are still a few more big scenes like this one coming up. Like I said earlier, the second half of this is a lot more consistently exciting than the first. Oh, well.
So how about a review? Anybody have as much fun reading this one as I did writing it? Haha :D
Later days!
-oMM