Phew, super busy week! Not going to go into the details, so enjoy the chapter, and if you've got time, leave a review! (My shortest A/N yet? Possibly). Oh, and I've gotten reviews and hints that the plot seems to be rather . . . slow. It's one of the things I've got to work on as a writer - dragging things out is what I excel at, unfortunately - so this chapter is kind of a test vehicle for a more concise (yet still paragraph-littered) plot, I suppose. Let me know what you think!

Funny thing I wanted to cover - I never intended for Querci to become as important as she has now, and I certainly didn't expect people to take such a disliking to her. I'm not disappointed or anything - it's actually kind of funny, but awesome, to see that a non-canon character has taken a life of its own.

Guess the A/N wasn't as short as I initially planned it to be.

Anyways, enjoy!

Previously on TIW:DIW . . .

Under pressure from Loki, Volstagg swears on Valhalla that he will tell no one of what he's learned while in Vanaheim.

Nico visits his father in the hopes of learning why sparti are roaming around, and why the bird apocalypse happened.

Annabeth promises Tony that she will return tomorrow (Friday) to let him know if she's able to go to the headquarters of Stark Industries in Los Angeles for two weeks, to learn the ropes of her new job, which involves helping set up Project Retreat. Afterwards, she and Percy return to camp to find out that Querci has brought the matter of treason to the Council of Cloven Elders. In the ensuring meeting, the oaken dryad demands that the two demigods be put to death for their crimes against the Wild. However, the Elders are reluctant to do so, because of the many services Percy and Annabeth have done for the Olympians. A furious Querci leaves, hinting that she will turn to the gods for help.

Blackmail 101

Aunt May beamed. "Honey, you have to stop keeping secrets from me—you didn't tell me you got another scholarship!"

"What—uh, I . . ." Peter stuttered, knowing full well who sat next to his aunt.

Nick Fury stood up, giving a half-smile that made Peter swallow. "Hey Peter! Looks like we've got a lot to talk about, don't we?"

"Uh, um, yeah . . . I-well," Peter struggled to gather his bearings after the shock of seeing the former director of SHIELD sitting in his living room. For some strange reason, he had a sudden urge to step in front of his aunt.

"Why don't we talk more about this in your room?" Fury offered. That faint smile on his face still hadn't faded. However, the wraparound shades on the man's face and his formal suit didn't comfort Peter. He looked like a far more dangerous version of Will Smith from Men in Black. If the MIB agent could kill freaky, giant aliens with a Tri Barrel Plasma gun, then Peter didn't want to know what Fury could do with the backing of Stark Industries and the Avengers.

Peter swallowed. "Yeah, sure." Giving a forced smile to his aunt, he led the way to his room. The moment they were both inside, Fury closed the door with a resounding click.

"Damn suit," Fury said, picking at the collar of the blazer. "Never liked them." And indeed, the man looked rather uncomfortable in the outfit; it was as if the clothing tamed him, restricting his movements and wrapping his intimidating presence in cotton and polyester.

Peter gave the presently occupied man a wary look, on high alert for any sudden movements. Looking a lot braver than he felt, he asked, "What are you doing here?"

Fury looked up, raising an eyebrow. "That's how you greet people? Kid, you gotta work on saying 'hello'. And can't I just stop by for a friendly visit? You bein' Stark's protégé and all."

"P-protégé?" Peter stuttered, trying to keep his surprise hidden. "You mean Tony Stark? The Tony Stark? I—"

"Cut the crap, kid." Fury nailed him with a look that killed whatever stammered explanation he'd been about to give. "I know all about your relationship with Stark. Suspected it for a while now, actually. Who would have ever guessed: Iron Man, adoptive father of Spider-Man." Fury chuckled.

Peter kept his breathing in check, trying not to panic. "You're not here for a 'friendly visit'."

Peter was smart enough to know that Fury wasn't here to say hello, let alone take a leaf out of Tony's book and give a scholarship. He had heard enough from Tony to know that Fury was just as likely to double cross someone as lend them a helping hand. The very fact that this man knew about his relationship with Tony and that he was Spider-Man was devastating. His entire cover was blown. But how did he find out?

Peter thought Fury might pull a gun on him for talking back. But the man simply shrugged, sitting down on his bed.

Peter made himself a reminder to burn the sheets afterwards.

"You got me," Fury conceded, looking around the room. "This isn't a social call. Nice guardian you got there, though. Hard to believe she's your aunt. Terrible cook, however. But I guess the same could be said of me." He gave a small laugh.

Peter had a skewed flash of déjà vu. It was like meeting Tony Stark for the first time, all over again, except the mood was all wrong. He wasn't shocked wordless from awe, nor did he feel an impending approach of a grand adventure. No. He was shocked wordless by a growing panic and fear, and only an impending doom neared on the horizon. Fury's mention of Aunt May only enhanced Peter's inexplicable belief that he needed to protect her from the danger that lurked within this man.

"Did Tony send you here?" Peter asked, his tone taking on a demanding edge. Nothing took the stutter out of his voice like a threat to himself or his aunt.

"Stark?" Fury seemed amused by the idea of Tony ordering him around. "Well, you see, I'm not here on his behalf. This is more a personal matter, though it could become much bigger, depending."

"Depending on what?"

"How well your spying skills are, kid."

Peter blinked, wondering if he'd heard wrong. "Spying?"

"Yes, spying. I need you to spy on someone for me."

Peter's shocked-sluggish brain tried to keep up with Fury. "Spying? Y-you want me to spy on someone? Are you crazy? I've never spied on anyone in my life! And why the hell should I do anything for you?" Peter could feel adrenaline pumping through him, fueled by indignation and the still terrible reality that his cover was blown.

Fury finally removed his shades, looking at Peter squarely with his one eye, the other covered by a black patch. "Oh, you'll do it, kid. You got no choice."

Peter balled up his fists, clenching his jaw. "I've got plenty of choices." Like kicking Fury out of the apartment—and not through the front door. He also had his web shooters on at the moment; he rarely took them off, even while in the shower. You never knew when you needed a couple of good webs. And right now, sticking Fury to the door was looking very appealing. "And who are you trying to spy on anyways? Isn't that a crime, intruding on someone's privacy?"

Fury shrugged, clearly unconcerned. "Privacy goes out the window when it comes to national security, kid. All those laws passed to safeguard a citizen's privacy? That's BS. The government loves its surveillance too much. You'd probably find me guilty of the same thing."

Unable to help himself, Peter spent a precious few seconds trying to think if he had anything incriminating or embarrassing in his internet history. All those sketchy pop-ups and advertisements . . . Peter banished them from his mind. "Who are you trying to spy on?" He asked again.

Fury looked at him, unblinking. "Percy Jackson."

Peter tried not to stare in his surprise. "W-what?"

Fury caught his strange reaction. "You know him?"

"Well, I . . ." I'm going to play basketball with him on Saturday, Peter nearly said. But he stopped himself in time, quickly coming to a conclusion: the less info he gave Fury, the better. But why the hell did Fury want to spy on Percy? Did he somehow know that he'd already come across Percy and had his own inklings as to the abilities that he possibly possessed? "I've heard of him from school swim meets. He's, um, a really good swimmer." Peter finished with an anticlimax.

Appearing to accept his explanation, Fury nodded. "Yes, well, I need you to befriend him."

. . .

Fury knew what he was doing. Security involving the Avengers was paramount. The team was one of SHIELD's lasting legacies, and Earth's first and last defence. The fact that Percy had been a suspect of terrorism when he was 12 and was now Stark's instructor was far too suspicious for comfort, even if he had been found innocent eventually. Fury needed to make sure that Percy didn't pose any kind of risk to the team. Having the Avengers' best interests at heart was what Stark essentially paid him to do, after all. So while manipulating and blackmailing Peter Parker, a boy that Stark had apparently taken under his wing, was certainly not something the billionaire would approve of, it would at least ensure that the Avengers were not vulnerable to any security risks, and that was all Fury cared for.

He couldn't spy on Percy himself. He was no longer the director of a massive shadow organization that had millions of resources to draw upon; he was the employee of a private organization that ran on technology manufactured and maintained by Stark Industries. If he used Stark's satellite too many times for too many obscure reasons, or ran background checks on strangers, someone was bound to notice eventually.

And he couldn't ask one of the several ex-military workers that he currently worked alongside with in the service of the Avengers to spy on Percy; he'd seen too many missions hit the fan because of an officer's stupid decision to have a 30 year old agent spy on a teenager. All that ever ended up happening was the agent's cover being blown as he was arrested on criminal harassment charges.

Peter, however, was the perfect agent. Inexperienced perhaps, but he had two things on his side that very few other agents possessed. For one, he was young. Younger than Percy, in fact. It immediately endeared him to the older boy, if he played it right, of course. It was the perfect cover for Peter to get close with Percy and perhaps discover if the kid posed any threat to Stark and/or the rest of the Avengers. They could hang out, play some video games—whatever kids their age did in their free time. Secondly, Peter was Spider-Man. He possessed a degree of stealth that had even undermined Fury's ability to detect uninvited guests and eavesdroppers, if only for a short time. He could follow Percy if need be, rather than a middle-aged man in civilian clothing who made one think, "Perv."

It was unfortunate that this was his first interaction with New York's famous web-slinger. Under other circumstances, Fury might have extended an invitation to Peter to officially join the Avengers. It couldn't be helped, however. The Avengers couldn't know of any of this, for several reasons. One, Percy could very well turn out to be your average 17-nearly-18 year old, in which case Fury didn't want to raise any alarms. If the Avengers found out, there was a high chance that reporters would be close behind, and if the media were to get their grimy little hands on this, it would turn into a PR nightmare. Civilians would never understand the thought process he went through to conclude that using a teenager to spy on another teenager was best. And of course, Tony wouldn't be too happy if he were to find out that Fury had used one of his new friends to spy on another of his new friends, while also using his satellite beyond authorized purposes.

Peter shook his head, as if not believing his ears. "Befriend Percy Jackson? You want me to make friends with a kid that I've never met, and spy on him?"

Fury gave him a level look. "Yes."

. . .

"Why?" Peter asked. "What's so great about him?"

"None of your business," Fury said curtly.

"And I'm going to do this for you because . . . ?"

Fury gave him a hard look. "Because if you don't, I'll tell the world who Spider-Man really is."

Peter's eyes widened. "Wha—you can't do that! That's blackmail!"

Fury laughed. "Yes, it is. And I certainly can—I'm doing it now, aren't I?" He shrugged. "You've got a lot to learn, Peter. Blackmail is handy."

Peter was at a loss for words. In the last six months as Spider-Man, his dealings with bad guys had gone over relatively smoothly. An innumerable number of bullets had been dodged, and the odd punch was nursed away. But now, in a terrible twist of irony, here was one of the good guys, holding a figurative gun to his head, and Peter had no idea what to do.

"We'll meet twice a week—no more than necessary. If a word of this gets out to anybody, like Stark, the world learns Spider-Man's true identity," Fury said, delivering the threat as normally as if they were having a friendly conversation. "If you see anything abnormal regarding Percy, you tell me." Fury gave him a look, as if he'd know if Peter withheld information from him. "Let's say, the next time you drop by Stark's Tower, you give me an update. Sound good?" Peter didn't answer, so Fury continued. "I'll admit, this isn't how I wanted to meet you, kid. Maybe I'll make it up to you afterwards."

Peter still didn't respond.

"Well, I'd better get going. Until next time, Peter." Fury raised his hand in farewell, before opening the door of his room and leaving. He heard the man and his aunt speaking for a moment, and then the apartment door opened and closed. The apartment fell silent.

Until next time, Peter.

Flash used to say that to him sometimes, while passing him in the hallway at school. He was a bully, just like Fury.

Peter hated bullies. Fury thought that he was going to spy for him? Think again.

"You have to go," Percy said, almost pleading, except for the fact that he never pleaded.

"No."

"I can—"

"No."

"But—"

"No!" Annabeth abruptly stopped and whirled around, annoyed now. "Percy, do you how serious this is? Gods, she wants us condemned to death! And you want me to take a vacation? What are you, seaweed brained?" She shook her head in disbelief, already stalking away.

"Annabeth—" Percy hurried after her, making the risky move of planting himself right in her path, and grabbed her shoulders lightly. "Annabeth!"

"Percy—" Her grey eyes flashed dangerously.

"Look, you've wanted this forever—and you're just going to throw it all away now?" Percy asked, disbelieving. Annabeth opened her mouth to say something, but in an uncharacteristic move, he overrode her. "This is the once-in-a-lifetime chance you've been waiting for! Take it! Please?" He looked her in the eye, his gaze softening. "Please? Go to LA—let me deal with Querci and the rest of the nymphs."

Annabeth scoffed. "And how are you going to do that? The nymphs aren't like the sharks or the hippocampi, Percy—you can't just kiss and make up and become friends!"

"They are like the dolphins, though," Percy pointed out. "Always chattering, fighting and gossiping. How hard can it be?" At Annabeth's appalled look, Percy held up his hands. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding! I can handle this, promise. As long as you promise to take Tony's offer and go to Los Angeles."

Percy knew how important this was to her; gods, how many hours had she spent preaching about the world's most distinguished architects and works? She never looked at Percy with the same kind of star-struck gaze that possessed her when she talked about Archimedes or some other ancient Greek dude. Was he jealous that his girlfriend seemed to love a dead guy's work more than him sometimes? Maybe. But that wasn't going to stop him from encouraging her to finally begin her life's dream.

Annabeth looked hesitant, torn between her duties as a demigod and the goal she'd worked towards for her entire life.

"Trust me," Percy said, looking at her with his most serious expression. "Just trust me."

Annabeth looked at him, and finally gave a slow nod. "Okay. But don't screw it up," she said, only half teasing.

Percy gave his trademark lopsided grin. "Never."

Two weeks later, he'd look back on this day and wonder how everything could have gone to Hades so fast.

Querci gave a burning glare to all the Elders, who remained silent. "And yet, you will do nothing about it? Very well. Perhaps the gods will listen to reason." Querci whirled around, stalking out of the clearing and fading into the forest, her final words ringing through the trees.

. . .

"Lord Zeus, hear me now!" Querci's powerful voice rang through the sprawling forest of Central Park. Everywhere, dryads awakened within their trees, while naiads emerged from the reserves and wind nymphs whistled down, all of them drawn to the voice that dared to call upon the Olympians.

"I have served Olympus for the entirety of my long life, without complaint nor demand of compensation!" Querci continued, looking up at the darkening sky. "And now, I ask just one thing of you: bring justice to my brethren and I, and strike down the demigods who have wronged us!"

All the surrounding nymphs traded shocked looks and gasps, before turning their faces as one to the sky and waiting with bated breath. Surely the king of the gods could not ignore such a request; not when two Greek demigods (Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase, no less) were found to be fraternizing with one of the Wild's greatest enemies. An enemy that Lord Zeus should greatly dislike as well.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Five minutes . . .

They waited for six hours. Six silent hours in which not a nymph stirred. The white dresses of the wind nymphs gave only the rare flutter, while hundreds of pairs of vibrant green and blue eyes stared unblinking at the darkening sky. Never again would one observe Central Park's forest and waters to be so still and dead. Even the mortals who walked along her trails and beneath her boughs were unnerved, feeling a strange chill linger upon their skin that was hastily explained away by the customary hauntings of the park. Joggers picked up their pace amid the frenzied bark of skittish dogs, picnics were brought to a close, and couples turned around. Covers were pulled over baby strollers, pickpockets abandoned the call of glittering watches and treasure-laden wallets, and the entire array of daily nature watchers heard the absence of chirping song birds and chittering squirrels, and retreated with an inexplicable unease.

They waited until midnight. Midnight, long after even the most thick-headed of mortals recognized that it would be unwise to take a stroll in New York's iconic park. The faint blue, green, and white glows of the waiting nymphs were nothing compared to the blazing golden eyes of Querci as she looked at the night sky with defiance.

The dryad's icy voice shattered the still silence. "Very well." Querci turned to face her sister nymphs. "It appears that Lord Zeus dares to deny us our justice!"

Not a nymph dared to breathe as one thought crossed all of their minds: did Querci just openly express her frustration with the gods?

But it appeared that the dryad did not care. She only looked to the night sky one last time, and declared:

"Let the annals mark this as the day the Olympians forsook the Wild!"

"And how long do you plan to ignore the nymphs?" Demeter snapped, her customary mild temper gone as she confronted her brother in a heated dispute.

"As long as required," Zeus responded, unfazed by the goddess' anger. "Granting Querci's wish, even if it were a punishment lighter than death, would prevent Percy and Annabeth from discovering the true reason as to why Thor Odinson has re-entered our domain."

Your domain, Demeter wanted to retort. Not our domain, but yours. All Zeus seemed to care for was power and territory. The concerns of the people never became an issue of his, unless a beautiful maiden was involved or if divine intervention resulted in his own personal gain. He was disregarding the nymphs and their pleas, just as he did with the majority of mortals.

"You cannot ignore the fact that Thor Odinson has committed grave crimes against the Wild community," Athena pointed out. "Ignoring the nymphs could result in an uprising, and the Wild has suffered enough already this past week," the goddess finished, hinting at the bird apocalypse.

None of the gods knew what to make of the phenomenon, and that made them uneasy; evidently, the Olympians had had no hand in the deaths of millions of birds, for none of them had come forward to claim the action as their own. But if not them, then who? Who was powerful enough, and brash enough, to do such a thing? And what were their intentions? Did they find death amusing, or were they making a statement?

Usually, if Artemis was not already on the case, Zeus would give the moon goddess the task of finding and destroying the threat. In collaboration with a vision or prophecy given by her twin Apollo, the hunters of Artemis were a formidable adversary. At the moment, however, Artemis was still absent, having defied her father's summons once again, and Apollo's dusty throne stuck out like a bronze coin amid a heap of gold.

And so the gods were, in a way, handicap. Not that Zeus would dare to admit it, however.

"Let the dryads throw their tantrum fit." Zeus rumbled. Nobody noticed as one of the grapes on Dionysus' vine-covered throne immediately ripened to a dark, raucous red. "Once they come to their senses, I will consider speaking with them."

"And what of serving justice for the crimes Odinson has committed?" Hera asked, attempting to make up for her husband's less than satisfactory response.

"Justice will be served when I find out the Asgardian's true intentions for returning," Zeus responded, turning a warning glare in her direction.

Demeter controlled her temper, giving a tolerant smile. "Of course, brother."

Poseidon remained stoic, his face impassive, while Dionysus was the picture of indifference, lounged back in his throne with a bored expression.

The raucous red grape burst, its guts splattering quietly.

Thoughts? Questions?

- 100th Century

Anonymous: Hey, so sorry about my response to your last review! I keep getting mixed up between you and Achievement, because your usernames both start with 'A', and I felt so bad when I realized my mistake . . . So very sorry!

Dar Losh: Hey! No, no worries! I completely understand - I just told someone recently, I think I'm as busy now as I was while in school! If you need help with getting an account, just let me know and I'll see what I can do :) Lol, sorry about that - I won't be changing the pairing, but I'll try to keep all that stuff out in future chapters.

Dani: Thank you for the info! Sparti will be used in all future chapters, and when I get the time, I'll correct the past chapters.

Guest (July 11): Thanks so much! Hope you like this chapter just as much, and yeah, Querci's getting a lot of flak . . .