Author's Note, Please Read: Thanks to all those who read, reviewed, or favorited this. I'd like to warn younger readers that this chapter involves mentions of alcohol and sexual activity. Please don't read this if you feel uncomfortable with that. Also, I'd really appreciate it if you reviewed. I promise I'll respond if you do, no matter what. Praise, CC, flames: any feedback is welcome. Disclaimer: I own none of the characters.

Chapter Three: A Close Call

About Three Years Later...

"You'll find him him at the club around ten. It won't be hard to find him; he'll be the loudest, rudest one there. Just try to blend in."

"All right. Where's the fastest means of disposal?" asks Percy. Rachel hesitates.

"I'm not sure," she admits. "See, the pre-investigation process was really rushed, so they didn't have time to scope it out." Assassins, when given a mission, usually had a designated time of strike. A pre- investigation team (which were basically a bunch of idiotic interns drawn to the business by delusions of owning fast cars, cool catchphrases, and wearing sexy black catsuits) usually analyzed the place of strike and found the best place to dump the body beforehand. But it wasn't uncommon for them to fail once in a while. Percy frowned a little. Disposal was sometimes the hardest part.

"Are you sure you can't make one of your... guesses?" he questioned, quietly. He didn't like to ask this, because Rachel tended to be a little sensitive about it. But he really, really needed to be in and out as quickly as possible in a location like this. He was pretty sure the company- maybe not his father, but he wouldn't put it past one of the others, particularly Nico's and Hazel's father- gave this to him purposely to test his faith to them over his own impulses. Rachel frowned a little. Only Level Fours were supposed to know about her abilities. Percy only knew about them because he was the first one she'd told about them. They'd been in high school at the time, and he'd started noticing odd things about her: the way she opened the door before he knocked, always knowing when to bring an umbrella, knew who was calling before looking at the caller ID, and played the right hand at the right time if they played poker. Small things, but when they were taken together, they could only mean one thing. Yes, Rachel was psychic. And she used her abilities to help out when they needed to make a tough call.

"All right. Well, I have a pretty good feeling about the northwest- facing wall. Maybe there's something beside there?"

Percy grinned. "Thanks. I owe you one, Rachel."

..~0~..

The Same Day...

Annabeth mentally reviewed her assignment as she prepared for tomorrow evening. She was to go in, dressed as one of the dancers. She'd told Percy that she was working late (because that was technically the truth). As it turned out, so was he, so he'd be less likely to call her.

She took the outfit out of the bag and examined it, briefly wondering where the rest of it was, but she supposed it was necessary to blend in. Okay, she thought. Here's the plan: go in at quarter to ten. You'll come out and try to find the dracaena, and distract her with something. Then, she follows you off and you do what you have to do. Get rid of her and get out fast. She wanted to get out as fast as possible, because firstly she thought the whole idea undignified, and secondly because she felt like it was was too close to cheating.

..~0~..

Later that day, Percy left the 'Research' building of the aquarium and went to meet Annabeth. She was in the car outside, waiting for him. "Hey," he says brightly, winding his arm around her waist and pulling her close to him.

"How was your day?" she asks, kissing him on the cheek.

"Boring. You?"

"Well, now that you mention it, it was pretty eventful. Remember that extension to the mansion that I told you about? Well, it turns out that they actually want to use a new kind of support. It's sort of like titanium, but more flexible, and I was really surprised at what you can do with it..." Percy contentedly listened to her babble about architecture as they left Manhattan and headed towards the more suburban areas of New York. For all her efforts to seem otherwise, Annabeth was totally a nerd at heart. Not in a bad way, though; actually, he though it was kind of hot.

He pulled into the garage of an elegant light blue two story. It had large, high windows and decorative columns on the porch.

"What should we do for dinner?" asks Annabeth as they enter the house. Usually, they took turns, but it was a Wednesday. On Wednesdays, they always made dinner together. Percy thought for a moment.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I always have a pretty good idea of what you're thinking," teases Annabeth. "Breakfast at dinner?"

"Yes!" His enthusiasm at something so simple reminded her of a small child on Christmas morning. But not in a degrading manner; on the contrary, she found it rather endearing.

"What are you, five?"

"Yes."

"Well, that cancels my plans for tonight."

"What plans?"

"Never mind."

"Tell me!"

"Maybe later, after dinner," she replies playfully.

They planned to spend the rest of the night making pancakes, but they got a bit distracted and ended up ruining them completely and nearly setting their kitchen on fire. So they ordered pizza.

"This is all your fault, you know," says Annabeth. They've just finished eating, and are getting ready for bed.

"You were the one who was supposed to flip the pancakes,"Percy reminded her.

"Well, it was your idea to make them. It wasn't my idea to start making out on the kitchen table."

Percy frowned. "So you didn't like it?"

"I never said that," she replies, suddenly changing tone. It's so natural for her that he smiles. In fact, it was was so natural for them- the banter, the half- scolding, half- flirting, the smirking, the eye- rolling, the happiness- that it was easy to forget that it was only a facade.

..~0~.?

He enters the building according to plan. The place is packed with rowdy, drunken idiots, as expected. He watches as two men, obviously not in their right minds, started screaming at each other over a lollipop they had gotten in fifth grade.

"It was mine!" yelled one guy, swinging a poorly aimed fist at his companion.

"No! You took it!" accused the other, leaping onto the first guy and biting his shoulder. The first guy flailed helplessly, and in an attempt to free himself, smashed into a wall and passed out.

The weirdest part was, no one seemed to care. They were all too busy watching the dancers. There were about fifteen in all, wearing what looked like red monokinis with sequins and fringe. They all had masks and really high heels on, and Percy wondered how they could even walk, let alone do- well, whatever it was they were doing. He was trying his best not to watch all the various slutty activities going on. He was trying hard not to watch, but one of the blond dancers looked strangely familiar. He wanted to get a closer look, but he remembered his mission and continued looking for his target.

One man stood out among the crowd. He was loud, dirty, and obnoxious. He attempted to run onstage, but the bouncer pushed him off. Percy recognized him as Derrick Procrustes, or 'Crusty' as he was often called. He was known to be mentally unstable, but few realized he was an actual psychopath. Which was why the agency had deemed him too much of a threat to be kept alive. Percy made his way over to Crusty, pretending to be drunk.

"'Scuse me," he slurred, "Couldja help me... find the... Uh, exit?"

"No." He'd expected this answer, and so decided to move to Plan B: Improvise. He sent Crusty a solid right hook to the jaw. Crusty got angry. "Who do ya think you're messin' with, punk?"

"The jackass who won't show me the exit, you smelly bucket of nose drool!" yelled Percy. He'd never quite mastered the art of insulting.

"Maybe we should take this outside, pal," growled Crusty, cracking his knuckles menacingly.

In the end, Percy dragged Crusty outside and chopped his head off.

He looked in the direction Rachel had suggested and found a suitable place to 'clean up'. He was just finishing up when he heard the sounds of someone approaching. He didn't stick around to find out who it was, and instead got in the car and headed home.

..~0~..

Annabeth stood on the stage, half hoping the floor would open up and swallow her. There was nothing more embarrassing than this: standing scantily clad in this disgusting place. She did the stupid dance that everyone else had to do, while scanning the floor for her target.

She hadn't had much time to do research, but she knew the woman went by the name of Medea. She was wanted in six states for murdering six different husbands. But she had apparently spent all her money away and was reduced to this.

Annabeth almost pitied her. Almost.

When a man tried to jump onstage, Annabeth used the opportunity to cover Medea's mouth, then proceeded to knock her out, and drag her away. She took the body into an alley and finished her off.

When Annabeth was done, she realized she had made a crucial mistake: she didn't know any disposal sites. 'All right, calm down,' she thought. 'Check the sides of the building.' Nothing there. 'Um, what about the parking lot?' Nope, nothing there either.

Suddenly, she heard a noise, and hurried to investigate. Just as she arrived, she saw someone slip off and run to the main street. She would have liked to investigate, but she had no time, so she just cleaned up and left the second she was done. No point sticking around.

..~0~..

Percy was getting ready for bed when he heard Annabeth come in. She had a long coat on and looked tired. "How was work?"

She looked up at him and shrugged. "Boring. You?" He shrugged nonchalantly.

"Same. I'm going to bed."

"Okay. Goodnight."

"'Night, honey."

..~0~..

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