A/N: I told you it would be a long wait. I'm expecting to do weekly updates, although it mostly depends on when I have free time and when I have inspiration. Again, bear with me, it'll be worth the wait!

Double Cross

II Percy

December 14

As a general rule, Percy preferred not to wake up having no idea where he was.

He opened his eyes, head aching, and tried to remember what had happened. He had said goodnight to Annabeth, and then people attacked him when he came into his cabin. So where was he now? His back cracked as he sat up, hands scraping against the dirt floor.

The room was tiny—smaller than one of those handicap bathroom stalls—and dark, from what he could see. There was a barred door not too far from where he lay, that opened to a hallway lit by torches. No windows—was he underground, then? The floor was hard-packed dirt, and he was on top of a pile of thin blankets. Well, this wasn't cliché at all, now was it? The hero kisses his sweetheart goodnight, gets kidnapped, and wakes up in a mysterious prison cell.

He took a deep breath. Focus. Someone was holding him captive in an underground prison. He had no idea where he was, who his captor was, or what his motivations were. He reached into his pocket. Dammit, they had taken Riptide. No way to defend himself, either. This was just getting better and better.

There had to be something he could do. Some loose rock he could use as a weapon, or maybe he could find a drachma to contact camp (because that was so likely, the sarcastic part of his brain sneered). He checked around the cell; it was so minuscule that he could walk across the floor in three steps. The walls were tightly sealed—no chance of help there. As for contacting camp, he couldn't think of any—gods, he was stupid. The empathy link. If he was able to get through to Grover…

Grover, Percy thought. Enchiladas. Nature. Please, G-Man, you have to hear me. I'm being held prisoner. I need help.

Silence. He couldn't even feel the faint buzzing at the base of his skull that was usually present when he used the link. Weird. A small portion of the fear and panic Percy had struggled to keep in the back of his mind slipped through his mental barrier. He was completely cut off. They probably hadn't realized that he was missing yet. It had only been… how long had he been unconscious? Before he could slip into a full scale panic attack, though, he heard a noise coming from further down the hallway off his cell.

Footsteps. Two people, he guessed, and both of them pretty big. The harsh, rhythmic stomping of their feet echoed off the walls. Percy backed up against the wall (not that it was a very long journey, only a single step) and crouched slightly, automatically preparing himself for a fight. His hand twitched towards his pocket out of habit, and then formed a tight fist. Their shadows appeared on the wall, flickering in the torchlight. His breath sped up; his heart pounded in his chest. It beat frantically, like a trapped bird throwing itself against the bars of its cage, trying to escape the smirking feline predator that was about to end its life. The pair came into view.

The first one was tall and stocky. He wore what looked like fatigues, with classic Greek armor on top and a wicked sword strapped to his side. Close-cropped hair and a multitude of scars completed the look: this guy was not one to mess around with.

Walking—marching, really—behind him was a petite girl, maybe thirteen. Her long, dark hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail and her sunken eyes glinted in the light from the dancing flame. She wore the same uniform as the first soldier, but she had a different air—though she seemed the lesser threat, something about her eyes made Percy shiver.

She shoved a thick brass key into the lock, and the door swung open. He glared, daring them to come closer. The first soldier smiled cruelly—a look that reminded Percy of the kids in the Ares cabin back at camp—and his scars rippled. "Don't bother fighting, kid. Trust me, it only makes it worse."

The girl snorted. "You don't always have to be so dramatic, Logan. Why don't you let me do the talking, hm?" Logan took a small step back, grimacing, and the girl turned to Percy. "I'm Katherine. You'll want to be on my good side."

"Why am I here?"

She sighed. "Always the same questions. 'Who are you? What am I doing here?' You'll find out soon enough. She wants to talk to you. You should be honored, actually. She doesn't usually speak to new recruits."

His eyes narrowed. The "recruits" part bothered him—what were they recruiting for? "Who's 'she'?"

The girl—Katherine—grinned, malice lighting up her dark eyes.

"Why, Gaea, of course."