Hey, gang! So I decided I'm just gonna keep updating on Wednesdays this month instead of Thursdays, with all the holiday stuff going on. It just works out better for me this way, since I'd like to keep it constant. Now you'll all know what to expect from me :)

Anyway, so here's the rest of the main climactic segment. I had a lot of fun writing this and the last chapter. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I do! Thanks to those of you who reviewed last week, and welcome new followers to the last few hurrahs.

So strap yourselves in, kids, and let's ride this out :D

We can leave this world, leave it all behind / We can steal this car if your folks don't mind

Annabeth almost wished she hadn't regained consciousness, because what was sure to follow wasn't anything she was anxious to experience.

Duke Atlas—Deputy Director of the Central Intelligence Agency—had found her. She hadn't expected to run into him here, not in slightest—especially being so far from Langley, where he lived and worked. But when Clarisse had reported about the team of intruders, Annabeth had realized immediately who it must have been. She'd tried to warn the others, but Zeke had interfered, knocking her out with what she now assumed had been a taser. Her entire body still ached, and the angry resentment in her mind aimed at Zeke was difficult to ignore.

But now the main problem was Atlas. Annabeth knew him well—the agency had always buzzed with stories of his days as a field agent, days that apparently weren't quite as over as they'd all been led to believe. He was something of a legend, and the prospect of fighting him wasn't something Annabeth relished, now even less than before.

Annabeth didn't know if any of the others knew Atlas like she did, but either way no one was moving. Silena was crouched beside her, a hand on Annabeth's shoulder and her blue eyes trained on the agents in the doorway with an odd mixture of conviction and something akin to guilt. A little ways away was Zeke, who had a swollen eye and what looked like a gunshot wound in his right shoulder. He was eyeing Atlas with obvious disdain, a hint of apprehension in his expression. To his right, Percy stood stiffly, glaring at Atlas. His clothes were wrinkled, his bottom lip split and bloody, and his neck red and bruised, but he didn't seem to care about any of these things. Behind the two of them stood Leo, his gun half-raised toward Zeke as he watched Atlas. It was clear he'd never seen him before, but also that he could tell, possibly by the atmosphere, that they were in a dangerous situation.

Atlas shifted the rifle in his arms. "Drop the gun, kid," he ordered Leo. "We don't want anybody getting hurt."

Leo's eyes darted toward Zeke. "Speak for yourself," he said wryly, but he followed Atlas's command and set his ACP on the floor. He took two steps back from it and raised his hands to waist-height.

Seeming satisfied, Atlas turned his smirk on Annabeth. "It's good to see you again, Chase. Though, it might have been better under different circumstances. Shame to see someone with your kind of potential go bad."

Annabeth stood up slowly, keeping her hands visible and making no sudden movements. "You and I have different ideas of what constitutes as 'bad', Atlas."

"Clearly," Atlas agreed, looking amused. "How's your new family? It seems we've walked in on a little spat." His gaze shifted from Annabeth to Zeke, his eyes seeming to twinkle with excitement. "Ezekiel Grace, I presume. Oh, I've been waiting a long time to meet you."

"Duke Atlas," Zeke said calmly. He straightened the sleeves of his jacket as though preparing for a business meeting. "Can't say I've felt the same. I've always found governmental law enforcement to be crass and abrasive. Not my preferred accompaniment of citizenry."

"Well, I wouldn't worry." Atlas elevated the barrel of his rifle an inch higher. "This get-together won't last long."

There was a brief instant in which nobody moved. Annabeth's thoughts were speeding—it had only been a few minutes since Clarisse had reported Atlas's arrival, so she, Frank, and Piper wouldn't necessarily be along right away. Moreover, she'd mentioned seeing at least a dozen intruders, and standing before them now were only half that number. That meant that the remainder had either stayed on the ground floor, or were busy searching elsewhere. Clarisse and the others could very well encounter them any minute. So for the time being, it was Annabeth, Percy, Silena, and Leo versus Atlas and six CIA field agents versus Ezekiel Grace—a three-way clash that could break in a heartbeat.

And break it did. After that single quiet instant, almost everyone sprang into action at once. Atlas was a fraction of a step ahead of the rest—he aimed his rifle with precision speed and fired at Zeke, who ducked into the nearest cubicle in evasion. Percy ran forward, glaring at Atlas, but was intercepted by two other agents on the way. He sidestepped and wrenched the handgun from one's grasp while simultaneously ducking fire from the other. Leo turned and dived into the wreckage of a collapsed cubicle, coming up a second later carrying the MP5 he'd used earlier to announce their presence. He leapt up onto a nearby desk and opened fire over Percy's head toward the agents by the door, taking two out of commission before he was forced to jump back behind the desk to avoid getting shot himself.

Another agent aimed immediately for Annabeth and Silena, both of whom threw themselves to either side as bullets whizzed by. Annabeth scanned the floor for her gun—or any gun, really—and found it lying on the carpet a few feet to her left. With a glance at her attacker, she quickly crawled across the floor and snatched it up before ducking behind a cubicle and checking her magazine to make sure she wasn't about to run dry. She took a breath and rolled her still-stiff shoulders, then chanced a glance around the corner. Bullets flew her way at once as the same agent neared, and swiftly she darted back out of the line of fire.

For some reason, Annabeth thought back on the last time she'd been forced to fight her former coworkers—the night of the contingency exchange with Centaur, when Luke Castellan had been killed in a building collapse. Back then, the CIA had been ordered to take her in alive, which gave her an advantage against them. This time, it seemed, they were taking no such chances. They were aiming to kill.

Shaking the odd discomfort that gave her aside, Annabeth strained her ears and stayed still in a crouch. She heard a cacophony of shouts and gunfire, but beneath them and in closer proximity she made out quick footsteps and the sound of a rolling chair being pushed aside. Catching on, she shifted sideways and glanced up two seconds before the agent's face and gun appeared from over the cubicle wall. Ready to act, she grabbed the man's gun arm as he fired into the floor and tugged, pulling him against the wall and collapsing the weak supports. She leapt backward as the thin wall flattened to the floor. The agent seemed a little dazed but not incapacitated, as he quickly pushed himself up on his arms and reached out to snatch Annabeth by the leg. He yanked her foot out from under her and she dropped unsteadily to one knee, unable to defend when he then tackled her from the side. He aimed a punch at her face, which she blocked with an arm, and when trying to shove him off of her failed she steadied her grip on her gun and shot him once in the leg to break his focus and once in the neck to finish him off (she didn't know whether or not the agents were wearing bulletproof vests, but she figured she was better safe than sorry).

Pushing the man's weakly-twitching body off of her, Annabeth climbed to her feet just as Silena appeared beside her, blue eyes widening. "Annabeth, what happened?"

For a second Annabeth wondered what kind of stupid question that was when they were in the middle of a shootout, but then she glanced down and noticed that Silena was probably referring to the fact that her shirt was now soaked in blood.

"Nothing, I'm good," she insisted immediately. She nodded to the dead agent beside her, nudging his leg with her foot. "It's him, not me."

Silena looked visibly relieved. "Oh, good."

Annabeth glanced past her toward the rest of the activity in the office. Another agent had gone down somewhere, and the remaining two were trying to get at Percy and Leo, who were dodging in and out of cubicles and returning fire. Atlas had somehow been separated from his gun and was now locked in an old-fashioned fist-fight with Zeke, whose shoulder injury seemed to be giving him some trouble. Though that certainly didn't mean he was entirely outmatched. Atlas had considerably more cuts and bruises than he had a few moments ago.

Thinking fast, Annabeth stepped around the cubicle she'd busted to get a better vantage point. It was like time around her was on fast-forward. She glimpsed Leo land a shot on a woman at the end of his row, knocking her on her back, practically at the same time that Zeke swung the broken axle of a desk chair against the side of Atlas's head. Percy rolled between two cubicles and narrowly avoided getting shot while Atlas snatched the gun of a fallen agent and fired it wildly at Zeke. The last agent finally went down when Percy jumped onto the desk behind which the man was hiding (a bit like the one targeting Annabeth had done) and placed two bullets in his skull from above. Apparently the restraint he'd wanted to show against his uncle's employees didn't apply to the CIA agents.

Atlas growled angrily and Annabeth looked to see him shove Zeke so hard against a desk that the entire thing collapsed—computer equipment, cubicle walls, and all. When Zeke didn't immediately get back to his feet, Atlas turned on his heel, possibly looking for more criminals to eliminate. His eyes landed on Percy, who was still crouched on top of a desk, and when he raised his gun time finally seemed to slow down for Annabeth. She lifted her own weapon without the slightest tick of hesitation and sent three bullets toward her former boss. Two hit him in the back and he fell forward from the force. Bulletproof vest or no, that had to hurt.

Percy shot Annabeth a grim smile from across the room, and she'd almost returned it when suddenly Silena shouted "No!" and shoved her roughly to the side. Gunshots split the air before Annabeth landed on her hands and knees.

"Silena!" Percy yelled harshly. Annabeth whirled around to see Silena stumble backward to the floor with pain on her face and two brand-new bullet holes in her chest.

Throat turning dry, Annabeth darted to Silena's side. She knew at once there was nothing to be done—her fiancé's long-time friend had, at most, minutes left. Glancing up, she saw that, a little ways across the office, Zeke had been able to stand after all. He was glaring her way with his gun still outstretched. He might have fired again, but Atlas chose that moment to prove that he had in fact been wearing a protective vest by shifting with a groan and starting to push himself up on his hands. Immediately after came the sound of nearing footsteps from the main hall—maybe Clarisse and the others, maybe the rest of Atlas's team. Either way, Zeke didn't seem keen on finding out. He clucked his tongue in annoyance and turned on his heel, bolting for the back hall toward the stairwell.

"Annabeth… Listen to me," Silena said in a halted, whispery voice. Annabeth looked down to see her bright, sapphire eyes dimming. A thin stream of blood trickled from her mouth. "It was me."

Annabeth's eyebrows knitted in a mixture of confusion and worry. "What was you?"

"The CIA." Silena's body was shuddering with the effort of speech, but she seemed unwilling to relent. She shifted her left arm and clutched at Annabeth's sleeve with weak fingers. "I… tipped them off. About tonight. I was scared. Thought it would… give us an edge… against Zeke."

Annabeth felt her eyes widen as the pieces clunked into place. "You what?"

"I didn't… mention you," Silena promised, her voice growing tighter by the second as her shirt and jacket were slowly dyed crimson. "Just Zeke. After what he did to Charlie, I… I couldn't imagine him getting away with it. No matter what." The regret in her half-lidded eyes was clearer than the color of their irises. "I'm sorry. I didn't want…"

"It's okay," Annabeth insisted, unsure herself whether that was the truth. Still, whatever Silena had done before, Annabeth knew that, seconds ago, Zeke had been trying to kill her, and Silena had saved her without any regard for her own life. The least she could do was try to put her new friend's mind at rest.

The corner of Silena's mouth twitched upward and she breathed out rapidly with a hint of amusement. Maybe she knew was Annabeth was really doing.

Even were that the case, though, there was no time to discuss it. Trembling breath slowing, Silena said through barely-parted lips, "Go… after him. Stop… the war."

Annabeth nodded in understanding, but she couldn't stop a single word from falling from her tongue: "Why?"

Even she wasn't sure what she was asking—why did Silena risk the involvement the CIA, or why did she sacrifice her life for someone she barely knew? To Silena, though, it seemed that the answers to both questions were the same, as the last thing she said as her eyes slid heavily closed was, "Family."

Heart pounding with a befuddling rush of different emotions, Annabeth forced herself to stand. As she turned, she saw Percy running toward her, an anxious look on his face. She reached out and tightly grabbed his arm to stop him, shaking her head gravely. His expression twitched as though he was in pain and his eyes shot downward, but he didn't protest.

Annabeth decided not to tell him—or anyone—Silena's confession. After all, she'd only wanted revenge for the man she loved. It may have been a hasty and dangerous measure to take, but she hadn't done what she had for the sake of betraying her friends, and didn't deserve for her memory to be tarnished by whispers of treason. As far as Annabeth was concerned, the only one to blame for any of it was Zeke.

Forcing herself to stay focused on the problems at hand, Annabeth glanced toward the main hall. She'd barely muttered, "You think that's—?" before the first CIA agent appeared in the doorway.

"Stairs!" Leo shouted as he dodged around the still-recovering Atlas and aimed his rifle at the doorway. He took out the visible agent and emptied the rest of his clip as a warning round, causing however many figures were still in the hallway to duck out of sight.

Annabeth didn't need to be told twice. She let go of Percy and made a dash for the back hallway, both her companions on her heels. She skidded around the corner and sprinted down the hall the way Zeke had gone, toward the only door at the other end. She shoved it open and emerged into the dimly-lit, empty stairwell.

Something told her Zeke was going back to the seventy-ninth floor, so she skipped seventy-eight altogether in her hasty climb. No matter who was after them, she still wanted more than anything to see Zeke brought down. This was still far from over.

When they reached the landing on floor seventy-nine, Annabeth heard the stairwell door down on seventy-seven open with a creak as footsteps began pounding up the stairs. "This would be a good place to corner them," she realized thoughtfully—they had the advantage on higher ground, after all.

"Maybe," Percy said stonily, "but the more time we waste, the tougher it'll be to get to my uncle."

Annabeth chewed the inside of her cheek in hesitation. He had a point.

"I'll hold 'em off," Leo suggested as he pulled a replacement clip from a pocket of the seemingly-bottomless tool belt around his waist. "You guys go after Uncle Douchebag."

"You sure?" Annabeth asked skeptically. "We don't know how many there are. Besides, didn't you want to see Zeke get what's coming to him?"

"Sure, but desperate times call for desperate measures and all that." Leo snapped the clip into place and checked the alignment before shooting Annabeth a smirk. "Just snap a photo, will you? I'm gonna want a keepsake when this is all over."

Somehow, Annabeth couldn't help but smile. "You got it," she promised. "Good luck, Leo." Leo waved a hand as he crouched on the stairs and rested his rifle against his shoulder, signaling them to get a move-on. Annabeth exchanged a grim nod with Percy before they both pushed through the door and into United's executive floor.

Unlike on floor seventy-seven, all the lights were on here. Carefully they started down the hallway, eyes scanning their surroundings. A few yards away, the hall split in a T-intersection, stretching forward and to the left. Straight ahead past the intersection, Annabeth could see the executive offices she and Thalia had visited a day ago, which meant that the hallway branching to the left led to the main elevators and the floor's open office area.

Annabeth found it strange that there was no one in the hall. She was starting to think that maybe Zeke had gone to a different floor, until they reached the intersection and she glanced around the corner to be met with a barrage of metallic projectiles.

Percy grabbed the back of her jacket and yanked her out of the line of fire. She shot him a look that asked What do we do? In response, he reached into the pocket inside his jacket and pulled out a round, metal disc the size of a flattened billiard ball. It took a second for Annabeth to recognize it as one of Olympus's toys—a miniature explosive device.

Percy had a look of confliction on his face. Annabeth knew he didn't want to kill organization members unless it was absolutely necessary. But the problem was that judging by the sounds they could hear around the corner, Zeke had set a small cavalry against them. Ironically, if they had any hope of stopping the war Zeke wanted to start, blood would have to be spilled. And the sounds of heavy gunfire from the stairwell behind them told them they didn't have a lot of time to debate it.

With a resolute nod, Annabeth took the mine from Percy's grip. If they had to do it, she would be the one with the blood on her hands.

She pressed the button on the center of the disc and a single red ring of light began to flash. She waited a few seconds before dropping to a crouch and pivoting the corner. She caught a brief glimpse of their opposition as she hurled the device down the hall—at least fifteen armed men and women. Not likely a number the two of them could take down on their own. They had no other choice.

A stray bullet pierced Annabeth's left forearm as she spun back around and she bit down hard on her tongue to keep from crying out. That didn't stop Percy from noticing—his eyes widened and he snatched her wrist at the same instant the explosion went off, shaking the ground and causing Percy to stagger against Annabeth. He braced himself on the wall behind her to keep his balance, but her injured arm was pressed between them and this time she couldn't stop the pained yell. She leaned her face against his shoulder until everything grew quiet.

Slowly Percy backed away from Annabeth and met her eyes for an instant before glancing down at her arm—the bullet hadn't struck bone, just gone straight through the skin on the side of her forearm. But her sleeve was quickly dampening with blood.

"We gotta tie this off," Percy said stiffly. Annabeth had a feeling he was regretting letting her throw the mine, but she was glad when he didn't say anything to the effect. She stayed quiet as he tore a strip of fabric from the hem of his shirt and knotted it quickly around the injury, ignoring the blood on his hand from when he'd held onto her.

Satisfied, Percy stepped past Annabeth and shot a tentative glance around the corner. He grimaced at first as he surveyed what they'd done, until suddenly he eyes grew wide and his face twisted in a snarl. With an incoherent yell, he rounded the corner and took off down the hallway.

"Percy—!" Annabeth blinked in surprise and started after him, seeing at once upon turning the bend what had riled him. Zeke had been among the welcoming party, and he was the only one left standing. Probably, he'd been just out of sight in the office area while the explosion had gone off.

Adrenaline rising, Annabeth followed Percy as he chased Zeke into the open and empty office layout. Zeke fired a few wild shots over his shoulder, but nothing came close to hitting its mark. Annabeth raised her gun in her good hand and veered sideways to get a clear shot. She fired at Zeke, but he ducked and dodged, causing her bullets to strike the wall of windows at the back of the room, sending snaking cracks across their surface. He tried to duck behind a cubicle, but Annabeth fired another shot in his path, forcing him to change direction. He stopped in the open space in front of the windows and turned to face them, a cold glare on his face.

"Well done, nephew," Zeke said, his voice as dry as ice. "You've become exactly what I always knew you would—a conniving, power-hungry rat."

"Me?" Percy shot back, a slightly hysterical look in his eyes. He held his gun at his side, but Annabeth knew as well as Zeke must have that he could raise it and fire in the blink of an eye. "I'm not the one trying to start a war, Zeke."

"Oh? Then what do you call this, exactly?"

Percy cringed, a pained expression on his face. When he didn't answer, Annabeth stepped up beside him and said coldly, "Preventive care."

Zeke shook his head and chuckled. "You may have your little minx convinced, but I'm afraid the rest of the organization won't be so easily fooled. After all of this, they'll see you for what you really are—a snake, a threat, too dangerous to trust. Mark my words, nephew—you will pay for your actions, one way or another."

Annabeth swore she could sense all the pent-up tension in Percy's body from where she stood three feet away from him. His hands shook at his sides and he stared at Zeke with such a mix of emotions on his face—anger, fear, hatred, pain, regret. She realized with a nervous jolt that she'd never seen him look less calm. Something told her that if he gave in to his anger and killed Zeke like this, not only would he hate himself for it later on, but everything Zeke said would be true—an even greater wedge would be driven between Percy and the rest of the organization.

Keeping one eye on Zeke, Annabeth took a step toward her fiancé and reached carefully out to gently touch his shoulder. Immediately he twisted sideways and jerked away from her, as though the tension in his body was poised like a springboard. He turned his glare on her, but she met his gaze and shook her head.

"Don't," she said simply, trying to reach him with her eyes and convey what she knew to be true. Slowly his expression loosened and his shoulders seemed to droop like weights had been attached to his arms. The handgun fell from his slackened grip, landing with a soft thud on the blue carpet.

A few feet away, Zeke gave a low chuckle. Annabeth turned to glare at him as he began to raise his gun, but she jumped in surprise when a dull chink sounded and he suddenly flinched and yelled in pain, releasing his weapon as his left hand moved to grasp his lower right arm. As he shifted, Annabeth noticed a bullet-sized hole in the glass near the floor behind him. Judging by the angle, someone had fired from somewhere far below.

Frank, Annabeth thought with a smirk. He was a pretty good shot after all.

Taking Zeke's moment of distraction, Annabeth lifted her gun and prepared to fire. She couldn't let Percy kill his uncle, but that didn't mean she wouldn't do it herself.

"Hold it, Chase!" a familiar voice called from behind Annabeth. Muscles tensing in frustration, she turned slowly around and tried to ignore the suffocating feeling of her lungs turning to lead.

Atlas was standing across the office, handgun aimed in Annabeth's direction. He was definitely worse for wear—he had bruises and blood on his face, as well as what looked like a shallow bullet wound near the top of his left shoulder. Behind him were only two agents, the larger of whom had Leo's arms twisted tightly behind his back. The mechanic must have succeeded in taking out the rest of Atlas's backup squad before getting overwhelmed. A narrow line of blood dripped down his forehead and the skin was dark beneath his left eye, but he looked otherwise alright, if a little annoyed.

"Not another move," Atlas ordered in a low voice, eyes darting from Annabeth to Percy to Zeke and back. "All three of you are coming with me."

For a second, Annabeth didn't know what to do. Getting apprehended by the CIA was the last way she wanted the night to end. But at the same time, she'd come so close to achieving the goal she'd set out days ago to do. When was she ever going to get another chance like this again, consequences or no consequences? She remembered her promise to herself that her and her friends' lives were more important than her mission. But would arrest even qualify as survival? In Atlas's hands, she sincerely doubted it.

As though reading her mind, Leo suddenly yelled at her, "To hell with that—kill him!"

It was like she'd been waiting for someone to say it, like those words were a poised trigger. Resolve growing hard as diamond, Annabeth spun toward the window, took aim, and fired a bullet into the center of Zeke's chest.

She allowed herself a brief half-second of satisfaction at the shock on the crime lord's face before she fired again, and again, and again, emptying her magazine into the man who'd tried to ruin her life. He stumbled backward and with the last shot tumbled over the rail and crashed into the cracked window. The glass shattered and he backpedaled into empty air, arms spread wide like wings trying in vain to catch the wind. In a stupor, Annabeth ran to the window and watched as Ezekiel Grace fell like a wounded eagle through the sky, disappearing into the shadowy night air.

"CHASE!" Atlas roared, breaking the heavy shock that had fallen over the office's remaining occupants. Annabeth turned in time to duck the resulting gunfire aimed her way.

"Percy, Annabeth," Frank's voice suddenly sounded in Annabeth's ear. "Ground backup's been eliminated. If you can get to the elevator, we can get out of here."

For a wild second Annabeth wondered how his timing could have been so perfect. Then she realized he'd probably been watching via sniper scope and seen Zeke take his dive out the window.

"Roger that," she said into her radio. "Let's get going."

"I don't think so!" Atlas called as though she'd been addressing him. He shouted angrily into an earpiece, "Cut the power!"

Uh-oh, she thought. So much for the elevator. That would only leave them the stairs—seventy-nine flights of them.

Beside Atlas, Leo scowled in frustration. He was now on his knees with the barrel of a gun against his temple, possibly forced there after speaking to Annabeth. That didn't seem an important concern to him, however, because rather recklessly he wrenched an arm free and grabbed the wrist of the man behind him, shoving down and causing the agent to fire a bullet into the floor dangerously close to his boss's boots. Leo leaned back and leapt to his feet, smacking the agent in the chin with the back of his head. He shoved a hand into his tool belt and pulled out something small and metal.

"Annabeth!" he yelled across the room as he chucked the object into the air. Annabeth dashed forward and snatched it, recognizing it as the key ring to the service elevator. "It's on a backup generator!" Leo said. "It'll run! GO!" That was all he got out before Atlas shoved his agent aside and used his gun to slug Leo in the side of the head, sending him to his hands and knees. Annabeth only managed a step toward him before both agents aimed their guns at her and Percy.

"Come on!" Percy said, grabbing her hand and dragging her away as deadly projectiles flew in their direction. They raced across the office toward the back hallway that circled the floor, ducking into it as bullets embedded in drywall all around them. They sped down the hall and around the corner, not slowing until they'd dodged around the fallen bodies of the men and women caught in the explosion they'd earlier set off and reached the door to the stairwell.

Projectiles flew past them as Atlas's voice shouted "Don't let them get away!" They darted into the stairwell and yanked the door shut behind them, dulling the cacaphony of angry voices on their trail. Annabeth led the way quickly down the stairs, paying little attention to her surroundings as her mind raced anxiously. She barely even noticed when the lights above her suddenly went out, casting everything in shadow. Her feet carried her two floors down and across the hall of floor 77, though her head didn't seem to following along as quickly. With trembling hands she separated the key Leo had used to operate the elevator upon their earlier arrival and when they reached it forced it into the keyhole, unlocking the hatch over the operation buttons. She jabbed the 'Down' button and in seconds the doors opened with a metallic scrape.

Percy darted inside but Annabeth held back, her consciousness still somehow trapped two floors above. What were they doing?

"What about Leo?" she asked urgently.

Percy gave her a pained look, a hand over the threshold to keep the doors opened. "If we go back, we're either dead or arrested."

"Just wait!" Annabeth argued. She glanced down the hallway, fingers tense on the keys and the trigger of her gun.

"STOP THEM!" Atlas snarled as a human shape his size rounded the corner at the end of the hall. Annabeth raised her gun, but Percy snatched her by the arm and yanked her into the elevator, his other hand jamming the button to forcibly close the doors. They slid shut to the familiar sound of gunfire and numbly Annabeth leaned her hands against them, closing her eyes and somehow hoping that everything that had happened that night would vanish with her sight into the void of darkness.

Oh, man. What a ride. Fun, huh? Heh heh.

So all that's left now are two wrap-up chapters and the epilogue. Though, don't forget, there will be another sequel. One more book and this series will be done.

Hope you guys enjoyed this last spurt of action! (Doesn't mean we're done plot-wise, of course. I've still gotta lead into Book 3, don't I?)

Thanks for reading! See you next Wednesday!

-oMM