Hi gang! Everybody have a good holiday season? Sorry I was MIA for a while. Last two months were super busy for me, lot of traveling for work and then holiday stuff. Things've slowed down now though and I'm back in action. Thanks for waiting patiently!

Thanks as always to everybody who reviewed last time! Short update today. Enjoy!

Hey young blood / Doesn't it feel like our time is running out?
I'm gonna change you like a remix / Then I'll raise you like a phoenix

Visiting the Spring Street Financial District in Los Angeles always felt distinctly odd for Percy—possibly because of its indirect resemblance to the city in which he'd been born and raised. The stretch wasn't called the 'Wall Street of the West' for nothing; the high-rise buildings, busy foot traffic, and general air of hurriedness felt a lot like home. It was like looking at the financial district of Manhattan through a foggy mirror, or watching its reflection in a river dim with murk. Similar but different—two sides of the same scratched, dull-plated coin.

Not that he and Frank had a lot of time for sightseeing as they made their way down South Spring Street that Tuesday afternoon, brushing past ambling tourists and dodging agitated businessmen and women. He'd tried calling ahead to let his uncle know they were stopping by, but he'd been unable to get a hold of him. They would just have to get there as early as possible and hope the man wasn't tied up. Percy didn't expect the place to be overly populated given the time of day, but with the building's historical status one could never be too careful.

Harley owned and managed the nightclub Exchange LA near the Financial District's southern end, one of the city's most popular hangouts and—to hear him tell it—a hell of an undertaking. It was located in the renovated and refurbished former Stock Exchange building, so in addition to the two main event rooms and various smaller halls for rent, it contained a historical museum and hosted tours on a weekly basis. The demand of running the EXLA was the reason Harley rarely left Los Angeles—and the reason he often didn't take visitors.

It was barely one o'clock in the afternoon when Percy and Frank (who'd volunteered to come along as fellow negotiator and/or backup) arrived at the club. The neon spotlights above its entrance were unlit during off hours, making the building look more like the historical monument it was than the nightclub it masqueraded as—though the dim lighting in the inside front hallway made a good attempt at reversing that effect.

The heavy glass door to the executive area at the end of the first floor hall was unlocked, and pulling it open granted Frank and Percy access to a narrow, rectangular lobby housing a private elevator, numerous locked cabinets, and a single reception desk against the far wall. No one was seated behind it, but the business-casual wardrobe of the room's only occupant, who was busy rifling through a filing cabinet and looked up at the disturbance, suggested that she was probably its usual owner.

"Hello," she greeted them with a friendly smile. "Can I help you?" She was a dark-skinned young woman in her early twenties with a slight frame and a volume of curly, cinnamon-auburn hair—not someone Percy had ever seen before. She must have been his uncle's most recent personal secretary. He tended to go through them rather quickly, what with his unforgiving perfectionism.

"We're here to see Kane di Sotto." Percy dropped Harley's alias to be safe. If the woman was working this close to his uncle, she would know all about the organization. But in a place like the EXLA, it was impossible to know who else might have been listening in.

The secretary slid the cabinet drawer she was searching closed and locked it with a silver key, before stepping at a brisk pace to her desk in the corner. Dropping into the chair behind it, she asked, "Do you have an appointment?"

Frank gave Percy a doubtful look, but Percy shook his head and replied, "We don't need one."

The woman hesitated, turning away from the computer she'd just logged into with a frown. "Don't need…? I'm sorry, but it's impossible to get in to see Mr. di Sotto without…"

Her voice trailed off as Percy passed her his New York driver's license and she scanned its surface. Her eyes shot open and she gave a timid sort of squeak before continuing, "I-Impossible for anyone else, I mean. But you—He's in his office upstairs, you can use the elevator. Fifth floor—of course, you probably already know that. I'll just… buzz up to let him know you're coming."

Percy grinned in relief, a bit amused by her nervous smile—like she was afraid she'd be reprimanded for trying to tell the Don of Olympus he couldn't see his own uncle. "Thanks," he told her, leading Frank to the executive elevator. Once it arrived, he saw the woman pick up her phone and dial upstairs as he pressed the button for level 5 and the doors slid closed.

"Must be good to be you," Frank noted in a humored tone as the elevator quickly ascended. "Just flash your ID and bam—you're in. And getting cute girls all flustered without even trying? Not a bad perk, either."

Percy smirked in agreement. His job may have been overwhelming at times, but it definitely had its advantages. With a sideways glance at Frank, he responded, "You think she was cute?"

"Did you see her?" Frank replied wryly, lifting an eyebrow.

The elevator sounded their arrival at the fifth floor and the doors opened into a short hallway ending in a window, with a single door on the left wall. An iron plaque on its surface read Kane di Sotto – Senior Manager.

Percy rapped his knuckles against the door, drawing a brusque "In," from beyond it. Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Percy pushed the door open and let himself and Frank inside.

Harley Grace was alone in his office, seated at his oversized, L-shaped desk and closely studying the vast array of documents that papered two-thirds of its wooden surface. His narrow face was locked in a frown of concentration, dark eyes scanning back and forth with near-inhuman speed as he read. A few short seconds passed, during which Percy crossed his arms with mild impatience and waited, before Harley let out a rough sigh and sat up straight, turning his gaze on his new visitors.

"Nephew," he greeted Percy impersonally, not acknowledging Frank at all. "Close the door, will you? I assume by your lack of notice that this is a matter of some importance."

"You could say that," Percy agreed as Frank snapped the door closed. "If you consider our deadly war with Kronos 'important'."

Harley chuckled with dry amusement. "Ah, yes, I've heard about your reasonably-successful infiltration of their headquarters. So you've come to me for, what—some help hiding out now that the CIA is onto you?"

"Help, yes," Percy said. "Hiding, no. We've decided to stay on the offensive—to lure them out and strike them down."

At this, Harley's frown deepened. The gold and silver rings on his fingers caught and reflected the dim light as he gathered a few sheets of printed paper and formed them into a small stack. Setting it aside, he asked, "And you're here for…?"

"The right venue."

Harley's eyebrows jumped. He leaned back in his chair and said, with an edge of disbelief to his voice, "And I take it you think my club is the 'right venue'? Care to impart your reasoning?"

Percy had expected some skepticism from his uncle. It was well-known throughout the organization—when it came to his business, Harley Grace was like iron. Solid and immovable, protecting it like a shield. Percy trusted in his uncle's devotion to the organization, of course, but some persuasion would be required to bring him on board with a plan as potentially destructive as the one he had.

Pacing a few steps to his right while Frank stood stoically by the door, Percy explained, "Something Atlas told me the other day made it sound like they know where our east coast base is—or at least the general area. I know it's a war and all, but they're more focused on Annabeth and me than anyone else. We don't plan on running, but they don't exactly know that, do they? If we can make them think we're leaving the city, going somewhere safe… If they think our guard's down, they won't be suspicious when we, say, show up at a crowded concert hall in L.A."

"If you're supposed to be hiding," Harley challenged, eyes narrowing, "wouldn't it be strange to go somewhere so public? An obvious trap, perhaps?"

"Not if the one performing is my cousin."

Harley lifted his chin in understanding. "You want me to schedule a gig for Thalia's band."

"It'd give us the perfect excuse to draw them to an innocent-looking location that we have full control over. Stock the place with people we can trust, and we should have a chance to get the jump on them."

"Interesting," Harley mused with a thoughtful sideways glance. "But how do you plan on letting them know you'll be here? Anything too obvious would be highly suspicious, despite how well the pieces fit."

"We've got a mole inside the agency," Percy assured his uncle, having considered the same problem on the plane that morning. Calling a truce with Jason seemed to have more hidden benefits than he'd previously realized. "United slipped him in when they started investigating the company after Zeke. He can get the info in without raising any flags. They'll be looking for us anyway—it won't look strange if somebody actually gets a hit."

Harley nodded, looking impressed. He reached up and twisted the lowest of the ten earrings lining his left ear, each of which was dotted with a tiny, precious gemstone that was probably worth more than everything Percy owned. After a heavy silence, he slid his chair to the right and pressed a button on the intercom device at the edge of his desk.

"Hazel," he said into it, "bring me the event schedule for April."

"Next April, sir?" the voice of his secretary asked.

"No, this April."

"…This April? As in, this month?"

"Yes, this month," Harley confirmed, ignoring the uncertainty in his assistant's voice. "The original file folder, please, not the finalized print."

"Of course, sir. Just… Just a minute."

When Harley sat back, Percy said hopefully, "Does this mean you're in?"

"I'll see what I can do," Harley replied, folding his hands across his stomach. "We're booked solid for the next fourteen months, but I'm sure there's some second-rate performer I can boot out. You're right about a lot of this, but foremost is that this war is important. The sooner we win, the better."

Percy grinned. "Got that right."

"You do realize, however," Harley went on, a note of warning in his voice, "that with Parker out of commission for the time being, the safety of both the east and central divisions falls on you. And seeing as you have no successor… Be sure to tread lightly here. This plan of yours isn't a bad one, but I'm sure you realize how dangerous it is."

Percy knew exactly how right his uncle was, but rather than show any apprehension he raised an eyebrow and joked, "You're actually worried about me? Didn't know you cared."

Harley waved a hand with a light smirk. "Not so much you as the future of the family. In that, I'm… understandably invested."

"Right, of course."

A knock on the door just then interrupted their conversation, and after an invitation from Harley the woman from downstairs opened the door and stepped inside. She was carrying a manila envelope stuffed full of trimmed slips of paper which stuck out in all directions.

"Here's the schedule file you wanted," she told her boss as she strode across the room and handed him the folder. With a quick glance at Percy, she added, "Can I… ask what this is about?"

"The family has need of the club," Harley told her, setting the folder in front of him and flipping it carefully open. "We're going to be bringing in a special act on short notice."

"But… this month?" the secretary—Hazel, Harley had called her—repeated doubtfully. "Most of these acts have been scheduled since last spring, or earlier. They won't respond well if I call them now to cancel…"

"Any issues can be raised directly to me." Harley chose a blue sheet of paper from the seemingly-unorganized stack and checked it against a printed spreadsheet paper-clipped to the left side of the folder. "This will do." To his nephew, he decided, "A week from Friday, the sixteenth. That's the earliest I can get you in."

Percy nodded. "I'll take it. I haven't talked to Thalia yet—"

"Leave that to me," Harley promised, holding the blue sheet out to his assistant. "Hazel, please notify Mr. Jones that his band's performance on the sixteenth has been indefinitely postponed. Be sure to give him my sincere apologies and my word that I will personally be in touch to re-schedule them as soon as possible."

"Right away, sir."

"Oh, and… you may want to take that night off. Have a quiet evening at home."

Confusion sparked in Hazel's eyes. She cocked her head to the side inquisitively, but all she said was, "…Alright." Harley thanked her and, offering polite smiles to Percy and Frank, she let herself out of the office.

"She seems better than your last personal assistant," Percy noted once she'd gone. "Smarter."

Harley lowered his chin. "Yes, she has immense potential. Hence my desire to keep her out of this little CIA rendezvous. I'd like her to stay around."

"Well, thanks for all your help," Percy summed up, sensing that the meeting was just about over. He turned to exchange a nod with Frank, but noticed that the latter was still staring at the door through which Hazel had just disappeared. Shaking his head in amusement, he glanced back at his uncle and added, "I know this isn't gonna be easy. But it's nice to know I can count on you."

"I'll take care of everything here," Harley said with a curt nod. "You just make sure not to get yourself killed or discovered before the time comes. It'd be a shame for all this planning to go to waste."

"Aw, no worries," Percy replied with more confidence than he actually had. "There's no way they'll see this coming. We just got one up on them, right? They're probably thinking we'd be stupid to try something again so quickly."

"Which is potentially true," Harley reminded him with a ghost of a smirk.

Heading for the door and snapping Frank out of his reverie, Percy shrugged. "Maybe we'll get lucky. I mean, you know what they say: Fortune favors the bold."

Harley chuckled, a dark smile breaking across his pale face. "Please, nephew," he said with a vague goodbye wave. "You've been in this business far too long to believe that."

And that's a plan. More excitement next two chapters, when this plan actually happens. Hopefully I can get them up relatively soon. Shouldn't be as long of a wait as this one, at the very least.

Thanks, everybody! Later days!

-oMM