DISCLAIMER: I do not own Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus, all rights to Rick Riordan! I also don't own The Avengers either, so rights go to Marvel or whatever.

Agent Phil Coulson sat at the clean, metal table, watching the boy across from him. He'd shown signs of awakening a few minutes ago, and Coulson wanted to be there when he finally opened his eyes. He felt a little guilty for hitting a kid over the head with a crowbar, but he quickly pushed the thoughts aside. When you were right hand man to the director of SHIELD, you learned that sometimes certain measures had to be taken—whether you agreed with them or not.

Phil didn't consider himself the bad guy in this situation. He knew the boy he'd kidnapped would, but that was none of his concern. It was SHIELD's job to protect the world from the supernatural—no matter how young or old they were.

As soon as they discovered whether the demigods were a threat or not, this whole predicament would be dealt with accordingly. Phil got the feeling they weren't a danger to society, but it wasn't his job to tell Fury what to do.

As soon as he'd broken out of the basement he'd been kept in, he'd sneaked to the borders and grabbed the first demigod he came across. And that just so happened to be probably one of the creepiest ones in the camp.

The boy looked around fourteen or fifteen. He had raven hair that was shaggy and tangled. It fell down past his ears, like he hadn't wanted—or remembered—to get a haircut. His skin was pale as a ghost, and the boy was skin and bones. He looked like he hadn't eaten a decent meal in weeks. A tattered aviator jacket covered almost all of his black T-shirt. He wore a pair of jet-black jeans, and a wicked silver skull ring glittered on his finger.

Suddenly, a pair of dark eyes fluttered open and the boy moaned softly. He stifled the noise as soon as he realized he wasn't alone in his prison.

A murderous glare met Coulson's steady gaze.

"Have a nice nap?" Phil asked, ignoring the silence. "Sorry about the crowbar, I couldn't think of another way to keep you from struggling." He truly was apologetic—the kid probably had a massive headache now, judging by the patch of blood in his hair. When he said nothing in response, Coulson continued. "I just have a few questions for you, then I'll let you get some rest. I'm sure you're not feeling too well after our little skirmish last night."

There was a sudden light in the boy's eyes, like he registered that had been at least five hours since he'd been kidnapped. Coulson took a sip of coffee, and slid a plastic cup of water across the table for the kid. "Thirsty?" He asked. Phil knew he wanted it, you could tell.

His prisoner didn't even acknowledge it. Well, Coulson thought, so much for making the environment seem friendly. He left it there, just in case the boy changed his mind.

"Let's start with the basics. What is your full name?"

Silence. Deadly silence.

NICO POV

Nico ignored his dry throat, staring his captor in the eyes. He was really trying not to at least glance down at the pale blue cup filled with refreshing water. No, he would not cave in. Not yet. But he was so thirsty, and his head was pounding like no tomorrow…Aside from that, he had a really weird feeling in his stomach—like he'd had last night.

"What is your full name?"

Question number one. Nico paid it no attention. This man really believed that he could kidnap him in his own camp and bring him here against his will, and on top of that ask him questions he didn't even want to answer?

The son of Hades moved his wrists a little, and a faint clinking met his ears. He was chained up. Nico glared.

Coulson met his gaze, a polite interest and menacing light coercing in his eyes. Phil tsked his tongue and carefully slid the cup full of water back to his side of the table. "Guess you're not thirsty?"

Nico subconsciously licked his lips, then immediately cursed himself inwardly for it.

"So we are thirsty, then?" Phil raised his eyebrows. "Then maybe you'll answer my question."

The son of Hades hated how his captor referred to him as "we". Nico wanted to punch him, but he kept his cool.

No problem, he thought. I'll just shadow-travel out of this dump. He discreetly scanned his

surroundings, barely moving his eyes as he took it all in. The glass walls surrounding them were shiny and clear. He could tell he wasn't just outside the borders of Camp Half-Blood. More likely he was at SHIELD HQ.

Great.

"I'll ask you one more time. What is your full name?" Coulson repeated.

Nico resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Bending the light in the room to his will, a sudden darkness flickered through. When Coulson glanced around, Nico grinned.

Then the agent seemed to reassure himself, and he turned back to his prisoner. There was still a passive look on his face. It annoyed Nico.

The son of Hades could practically feel the shadow rolling towards the room, about to cover him while he fled. The sick feeling in his stomach was stronger than ever now. Suddenly, the glass room they were in was encased in blackness. The lightbulbs all exploded and the room went dark.

Nico heard Phil's chair screech backwards as he stood, calling for backup on his comm. But it was too late, Nico knew. He was already dissolving

into the shadow world, ready to get back to his camp and away from Phil's obnoxious questions.
Suddenly, as Nico felt himself re-materialize a searing, white-hot pain shot up his right arm. Wherever he was, it was completely black out. He tried to move his burning arm, but found it was completely immobilized. What the Hades had happened?

Then he heard Phil's voice, and he knew he was still exactly where he'd started. The lightbulbs began to flicker back on—though Nico had no idea how that had happened when they'd combusted.
When light flooded the room again, he noticed Phil was still standing right next to his chair, watching him with a grim expression. The demigod looked down at his own arm and almost threw up. From the elbow up, it was on his side of the glass prison, but from the elbow down, it was completely outside his cell. A section of his arm was bleeding where the glass entered his skin. His arm was half in and half out of his dungeon.

Nico panicked. What the Hades? How did this happen? He turned his dark eyes back to Coulson, careful to mask his fear and pain.

Apparently, he didn't do a very good job of it, because Coulson approached him slowly.

"Calm down, okay? We'll get you out of there. Just…don't struggle, all right?" The agent seemed genuinely flabbergasted as to how this could have happened.

Nico broke his non-speaking streak. "What happened? What did you do to me?" His voice cracked a little. What if they had done something to him while he slept? What if they had stolen his demigod DNA? Actually, that wouldn't really be possible, seeing as how the gods didn't have DNA. But Nico still had another fear. What if they'd jacked up his ability to shadow-travel? That had been part of his identity for so long…how could they take that away from him?

"We didn't do anything to you, I promise. This is a cell made especially to combat demigod powers." Apparently, we underestimated just how powerful you were, Coulson thought to himself. "But if you tell me how you got out of your chains, then maybe I can we can get you out faster."

Nico narrowed his eyes. Really? After all this he was still trying to get answers out of him? That's it. Nico was absolutely ticked off. He shook with anger, and the room's lights flickered again. A solemn darkness stole over them, thought not nearly as black as it had been before. It was more like…nighttime. Skeletons clawed their way out of the ground around his cell, alarming the guards and medics that had just begun to flood into the room. Chunks of tile and earth exploded around them, knocking against the glass but still not cracking it. Nico dug deeper, trying to raise a few skeleton warriors in the cell. Unfortunately, nothing happened. Frustrated, the son of Hades tugged on his arm, which was a mistake. Glaring pain traveled through his body, making him lean against the wall. Blood was smeared on both sides of the glass. It looked pretty gruesome even for a son of the death god. His stomach was churning, his death radar was reading off the charts like it had last night—and it wasn't because of the skeletons fighting the soldiers outside. He was absolutely exhausted, his head felt like someone's personal drum, and his arm was killing him.

Nico had no idea how he was going to get out of here, but he needed to do it ASAP. Coulson hadn't left the cell, but only gotten closer. Probably to ensure that Nico didn't escape.

Thankfully, his skeleton army was prevailing. One of them figured out the controls for Nico's cell and popped the door open. Well, gee, that did a whole lot of good when his arm was trapped in the glass.

Four skeletons walked inside, moving towards Coulson. The agent pulled a small gun out of his pocket and fired at the dead. A weird green laser shot from the barrel and vaporized one of the skeletons. Well, crap.

He figured as long as he was losing the battle, he might as well try to shadow-travel out again. Hopefully he didn't end up dead. He concentrated, and his body was wrapped in shadow once again. But this time, he reappeared just outside the open door to his cell. Thank the gods.

Only one skeleton was left, and Coulson was currently killing it. Nico glanced at his arm, which was lacerated and bleeding heavily. He felt dizzy, but he needed to get out of here. He tried to shadow-travel again, but ended up only a foot away with a massive headache and blacking-out vision.

He'd have to run.

Nico stumbled away from his prison towards the open doors that led outside. He kept his good hand on the wall to steady himself whenever he could, but that wasn't very often. He made it outside into a vast expanse of white hallways and chose to go left. He ran as fast as he could, dodging soldiers and cringing away from doors that opened suddenly. Finally, though, he saw a window. Daylight streamed in through it, and thankfully there were no bars.

He staggered towards it, hoping maybe he was on ground level and he could jump out. No such luck. He was at least thirty stories up. The son of Hades felt dizzy looking down that far. He turned away from the view.

Soldiers and agent were flooding down the corridor, and for the first time, Nico realized there was an alarm blaring. He swallowed thickly and blacked out momentarily. He clung to the windowsill, fighting to stay upright. He had to escape. Recapture was not an option.

There were agents surrounding him now, aiming their guns at him and shouting for him to get on his knees. Nico looked back out the window. Maybe he could shadow-travel again? No, just the thought of it almost made him throw up.

Then Phil Coulson was there, a strange looking handgun pointed at Nico's chest and warning him to stand down.

The son of Hades was desperate. Where was he supposed to go? What else could he do? There was a limit to how much he could do. He was only fifteen years old, for Hades' sake. Why were these grown adults pointing guns at him? But Nico knew why. He was considered dangerous now.

His head hurt, his arm ached so badly his legs were trembling, he was exhausted to the point where anywhere looked like a good place to sleep, and he was cornered and completely outnumbered. The nausea had returned as soon as Phil had appeared.

Then, before Nico could think of any more escape plans, he collapsed.

Sorry not sorry for that cliffie. I thought this would be a good spot for Nico to be kinda kickbutt and weak too. Gotta remember peeps, he's only a kid—no matter how many times he's been through Tartarus. And thanks to CHINCHILLA LOVE for the Nico-in-demigod-proof-cell idea, even though I tweaked it a bit :D

Arrow :D