(A/N) So lets talk about how much I'm an idiot, for those people who have not already read the chapter 4 rant. I posted this chapter as chapter four, but this chapter is actually chapter five, so please, go back and read the newly introduced chapter four that I have updated and fixed my mistake thus.

It will make a lot more sense...

1 ISSUE: And also, I made a mistake on ages in Percy's file, oops.

2 ISSUE: Dominant and Secondary Ethnicity... This fanfic is in the future, not by like, fifty years, but a year or two or three... And, Shield's files aren't public files, or files that we use today. And yes, I made a mistake, they would not be able to tell Percy Jackson's dominant ethnicity because his father is unknown, so yeah...

You,

yes you,

You're almost amazing as Percy Jackson,
Yes you :)

Part I: Aberration

Chapter V: Going

"Freeze." The voice plays again in my mind, achingly harsh yet familiar.

And then my body takes control and is in motion before I can think. I'm in action, I'm not going down without a fight, again.

They stay positioned where the are, which leads me to assume they're going to hang back and fire guns at me, instead of melee or hand-to-hand combat. By the leading guy's body position, I can tell that there are four people on his left, and five on his right. They're about twenty feet away.

I feel so special, they think they need ten people to knock me out.

But they're wrong, they need at least forty. Normal humans are too easy to kill.

Immediately bolting to the left, and an arrow misses me by a few feet. I can tell the archer's not very good, a master is able to pinpoint where I am going to be.

I start counting in my head, timing.

1... 2... 3...

The next arrow horridly shot arrow I manage to catch as it whizzes by to my left, narrowly missing my arm. I flip it mid-air purposefully graze the inside of my wrist, coating the tip in my toxic blood that's not unlike the more powerful Dianthrium Oil, even a small graze can leave a fully grown man stunned for fourteen hours. I hurl it back in the general direction of the bowman.

There are no more arrows shot. I almost burst into hysterical tears, we were having so much fun!

Energy courses through me as I surge, suddenly I feel powerful enough to take on forty-one men.

I bring my left hand up and will it to fire, feeling the five Crystalline Silver bullets shoot out from my hand, electrically charged with lightning from my previous energy surge. Two of them hit the standardly dressed man with three golden stars on his uniform closest to me, and three whiz beside him.

The man immediately collapses from the Red Dianthrium poison that all my darts are dipped in, he starts convulsing as the hallucinations take his mind and worm into his fears. The Lightning only adds to the affect as he practically glows electric blue and sparks actually fly from him onto other bystanders. Stinging pricks that resemble a cattle brand.

Panic is immediate. Chaos rules.

I watch as the leader dude tries taking control, he pulls four guys aside and honing in on his and my audio I hear him tell them to secure the premises and distract any police that comes for the disturbances. I smile wryly, divide and conquer, as they say.

Then four bullets are coming at me and, on the balls of my feet, I somersault to the side as I literally duck under one of the bullets. I sprint into a barely lighted corridor (I estimate the room 10x27) , three of them follow me and two of them go another way, no doubt to cut me off at the end.

30 seconds.

I take a quick peak at the three behind me, one of them wears all black and runs in a perfect, long strides, her eyes flashing dangerously in the dark behind me. The next is male, he wears a standard uniform with the strange three star emblem and has a gun tucked into the crook of his arm.

The last man almost makes me stop in guffaws, he wears some sort of America getup, but to compensate he has a shield that looks both shiny and deadly.

Speaking of shields, the same one is now barreling at my face.

I duck successfully, and shoot my right hand, first-finger dart, which is more like a shredder than a dart, back behind me where one catches the standard soldier in the forehead. He falls behind as blood spatters from the puncture like crimson diamonds.

49 seconds.

The shield in front of me rebounds on the corner of the wall, and now hurls right back at me in a way I think the Mr. Patriotic planned it like this.

At the same time the shield is only inches away from my face, the woman in black shoots me with a pistol that, while I doge the shield, the bullet barely clips me, skinning my shoulder. I can already feel my shirt soaking with blood.

I jerk my hand onto my shoulder, trying to staunch the blood flow. My mind runs wild with many possibilities and strategies for taking down the two stragglers behind, and deducing the best option would be hand-to-hand combat as of right now, I suddenly stop running and sweep my leg under both of them. I get blessed and catch both of them with my timed sweep because they have little to no time at all to stop. The woman does back handsprings off the force, though.

In the .6 seconds Mr. Patriot is on the floor, I manage to kick him on the head, which leaves him stunned for a few moments, before I have to face woman-in-black.

Then I charge the black suited woman.

I can tell she's slightly unperturbed and that's why she hesitates in shooting, by body language, as if she'd never believe I'd seemingly commit suicide like this. She's dead wrong.

I'd do it in a heartbeat.

I roughly grab her around the waist and tackled her to the ground, her below me. Elongating two darts, so as I probably resemble Wolverine, I punch her in the face.

Well, almost. She blocks at last second, and with my other hand I force her hand down to her side.

Before I draw back again, she has her arms around me (somehow she freed her hands) and crashes her forehead into my nose, which immediately starts pouring blood. Unfortunately, I wouldn't be surprised if she broke my nose.

I immediately jerk back my entire body, and hurriedly get onto my feet while the woman in front of me back-walkovers. Her fighting stance mirrors my own, right leg forward, bent slightly, and left back is supporting, while both heels make a forty-five degree angle.

I strike first, a jump front kick that I aim at her head with. She grabs my foot and pushes down with, while I manage to catch her in the head with my Non-Wolverinized had. She immediately spin kicks and I just manage to duck, before her fist start flying.

High block, punch at her shoulder, low block, catcher her hand and twist it. Put pressure on her shoulder as her arm twists behind her, listen to her let out a whimper.

Feel totally disoriented when suddenly I'm on the floor with her on top of me. Catcher her first two blows, manage to grab her shoulders and fling her entire body behind me.

I hear her body smack the ground unpleasantly, and once again we lock in our deadly dance. This time she punches I grab her wrist, and with two fingers dig into the pressure point between the two bones o her wrist. With the rest of my body I go under her arm and reverse slam her into the ground — again.

She lands on her feet in some counter landing and my blood turns to ice. She's good, really good.

I'm not panicking, but I'm wondering who these people are. Are they gang members? Enemies of Rust who have the means to capture me and tun me into a hostage to gain leverage? Why do they want me?

I go on the offensive and next block she makes punch at her forearm pressure point, the one that really hurts. I release two bullets from my right hand as my roundhouse kick catches her in the jaw, which one implants in her thigh.

And it just so happens to be a non poisoned one.

1 minute and 12 seconds.

Well, she does falls the ground a my dart starts tearing in her flesh, and I'm able to take half a second to catch my breath.

Suddenly I realize I haven't looked at Mr. Patriotic in a while. I take a peak behind me and see him still on the floor, but with a quick jab his shield is once again spinning at me with deadly accuracy.

I fall forward as it clips me in the side of my head, while I immediately feel for the damage. Blood now is pouring down the side of my head, and I can't do anything about it.

At least my nose has stopped bleeding.

Haha. That's not even my biggest problem, my shoulder is still pouring buckets.

Unfortunately from the force of the shield I fall exactly on top of the woman.

Suddenly, something inside of me cracks, and I'm no longer just trying to stun then or knock them out. They started this! Not me.

Now, I'm not afraid to kill them.

No. I never start things — but I always finish them.

On top of the woman, I immediately jab twice at her throat which restricts her air supply. As Mr. America' shield comes spinning back from where it rebounded on the wall, I reach out and like what I did with the axe, grab it. I get a feel of its weight, before back spinning it back at him.

He ducks, no surprise, and I shift my attention back to the woman who opens her eyes as soon as I turn to her. I grin crookedly at her, and then jump gracefully back as Mr. Patriotic throws his shield again, which knocks the woman cold out.

Before I can get back to her, I grab the shield that hit her in the head, that no doubt gave her a concussion, and put it on my back, like I saw American Flag do.

Then I confront the beast.

I grudgingly get fighting position, while Mr. America does as well. Then I hear foot prints behind him and know the people who took the other channel have caught up to us.

Three vs. One. Easy peasy, chicken kabobs. That might not be it, but eh... Too bad.

I study the two new guys for .03 of second. Well... not guys...

1 minute 37 seconds.

An red robot automatronic dude I name Ferrari and a muscled green troll that has destroyed most of the hallway, I name Pickle. (Though, his angry look is enough to make me want to pee my pants.)

My newly induced creativity must be blamed for the amazing names I have created.

I don't understand... The two men that started out like perfectly normal soldiers have suddenly transformed... into this? A robot and a green goblin? Are they male empousa? What? I'm so confused right now, but I don't have time to dwell on it.

Ferrari does something I don't expect, he lifts his hand and a blue laser of energy barrels towards me at the speed of light out of his weird hand light. Now, I can dodge a great number of thing, but I can't move the speed of light.

His energy slams into me, and a raw scream escapes from my mouth, torn in agony that brings bile and blood up from my throat. I get thrown backwards, ad I can feel my stomach being burnt with the heat of a thousand stars, the layers of skin being charred black into more pain than I've felt in a long time — like twisting agony of being shredded slowly.

AHHHHHHH!

My scream resounds on the walls, and momentarily Ferrari stops when Mr. American Flag suddenly tackles him.

"Don't you dare hurt a kid like that, Iron Man! Not ever!"He says in my defense, to my surprise. He didn't have any problems with taking my head off with a shield, now did he?

But, none the less I'm grateful, and a soft groan escapes my lips. I shakily get to my feet, biting my lip bloody trying to ignore the pain. I stagger, leaning on the wall with both arms wrapped around my stomach. I retch, but nothing but blood comes out of my swollen mouth.

Limping slowly, while Mr. Murica restrains Ferrari and Pickle dejectedly looks at me with no passion for fighting, I find a good place that has a pipe twelve feet off the ground. I grimace and strain my fingers upwards, gathering my energy and leap as high as I can.

2 minutes and 1 second.

This is when all three Gang members turn back to look at me.

And I'm hanging from my pipe upside down, frantically pulling things from my pack. I set out two electromagnetic poles, grab a battery, hook wires into wires before hooking up a detonator to my contraption. All in less than a second.

"Who are you?" I ask, angrily, the button clutched tightly in my hand. "What do you want from me?"

Ferrari speaks, "I don't know who you are, kid, but our orders were to capture anyone here."

"But I'm just a kid." I tell him, cocking my head in a mockingly innocent tone. The way a six year old would taunt their bigger sibling.

"You took out Widow," Mr. Murica says, glancing at her collapsed body, "I wouldn't say that's nothing."

I'm confused for a moment, Widow, did her husband die?

This time I'm ready when Ferrari lifts his hand and blows me with energy from his hand, I instinctively reach behind me, grasp Mr. Flag's shield and bring it up to cover my entire body. The energy splits to either side of me and I shudder at the raw power.

When Ferrari realizes it's pointless, he abates and I immediately throw the shield and release all five poisoned darts of my left hand.

The four of five poison darts catch him, majorly tearing chunks of metal from his armored arm, and the one shot only milliseconds later rips a long putrid lash in his arm. The poison takes immediate effect Ferrari clutches his torn arm, while screams resound from his mouth. I almost feel sorry for him, but hey, they attacked me.

Pickle lets out a roar that's so loud I can literally feel the vibrations, but before he can do any melee damage I jam my thumb onto the detonator. I throw it so it connects with the silicon bar ten yards away from me and it's octopus like arms wrap round and round around it.

The effect is immediate, Ferrari is pulled upwards by the Electromagnetic Pulse. I let out a laugh, "Iron man, huh? What a stupid name, especially when you're suit isn't even made of iron. It's a nickel and titanium alloy, with traces of carbon-carbon. And guess what?" I stick my tongue out at him, "Two of the three are magnetic! What a coinky-dink." I smile wryly, and quickly grab another detonator that I hook to the bar above me, jamming my finger into it. "And guess what else? Both the silicon bar and nitinol are extremely conductive metals!"

This time I flat out laugh when electric pulses rack Ferrari's body.

Cheese n' wieners.

Cheese n' wieners.

Cheese n' wieners.

2 minutes and 47 seconds.

While both Pickle and Murica watch in horror, and Ferrari get's zapped within an inch of his life, (he's unconscious now) I quickly climb up several shafts and drop down right behind Murica and decapitate him.

Just kidding, I didn't bring a sword!

I swiftly knock my forearm into the back of his head, which knocks him out cold.

Before I can inflict anymore damage, Pickle wraps his giant hand around my head, picks me up in an incredible hurtful manor, and swiftly swings me into a wall.

I groan in accompany with my metal implants as I no doubt break both my right wrist in two spots and my femur in my left leg. The shoulder shot starts bleeding profusely again. I immediately spring into action, and push off from the wall my indention now lies in.

Doing an uncoordinated roll, which hurts me more than actually slamming into the wall, I find my feet. It's times like these when I'm extremely grateful for the (non magnetic) metal implants in my bone structure as, they help me stand even when my fragile bone is fractured.

I can see Pickle stare at me warily, not used to someone getting back on their feet after being slammed into a wall by a giant. I don't blame him, anyone other than me would have been ludicrous imagination.

I get in a rough fighting stance with my hands up near my face. I'm not stupid enough to actually believe hand-to-hand combat would turn in my favor (I'm strong, just not as strong as that thing) but I'm hoping that either trickery or a tip in power will come to my rescue.

I shoot all ten darts, and three of them catch, but while just a drop of poison would send a fully grown silt man half way to Hades, Pickle only hesitates from the flicker of pain before advancing again. He charges at me and I find it in me to duck under his swinging arms, before bringing up my non-broken leg and kicking as hard as I can.

He doesn't even stumble.

I flash back to fighting the Minotaur, as both seem similar, if only Pickle had horns. I dash to my left and grab Patriotic'a shield, and quickly bring it up as Pickle swings a giant fist. My arms groan in protest and my broken wrist threatens collapse at the unbelievable weight.

If ever Pickle gets tired of attacking innocent assassins, he'd be great at holding up the sky and letting dear ole' cousin Atlas roam free. He could probably do it with one pinky while siping tea and embroidering handkerchiefs with the rest of his fingers.

3 minutes and 27 seconds.

I bring up the shield, and jump onto Pickle's back, arms locked around his neck. I use the shield and repeatedly bang it into his head, in awe of both objects that refuse to give way. I jam my knuckles into the back of his head, the one's I lengthen like Wolverine with poison spikes, and make four, one inch deep punctures that begin spewing blood almost as acid as mine.

Pickle roars, and I loose my sense of hearing as he does. He brings his hands up to his head, as if swaying a fly, but I not-so-gracefully backflip/backfall down his back onto the ground.

I retract my spikes, (no need to accidentally impale myself) and start running down the corridor, positive that Pickle won't follow me. In fact, I'm most sure he's gunna have lasting brain damage.

Oops.

I start composing an apology to him,

Dear giant Pickle, I am extremely sorry for bashing in your skull with my darts, just know it hurt you a lot more than it hurt me.

Sincerely, Percy Jackson

I channel the pain of running on a broken leg, shot holder, and sliced skull into adrenaline, and cover twenty yards easily. Using my momentum I swing open the heavy metal door and dash out of it.

Just to practically run into the commander guy and the other four he had pulled aside. His black eyes glint coldly and his smile evil.

I have time to lift my hand an shoot three of the four soldiers, blazed onto their uniform four golden stars, and give the leader guy a terrifying glare, before I faultily miss a trip wire placed elegantly below me. I crash to the ground from my force, and kick the legs out of the remaining four starred soldier.

But it's too late, I can see the ominous hand descending, a needle with some a laboratory concoction of liquid chloroform.

And then my eyes roll into the back of my head, and in only seconds I'm unconscious.

4 minutes and 25 seconds.

Comment please!

Bye my Knights,
Jay Knight.

(Any ideas for Percy's love interest?)