Chapter 40 - Operational

Just before we begin with the next chapter, I'd like to take a moment to thank Icefire99, who's left a wonderful review on basically every chapter I've ever published. You're one of the real ones, Ice! Thanks a ton!

Janer Lookli considered herself to be a focused woman. It had been instilled in her during her formative years, by her mother. It had been inevitable, really. The countless lectures of 'You have to work hard, Janer. You must build your career, Janer. You have to dedicate everything, Janer. I will not accept a slacker for a daughter, Janer' were bound to sink in at least somewhat.

Her friends didn't understand, of course. How could they? They'd been taught in the 'You just float around and see what happens' approach to life. She couldn't understand how they could possibly care about their careers so little. It was alien to her.

So, when they told - not asked, told - her that she'd been coming out with them tonight, she had resisted at first. But they made some compelling arguments. They pointed out that she'd been shut in her apartment for more than 9 days straight, doing nothing but working. They'd reminded her that her doctor told her it wasn't healthy, and eventually her work would suffer as a result. So, ironic though it may be, she had to stop working, in order to get more work done. The contradiction frustrated her endlessly.

Janer allowed her friends to drag her out to some club whose name she had never even heard of, and made an honest effort to have a good time. She really did. But she couldn't help it. She started thinking about work. It was hardly her fault that she loved her job, was it? Loving one's work, was supposed to be a good thing. So what if she went a little overboard sometimes?

But her friends were relentless. They constantly kept a drink in her hands, and she only just managed to keep them from tipping the contents down her throat with a funnel. Eventually, even the fascinating project she was working on, drifted from her mind. She began to dance, which was a rare occurrence for her. Her friends stopped supplying her with drinks, because she was doing it herself. Finally, she was relaxing.

It was around then, that she noticed a man eyeing her from the bar.

He was taller than average. Janer liked tall men. They stood out from a crowd easier; more noticeable. She liked the idea of being with someone who people would take notice of, her not being particularly noteworthy herself. And the man staring at her, was definitely noticeable. Tall, with blond hair that reached his shoulders, gleaming white teeth on full display as he grinned at her, and an unmistakeable surfer's build showing through his dress shirt. It was like he was tailor-made for her.

She liked him.

And he seemed to like her too. He made his way over and introduced himself.

"Hey, I'm Driyn. What's your name?"

"Janer. Good to meet you," she said through slurred speech.

"Well, Janer, I hope you don't mind me saying this, but you are gorgeous."

He had her.

The next thing he knew, they were stumbling through her front door, unable to keep their hands off each other even long enough to open and close it properly.

Once the door was shut, she pulled away, and grinned up at him.

Suddenly she had a thought. Wasn't there something she'd been doing in her apartment?

'Oh shit shit shit!'

The project she'd been working on. The files were strewn everywhere. Across her kitchen island, her sitting room table, her dining room table, and everything in between. It was top secret stuff. She couldn't let him see that. No matter how hot and blond he was.

"Shit, I'm sorry, just give me one second real quick, and then I'm all yours."

He nodded dumbly and looked around her apartment in apparent appreciation. She suppressed a smirk, and ducked away, pulling together errant pieces of paper. Her apartment was nice. It was really nice. She had a damn good job, she was damn good at it, and it payed damn well. So, she indulged in certain things. A gorgeous apartment, furnished beautifully, in an excellent part of town, seemed like a worthy investment. And it was.

With an extra spring in her step, she finished pilling away the files into her safe, and turned back to the guy, Driyn, and felt another stab of victory as she realised his eyes had been following her across the room. Was it her imagination, or where those bright blue eyes, a shade darker now? He was wrapped around her finger.

He strode across the room, staring a hole through her, and kissed her again. She led him to the bedroom, where they stopped again. He turned her around, and started kissing her neck as his hands flowed up her dress to her shoulders. She tipped her head back and moaned. It had been so long since she'd had a man.

Then his lips were against her ear, and he whispered to her, so quietly it might have been a ghost speaking.

"It's been fun."

Her brows furrowed in confusion.

Why were his hands on either side of her head all of a sudden?

She felt her neck get jerked violently, saw a flash of his cold blue eyes, and then she was dead.

The man stretched his arms as he let go of her now lifeless corpse. There was an annoying twinge in his ribs, where he'd taken an unlocky blow a few hours prior. One of Janer's colleagues had shown a surprising demonstration of will, when he'd suddenly come out swinging.

The man left Janer's bedroom, her corpse still exactly where she had collapsed, her eyes still open in mild surprise. He made his way over to her living, room and poked around in her music collection. He didn't recognise any of it. Selecting a CD at random, he slid it into the player, and pressed play. It wasn't all that bad. A bit heavy on bass, but nothing compared to the club he'd been in less than an hour prior.

Music playing at a comfortable level, the man went to the kitchen, and found a bottle of wine he thought he might enjoy. He poured a splash into a glass and tasted it. Not bad at all. He poured a full glass, took another slow sip, and set it down on the kitchen island.

The safe Janer had indelicately shoved her work files into, was on the kitchen counter. She hadn't made much of an attempt to hide the thing. It was right there in the open, for anyone to see. But then, the man knew that she didn't have people over to her place very often. Some friends, every now and then. A guy once in a blue moon. He'd been watching her for a while.

He had watched her tap the password into the safe's keypad, so he had a good idea of what it was. He got it on his second attempt. And there they were. The files. The culmination of 3 weeks' hard work. The man reached in and pulled them out, setting everything down on the kitchen island. He sat down on a barstool, took another sip of wine, and started going over it all.

10 minutes later, he had what he needed. He pulled out a device that looked like a mobile phone, and tapped the screen a few times, then held it up to his ear.

"Identity check."

"This is Pappa Julliet 93-192."

"Confirmed. Go ahead, Jackson."

Percy smiled. He liked his identity code. Pappa Julliet were the phonetic words for his initials. He'd been born in '93, and he'd been 192 years old when he'd graduated OTC. It was just funny to him.

"Our friendly little physicist was the one. She's got the plans here."

"You've read them?"

"I have."

"And?"

"Worse than we thought. At least 40 kilotons."

"Alright. Hand it over to the locals."

Percy sighed, but made sure it wouldn't be audible over his communicator.

"Copy that. Jackson out."

He put the communicator back in his pocket, and sipped the wine again. He really didn't like the idea of handing over his discovery to the local anti-terrorist force. It wasn't that they were incompetent, per say. It's just that he hated them. They hadn't exactly done anything to him. It's just that this was personal for him, and he wanted to deal with it himself.

He'd invested 3 weeks of hard work into this particular case, and it was frustrating beyond words to have to simply give it up. Maybe if he played nice, they'd let him stay on it. But either way, it was their decision ultimately.

Percy, by that point, had been operational for 5 years. He was still working solo for the time being. The senior Spec Ops officers had decided it would be good for him to get some operational experience before he partnered up with Sara. Percy and Sara agreed, though Percy decidedly did not like it. He wanted to be with her as soon as possible. But considering Sara's status within the Army as a legend, he figured it would do him some good to get his ears wet, and figure out what he was doing alone, lest he embarrass himself in front of her as he learned on the job.

And indeed, he was glad he'd taken the time. He'd been caught off guard when one of Janer's colleagues, whom Percy had interrogated and killed earlier in the evening, had shown a surprising reserve of animal ferocity. He'd come out swinging, and a very lucky blow had actually connected with Percy's ribs. It had probably cracked one. Percy wasn't exactly concerned. He'd been through far worse. The ribs would heal in another few hours. The biggest injury, was to his pride.

But that was all over now.

He finished his wine, turned off the music, which he had just been starting to really appreciate, and left the apartment.

Only once he'd left, did he allow his form to return to normal. He'd been keeping up the shapeshifting transformation until then. He knew Janer had cameras in her apartment, but no microphones. He decompressed his spine, and returned to his normal height of 6'7. He allowed his muscles to expand to their regular size, rather than the slim, streamlined surfer body he'd gone for. His hair darkened rapidly, going from sun-kissed blond, to jet black. His eyes returned to their typical sea green. Percy Jackson was back.

It felt good to be in his normal form again. He'd been stuck in 'surfer-mode' for several hours, and it had been growing quite uncomfortable. Percy could change his shape on a dime, and hold it for quite a while without even being aware of it, but he had his limits. It started getting uncomfortable after around an hour. It started hurting after two.

Percy joined the street traffic and walked through the city, taking care to walk a Surveilance Detection Route - SDR - to make sure he wasn't being followed. He doubted he was, but it couldn't hurt to be a little careful. An hour later, after walking in several large circles, across bridges, into and out of bars and cafes, and crossing streets through busy traffic, Percy was sure he wasn't being followed, got in a cab, and went to his true destination.

Only once he was in the cab, did he take a few moments to appreciate the beauty of the city. It looked a bit like something out of a futuristic sci fi movie. There were enormous high-rises that seemed to be make of nothing but pure glass, massive electronic billboards showing off advertisements for products Percy had never heard of, and tiny restaurants on every street corner, hawking types of food Percy had never tried, and likely never would. They seemed strange to him, and he contented himself with the Ration Packs he'd brought with him at the start of his mission. They weren't great, but they were edible.

Percy arrived at the covert headquarters of the Counter Terrorism Agency, CTA, paid the driver with a mixture of bronze and silver rectangles, and walked inside. The building didn't look like much. Most of it was made of industrial-looking steel that had clearly been designed for structural integrity and function, over any kind of style. Percy could appreciate that. He never understood why so many agencies he had visited took great efforts to make their headquarters look grand and amazing. It was money better spent on important things, like gear and personnel. But then he figured, he didn't have to go to any of those places every day, and work any kind of regular hours. Perhaps if he did, he'd feel differently.

He checked in, handing over the necessary credentials, and was admitted to the head of the task force that had been assembled a few weeks before Percy had arrived on the planet. It wasn't unusual for him to be in the office, despite the ridiculously late hour. Percy respected that about him. He had a good work ethic. The head of the task force was a grumpy-looking man. He'd been in the game for around 60 years, and his face showed it. It was lined, and set in a perpetual frown. He had dark orange hair, and yellow eyes like a cat, which had been pretty unnerving when Percy had first laid eyes on him. He also had a slight blue color to his skin, which wasn't entirely uncommon on this planet. It made him look a bit like a corpse that had spent a few days in a river, but he refrained from pointing that out.

"Janer Lookli is dead," Percy began, knowing the head of the task force wasn't one much for small talk, "She was the one with the files. I have them here."

He unslung the messenger bag with the files he had liberated from Janer's safe, and handed them over.

"And what does Secret Branch want you to do with this?"

Secret Branch was a local government agency that Percy was claiming to work for. As hinted at by the name, Secret Branch was a bit secretive. Their staff didn't officially exist, which made it perfect cover for Percy.

Percy grit his teeth in annoyance, but made sure it wasn't noticeable.

"I'm at your mercy."

The task force head looked up at him and quirked an eyebrow.

"Go take the rest of the night off and report back in the morning. I'll take a look at this and decide how to proceed."

And that was that.

Percy half-bowed his head, and left the building. He decided to walk back to the apartment he was staying at, instead of taking another cab. As he walked, he reflected on the past 3 weeks. Some of the higher ups in the Spec Ops chain of command had ordered him to show up on Valin, and further instructions would follow. Percy had caught the necessary transports, arrived on Valin, put some local cash together, rented an apartment, and built a cover story. Then he'd received those further Instructions they'd told him about.

It was fairly run-of-the-mill stuff. A rogue nation was planning on detonating a nuclear device in a densely-populated area that was responsible for a large percentage of the agricultural production of the planet. And as he had learned earlier tonight, the bomb they were planning to detonate, was almost three times the size of the ones dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. If he'd been mortal, he might have gotten worked up over it. Percy considered himself fortunate that he didn't have that particular hangup.

This would be the 4th plan of this type that he stopped in the 5 years he'd been an active-duty Operator in Chaos' Army. The universe was a damn big place, and all the evil masterminds who concocted these schemes, would probably be highly embarrassed to learn that they were the fucking billionth person to do so. They all seemed to think they were original. That they were visionaries. Percy found it all quietly amusing.

In the three weeks since he'd began his work on Valin, he'd slept 5 times, for around 2 hours each time. Even by his own standards, that wasn't healthy. He just had way too much to do. The thousands and thousands of names he'd vetted, looking for scientists with the right temperament, political/philosophical leanings, and brain power to work on a nuclear bomb for terrorrists, had taken up a lot of his time. And it had been mundane work. Very mundane work. Then, suddenly, he'd found a name. A 56-year-old man - who was considered quite young on Vanil, where people routinely lived to be 150 years old - had indeed been on the take. That had been a major find. The 56-year-old, who was incredibly good at his job, and understood nuclear physics like nothing Percy would ever be able to comprehend, was an idiot. He'd kept a list of all his co-conspirators, just in case they didn't pay him and he needed blackmail. Fucking idiot.

The list of names Percy had taken from his apartment after he'd killed the man, had sent him on a multi-day hunt, during which he'd tracked down over 20 scientists, looking for another idiot who brought their work home with them. And that had led him to his recently-deceased friend, Janer.

But now, he needed sleep. He hadn't slept since discovering the list of names, 5 days ago. This was getting ridiculous.

The apartment Percy rented, was definitely in the shittier part of town. Not exactly a slum, but not far off, either. He'd been mugged twice since moving in. Or at least, they'd tried to mug him twice since he'd moved in. Neither attempt had ended well for the offending party.

Percy was always careful with how he came and went from the apartment. He didn't want anyone to know where, exactly, he lived. Not the terrorists, and not the fine ladies and gentlemen at the CTA. So, he ran an hour-long SDR each and every time he came or left. It was time consuming, sure, and that time was almost certainly better-spent sleeping, but one can never put too high a price on personal security.

A crucial part of his detection-avoidance method, was to slip into an alley where he was sure he was away from prying eyes, and changing his shape into that of a 6'11, 350-pound, brown-haired, brown-eyed behemoth. That was the form he had used when renting the apartment, and it was the form he used on the rare occasions he had to communicate with anyone in the building. As far as they were concerned, that was the man who lived there, and none of them knew any different.

Having taken all his usual precautions, and reached his apartment building unmolested, he took the elevator up to the 56th floor. Once he'd reached his apartment door, he bent low, and checked the tiny pieces of tape at the very bottom. There were two pieces of tape. One of them on the door, and the other on the doorframe. There was a hair, one of his own, between them. The theory was, that if the hair and the tape were intact, then no one had entered his apartment since he'd left. It was a sound theory. No one ever thought to check the door for hair and tape, and they were unlikely to notice, with how fine Percy made them.

But he didn't let that reassure him. There was always a possibility that someone had noticed the tape, removed a piece, picked the lock, entered, and then had an accomplice re-apply the tape, thus creating the illusion that no one had been inside.

So, before he entered, Percy allowed his senses to sweep through the apartment. He didn't detect anyone there at all. There was no scent, no heartbeats, no heat, no nothing. All clear.

Maybe.

There was always the possibility that the person determined enough to undetectably break into his apartment, was skilled at masking their presence. So, Percy pulled out his gun, after letting his hand shrink back to normal size so that he could get his finger inside the trigger guard, flung the door open, and swept inside the apartment as fast as he could.

It took him 16 seconds to sweep the entire apartment, and lay eyes on every millimeter. No one. Nothing.

Unless the person could go invisible…

No. No, he wasn't about to go down that particular rabbit hole.

He tucked his gun back into the concealed holster he always wore, crossed back through his apartment, and locked the door. Then he let his body shift back into its natural form, and opened his fridge. He pulled out a Ration Pack, and used his water powers to hydrate and heat it. It wasn't too bad.

With nothing else to do, Percy placed an empty glass on the door knob, and a heavy metal tray beneath it. If someone opened the door while Percy slept, the glass would fall onto the tray, and make a lot of noise.

Then, for the first time in almost a week, Percy climbed into the closet right next to his bed - to give himself an advantage if someone came to his bedroom to kill him in his sleep - and closed his eyes. He fell asleep, almost instantly.

—-

A week later, his mission had been wrapped up. The result had been deemed 'more than satisfactory' by Percy's higher ups. It had been proclaimed as so, because not only had he killed or imprisoned everyone involved in the terrorist plot he'd been sent to destroy, but he also uncovered a pattern of corruption among local politicians and law enforcement officials. He had provided the right evidence, to the right people, working the right jobs, and they had taken care of it.

Because of that unexpected additional benefit, Percy's direct superiors were quite happy with him. Word had reached Sara. Sara was very happy with him. So happy, she spoke to some officers higher on the food chain, and got them to agree to let Percy and her work together on a mission, as a sort of trial. They had agreed.

Percy was truly, deeply, incomprihensably, happy.

They'd been quasi-dating, basically ever since Percy had passed OTC. There had been no reason for them to stop. Sure, there were months on end when they didn't so much as lay eyes on each other, but when they did see each other… well, it was worth it. She was worth it.

But now? Now, if they started working together? Well, that could work out quite well.

So, they were about to go for their first mission together.

Their target was an anarchist who had been trying to bring off a grand scheme for several years. He had been beaten down every time. But this time, he had help. A friend of his, put him in touch with a biochemist he knew. The anarchist had contracted the biochemist to put together a very nasty-sounding virus. The idea was to release the virus in the capitol city, and infect as many high-ranking politicians as possible, to spread maximum fear. Chaos' Army Spies had identified the anarchist, a man named Tyian, but they'd had no luck with the biochemist or the mystery benefactor who had put them in touch. The benefactor was the real target. From what Chaos' Spies had gathered, the anarchist didn't know the mystery benefactor very well; it was likely they had only met recently. Their only hope at identifying him, would be to identify the biochemist, and hope he knew the benefactor.

The meeting would take place at a lavish party, being thrown by some of Tyian the anarchist's wealthy friends. It was at one of their large estate houses, and apparently anyone who was anyone in the city, would be there. Percy and Sara, would infiltrate the party, identity Tyian, use him to identify the biochemist, then follow the biochemist until he was in a position for them to take him down. Then they would interrogate him for the name of the benefactor, if he had it.

Easy enough. And Percy would get to wear something fancy. And he would get to see Sara wearing something fancy. That was, by clearest definition, a win-win.

Percy and Sara arrived on the planet just a few hours before the party was scheduled to begin, and they spent their time effectively. They went out and spent what Percy assumed was a considerable amount of money, on two fancy outfits for themselves. Percy didn't like his very much. It looked a lot like a regular tuxedo back on Earth; only it was dark purple, and the tie was wide enough to cover half of his chest. The pants were weird too. They cut off, just over his ankles. When Percy asked the saleswoman about that, she gave him a 'What rock have you been under lately, dude?' look, and told him that was the epitome of fashion.

He felt utterly ridiculous.

And that feeling was only compounded, when he saw what Sara was wearing.

It looked like something Percy was pretty sure was called a 'sheath dress' with a deep V neckline that ended just a few inches above her belly button. It hugged her figure magnificently. Much like Percy's own clothes, her dress was a deep purple color, and it was cut just above the ankles, but that was about where the similarities ended. She looked astoundingly beautiful. Her hair had, at some point, been curled and now hung loosely down her back, resembling a curtain or waterfall of pure gold. She'd accented her eyes with a touch of eyeliner, making them pop intimidatingly, and she was wearing blood-red lipstick. She was the most incredible creature he had ever witnessed.

"Well, you look wonderful," she said with a teasing smile.

"I'm fighting the urge to hike up my socks. It feels super weird to have my ankles exposed. I have no idea why."

She rolled her eyes fondly, "It's the fashion here. Trust me, everyone at the party will be wearing stuff like that."

"Will they all be wearing purple, too? I'm not entirely sure it's my color."

"Oh, I disagree."

"Really?"

"Absolutely. In fact, you should never wear anything else. That way, I'd never have to worry about you running off with some other girl. I mean, who'd take you, in that?"

Now it was Percy's turn to roll his eyes, "You will, apparently."

"And don't you forget it," she said with a sly wink.

"Come on, let's get going. The faster we find out guy, the sooner I get to change into something reasonable."

An hour later, a driver was dropping them off in front of magnificent wrought-iron gate. There was a man there, a very tall man, checking invitations and allowing guests inside. Percy and Sara had been issued fake ones by the Logistics Corps' Forgery Department, so in theory, they'd be all right. But there were still plenty of opportunities for things to go wrong. For instance, there was a strict 'No Weapons' policy, which Percy and Sara had dutifully ignored. Percy had his pistol taped to his lower back, where it would be concealed by his jacket. Sara had hers taped to the inside of her thigh. They had both been assured that they wouldn't have to go through a metal detector; it would go off on all the guests anyway, who would be wearing jewelery. But what if they were physically searched? Percy doubted anyone would dare search Sara thoroughly enough to find her weapon, but even a cursery pat-down would reveal his own. That would end badly.

As they joined the small line of guests, Percy focused on the giant manning the gate, and how thoroughly he was checking everyone who passed. But he wasn't. He was just checking the invitations, and waving people through. Maybe it was that kind of guest list who would blanch at the idea of being searched. All the better.

And sure enough, when it was Percy and Sara's turn, they were sent straight through. Sure, there had been a tense moment when he'd inspected the invitation, and an flash of annoyance when he'd stared at Sara's breasts, but that was all. They were in.

The grounds were so large, it took them nearly 10 minutes to walk from the gate where they'd been inspected, to the house where the actual party was taking place. They crossed a few people on their way, mainly older people with their heads lowered, talking to each other in urgent whispers. Politicians, judges, CEOs, and whatever else, probably.

The house itself, was gorgeous. It looked a bit like something out of a victorian novel. With a ceiling higher than the sky, and draped with opulent chandeliers, it felt larger than a High School gym, and certainly much grander. And that was just the foyer.

The first thing they did once they were in the main hall, was get a drink from the open bar. Obviously, neither of them could drink while on an operation, so they covertly emptied half their glasses into a nearby plant, so they looked like they were drinking, without actually slowing themselves down at all.

They identified the man they were looking for, Tyian, almost immediately. He was lurking around the room, talking to people here and there with a fake smile plastered to his face, but he was obviously waiting for something, or rather, someone. Which meant Percy and Sara had nothing to do, but wait.

Sara turned to Percy after a few minutes of idle conversation.

"You wanna dance?"

Percy smiled genuinely, took her hand, and led her to the dance floor.

It was a slow waltz, so he wrapped a hand around her waist and started moving slowly. Though he had once been an appalling dancer, he was now merely passable. There had been a time in OTC Phase 3, where the Spec Ops candidates had been instructed in various kinds of dance, just to make sure they could blend in during events like this. Percy had been, by a considerable margin, the worst one of the three. He had never been much of a dancer. And while Pricela and Moril could easily float around a room like professionals, Percy was just barely good enough to keep from embarrassing himself.

Sara, of course, was incredible. She felt so relaxed and confident as she flowed with him.

Percy only just realised, that he and Sara had never danced together. And they had never been this close to each other in a public setting before either. Now, they were cheek to cheek. He could feel her soft breath on his ear, and it sent shivers of pleasure down his spine.

He couldn't help but notice, hardly for the first time, how wonderfully her body felt against his. She was hard where she needed to be, and delightfully soft everywhere else. And his face was in that hair he loved so much. If she ever cut it off, he might have a heart attack. It was just so damn perfect exactly as it was.

And there was something simply magical about being this close to her. There was just something about her. Her presence was like a warm blanket, on a cold night. He almost forgot all about what they were supposed to be doing there, and just had to hope she was a little more attentive than him.

"You're not too bad at this," she said charitably.

'Huh? Oh, right, dancing.'

"Yeah, sure. This was never my strong suit. I've always preferred cracking skulls. So much easier."

"More fun, too. But seriously, you're alright. Jason once told me that the sight of you dancing, was enough to make a grown man cry."

Percy blinked in surprise, and barely managed to stop himself stumbling and stepping on her toes.

"Seriously? When?"

"Oh, back when I was on Earth with you. He's a nice guy."

It felt weird for Sara to be talking about Jason. He wasn't sure why, exactly, but it was. He had been with Chaos' Army for so long, his life in Earth was starting to feel like a long-past dream. Like a glimpse he'd caught of someone else's life, rather than his own. Hearing it acknowledged by someone else, was just odd.

"Yeah, he's great. Probably my best friend, back on Earth."

Sara nodded, "You miss him, don't you."

Percy considered his response for a few seconds. The honest answer was, he did miss him. He missed them all. A lot. But should he tell Sara that? He probably should. There was no reason not to, right? But it just felt so… Well, it was just an uncomfortable subject.

"Yeah, I do," he said before adding, "I'm actually planning on saving up my leave time and spending a year on Earth, once I've put in my 50."

She nodded again, "That makes sense. It'll suck to leave them though."

"Chaos said that too. I mean, I know it'll be hard, but it'd be great to see them all again."

Then a question occurred to him.

"Did you ever try to figure out what planet you're from? Maybe try and go there when you get time off?"

Sara looked up at him plainly. The height difference between them, wasn't as great as it normally was. He had compressed his spine down to 6'3, as he often did when trying to run incognito. From his perspective, it made her look like she'd suddenly had a growth spurt.

"Sometimes, when I was younger. But then I concluded there'd no point. I am who I am. What good would it do, to find a bunch of people who share some genetic material with me? It's not going to tell me anything important about myself that I don't already know."

"I suppose."

"But you seem to disagree."

"In some ways. Sometimes it just helps to know that there are people out there, who are like you. Certainly makes you feel a lot less like a lonely freak."

"Trust me, Percy, there's no one on any planet I've been to, that's like me. And I don't feel like a lonely freak. But you sound like you speak from experience."

"Sure, I do. There were years before I found out I was a demigod, when I felt like a pariah. No one else in any the schools I went to, could understand what things were like for me. None of them saw the world the way I saw it. None of them had to deal with the things I had to deal with."

"But surely once you found out the truth, you just felt even more different? You knew things, massive things about the planet and the universe, that they didn't."

"That's true. Finding out that the gods were real, and that I was the son of one of them, completely changed my outlook on life. I knew I'd never be able to relate to any of them, at all, ever again. But that didn't matter. I'd found other people, who'd had the same experiences as me, almost to the letter. And that made me feel like I was part of something, probably for the first time in my life."

She considered this for a few moments.

"And if I've already found that within Chaos' Army? As you said, you could never empathise with them, once your life paths had diverged so significantly. What makes you think I'd be able to connect with my own people, any more than you could connect with some random mortal? Remember, Percy, I may not look it, but I've been alive for thousands of years. I've seen and done things that not even you could imagine. Why would I be able to relate to anything they have to offer?"

Percy nodded, "Maybe you wouldn't. But I think it would be worth pursuing. I lived with mortals, I knew what they were like. You've never met your own people. They might surprise you."

"I doubt that."

"So do I. But if there's even the slightest chance, then don't you think it's worth finding out?"

She hesitated.

"I suppose," she said slowly, "But all this is assuming they're even still around. I told you, most of them were wiped out. Billions of them, Chaos said."

"I know. But if any of them are like you at all, then I wouldn't be too surprised to see that they found a way to make it through."

She looked up at him, and there was something so open and honest on her face, it made him want to cry, though he didn't understand why. He held her gaze for a while before she broke it, looking down at her shoes. He could have sworn he heard her clearing her throat.

"You're doing the steps wrong."

Percy smiled at the obvious deflection, and allowed it.

"Well, Jason wouldn't have told you I can't dance, unless he had damn good reason."

She smiled too, and opened her mouth to retort when suddenly she quirked her head to the side, as if listening to something. Percy sensed it too.

Tyian was on the move. Not in the way he'd flitted through the room before, absently moving from person to person. Now, he was walking with purpose, clearly set on some destination. The biochemist had arrived.

Percy and Sara kept dancing, though neither of them said a word now, and they were far less focused on their steps. Sara was still effortlessly graceful, but Percy was stepping on her toes every other step. She hardly noticed. They followed Tyian with their senses, and paid close attention to anyone he spoke to. He disappeared up some stairs, and they followed his heartbeat. He picked up something metallic and rectangular, then ducked into a bathroom. He left the metallic rectangle, which Percy assumed was a briefcase, in a cupboard under the sink. Then he left the bathroom, and the party as a whole.

Percy and Sara both knew what had just happened. This was the first half, of a dead-drop.

They waited for someone else to go to the bathroom, and pick up the briefcase. And sure enough, barely three minutes later, a man walked in, ignored the toilet, went straight under the sink, and picked up the briefcase. The man opened it, to take a look inside. Percy could sense some kind of glittering material inside. Amethyst? He supposed that was the local method of transferring money without gaining notice. Like gold or diamonds back on Earth.

The man closed the briefcase, and left the bathroom with it. And just like Tyian, he left the party. Percy and Sara followed him.

They followed him away from the stately manor of the party, deep into the city, and into an apartment. He was the only one in there. So, Percy and Sara broke in. Sara got to him first. She hit him once, and knocked out cold. Sara tied him up, and then joined Percy in scouring the apartment for as much information as they could get.

There were bills addressed to someone called 'Bajuy'. There were monogrammed towels in the bathroom, that confirmed his name. What the fuck kind of microbiologist had monogrammed towels? One who regularly worked with well-paying terrorists, Percy supposed.

The found various diplomas on the walls, and few photos. The apartment was quite large, and definitely looked lived in, but in a strange way. The entire place was very well organised, so clearly Bajuy had taken care to make the place look nice. But there was still bits of clutter strewn throughout the apartment. There wasn't very much in most of the rooms, but there was a large concentration in one specific room, which Percy assumed was a home-office. It was lined with all kinds of high-tech writing boards, and they were all covered in equations Percy didn't even want to think about.

Yeah, this was their guy.

Percy and Sara joined each other in the living room, and stared at the unconscious microbiologist for a few seconds. Then Sara reached into her back pocket, and pulled out what looked like a hip-flask. She unscrewed the lid, and held it under Bajuy's nose for a second before he suddenly jerked awake. Sara began to interrogate him.

Bajuy was dead already. It was just going to take his body a little while to realise. As soon as Sara had taken what she'd needed from him, she slit his throat.

—-

13 years later

Percy and Sara were starting to develop a bit of a reputation. It was only inevitable, really. Sara was already a living legend in Chaos' Army. Her operations panned out with an alarming success rate. Percy was now part of her operations. So, he was getting a reputation. He preferred to think that he wasn't piggybacking off of hers, but he knew that was part of it. Sure, some of the things he'd done were noteworthy, and they were getting attention. But a lot of it, was simply fame by association.

He couldn't decide if he was more annoyed by the fact that he was getting fame simply by being near Sara, or the fame itself. 'Cause the fame certainly complicated things. Whenever he was out doing things in Chaos' Realm, people stared at him, and whispered things he could obviously hear.

So, he had taken to shapeshifting every time he went out. He shortened himself, made his hair a light brown color, changed his eyes to brown, and packed on the muscle, to make himself look more like the body-building type. It worked well enough.

A reputation also came with a few advantages though. More interesting operations, for one. More freedom in the execution of those operations, too. When the top brass - which was what Operators typically called their officiers in charge - saw that a particular Operator, or in Percy and Sara's case, two Operators were particularly good at getting the job done, they just sat back and let them do it. If Operators didn't quite prove themselves as much, then they were given more specific instructions on how to do things. Percy would take the freedom, any day of the week.

It was that very fame, that lead to Percy and Sara being on the job they were currently on.

A few weeks prior, they'd been called into a meeting by some officers. Percy and Sara shared a glance, and wondered what this would be. Plenty of times, officers called them into the most mundane meetings they seemed to be able to contrive. Because of their reputation, Percy and Sara were seen somewhat as authorities on various matters, like weapons, ehicles, and other assorted tools of the trade. They were called in to discuss their preferred weapon types, ammunition callibres, grenades, tyre track patterns, and so on and on.

But that wasn't what this meeting was about.

Apparently, a planet called Ghibron had gone off the rails completely. It was a moderately advanced planet. Percy figured they were about the equivalent of a 3rd-world nation back on Earth. A warlord had seized power a few years prior, and to general surprise, was a decent enough leader. But his greed had finally tipped him over the edge. When a small faction of his people started a revolution against him, he'd gone overboard, to say the least. Now, he was starving the entire population, using hunger as a weapon to be used against the masses. Children were dying in the streets. When other states on the planet tried to step in and send aid, their care packages were stolen, and used to feed the warlord himself, his family, his most trusted advisors, political allies, and his army. Everyone else, was left to fend for themselves.

Percy had thought it would be a simple job, from the sounds of it. Sneak into the palace, - they all had a palace - and assassinate the warlord, nice and quietly. Freedom wins, hooray.

It was more complicated than that.

The warlord had plenty of sons, each of whom was every bit as ruthless as his dad, and just waiting for the old man to bite it. And even if they killed all the sons, there were plenty more people who would continue the pattern of violence. They would need something larger.

So, it was decided that Percy and Sara would go in, infiltrate the government, and bribe, blackmail, or assassinate anyone they needed. Then they would take careful steps that the right people were elected as their successors. They would take that principle, start at the bottom, and work their way up the food chain.

It would be one hell of an undertaking. Chaos' Army had never tried something on that scale before. Percy and Sara were made very well aware than this was basically an experiment. There was a lot riding on them. If they succeeded, fantastic. Hugs and kisses all around. If they failed, then that was a black mark that would stay on their files forever.

They HALO jumped onto the planet from the very top of the atmosphere, with a few bags of local currency, their handguns, and their knives. Everything else, was up to them.

The first week, was spent doing on-the-ground research. They needed to know all the basic players, and a fair bit about them. They started with the man himself. Rjarta. It was such an innocuous name for someone so evil. As Percy and Sara learned about the man - his habits, regular meeting places, security protocols, and diet - they couldn't help but see the contrast between his lifestyle, and the one his people lived.

He ate the finest meats, and fruit, and plenty of it. His people fought tooth and nail over a piece of moldy bread. He took luxurious baths every day, that reminded Percy vaguely of the ones in Camp Jupiter. His people drank from puddles in the mud. He got a headache once, so he took a handful of pills to get rid of it. His people were dying of infections in the streets.

The more he saw, and the more he lived among these people, the more Percy despised Rjarta. He almost blew it, and just killed the fucker 3 days into the operation. If not for Sara being right there with him, he would have done it. But he would. He would kill this man; whatever it took.

For an entire week, Percy and Sara didn't bother to find a place to stay. They were too busy to do such things as sleep, or rest. They had things to do. But around day 9, they gave in. They took some cash out of the bags they had brough with them, and used it to pay for a few weeks' stay at a decent enough place near the city center. If they spent much more time among the local population, they wouldn't be able to resist, and they'd kill Rjarta.

They slept for 3 hours the day they moved in, and then started compiling everything they'd learned. Percy set up a large board on one of the walls, and used some printed out pictures of their targets, to make a model of the political hierarchy. Then they discussed strategy.

Percy and Sara both agreed that they would have to start from the bottom. If someone too senior was killed, or suddenly started acting differently, too many people might notice. But if Percy and Sara already controlled several people before anyone even noticed anything was happening, then they'd have the chance to do a lot of damage.

In the end, they decided to watch a few of the junior staffers in the Department of Transportation. That seemed like a fairly innocuous place to start. Who started coup from the Department of Transportation?

Percy and Sara did.

The problem was, a lot of them seemed pretty clean. But Percy had a feeling there was something going on. So, they decided to assassinate one of their colleagues, and then watch the others closely. Percy did it himself. It was his plan, after all. He snuck into one of the guys' apartments while he was out, and used shadows to tie him down. Then he forced a bunch of pills down his throat, and watched him OD.

The reaction from his colleagues, was very interesting. Three of them sought comfort in the arms of women who weren't their wives. Two more made purchases from their dealers. All useful blackmail material. And now that they had that blackmail, they started manipulating events. A few suggestions in bars here, and a tiny nudge there, and suddenly the five Department of Transportation junior staffers who Percy and Sara could control at will, were getting promoted above all the rest of their colleagues.

They had to take their time though. If suddenly five random employees started skyrocketing through the ranks, people would get suspicious. Perhaps none moreso, than those five employees themselves. So, they backed off for a little while, but kept an eye on them. In the mean time, they did something similar with a few other departments.

The entire operation was surgical. Methodical. Slow. It took close to 4 years of constant effort.

But by the end of it, Percy and Sara had done it. They were able to kill the evil fucker, Rjarta. Percy had looked in his eyes as he'd done it, and relished in the look of total shock, mingled with horror. He couldn't even begin to calculate the damage this one man had done. Potentially millions killed needlessly, as he lived a life of extreme luxury. How was that fair? These were not the actions of a being who deserved life. Percy saw it as his duty to correct that.

When Percy and Sara got back to Chaos' Realm after that Operation, they were told to take a week off and get back to normal. The first thing Percy did, was take a shower. He had 4 years of grime to wash off. If only it was as easy to wash away the 4 years worth of memories.

Once he'd dried off, he joined Sara at her place. She was just getting out of her own shower when he arrived. He crossed the room and hugged her tight. He buried his face in her hair and took several deep breaths.

"Does it ever get easier?" he asked quietly.

They'd been working together for 17 years at that point. She didn't need to ask what he was talking about.

Percy had seen more kinds of atrocities than he would ever feel the need to count. He had probably committed a few himself. But it was the purely senseless ones that really stuck with him. Some of them, were understandable. They were, by no means, forgivable, but Percy could understand what the architect had wanted to happen, and why they'd done it. But the ones that were just done on a whim? The millions, if not billions, of people dead, and why? Pride? Arrogance? There just wasn't any reason for it.

"No," Sara said quietly, "But that's good. Things like this, should never get easier."

A/N: That's a wrap on that one. I don't want to tell too many stories about this period in Percy's life. Maybe I will some day, if inspiration strikes. I might compile them, and post them all as a separate story in their own chapter. But yeah. There's a reason I chose the stories you just read. None of them will have much of an impact in the plot going forwards, but they each serve Percy's character. The first story, starting with Janer Lookli, was mainly to show off just how much his tradecraft has evolved, and how cautious and downright paranoid he is during operations. The second, at the party, was largely to show the different perspectives Percy and Sara have on their places of origin. I'm not going to say exactly why the third and last story of this chapter is significant. But trust me, I have plans for that in the future. I also liked the idea of only showing snippets of each of the stories. Maybe I'll flesh them all out a bit more later on, perhaps in the format I suggest earlier. Anyways, see you all next time. Stay safe.