Chapter Text
The club wasn't anything like the places that she usually frequented in those rare hours that she was able to claim for herself, though she supposed that reflected more upon her tastes than the norm: she'd always had a strong preference for the more subdued places of relaxation, eschewing the pounding music and blinding lights of establishments like this one for a more low-key sort of experience. The rhythmic thrum of the music seemed to almost suffuse the air, shaking her to her very bones, making it almost hard to breathe in the stuffy air of the rowdy discotheque. The chaotic and writhing mass of humanity that spilled out across the central dance floor held no appeal for her. No, she thought with a resolute sort of grimace, the Achilles Heel was most certainly not her preferred sort of locale.
The club's apparent regulars made it clear how out of place she was by virtue of their presence alone: the tables along the walls of the club were lined with a variety of ruffians and thugs, most of them the low grade hired guns that padded out the underworld of the city that she called home. She had little experience working with these sorts of contractors: she'd spent the bulk of her life in the comfortable heights of Olympus alongside her mother, striving to bring the great plans envisioned by her progenitor into reality. They had never seen fit to place the success of those plans in the hands of outsiders, instead placing their faith in the variety of exceedingly capable specialists kept in her mother's service. These rugged freelancers lacked the discipline and subtlety that Athena had always emphasized, indulging themselves in the liquid neurotoxin of alcohol with the last pennies in their accounts, though Annabeth was not so foolish to ignore the unrefined sort of utility that this sort of contractor presented.
Regardless of her intellectual understanding of the necessity of her presence here, she would have much preferred to spend the evening within the pleasant (safe) confines of her apartment, enjoying a piping hot cup of herbal tea while she devoured a particularly fascinating proposal for a modernization of the city's toll systems that the design team had proposed to her mother. It would have been a rather satisfying if not particularly notable evening had she not been dragged from those most familiar and necessary duties by the smirking advice of her oldest friend.
No, she thought with something between a grimace and a smile, she doubted that she would have even bothered to cross the threshold of this whirling madhouse without the steady presence of Luke Castellan at her side.
He stood only a few steps ahead of her, his firm hand grounding her in the chaos of the club: in a stark contrast to her readily apparent discomfort, the sandy haired man seemed to fit into the club perfectly, merging with the ebb and flow of the crowds effortlessly. Seemingly sensing her discontent, he turned back towards her and offered a reassuring smile: while it was somewhat more reserved than his usual magnetic grins, it buoyed her all the same. She had known Luke for as long as she had bothered to remember: he and Thalia had presented themselves as unlikely companions from a young age, people that she had long come to rely upon as she navigated through the complex web of corporate politics that defined Olympus. Their relationship had long transcended the simple definition of friendship, coming to resemble something closer to the fraternal bonds of family: the trust that stood between them felt more like an institution than an emotion, a powerful and fundamental fact of reality rather than a passing whim.
She hadn't understood the implications of her relationship with Thalia until she was older: the other girl rarely spoke of her parentage, instead placing the focus on her own desires and ambitions independent of her father. To Annabeth, she'd never been a daughter of Zeus: she'd just been Thalia. She'd come to suspect that her own lack of awareness in that regard had been the main contributor to the closeness that they now enjoyed, her younger self having lacked any agenda beyond the emotional succor offered by her two friends.
It was fortunate that their relationship had suited the interests of her mother as well: Athena had always assumed that their connection was a planned maneuver, an exceptional example of successful networking on the part of her favored daughter, and Annabeth had seen little reason to dispute that understanding of events. Athena and Zeus had always been close, the paternal bond between the old tyrant and his first daughter having run deep enough that their kinship was seen as yet another confirmation of that ancient partnership. That alliance had always stood as the strongest among the Olympian corporations, a firm sort of partnership that served the interests of both parties: the old man Zeus got to enjoy his riches and sire bastards far and wide while her mother handled the complexities of civic governance.
That sort of stability was a firm and decisive contrast to the near constant merry-go-round of betrayals, secret alliances, and plots that defined the affairs of the other Olympian corporations: while they were nominally aligned, age old grudges often led to more competition than cooperation between the posthuman oligarchs. The only thing that prevented open war was the understanding that their unity was necessary to keep the whole lot of them in power: as deep as the rivalries burned, none of the Olympians were interested in putting the system that they sat atop at risk.
Her mother had never really bothered to notice Luke: Hermes' status as a facilitator for his fellow immortals had left him absent of the enemies held by the rest of the Olympians but sorely lacking in the respect or prestige that accompanied the status of 'contender.' Of course, that was a state of affairs that had suited Luke just fine: even from a young age, he had nurtured something of a dark grudge against their parents. He'd gone his own way the moment that he was able, delving out of Olympus to explore the city that existed beneath it, familiarizing himself with the hive of humanity that the Olympians nominally ruled over.
She didn't blame him for the distance that had ensued: she might have had something approaching a good relationship with her mother, at least compared to most of her siblings, but Luke had hated Hermes for longer than she could remember. He had no interest in remaining in the service of his father: when he finally managed to get his affairs in order, he cast off his father and went to make a life for himself in the city below. He'd taken the time to wish her well, to promise her that he'd always be there for her if she needed him, before making his way into the world beyond Olympus.
He'd done well for himself in the city below, peddling the talents that Hermes had provided him to great effect as he navigated the landscape of gangs, fixers, and communities that characterized the power structure of his new home. With the contacts he had back in Olympus, he'd even managed to strike up a fruitful partnership with a few of the corporations, introducing their representatives to various players in the sprawling urban center that he now inhabited. She watched as he moved to a larger and more comfortable apartment, the growth of his network of contacts bringing him new wealth and opportunities that would have been impossible under his father.
She shouldn't have been so surprised when he'd asked her to join him, to leave her position at Athena's side and live with him in the city.
That was the day that things had fallen apart.
Saying no was't a hard decision, at least not at first: she had a future planned in Olympus, a future of certainty and stability, a future that would see her remembered for generations to come. She was to be the greatest daughter of Athena, a prodigal child that made it possible for her mother to revitalize the glory of Olympus and stand among the ranks of the foremost Olympians with Annabeth at her side. It was a lot of weight to place upon someone her age, sometimes it even felt as though the sky itself had been placed upon her back, but Annabeth was ultimately resolute in her desire to fulfill that grand plan, even with all of the sacrifices she knew she'd have to make to see it through…
Luke hadn't taken her refusal well.
He'd denounced her mother as a manipulative tyrant, a control freak who sought to dominate her life and hold her back from her true potential. He argued that he was only trying to set her free from the pains and struggles that he'd watched her endure through their childhood, that he was the only one fighting for her interests, that he was the only one that cared about her.
The confidence she had when she'd entered his apartment was demolished by the time she'd limped out and she found herself doubting her decision. Carrying those doubts, she'd done as she always had and consulted Thalia, spilling out her fears, concerns, and uncertainties for the daughter of Zeus to see. Thalia had quivered with a rare sort of rage by the end of that discussion. Thalia had told her that she should only do something if she was comfortable with it, that she should only step away from her life in Olympus if she was certain that it was the right move for her personally, before storming off to confront Luke.
Annabeth didn't know what was said then, only that Thalia and Luke weren't on speaking terms afterwards and that Luke kept his distance in the months that followed. She told herself that she missed him, fighting against the guilty part of her brain that felt relieved that she no longer labored under his pressure as well. After four months of radio silence, she'd finally broken and sent the first message, rekindling a distant but pleasant relationship with her old friend: Luke was more careful now, treading more closely to her comfort zone.
Thalia had announced her own decision to leave in the months following that conflagration, seemingly seeking distance from the entire situation.
She'd taken Annabeth out for dinner and walked her through her reasoning in the usual resolute way she did when she had made her mind up. She'd explained her reasoning in plain and open terms, not attempting to convince Annabeth of anything other than the fact that their relationship wouldn't change because of this. Thalia had removed any uncertainty that Annabeth might have had about her departure, had taken pains and efforts to ensure that Annabeth understood that they would still be close, that she wasn't being abandoned.
Of course, Thalia was a large part of why she was here now.
Thalia had been poisoned.
Her mother had passed down that information fourteen hours ago and Annabeth hadn't stopped moving since: given her personal relationship with Thalia, her mother had assigned her to handle the matter personally.
Annabeth had rushed to the hospital as soon as she'd heard, driven by a fiery combination of righteous fury and existential fear, terrified and enraged that someone might have tried to kill her closest friend and confidant. It was the same medley of emotions that nearly saw her clash with Hercules, one of the few other bastards of Zeus, and apparently the individual responsible for guarding Thalia in her current state of repose.
It was a fight that she would have lost: the 'Thunderbolt of Zeus' had a reputation as being one of the most dangerous men in the city and she doubted that the posthuman killer would have hesitated to remove her head if he thought it necessary. While she knew him personally, she was well acquainted with his record: as Zeus' favored enforcer and a particularly brutal sort of killer, Athena had felt it necessary to understand the magnitude of the dangers that he might pose. Everyone knew that he'd killed his family all those years ago: the acquittal was just one of the more egregious examples of the strings that Zeus was willing to pull for those loyal to him.
It was fortunate that Jason had intervened when he did: while she did not have much of a relationship with Thalia's closer brother, he knew her well enough to be certain that she meant Thalia no harm. Jason had waved his half brother aside, welcoming her into the room without overmuch fanfare.
Thalia hadn't been in any state to speak, not that Annabeth had particularly expected that she would be: she doubted that the black haired girl would have accepted her father's help if she had a choice in the matter. Thalia had always been prideful like that, wanting to carve a path of her own, to forge a future that she herself governed rather than one that was determined by the whims of her immortal father. For all that he blustered though, the old man Zeus still carried more than an ounce of affection for his children, and Thalia in particular had always seemed to hold something of a sweet spot in the old tyrant's heart.
She'd only remained long enough to wish her best to Jason, say a few words to Thalia, and collect whatever information she could: phone records, medical data, and anything else she could recover on short notice.
She had no intention of remaining idle while Thalia wasted away.
She intended to make this right.
That's what she did, after all: Luke would talk, Thalia would fight, she… She would plan.
She was already laying out mental plans as she strode out of the hospital, sorting through her contacts and creating a mental tally of the steps she'd have to take to see Thalia made well and those responsible brought to justice. She shouldn't have been so surprised to find Luke waiting outside of the hospital, a sardonic smile on his face as he leaned against a pillar outside the front door.
With how quickly things came together like that, it almost felt like it had been planned in advance.
Luke's contacts were able to identify the poison in question without any difficulties: Pit Venom. It was an engineered chemical specifically intended to kill those with the blood of the Olympians: the only real mercy they had was that it was slow acting. From all sources that Annabeth was able to uncover, it was supposedly without a cure, though Annabeth had always held that impossibility tended to be more a state of mind than a base reality. With Luke's help, it had been trivial to sift through the ancient medical records that he'd managed to dig out of half-abandoned data banks deep within the husk of the city below.
She was still surprised by how quickly things had come together: if it had been anyone other than Luke, that surprise would have been suspicion: investigations like this rarely moved as quickly as this one did.
But it was Luke.
Her suspicion took a backseat as they identified something that actually had the potential to help: nearly a century ago, Zeus had funded an effort to further the immortality of the Olympians, an effort that produced a single prototype.
The Golden Fleece.
Annabeth hadn't bothered trying to understand the medical jargon that surrounded the device, simply relying on the fact that Luke's contacts affirmed that it could save Thalia. Of course, if the Fleece had been easily accessible, she suspected that it would already have been in Thalia's bedroom. The Fleece had been missing for nearly eighty years now, stolen in one of the many bouts of corporate skirmishing that had a tendency to erupt between the Olympians whenever the unsteady peace that held their society together frayed.
Her contacts turned up nothing, though Luke's bore fruit once more: the prototype lay dormant in the private collection of one of Posideon's foremost bastards, a posthuman giant twisted by a primitive attempt to mimic the gene therapies that had granted the Olympians their immortality.
Polyphemus.
Polyphemus had something of a reputation: while he had once been one of the most powerful sons of Posideon, he had been blinded in a confrontation with one of her mother's greatest security officers, Odysseus, humiliating the senior Olympian and adding another victory to Athena's belt. He was said to be something of a recluse these days, though dark rumors had a tendency to leak from his manor. Purchasing the Fleece was almost certainly an impossibility: even if she had been able to justify the immense costs, she knew that any self respecting son of Posideon would be more likely to put a bullet through her head than help her in her quest. Athena and Posideon's feud was one of the most virulent among the corporations and Annabeth knew better to assume that there was any goodwill to be found with the mad giant.
She'd never organized a heist before: her experience in fieldwork trended more towards the conventional, organizing security teams and trained operatives in a battlefield environment encompassed by the corporation's extensive surveillance capabilities. She operated with highly trained specialists with access to near complete information, directing them in a well coordinated symphony of precise violence. This sort of intrigue required a far greater association with the vagaries of the underworld than she possessed, meaning that she found herself somewhat out of her depth.
Once again, Annabeth felt an uncomfortable pulse of doubt: she always preferred to move forward with an absolute understanding of what she was getting into. The entire situation felt half baked and rushed, probably because it was , and she hated just how uncertain she felt about this. Still…
She had Luke.
If she could trust anyone, it would be him or Thalia. And with Thalia out of commission, it was just Luke and her.
They'd save Thalia, make this right.
So she grounded herself in the present, casting off the distant thoughts that had consumed her mind as she found herself in the chaotic medley of the club once more, the warm weight of Luke's hand on her shoulder making it all that much easier to maintain her decorum in spite of the chaos around her. The music had dulled once she and Luke had ventured into the back of the club, though she could still feel that distant thrum of rhythm as she passed beneath the flickering fluorescent lights that illuminated the barren halls at the back of the Achilles Heel. Given the usual clientele of the club, it hosted a number of private meeting rooms in this back area: her preliminary research had indicated that they would be suitably soundproofed for her services.
After all, discretion was the name of the game here.
This was something of a new experience for her: while she had been involved in negotiations with outside contractors on the rare occasion that the corporation lacked an on staff specialist, those had always been well structured legal agreements intended to ensure the continuing satisfaction of both parties. This kind of intrigue was something unique and new, an unexpected change to a comfortable status quo: a part of her wished that she could just use the private security forces her mother kept on retainer, though she knew such a thing would be impossible without risking a true conflict with Poseidon.
Necessity made strange bedfellows, so…
Mercenaries it was.
The one she was meeting with this evening carried Luke's recommendation at the very least: Perseus Jackson lacked the record that she expected from a street ruffian, something that hopefully implied an understanding for subtly rather than a broader sort of inexperience. It was a hope that Luke had affirmed when she'd asked, his reassurances accompanied by a smug and self assured smirk: he claimed that he'd done work with Perseus before, that he'd helped him break into the business and could vouch for his talents.
Annabeth doubted that he could compare to the talent of the corporate infiltrators on Athena's payroll, though she refrained from voicing those thoughts to Luke: he was doing his best to help him here and she saw no reason to snipe at him for doing that.
After all: If she couldn't rely on Luke, who could she rely on?
When they finally came to a stop before one of the doors, Luke leaned against the frame, offering her a smile and a nod.
"You're going to do great, Annie. If you need help, I'm only a door away."
Her neutrality broke for a moment as she allowed a small, almost shy smile to break through for just a moment.
"Thank you, Luke. I… I really appreciate it."
Solidifying her presence again, asserting the iron control over her emotions that Athena had always proscribed, Annabeth strode into the room, listening to the door click shut behind her, Luke's warm presence fading as he took up a guarding position outside the door.
Any thoughts of hesitation abandoned, she laid the full weight of her attention upon the scruffy (and unfortunately attractive) mercenary that stared at her with wide and surprised eyes, striding across the room and offering her hand with a frigid smile.
"Annabeth Chase. It's a pleasure."