Wanted (A Percy Jackson/Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. crossover)

Don't Touch Lola

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Annabeth was getting to the point that she wished she had gotten shot with the glowing blue poison.

"What's your mother's name?" Mack asked for the third time in a row. It was the mark of the nearly half an hour anniversary of their lovely interrogation session, with no cake or gifts in sight.

Bummer.

"Kid, come on-" he sighed when she refused to answer.

"Don't call me kid," Annabeth interjected, resisting the urge to spit in the man's face. She was struggling to keep calm, and it didn't help that she was forced to look at Percy's unconscious form the entire time. Unwanted memories kept trying to invade her mind, and it took nearly all of her energy  to prevent a flashback.

"Just answer the question. One more and I'll leave you alone."

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. "You'll let us go?"

"Look, I'm the nice guy around here. If I were you, I'd avoid interrogations from May or Agent Morse. Make it easier for yourself and answer me, now." Mack stood up from where he was kneeling on the floor of the cargo van, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his tone. Annabeth rolled her eyes.

"What if I told you my mom was a Greek goddess?" she said, testing the waters in an attempt to prove her theory of government officials, especially after Mack referred to Percy's shooter as Agent. She was really hoping for something along the lines of "Duh, it's Athena." That'd mean that she would have a chance at fighting them off. Instead, her heart sank as her interrogator sighed disappointedly and sat near the doors.

Out of all the crazy things that had happened to her and Percy, she never would have guessed that one day they'd be suspected terrorists of the government. What fun, eventful lives they had (note the sarcasm).

"I'm impressed, mate." Annabeth whipped her head to a nodding Hunter, who, indeed, looked impressed. "It's hard to get Mack riled up, but congrats, you did. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but hey," he ended with a shrug.

Annabeth didn't have a chance to reply. The van quickly lurched to a stop after hitting what must have been a speed bump. The momentum sent her flying sideways off the seat. She bit her lip in an effort to keep from crying out in pain; the cuffs around her wrist tugged and rubbed her skin painfully. She might have imagined it, but they seemed to emit some kind of sharp heat whenever she tried to wiggle out of them. She was sure her wrists would be a beautiful shade of red if she ever got them off.

She wasn't the only one annoyed with the quick stop. "Jeez, Bobbi," Hunter whined as he peeled himself off of the floor. "A little warning next time? Bloody hell..." Annabeth rolled her eyes as he began to mutter incoherently to himself.

Mack stood up from where Percy was to stand in front of Annabeth. "If I take the handcuffs off, will you try to kill me?"

"No."

"Be honest."

"I wouldn't tell a lie."

"You just did."

"Maybe."

"This conversation is pointless," he sighed before proceeding to release her hands from the warm metal. She involuntarily released a breath as her shoulders were relieved from the pressure before pulling them out to inspect them. Indeed, they were red. Blistered in some places, even. She hadn't imagined the heat after all, she guessed.

The back doors of the van swung open. Mack led her out by the arm, and her jaw threatened to hit the floor. They had driven into the cargo hold of some sort of military grade plane. In front of her was a dark garage, and a car hid under a tarp to her right. A silver bumper peaked out from under the tarp, along with a little firetruck red.