Project Demigod (a Percico fanfic)

Chapter 14: The Russian Chasers

"Sir, I've got a name."

"Have you now?"

The hacker team cross-matched the picture the assassin took with the camera in his helmet to several espionage databases. When they got a match in the wanted section, Kronos smiled.

"My, my...Percy Jackson?"

Kronos moved away from the computers. He'd never met the boy, but with a name like that, a sudden chill went pleasantly down his spine.

"Do you know the legend about Percy Jackson, boys?" When no one spoke up, Kronos continued.

"Old American folklore, that's all it is really. They tell the tale of a young lad, a loser turned hero who slays each of us. He is the bringer of Hope and Justice, calls on the Greek gods as a friend and, he loves to play, always wishing to join in other's games...But, oh."

He stopped and they turned to look up at him nervously. Kronos smiled like it was a fond memory.

"Don't make him mad. Provoke him and he'll slaughter your extremities or worse...drag you to the bottom of a lake. At least, that's what they used to tell the kids because gentleman, Percy Jackson isn't just a thrill-seeker. He's a demon. He's responsible for warfare, monsters, and destruction... All the things you fear."

The tech analysts stopped typing, looking away uncomfortably and creasing their foreheads. No one wanted to speak. Kronos then snapped his fingers and pointed at one of his boys.

"Garrett?"

"Yes sir?"

"See to it that our dear, Perseus Jackson, gets to Russia safely with the prince. Make sure he gets a welcome party."

"As you wish."

And he stared back at the photo of the young man dressed in blue while the prince held him tightly from behind. The prince wasn't looking up at the picture from the other ledge, but Percy's face was dark and fierce. Even through the image, it sent an icy prick down everyone's spine. Except to the one who it should've mattered.

Kronos's smile twisted into a gnarled grin. "A hellion indeed."

...

Moscow, Domodedovo International Airport, 5:55 pm

"извините... спасибо," Percy mumbled in Russian as he excused himself and Nico through the crowd in the luggage pickup.

Flight #7 landed successfully on schedule and was welcomed by the dark blanket of nightfall.

The sky was bleak and cloudy and the pilot said the city was going through a light winter so there was little snow to be seen in the next days. Eight minutes later, everyone made a mad dash off the plane and into the warm airport ready to start their holiday season. Inside, the festive atmosphere was adrift and people laughed and sang Slavic holiday melodies.

It should've been uplifting, but there was no joy to be had as the two kept thinking about Kronos and the time they were stretched for.

Meanwhile, the taller boy kept his head low, making sure his steps were slow but fluid. His muscles were tight and whenever he caught another man's gaze, he held it for two seconds then looked calmly away- look away too fast: pins you as weak; stare too long: makes you look suspicious.

He had to keep his eyes open for anyone that looked too calm in the arrival terminal. Kronos's subordinate was around somewhere stalking the crowd like him, and if the industrial terrorist was as good as the world feared him to be, the guy was probably carrying a crap-load of undetectable weapons designed by the mastermind himself.