Run | TMR X PJO [ Editing ]

Twenty-Four | Group B

Chapter twenty-four, in which our heroes discover that WICKED has more tricks up their sleeves than ever before.

Annabeth's body had suddenly gone stiff, the slightest of movements difficult. Aris and Kathy were nowhere to be seen, and she found her ADHD kicking in at the wrong time, causing her to be jittery and anxiety-ridden. Gingerly, she picked up the tranquilizer dart left behind — there was one dart left — and the knife she had thrown previously. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she inched forward, blade in her hand and a light in the other.

Finding her way around proved to be a challenge, and what she assumed to be a storage room was larger than she had originally thought, the darkness consuming everything. Her light only reached so far, and it wasn't enough to see past her arm's reach. Annabeth's breath was beginning to even out when she walked face-first into Griever slime.

It wasn't awake, thank the gods. It seemed to be resting on a machine, with little lights and dials registering numbers quickly. So this is where the Grievers rested, she concluded. Its squinty eyes were closed shut, unmoving. Annabeth let out a small groan of disgust and wiped the slime off her face. It dripped on the ground with a sickening splat — she decided she had been around the dormant Griever for long enough, thank you very much.

She backed away quickly, finding a wall not ten feet away. Circling the perimeter, Annabeth managed to stumble upon a door with lights glowing ever so faintly behind it. 

It had a logo — WICKED IS GOOD — along with a hazard sign. On the door was a keypad, prompting a password. Annabeth swore mentally, knowing that there were millions upon millions of possible combinations. Surely she wouldn't get to try more than three before someone was alerted and she too would be captured. 

But Annabeth refused to give up so easily. There was no indication of what the correct password might have been, and certainly an organization like WICKED would never use the classic one, two, and three. Her subconscience offered up a set of numbers, which she inputted one after the other. Eight, four, five. With a satisfying ding, the door swung open.

"Well that was just short of a miracle," she muttered happily to herself.

While she was ecstatic that the code had worked, Annabeth couldn't help but wonder why the answer came to her so easily — she had barely brushed the keypad with her fingers, and a mental image had come to mind almost effortlessly. It was beyond strange, but she walked through the doors nonetheless.

Annabeth crept inside with a feline-esque grace, her knife held in front of her in a defensive position should she be discovered. The air was a sickening and distinct smell of antiseptic, and she could hear two muffled voices ahead. Hastily, she ducked behind a row of storage shelves, craning her neck to see where the men were to formulate a plan. 

"What are we going to do about these kids?" a gruff voice asked, as if he were already annoyed with having to deal with children in the first place.

A slightly more gentle voice responded, "We have to find the third one."

"I don't think we will need to. Kids these days are about as loyal as dogs — "

A misplaced foot caused Annabeth's leg to collide with one of the shelves, causing a small but audible thunk to echo throughout the lab. She brandished her knife, ready to lash out at anyone that would come her way — there was no use hiding when they knew that she was there.

"Did you hear that?" Gruff Voice said. 

"I'll check it out," the other offered, his footsteps echoing closer and closer to where Annabeth stood. 

Annabeth was not afraid of the men, and she did not hesitate to stab the thinner of the two in the arm and make a run for it. She recognized him as the man that had taken Aris, but she quickly tucked that information into the back of her mind to focus on her opponent in front of her.

She ducked his first few swings to her head — he seemed to rely more on brute strength than speed — and retaliated with a few slashes of her knife, though they seemed to do nothing of the sort to slow down the man. Too late she realized that he had a sort of body armor, letting out a small gasp as her hesitation became her demise. A meaty arm wrapped around her neck, causing her to abruptly drop the knife. At this rate, she would be knocked out in mere seconds. 

"Nighty night," the man said, and Annabeth promptly passed out.

—

"Annabeth."

Her eyes sprang open, flashing wildly as she recalled all that had happened. She quickly came to the realization that all her weapons had been confiscated, from the extra knives strapped to her waist to the tranquilizer gun she had stolen earlier.

Annabeth sat up, blood rushing to her head. Both Kathy and Aris rushed to support her, propping her up against the wall in a more comfortable position. They looked scratched and bruised — thankfully nothing fatal — but they too had been stripped of their weapons. 

"You guys shouldn't have followed me," Kathy scolded, feeling at fault for the situation that they were currently in. She crossed her arms, unable to look at the pair of them.

Aris rubbed the back of his neck. "We were worried, that's all."

"Yeah we were," Annabeth agreed with a few nods of her head. "Where are we?"

The room containing them was no more than a ten-foot square, both the walls and floor painted a simple white. There were no windows, only a door locked shut and a table with three chairs. A solitary (and very sad-looking) light hung from the ceiling.

"I've already tried to kick it down," Kathy offered once Annabeth glanced at the door. 

The door swung open — it was the two scientists from before. The slimmer of the two cleared his throat rather loudly. The three turned to face the two men, already on their feet.

"Don't even think about it," the larger man said (Annabeth recognized him as Gruff Voice), "A few bullets in your head should prevent you from running."

They pulled out pistols to prove their point. Annabeth noted that none were loaded, and they didn't even have bullets by the looks of them. The two hastily put the guns back in their holsters.

"My name is Frederick," the shorter scientist began. "This man is Gabriel. We're scientists that work for an organization called WICKED."

Gabriel added quickly. "WICKED stands for World In Catastrophe Experiment Department."

"We don't give a crap about what your stinking organization stands for," Kathy grumbled. "My god, you guys really have a lot of time on your hand to think of stupid acronyms."

"Anyways," Frederick sighed. "You need to come with us."

"I don't think so," Aris said boldly, his eyes glinting with fear. With a small snarl, Annabeth pulled him back before he did something very stupid.

She cleared her throat, "Now I don't know who the shuck you think you are but — "

Frederick suddenly interrupted, his eyes gleaming with recognition. He had trouble wrapping his head around the whole idea, but he couldn't help but wonder if he was really right. "Annabeth?

"Father?"