Hello.

This is my sixth fanfiction, and it's basically about the Heroes of Olympus again. It's located around the nineteenth century, and there's a bit of steampunk technology involved. The characters might be slightly different from how they might originally appear.

Without further ado, let's begin. XD

A Game of Fate

Prologue

It was an ugly night.

Outside, rain was pouring down from dark grey clouds in relentless torrents. The wind howled, and the poor horses that were pulling her carriage whinnied in fear. Dimly, Annabeth could hear the coachman yelling as he struggled to right the carriage from toppling over into a ditch as a particularly strong gale nearly blew them over.

Annabeth heard the sounds of struggle, but the pounding of blood in her ears were louder. Unconsciously, her fingers grasped the sleek handle of her Lightning Pistol hidden under her skirts, accessible through nearly invisible slits through the fabric.

Soon, the carriage rattled to a stop. Annabeth peered cautiously out the window, and her stomach clenched. They had arrived at the mansion of Lord Sebastian Princeton, or more frequently known as Pallas, one of the Twelve Titans' acolytes.

The mansion was huge, but Annabeth had seen larger ones. A tall iron gate crafted elaborately opened as the carriage rattled in. They clattered across a little paved road before stopping at the door.

Annabeth heard the coachman wheeze as he hauled himself off the carriage and opened the door.

"D'you need a hand, Lady Chase?" the coachman grunted as he tightened his raincoat with one hand and offered the other to Annabeth.

"Thank you," Annabeth said courteously as she opened her umbrella and stepped out. She lifted her skirts the best she could and trotted to the front door covered by a wide stretch of awning.

"I'll be at the usual spot waiting!" the coachman called as he clattered off. Annabeth nodded, knowing that the coachman would not be able to see her.

Annabeth turned back to the front door. She had barely raised a hand to knock when the door was opened by a neatly groomed butler, spilling warm, golden light across her.

"Lady Annabeth Chase, I presume?" the butler said coolly as he helped her out of her coat.

"Yes," Annabeth said as she handed her dripping umbrella over and inspected her dress. Thank goodness only the hem of her deep burgundy evening gown was damp. Completing her task dripping wet would not look good on her report.

While the butler hung her coat and put away her umbrella, a maid led her to the ballroom. Inside, the ball was at full swing. Crystal chandeliers threw bits of fragmented white and blue light over the floor as couples danced to a waltz. A section was cleared off for refreshments, while a small group of guests toasted with sparkling champagne.

Annabeth entered the room unnoticed. As another waltz started, Annabeth joined in.

Part of her Training included dancing and etiquette. Annabeth found that part dreary and painful, but she knew all too well that it was necessary. Plastering a fake but convincing enough smile on her face, Annabeth began to dance.

Waltz after waltz played. Annabeth continued to hold the same smile and held fascinating conversations with men up to forty years older than she is for what seemed like eternity before she finally swirled into the arms of her target.

"I assume you are Lady Annabeth Chase?" Lord Princeton asked courteously.

"Yes, sir," Annabeth said, smiling blithely as she spun. "And of course, you are Lord Princeton?"

"Yes," Princeton smiled as well, but there was a nasty, almost greedy edge to that smile that made Annabeth immediately wary. Nevertheless, Annabeth continued to hold her act of being nothing but a glitzy, lovesick lady for another five more minutes before making her move.

"Would you like to go somewhere more private?" Annabeth asked breathlessly as she fluttered her eyelashes (while gagging in her head).

"Certainly," Princeton purred, and the greedy look turned even nastier. "I know just the place where we could…"

"No, I have a better idea," Annabeth cut in. She gave a quick wink (while puking messily inside) and slipped out of the dance.

"Hey, wait," Princeton called as he hurried after her.

Annabeth scampered across the hallways. She had remembered the blueprints of the mansion perfectly. She was far enough from Princeton to stop him from catching her, but close enough for him to follow easily. Finally, they stumbled onto a balcony shaded by some awning.

"All right, why are we here again?" Princeton asked suspiciously. No doubt he was wondering how she knew his supposedly secret mansion so well.

"Well, we're not here for what you want," Annabeth answered. Her Lightning Pistol was out and in both hands. "We're here for something you don't want. Hope you don't mind meeting the Fields of Punishment too soon,"

With that, Annabeth fired.

Princeton dodged, but Annabeth knew that he would be dead anyway. She had designed the Lightning Pistol by herself. It was made of a delicate but strong silver and iron framework filled with mechanisms that were so complex it would give a regular mechanic a headache. If she fired, the bullet would move thrice as fast as a regular bullet, which made dodging nearly impossible.

As predicted, Princeton gasped and coughed blood as the bullet punctured his heart. He convulsed and sagged onto the ground, bleeding all over the tiles. In moments, Lord Sebastian Princeton's life was over.

"Done with the work. Princeton, or more accurately, Pallas, is dead." Annabeth said to herself quietly. Then, she sprang into the rain and jumped off the balcony. Below, her carriage waited. The second the tip of her toe brushed the ceiling, the roof of the carriage folded open, and swallowed her up before closing, barely letting a drop of water to enter. That is the reason why Steampunk Technology was awesome.

Immediately, the carriage left the mansion, leaving the screams of shock at Princeton's death behind.

Annabeth sighed and glanced out the window, and nearly screamed in shock. A lean wiry man wearing a dripping black trench coat waited at the gate under a black umbrella. It was too dark to see his face, but what Annabeth could see was a pair of sea green eyes meeting her own grey ones in a silent sign of acknowledgement.

Meanwhile, the man in the black trench coat watched as the carriage disappeared into the distance. He could also see a team of policemen rushing to the scene as they carried Princeton's dead body away.

"Not bad for such a newbie," the man mused quietly. He didn't know the Recruit's name, but what he did know was that she had executed her mission perfectly, and that was all that counted.

Please review!