AN: Well, hello, there! I'm EtchedInDiamond fledgling author in this amazing site. This is my first Alex Rider/Percy Jackson and the Olympians crossover, so it might not be as great as others you've read. WARNING: Confusion is expected when reading this chapter, if one isn't really knowledgeable of both series. So, yeah, enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: Alex Rider and Percy Jackson and the Olympians do not belong to me. Unfortunately.

BOOM! The car exploded in a fiery ruin.

Alex flinched, as if he had been struck. His eyes widened, his pulse quickened, and every single fraction of his body froze to a near statue-like immobility. He felt a coarse hand clench his shoulder in mock-comfort.

"I am terribly sorry, Alex," Razim whispered, his tone betraying his words. "Please, get hurt for me. My razims need to be calculated."

Jack. Oh, Jack. Why did you do it? The thoughts circled in his head in an infinite loop, dominating his field of focus and giving him an agonizing pain. No longer able to hold it, he let loose a tortured scream.

"My," Razim remarked, his words dead and cold. "The emotional spectrum seems to be even more potent than physical pain. Interesting."

"I'LL KILL YOU!" Alex roared, twisting in his bound chair. "I'LL KILL YOU FOR WHAT YOU DID TO HER!"

"Now, now, Alex," Razim replied, frowning at his prisoner's violent movements. "You might damage the equipment."

"FUCK YOU!" the boy spy cursed, spittle flying from his mouth and red eyes locked onto the Iraqi psychopath. "I WILL KILL YOU!"

Razim clucked his tongue disapprovingly. He checked his watch and frowned. "Oh. The assassination plans are just about ready to be executed. Goodbye, Alex Rider. It was a pleasure hurting you."

Rough hands clutched Alex's neck and pulled him back. He felt cold metal press against his sweaty temple. "Nighty night, Alex." His look-alike hissed, gripping him harder. "I've got a Secretary of State to kill."

He pulled the trigger.

Alex Rider opened his eyes.

The overhead fan circled above slowly, little waves of air caressing his face. He tentatively lifted his head and touched his cheeks. Fresh tears dampened them. Alex bit his lip. Two years and you still cry over it like a baby, Alex. He sighed, wiping his face and getting off the bed. A few minutes later, there was a squeak, and the sound of running water filled the room.

Alex relished the hot water, rubbing his body in slow circles. He opened his eyes, and for a terrifying moment, he saw his reflection staring back at him from the wet tiles. He froze, his hand almost reaching for a nonexistent gun resting in a nonexistent holster. Then, reality returned, and it was just his reflection, not the insane Julius Grief that had almost claimed his life.

The dream still haunted him. Of course, that wasn't the way it had played out in

real life, but his mind was always playing tricks on him since…the event. He shut the water off and climbed out of the shower, hastily drying his hair with a towel. Alex stopped at the wide mirror, looking at himself fully for the first time in a long time. Seventeen years old and he looked like a ten-year veteran. A smile tugged at his lips.

The messy blonde hair was longer, hanging a bit over his eyes. He swept it over self-consciously. Alex couldn't help but feel discomfort at the way his eyes looked: they melded with his brownish tan, but so…dead. He feigned a laugh, hoping the zombie-like stare would disappear. Stubbornly, it wouldn't go away. Sighing, he put on his clothes and left the room.

"Alex!" a cheery voice cried out.

He stubbed his toe on the door as he hastily closed it, repressing a string of colorful words from gushing out of his mouth. He turned, a bit irritated.

Sabina was looking up at him, her forehead creased and eyes brimming with worry. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Did you hurt yourself?"

"A little," Alex replied, secretly rubbing his toe against the floor to ease the throbbing pain. "Doesn't bother me, though. Good morning, Sabina."

"And to you as well," she answered, the smile back on. "Sleep well?"

"It was good," he lied. "Better than usual."

"Great!' she exclaimed.

They stood in the hallway, both unsure of what to say. Sabina twirled a finger around her long dark hair, staring at the floor awkwardly. Alex silently touched her face, locking gazes with her bright blue eyes.

He pecked her lips. "Trust me, Sabina. I'm fine."

Her tense worry melted, and she pulled Alex in for a deep hug. "I'm sorry I'm treating you like this," she whispered against his chest. "I just don't know if you've fully…you know…recovered." She said the last word with heavy reluctance.

Alex tried a smile. "I'm recovered, Dr. Pleasure. Now, may your patient eat his breakfast now?"

Sabina chuckled, her regular demeanor back. "Of course, Mr. Rider. You are a part of this family now, aren't you?"

"Breakfast's ready, you two lovebirds!" someone called from downstairs. "Hurry up or it'll get cold!"

"Coming, mum!" she replied. Sabina tugged on his arm as she practically flew down the flight of steps. Alex tried his best to catch up, smiling warmly as he did.

"Excited for the first day of school, aren't you?" he inquired teasingly.

"You bet I am. Plus, you're coming with me. How can this day get any better?"

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

They pulled into the carpool zone. Mr. Pleasure leaned over and kissed his daughter on the cheek. "Have a nice day at school, sweetheart." He gripped hands with Alex, a proud expression on his face. "You too, son. Try to enjoy it. You'll meet new people, new friends. You can start over."

Alex grinned back. Edward Pleasure was beginning to feel like a father to him now. The father he, sadly, never had. "Thank you, Mr. Pleasure. Have a nice day."

"You too, son. Good luck to the both of you!"

He drove away.

Sabina took a deep breath and laced fingers with a nervous Alex. "Trust me, Alex. You'll enjoy it here. The people are very nice."

"I trust you, Sabina." Alex exhaled, feeling more anxiety over his first day in an American school than he had being apprehended at gunpoint. "I trust you."

They walked together, hand-in-hand, into the gates of John W. Geary High School.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Good morning, students," the plump woman in a very tight dress announced, her sausage-like fingers resting on her ample stomach. "I trust you all had an amazing summer vacation." There was a chaotic chorus of yells and sounds. The woman's eyes darted around the class, obviously not understanding a word anyone said.

Alex sat near the front of the room, casually observing the classroom as a foreigner. The walls were bright and colorful, covered with corny history posters and decorations. The desks were filed in neat, orderly rows, but by the time the students entered, they were literally everywhere. Some were sitting on top of them, chewing gum and laughing with friends. This wasn't like any school in England, he was sure of that.

"Well, my name is Mrs. Grant," she explained, a dimply smile on her pale face. "And I'm beginning to think this class will be a bit problematic."

The students laughed, well, excluding a very confused Alex Rider. Mrs. Grant finished guffawing and spread her arms. "I think it's time for introductions."

Everyone groaned, and this time Alex joined in with the rest of them. Someone yelled "This isn't elementary school!" in the back. Great. A chance to embarrass himself. Mrs. Grant gestured to the first person on the first row, to the right. The boy was sitting two tables in front of Alex. The first boy stood up, a confident smile on his face.

"I'm Hunter Reese," he said, his green eyes droopy as if he had just woken up. A hand went over and swept his black hair back. Arrogant type, I see, Alex mused. "I'm seventeen." He looked over to Mrs. Grant.

"Tell us something interesting about yourself," she offered, her way-too-excited smile plastered onto her face.

Hunter rolled his eyes, as if he didn't enjoy presenting himself in front of other people. "Fine. I play varsity soccer here, if you guys didn't know."

A few of the girls giggled. Hunter smiled, a slow smile, the one that took ages to come around because the person was too self-absorbed to care. He sat down, stretching so the girls could ogle at his muscular body encased in a black shirt with the polo logo on his chest. Mrs. Grant smiled.

"Thank you, Hunter. Next?"

The girl sitting in front of Alex stood. She flashed a smile at the class, her immaculate white teeth reflecting the glare of the sun. "I'm Cara Buchanan, age seventeen." She fiddled with her designer jacket, eyes scrunching up as she figured out what to say. "Uh, I'm going to audition for a movie soon. Well, after I compete in my horse riding competition and finish my modeling schedule."

Mrs. Grant clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh, very nice! I hope it turns out well!"

Cara sat back down in her seat, playing with her brown-blonde hair. Hunter turned in his seat to smile at her. She smiled back, reveling in the attention.

Mrs. Grant's eyes, to Alex's horror, fixated on him. "Your turn."

Alex stood up, face burning. Everyone turned to look at him, and the room hushed. He swallowed nervously.

"Your name, please." Mrs. Grant remarked,

A few people giggled in the back. Cara was looking up at him, a weird smile on her face. Like he was some sort of antelope and she was the lion. Hunter frowned and stared at Alex.

"Er, my name is Alex, Alex Rider, and I'm seventeen." There was fierce whispering when he spoke. "And, uh, as you can tell, I'm British."

There was laughter. Mrs. Grant frowned. "Well, of course we know that, now that you've spoke. Tell us something else, something interesting."

Well, Mrs. Grant, when I was fourteen, my uncle, who happened to be a spy working for MI6, was killed by a Russian contract killer. MI6 picked me up, made me a spy, and I then started to take down the world's most evil villains, all in about two years. Interesting enough for you?

"Uh…I like hot dogs?"

The class erupted in laughter. Alex sat down awkwardly, blushing. Bloody hell, why was he acting like this? He faced people like Damian Cray, Abdul-Aziz Al-Rahim, and Major Winston Yu without acting like a complete sod. Why did it have to happen now?

The introductions grinded on. He almost fell asleep when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Cara was smiling down at him, the same predatory expression on her tanned face.

"You're new here, aren't you?" she asked. She was chewing gum and making it not hard to notice. Her glossy lips went up and down as she bit on the gum. "I haven't seen you here before."

"Yeah," he replied. "I didn't go to school for a while, so I just got in now."

"Oh, that's cool," she said, her blue eyes saying she honestly didn't really care. "Are you single?"

Alex flustered, taken aback. "Er, um, what, er, what did you say?"

"Ease up, bro," Hunter said, leaning over to him. "You turn her on."

"Shut up, Hunter," she said, turning back around. "Get out of my space, bro."

Hunter laughed, and he reached a hand over to Alex. He hesitantly shook it. "You're British, right? You play soccer?"

"You're so stupid, Hunter," Cara practically spat. "They call it football in Britain." She smiled perkily at Alex. "Right?"

"Uh, yes, we do."

"You for Manchester U?"

"Uh, well, I'm not a big fan, but I think they-"

"I agree. They suck balls. Arsenal all the way, man. Well, in England, anyways. Internationally, it's got to be Barcelona."

Mrs. Grant stalked over and slammed her hand down on Hunter's desk. "Quiet down, Mr. Reese! Last introduction, and we're finished." She turned to the front desk on the left side. "Go on!"

A small kid with bushy hair stood up, blushing so much Alex thought his head would explode. Large sideburns ran down the boy's temple. He pushed his glasses up his nose with shaking fingers.

"H-Hi, my n-name is Arnold Zuckerman. I-I'm seventeen, and I like tin c-cans."

Hunter snorted, his face buried in his hands. His body was shaking violently, and he kept repeating tin cans under his breath like it was the funniest thing in the world. Cara stared at Arnold as if he was something the plumber pulled out of a clogged toilet. Mrs. Grant fixed the laughing class a stern look and smiled soothingly at Arnold.

"I like tin cans too, sweetie," she said.

"Now, class," Mrs. Grant said, rubbing her palms together. "Time to issue books. Frank, could you be a dear and hand me that sheet of paper on my desk…?"

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

'What…what is it?" Alex asked, staring at the revolting pile of mush on his tray.

"Beans, bro," Hunter said, sticking a spoon filled with the stuff into his mouth. "They're good. Give you extra fuel for the field." His friends laughed, high-fiving him excitedly.

Sabina was not in any of his classes, sadly. Alex had been hoping she would at least be in his lunch period, but unfortunately, life wasn't perfect. He had to settle with Mr. Idiot and his posse of meatheads instead. He sighed, playing with the…beans…with a fork.

Hunter nudged him in the ribs. "Check it out, bro. The chicks are totally diggin' you."

Alex turned his head a fraction to see a table filled with girls, including Cara, staring at him and giggling amongst each other. He even saw one daring redhead pop a picture on her iPhone. Alex blushed and turned away.

"Shit, man, you lucky as hell," a big guy named Delonte remarked. "Damn, how many girls you get?"

"Uh," Alex thought it over. "Not many, really. I really spent more time with guys than girls, honestly." He knew the second the words flew out of his mouth that they would get it totally wrong.

Hunter shifted uncomfortably next to him. "So, does that mean you're…?"

"NO!" he exclaimed, a bit too loudly. He quieted down. "No, I'm not. I have a girl already, is all."

There was a collective "aaaah". Hunter nodded, approving. "Cool. But, you're not going to just stick with her, right? I mean, this school's got plenty of tail, so you know-"

"I'm fine," Alex cut in, slightly mad that he would imply such a thing. "I love her."

Hunter grinned, smacking him on the back. "Looks like we've got a little Romeo here, gentlemen. So, who's the lucky Juliet?"

"She's been going to this school for a while now. Do you know a Sabina Pleasure?"

The table suddenly fell silent. Delonte's eyes widened and he scooted away from Hunter and Alex. The other boys looked down at the table, unsure of what to do. Hunter's face darkened.

"Sabina, huh," he replied, ripping open a granola bar, his eyes never resting on Alex. "She's your girlfriend."

Alex realized that he had done something utterly wrong. "Well, I guess so. We've been in a relationship for a while now."

Hunter was quiet for a while. "Huh. I see."

The bell rang, and the student body rose as one and rushed to the halls. Hunter gathered his things and left without a word. Alex frowned.

"Did I say something wrong?" Alex said.

"Hell yeah!" Delonte snorted, and left.

"Hunter's been after Sabina for a long time," another boy said, a tall fellow with short blonde hair. "He's had his eye on her ever since she moved to San Fran. She always rejected him, though. Guess we all know why now." He gripped Alex's shoulder. "Watch out, man. Hunter ain't the forgiving type. He'll probably be after you."

Alex's gaze hardened as he watched Hunter walk out of the cafeteria. "Yeah, well, he isn't anything I can't handle."

The boy frowned. "You're new here, so you probably don't know about the Bay fight. Some senior from St. Assisi pissed him off at the wharf last year. He was varsity football, big, tough, over six feet. Hunter beat the shit out of him."

Alex shrugged. "Like I said, nothing I can't handle."

The boy smiled. "I like you. Fearless. Confident. Alex, right?" He extended a hand.

"Yes," Alex said, smiling. "You are…?"

"Will," the boy answered. For a moment, Alex thought his face started to glow, like the sun. "Will Solace. Stick with me, I can teach you a few things."

"Alright, I will."

They walked out of the cafeteria.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Alex plopped down onto his bed, throwing his bag to the floor in extreme weariness. He heard a knock on the door. "It's Sabina. Can I come in?"

"Sure," Alex said. The image of a very angry Hunter was stuck in his mind.

Sabina walked in, looking absolutely stunning in a light blouse and skirt. Her dark hair was wavy, like a waterfall. She smiled and sat down next to Alex, playing with his hair.

"How was your first day?"she asked quietly.

"All right," he replied with a sigh. "Could've been better. All the girls kept fawning over me, and I had no choice but to satisfy their needs."

Sabina chuckled, always a fan of dirty jokes. "Oh, you Casanova, you. Can't control yourself, can you?"

"I'm afraid not."

Sabina laughed once again, the sound like Mozart to Alex's ears.

"Hey, Sabina," he asked tentatively.

"Yes, Alex?" she said absently, busy fiddling with Alex's long blonde hair.

"Do you happen to know anyone by the name of, uh, Hunter Reese?"

The fingers stopped. Alex could feel Sabina tense beside him. He turned to face her. "Well, do you?"

Sabina bit her bottom lip. "Yes, I do. And if you heard any awful rumors about me and him don't believe them, because they're lies and they're totally-"

Alex put a finger on her lips. He grinned. "I know, Sabina. I know. Don't get too worried. I heard that he was after you, that's all."

Sabina made a disgusted sound in her throat, and he frowned. "He's a total jerk. He thinks he's all that just because he's in varsity football. I mean, soccer. He isn't ugly, but he's terrible in every other way possible."

She embraced Alex, sighing deeply. "Alex, you know I'm yours."

Alex smiled and hugged her against his torso. "I know, Sabina. I know."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

MI6 Headquarters

London, Great Britain, UK

The room exuded an aura of Spartan efficiency. From the books stacked neatly on the gray bookshelves to the purple carpet on the floor, nothing was out of place. Not even the woman sitting behind the gray desk showed any error.

Mrs. Jones carefully filed the stack of papers into a blank manila folder, opening a drawer and inserting it inside with a clank. She sniffed, clearing out any particles of dust or grime from the polished surface of the desk. Adjusting her hair, which was tied neatly into a bun, and fiddling with her suit, she finally got herself ready.

"You may come in," she announced.

The door opened, and a suited man with close-cropped black hair walked in. At the sight of the Head of MI6 Special Operations, he inhaled through his teeth and adjusted his loose tie.

"Mrs. Jones," he said.

"Crawley," she replied. Her eyes narrowed from behind clean spectacles. "You're supposed to be in Surrey. Is the operation over?"

"No, ma'am. I was sent back 'ere to fetch some paperwork when the boys in SI found something." He hefted a folder in his hands. "I think you're going to want to see this, ma'am."

Mrs. Jones' eyes narrowed even more. She extended her hand, and Crawley handed her the folder. She opened it, perusing its contents.

Her eyes progressively got wider as she flipped through the pages. Crawley cringed, as if she were to explode any moment. Mrs. Jones exhaled through her nose. She locked eyes with Crawley.

"When did they find the body?" she asked.

"Just two hours ago, ma'am. Picked 'im up off the Thames. It was sent directly to our morgue, ma'am."

"Good," she whispered. "Very good. God help us if it ended up in the wrong hands."

She stared at the broken, bloody body of a man. Well, it would've passed off for a man if it weren't for the hundreds of mangled eye sockets covering the entirety of its body.

Crawley swayed where he stood, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down like a broken elevator. Mrs. Jones glared at him.

"What is it? Is there more?"

"Y-Yes, ma'am," he replied, licking his dry lips. "We got a call not too long ago. A call from America."

Mrs. Jones could not help but think of a certain boy when that country was brought up. She leaned in. "Yes?"

"He wants to speak with you, Mrs. Jones." Crawley said, his eyes filled with fright.

"Who?" she pressed. "Who wants to speak with me?"

"Mr. Brunner, ma'am." Crawley visibly gulped. "Mr. Brunner wants to speak with you."

Mrs. Jones' face instantly paled. Her hands quivered for a split second. She swallowed nervously. "Very well, then," she managed to say as she stood up and smoothed her skirt. "By all means, let me and…Mr. Brunner…speak."

She followed Crawley out of her office. Mr. Brunner. The only individual that scared Sir Alan Blunt out of his wits. A sheet of sweat ran down Mrs. Jones face as she picked up the phone.

"Yes, Mr. Brunner?"

"Mrs. Jones," a deep voice rumbled from the other end. A voice that exuded authority, power, and…something else. "We need to talk."

AN: I hope this suffices as a cliffhanger. Anyways, thanks for reading, (if you're confused, don't feel bad, all will be revealed later on) and please R&R. To those of you reading my other unfinished stories: I'M SORRY! I can't help it! I have a tendency to start other stories.

FOREVER REMAIN ETCHED IN DIAMOND