Chapter 1

It was just a normal day for Annabeth Chase. She didn't pay much of attention to the warning sirens because they were always going off. The revolutionaries were getting bolder and bolder these days, straining the police and occupying forces to their breaking point. Annabeth herself saw no reason for the fighting; it was just pointless destruction. Better to accept Othrys's rule and try to lead a productive life under the new system.

No, the revolution was of no concern to Annabeth. It was of no concern, that is, until she turned down Armory Avenue, the road so brilliantly named after the giant military compound that dominated it. Glancing up at the brick and stone structure (a relic left over from the early days of the 44 year war) she admired the sharp lines and shape of the building, the strength of its presence, and how its massive roof seemed to defy all laws of gravity.

Or, at least how the roof defied the laws of gravity, up unto the point where it was blasted to pieces.

Annabeth could only watch in horror as the Armory exploded, bit by bit. Charges detonated along the sides of the building, blasting key structural supports to smithereens. The sirens redoubled their efforts, blasting their warning cries to the world. In what seemed like seconds, Annabeth's logical and orderly world was reduced to a pile of smoking bricks.

A new sound shook Annabeth out of her trance-like state. The chatter of machine guns caused her to look around worriedly for the source of the noise; she'd never heard actual gunfire before, other than the time her friends made her go watch that war film at the movie palace. The road in front of her erupted in a cloud of smoke, dust, and debris as the bullets sprayed the road. The lone whine of a motorcycle was the only other sound to stand out amongst the gunfire. As the motorcycle sound got louder and louder, Annabeth realized that it was coming towards her. A dark shape erupted from the cloud of smoke, causing another hail of bullets to erupt.

"Get out of the way!" the motorcyclist yelled, waving his one arm frantically. Not knowing what to do, Annabeth stood rooted to the spot in fear. At the last moment, the motorcyclist threw himself and his motorbike to the side, narrowly missing her. The bike toppled over, tossing it's rider into the street like a rag doll.

"Oh my god!" Annabeth cried. "Shit, shit, shit!"

The blonde headed girl ran over to the motionless motorbike rider, crouching over him. She unbuckled the rider's helmet, laying his head in her lap.

He's just a kid, she thought to herself. He's barely older than I am!

The boy groaned and opened his eyes. with a surprised grunt, he threw himself away from her.

"Did you see?" he asked, holding a hand over his face.

"See what?" she replied. "Don't jump around like that—you could be hurt! You took a nasty spill on that bike!"

Another round of explosions rocked the area, causing Annabeth to duck her head, covering it with her hands. Someone grabbed her arm roughly, hauling her down the street.

"Let go!" she yelled, flailing out at her assailant—it was the kid. A loud cracking noise drew her attention to a large stone column, which creaked and groaned as it toppled over, landing on the exact spot that she had been kneeling on earlier.

"Get out of here and forget what you saw," the boy growled, shoving her none-too-gently into an alley. He promptly left her, picked up his motorcycle, and roared off down the avenue.

"There he goes!"

Soldiers and police officers sprinted past Annabeth's alley-way hiding place as she watched on in amazement. Her mind reeling with the events of the last fifteen minutes; she decided that it wasn't that great of a time to be around the Armory. Annabeth wasn't sure about alot of what had just happened, but she was damn sure of one thing. She was definitely going to have to take the long way home.

The next day, all Annabeth heard about at school was the attack on the Armory.

"They're saying it was a terrorist attack," her friend Silena informed her. "Carried out by Olympian Revolutionary Army; isn't that so exciting?"

"Silena," Annabeth said. "Twenty people were killed and more than thirty were injured during the attack."

"Ohmygosh!" Silena breathed, mushing the words together. "Really? That's horrible!"

Annabeth rolled her eyes and tried to move on with her day. She tried to focus on her lessons, but the face of the boy she'd met kept flashing through her mind. Annabeth had done the exact opposite of what he had wanted her to do. She had remembered the entire encounter in vivid detail.

She didn't know why the boy's face bothered her; Annabeth felt like she'd seen him before. But where?

The day dragged on like no other. Annabeth spent most of it agonizing over the previous day's events. Had he blown up the armory? Was he a terrorist? How could someone so young be affiliated with the Olympian Revolutionary Army?

"Miss Chase, would you care to answer the question?"

Mr. Cogner, the arithmetic teacher, brought her hastily back to the present. He was standing next to the board, long wooden pointer in one hand and an open book in the other. The problem on the board was easy; he was just being a jerk by picking on her when she clearly wasn't paying attention.

"X is fourteen and Y is seventeen," Annabeth answered politely. Mr. Cogner frowned.

"Yes," he replied, turning back to the board. "Yes, that is correct. Now, if we take the sum of the two squares…"

Annabeth's attention drifted away once again. She'd already taught herself this. And advanced geometry. And calculus. And abstract algebra. This class wasn't worth her time, nor was any other in the school; the consequences of being a genius.

The door to the classroom opened noisily. A student stepped inside and waited politely by the door for Mr. Cogner's attention.

"Yes, m'boy," Mr. Cogner asked. "What's the matter?"

"Message for you, sire," the boy replied, walking briskly over to the teacher and handing him a note. The arithmetic teacher took the paper and read it, frowning.

"Very well," he said. "Class, work on the homework for this chapter. I've got a telephone call to make."

Annabeth's heart sped up. There was something familiar about this messenger boy. She caught a glimpse of his face before he walked out; his eyes locking with hers.

It was him.

Annabeth felt her heartbeat increase. He stared at her with a blank, piercing stare, almost daring her to say something. She knew he remembered her.

"Mr. Jackson," the arithmetic teacher said impatiently, sticking his head inside the classroom. "Come along now!"

"Yes, Sir," the boy replied. "Very sorry, sir."

A/N:

Everything is based off of the 1940's time period.