No, I'm am not aware of how horrible I am. Yes I used so much italics in this chapter it hurts. Yes, Percy is going to be a little bit psychopathic because how else will there be any fun.

The moment that Percy took a moment to snarl at his opponent, his back was flattened in an unsavory position to the cold brick wall behind him.

The man was fast, talented enough to make him have to try. He had thick brown hair pulled back into a bun, completed with handyman-type blue jeans and a white wife beater. From what was visible, he had scars down his arms, burn patterns that made him wonder what kind of accident had gotten himself into. Who ever the man really was (Because for some reason he really doubted that the man's name was really Death Lightning) he was definitely meant for something greater than low level drug trafficking, something preferably legal.

He found himself grinning as he blocked a punch meant for his lower ribs. He had missed this, not necessarily fighting a drug dealer and totally winning, but the rush of adrenaline as he manhandled the guy to the ground with as much grace as possible. The oh so good burn of the muscles that, in his opinon, had been inactive for far to long.

He found himself straddling the guys back, holding his hands in place and incapacitating his leg with his feet. He panted from excerption, he really had been out of commission for way to long. It would have been a lot simpler if the man had offered the info he wanted instead of punching him in the face. It still stung, and he was lucky that his nose wasn't broken, not that it hadn't been before.

"Look," He deadpanned. "We can continue this until one of us pass out, or die possibly, but that's not what I want."

The man struggled in him, trying to get out his hold without any progress. He leaned down, putting his mouth closer to the man's ear.

"What I want is for you tell me who your friend Denver. Not you, no matter how much you disgust me." He moved to dig his knee into the middle of the man's back, he cried out in response. "Word on the street is you know who and where he is. Care to share with the class?"

"Fuck. You." The man spit out with bloody teeth.

"C'mon DL, I thought we were friends!" He cried. "You help me out, you get to live."

He probably wouldn't have killed him...probably.

"Fine! Fuck. He lives at the center, man. I didn't know what he did man, I swear!" He struggled further in his grasp, again, uselessly. "Don't fucking tell him I told you man, I'd be dead by morning."

"Oh DL!" His voice falsely offended. "I wouldn't dream of it."

He dug his hand into the man's hair and pulled it up towards him. The man cried out and he smiled. "Thank you very much DL, your a lifesaver."

He slammed the mans head back into the concrete harshly, at which point he went limp. He was probably okay. Really.

"So, the center, got to found out where that is." He bit his lip.

_

An hour later, the son of Poseidon found himself in front of a large building. The center apparently was, true to it's name, an abandoned sports center. According to google, and damn he had to go to the second page, it closed down twenty years ago due to either lack of funding or an owner death, he had skimmed the page. But whoever owned it, was now dead, and the community was entirely to lazy to knock the building down. He wasn't sure if that was from the abundance of crime going on inside (Hint! Drugs!) or lack of department funding. He found out soon that he really didn't care, his man was inside and Denver was in for the reckoning of his life.

The twenty years was quite obvious when he examined the building further. It was atoned with pealing lime green paint along the sides, brown stains from seeping water trailing down the sides as one might trail down a beach, messily and with wrongful vigorous hope that they looked good. The storm drain had fallen apart, one rusted piece fallen to the ground while the other was still suspended in the air, beneath it, a long brown stain. Well it certainly looked abandoned from where he stood, and he was reluctant to realize that the inside wouldn't be much better.

He sighed woefully, wondering what the hell he was getting himself into, whatever it was, he just hoped it would be fun.

So, there he was, strolling in the door in what he hoped was a casual, relaxed position. The entrance opened up to a welcome area that didn't not look very welcoming, like, at all. What it looked like was that he was right in saying that the inside wasn't any better than the outside. He was pretty sure that the floors hadn't been moped since opening, leaving them brown in most areas and in others, at best a dusty off-white. But what it did look like, ignoring the filth and obvious lack of hygiene, was lived in. There were fresh shoe scuff marks on the floor, like scars against tan skin, browned mud tracks leading through the house. That gives the vision that if Denver the bomb maker did live here, he obviously didn't care about the way it looked.

He sighed softly, only hoping that his insurance covered tetanus shots.

The house, despite it's appearance as a rats home, was dead. No noise came from strange creatures living in the walls, the ones that give little girls nightmares. No creaks came from dips in the tile and, despite the wind billowing outside, no groans came from the building lurching and reeling, trying desperately to not collapse.

The only thing he heard was his own breathing, his own boots lightly hitting the tile. Something felt wrong.

That something came sooner than he liked it to, with a mysterious object belligerently hitting him over the head.

It was probably a bad time to think about how stupid this plan was. Because, in all honesty, the plan was so shitty it would have been better to not have a plan at all. This plan was so horrible that it would have made Batman ask the Mobius Chair why he was such an idiot instead of asking the name of the Joker. That was how stupid he was. Walk into the building pf a bomb maker they said, it'll be fun they said. His last moments were not going to be converted into a meme.

His vision took part in having a mind of it's own, slinking out from his skull and crawling around his head. The world shook violently, but his body only slightly swayed and he found himself turning, trying to capture a blurred look at the famed Denver before he lost control of his vertical position.

What he wasn't expecting was Denver to be a gorgeous girl. In fact, neither did he think Denver was going to pretty at all. The way that he pictured 'Denver' in his mind was a thin greasy man with Harry Potter Glasses and three hairs on his head. Nowhere in the history of man did he think he was going to see a gorgeous redhead in a full body suit who looked downright terrifying.

In fact, before when he believed that his plan was absolute shit 'cause well...it is, that didn't amount to the amount of shit the entire world was at this very moment. Bomb makers with greasy faces and weak dispositions were easy to beat up and get info from. Assassin looking chicks with escrima sticks in each hand and a scowl on their faces don't take any shit.

There was no doubt about it, he was going to die today.

She cocked her head to the side and her scowl turned into a flirty grin that did not at all look flirty. He wavered on his feet and felt his knees buckle, all she did was look down at his, unimpressed.

"Denver," Her voice was smooth and ruff at the same time. Like honey with nuts in it but like blue skies with clouds and-shit she thought he was, ugh, not again. "Somehow you managed to get on Shield's radar."

Shield. What the hell did this guy do? Kill puppies in front of children.

"I'm not....I can't-" His head hit the oh so unpleasant pavement, dropping back with a hard thud. All he wanted to say was he is not and never will be fucking Denver. This was the second time in a week.

"You're under arrest." She jabbed her hand at him, and his body erupted into fire, electrocution was easy enough to identify when it happened to you once a week.

His whole world erupted into a mantra of oh shit before everything went dark.

I had no idea what I was doing, I'm making this stuff up as I go along.