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DUMB RULE #2: No killing Marshmallow, no matter how much you want to. It'll make certain people you don't want mad at you... well, mad at you. This corresponds with the previous rule because it has to do with no killing...

Like most of the rules.

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Percy liked hoods too much for his own good, something that was already addressed in the previous chapter. And yes, Percy also knew that someone was writing chapters about him, which he actually found pretty great...

Sort of. He found it a little creepy too.

Not to say he isn't used to creepy, but anyway, like Percy said, he liked hoods.

Because, as also said in the previous chapter, hoods are mysterious and Percy likes mysterious. And...

Oh, what the Hades... this is going nowhere. Just continue on with the chapter.

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Marshmallow's (Wait, sorry, you don't know who that is...) POV:

He approached the imposingly tall abandoned warehouse with a shudder, the shadows of the dull street lamps surrounding the place echoing the rather grisly, quite familiar, distasteful scene that had taken place in a meeting place somewhat similar about a year ago.

The man let out a grimacing sigh at the memory before he continued on his merry way into the sore thumb of the city, the wind unrelenting against both him and the decrepit building. The warehouse creaked beneath the wind's ferocity, with an instability to it that made it seem that the dark, wooden structure would be send toppling down to the dust ungracefully at any moment. The building seemed to lean precariously as a result, and because of it, dread filling him as his paranoia got ahold of him, the structure gave an appearance much too unsteady for the man's comfort.

Then again, he supposed his comfort hardly mattered in the current circumstances, especially since he himself had chosen to meet here, a smart decision at the time, and a terrible one now.

After all, now that he thought of it further, he was beginning to regret choosing this place for a meeting with a crazy psycho, especially when that crazy psycho could kill him with ease, even more so in such a human deterring place.

The man sighed wearily, before stepping towards the warehouse's entrance reluctantly. His footsteps made an impact with the floor with loud thumps, but he ignored the almost unnerving noise with much effort, even managing to suppress the itching feeling to remove the large boots that were the cause of the sound.

After all, no matter how much he hated these cursed boots, his younger, more idiotic, self, had made those boots iconic in his appearance, and he, sadly, had to keep those appearances up, even if the only person who would be meeting him tonight was the one guy who didn't really care about anything.

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Once he arrived at the doorway, after walking purposefully slow towards the entrance, he paused before entering, looking around cautiously with a care that could only be earned through experience, before finally stepping inside.

The man could only be too careful, after all, and knowing his, he supposed, former friend's pet assassin, too careful wouldn't be careful at all around the insane scumbag who could probably kill him with one well-placed blow.

He waited impatiently, his nerves growing unsteadily more frayed as each second passed by. His narrowed eyes peered around as he searched for the late assassin, flitting at each corner and observing each shadow with a paranoid suspicion. The focus of the man's search was futile, however, and instead, soon made the assassin's arrival even more silent than usual, as always, catching him off guard when sudden, deliberately loud footsteps were heard behind him.

He cursed loudly, and unable to stop himself, jumped, startled, his nerves getting the better of himself. He spun around with a piercing glare, his large, lumbering form not hindering his movements to the slightest. The assassin was here, of course, although much more bloody than he preferred, and his approach was as unnervingly stealthy as he had expected.

'Wonderful...' he thought with a grimace. 'He's got that cheeky grin of his. That can't be good. It would be much too disastrous if Mr. "I can kill you but won't "decided to not go through with the job, especially with Hydra on the move.' He shook his head abruptly, 'but then again,' he added as an afterthought. 'Perhaps it'd be worth it... After all, then the crazy psycho would probably pay for it, and,' he smiled darkly at the thought, 'It'd be nice if the guy finally died and left me alone in peace.'

Percy's POV:

Percy, self-proclaimed hood obsessed freak, leaned against one of the weak wooden walls, a much too wide grin plastered on his bloody face when the warehouse seemed to sway. His little friend had attempted to hide his surprise at Percy's appearance, and the assassin, in turn, found it almost endearing, in a way that a mouse might seem cute to a cat before the feline killed it.

Not that Percy would be killing anyone in the current vicinity, as much as he wanted to, just to see the terrified look plastered on the man's face. And honestly, he figured if it wouldn't break half of the rules in Percy's dumb rule book, he'd probably kill the man right now.

Marshmallow was sadly important to Percy's tentative allies, however, so it wouldn't be happening anytime soon.

He lectured himself under his breath for almost breaking dumb rule #2, which didn't help how insane he looked, with blood splattered across his figure, staining his dark hair and clothes. And with a resigned sigh, he calmed himself, his smile somehow widening as he returned his full attention to Marshmallow in front of him.

"Don't worry, little friend! It's not my blood," he frowned at the thought childishly, while Marshmallow attempted to back away subtly, maybe. "Cause, you know," he continued, ignoring the man's actions, "that would've been a lot of blood loss, and then I'd probably be dead." Percy tilted his head, contemplating the thought before he animatedly leaned forward with wide eyes.

"Maybe I am dead! And you're dead, too!" He paused at that, before shaking his head with a sad sigh, "I guess that means that-"

Marshmallow cut him off with a sneer, before turning away in disgust, slightly unsettled by Percy's piercing gaze and appearance. The assassin has grown excellent at acting insane, but maybe that was because he wasn't acting. Percy wasn't exactly the surest of the bunch, especially after a kill.

Either way, insane or not, Marshmallow obviously didn't care, hurrying to get the meeting over with. The man stepped closer (which was really brave, in his opinion), and spoke in a rush of words. "I don't have time for insanity games. Did you get the job done?"

There was a pause, as Percy contemplated ignoring the man just to have some fun, before the assassin decided on the more self-preserving action, rather hastily getting to business. His posture returned to his usual stiff and emotional one, the one used for assassinations, and in an unnerving second, in which Percy seemed to change into an entirely different person, his grin had vanished, only to be replaced with a veneer void of expression.

Marshmallow continued on, ignoring the transformation, as he had seen it many times before, although it never got any less unnerving, and continued on with his interoggation. "As I was saying, did you get it done? Is he dead?"

"Yep."

Marshmallow nodded, relieved.

"Good."

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Percy was rarely ever nervous, much less concerned about much of anything. He didn't particularly care about if he managed to succeed in killing someone, or if he died in the process, or really, about anything.

But despite his lack of care for anyone's life and even his own life, Percy did have a sense of self- preservation, although that was only a part of him, as most of him kind of found it pointless to go on living without a sense of purpose.

Today, for some stupid reason, just happened to be one of the few days he actually cared about whether he was about to live or die or not if the stupid pounding of his heart was anything to go by. If the drops of sweat on his temple and the paralyzing fear throbbing through his veins were anything to go by too, as he responded to the man in front of him.

"Yep."

He popped the p, enjoying the way the consonant slipped from his tongue despite things.

"So he's dead?"

This time, Percy had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, both annoyed and slightly surprised by the man's "confidence" in him, someone who was well known and renowned for his skill.

With a resigned sigh, Percy let out another yep, spoken in a similar manner to the first one, but this time, with a slight edge to it.

After all, the assassin may have been a slightly sadistic, insane, and immature former demigod with a knack for annoying everyone around him, but he wasn't someone to mess with.

Even if the person who was messing with him happened to be one of the very two people who could get away with it.

Although, technically the man in front of him wasn't a person, but rather a god not even he'd double cross.

He noted the thought in his head.

DUMB RULE #(37, I think?): Sometimes, kill because you have to live and not because you're bored. There are some people you take jobs from who could actually do something to you, and if you're in the mood for living that day, it might be prudent if you don't double cross said, people.

...

Whatever.

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Two figures stood side by side in the darkly cast building, the dimly lit room they inhabited shaded with the darkness that hid both their forms, the only source of light being the crackling source of energy in the center of the room. One of them was taller than the other, and he had a mad, almost excited gleam in his strangely translucent blue eyes, a white, immaculate lab coat trailing from his thin frame to brush against the polished floor that shone even in the barest lighting. The other was an old woman, with twisting wrinkles, and the slightest bit of resemblance to the man next to her. With a cold, hard look in her brown, almost black eyes, she seemed cold and maniacal, with thin, chapped lips that seemed to have never smiled once in her long life, the shadows casting her unforgiving features in an even more monstrous light.

A metallic hiss could be heard, in the background, unnerving in it being the only sound in near vicinity. And often or not, with phases of silence only broken by the metallic hiss mentioned, would be disturbed by other sounds that would echo viciously, with resounding bangs, and the screech of metal upon metal.

The two figures watched the crackling energy in the middle of the room, unfazed by the sounds in the background that most would find unnerving, a smile plastered on one of their faces as both watched what seemed like an entrancing spectacle to both of them.

The energy moved like lightning, with a glow to it that eerily cast the room and its two inhabitants in its unnatural color. Neither man nor woman minded, and instead, the man, with a pair of spectacles perched on his high nose, seemed delighted, watching the flashing and glowing lights with a strange admiration in his terrifying gaze. The woman, too, seemed delighted, despite the expressionless blankness to her features, but the eyes showed it all.

She reached over and clutched the man's thin shoulder with a hand that was gnarled and almost claw-like with long, thin fingers tipped by sharp, yellow fingernails.

The man stiffened underneath her strong grip, especially when the claw-like tips dug into the white fabric of his lab coat, clutching the folds with merciless strength. For a moment, something akin to fear flashed in the man's pale blue eyes, overshadowing the odd fascination with the energy that delighted both figures, before it faded, as the woman spoke, with a fanatic edge to her grating voice.

"Hail Hydra."

The man smiled, serene, although it seemed not for the woman next to him, but rather for the spectacle in front of him, before he responded, turning towards his old companion who did not look back, her focus on something afar.

"Hail Hydra, indeed, mother. Hail Hydra indeed."

The hand on his shoulder did not loosen its clutch, tightening.

His smile faded.

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