“Let’s get this straight, Perseus,” said Octavian, the perpetual sneer on his face impossibly more stuck-up and annoying. “As his new Personal Assistant, your job will be to take care of whatever it is that he needs. Do you understand?”

Octavian tapped the top of the clipboard that he was holding to his chest. Percy had just about had enough of the pasty-skinned fuck-faced blond that everyone went to great lengths just to avoid. It wasn’t even because Octavian used to be the P.A. of the man that was the de facto CEO and President of the New Rome group of companies.

“Yes, Octavian,” Percy said through gritted teeth. He was pretty sure that Octavian was being aggravating on purpose by using his given name. He had very clearly said that he strongly preferred being called Percy. HR had even agreed to put “Percy” on his name tag—though not on his official company-issued intern ID.

Percy had just about finished punching in the code for coffee, just as Jason liked it, that Octavian had so helpfully written down on the clipboard, when he heard a deep voice from behind him. “You know, Percy, I’m rather surprised and a little touched that you know just how I like my coffee.”

Percy nearly dropped the cup that he had been holding under the dispenser of the beverage replicator. “By the gods,” Percy gasped. Standing at the dispenser, he had been facing the door to the break room, but he had not seen Jason enter.

As he turned around, half-expecting a holographic projection of his boss, Percy was surprised to find Jason—in the flesh. “Sir,” he said, meekly, as he set down the cup of coffee on a nearby counter, “Please don’t startle me like that. I almost scalded myself.”

Percy was more than a little bit ashamed to admit that he hadn’t really explored the headquarters of Pantheon Industries beyond his dormitory, the adjacent floors, and the office space he had to himself for his work, over the last few months, as an unpaid intern.

Truth be told, Percy had always wanted to walk around and see what the scientists of Pantheon Industries were working on. He had been, however, quite afraid of any potential security roadblocks that needed biometric scans for authorization. Although, Percy thought, in retrospect, it had all been for naught. As he had come to learn, Jason had known of his identity all along, after all.

“Like what you see?” said Jason, startling Percy from his thoughts when they stopped momentarily in front of what seemed to be a large window into a hangar.

There was a loud hiss as the hydraulic lock on the ramp and the airtight seal engaged. There were a few moments of darkness and silence broken only by the sound of Percy’s laboured breathing that followed. Jason looked down at the young man he carried in his arms, barely older than a boy, and felt a burning anger in the pit of his stomach.

A soft ding played over the speakers as a green strip illuminated the floor in front of Jason. He suspected Tempest was just booting up, but he didn’t really have the time for that. The strip of green light stretched forward to the airlock, illuminating the circular frame of the hydraulic doors.

“Tempest,” said Jason, inquisitively, as he walked toward the airlock. “Lights on, please.”

A soft male voice filtered in through the speakers. “Of course, sir. If you would forgive the delay. I am currently integrating the new ion thruster systems to mine.”

“Yeah, Grace,” said Reyna. “You see that?” The decorated Admiral poked her finger through the side of the screen she was currently being projected on. “They’re saying that’s the work of the TITAN separatist cell, but you and I both know that whether or not TITAN had anything to do with the attack, Zeus is the mastermind.”

Jason was more than a little bit shell-shocked. A holographic man, regal in his bearing, made of glittering purple-and gold motes, leaned toward Reyna. “Admiral,” Scipio said, “I believe that Mr. Grace is presently in shock. Too dumb to speak, as he likes to call it. Might I suggest dealing with him in less harsh tones?”

“I don’t recall asking you for your help, Scipio,” said Reyna. Her second-in-command, Mike Kahale snickered behind her. Reyna shot a withering glare over her shoulder at the man that was stood behind the helm of Scipio. It silenced him rather quickly. “What I do recall is that I asked you to check on the security of the bunker.”