Alexa problems (PJO/Avengers crossover)

Chapter 15: Project S.S.S.

Tony's POV

Peter's face went as white as a sheet, a horrified look pasting itself on it.

"Ned." The single panic stricken word traveled from his lips, filling the room.

"Who" I asked, the name on a distant bell but I could not think of who Peter might be talking about. But instead of giving an answer. Peter started to ramble.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Stark, I gotta go. My friend, he- the guy-" Peter trailed off, not even seeming to realize that he did so. Instead his eyes were attracted to his bulky phone as his fingers tapped at inhuman speeds.

" You know what, go." I blurted, Peter looked up from his phone, his expression saying he forgot I was there.

"Thank you, I promise I'll make it up to you." He stammered already walking towards the door, giving no mind to the robots swerving around him. I watched him as he exited my lab, the hesitant attitude he had before now full-blown panic. He turned the corner out of the lab and passed my field of vision. I was just going to turn back to my latest project when his head of brown hair popped back into view.

"I'll watch Percy, I promise. I won't let you down."

His head swung back out of sight. I sat perfectly still, listening to his footsteps fade out of range. My attention was caught on what he had said, 

I'll watch Percy. Not Perseus or Mr. Jackson but the name that Perseus called himself.

How close were they?

I let my mind wander through me and Peter's conversation, searching for any other information he may have dropped. As I pondered through the last 10 minutes, my mind latched on to one thing he said,

I don't think your dad murdered anyone too, unless he wrote about it in his diary.

The sentence swirled around my head, repeating like a song on loop. I knew my subconscious must be telling me something, but what? I closed my eyes, trying to think.

He wrote about it in his diary. Diary. Journal.

My eyes snapped open, infused with vigor.

Finally a lead, after all the bad luck maybe my luck could change. His journal, of course, how could I have not thought of this before. I thought as I got up from my desk.

I turned towards the small cabinet beside my desk, rifling through it. File after file flipped across my fingers, my eyes scanning briefly over the neatly organized papers and mechanical parts that Pepper had spent so much time making neat. My knuckles bang against the metal of the back of the last drawer, and I slammed the drawer shut.

Nothing.

I strode over to the next shelving unit, searching, again, for the journal.

"Come on..."

I tore through the papers frantically, leaving them scattered everywhere, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I reached out to grab another file, my hands skimming against the edge of the cabinet. As I extended my hand it tore across a nail that protruded from the smooth metal. The nail ripped through my skin, drawing bright red blood to the surface, but I didn't stop.

I couldn't stop.

Blood condensed from the wound in my hand but I felt no pain. The only thing I could feel was the raw panic running through my veins.

Where is it?

Where is it?

Where is it?