The Hidden Son (Percy Jackson / Marvel's Agents of SHIELD Crossover)

3. Chasing Ms. Chase

"PERCY," ANNABETH WARNED.

          He ignored her, which Coulson figured was probably not the best idea. "You don't get to take us in."

          Coulson laced his fingers together and tried his best to appear calm, cool and collected. "Unfortunately, that isn't for you to decide. According to our findings, Annabeth could be a threat to national security."

"You're out of your mind," Annabeth accused, and, remembering past occurrences, Coulson couldn't really argue.

"Maybe, maybe not," he said nonchalantly, "but better safe than sorry, right?"

Percy's hand slipped into his pocket. He sort of looked like he was waging an internal battle.

Suddenly something large and shiny flew past the side of his head, slamming into the alley wall. Coulson couldn't help it: he turned for half a second to see what it was, which was probably what Annabeth had been going for. He turned around just in time to see her dragging Percy out of the alley.

He sighed and watched them go. Now the team would have to chase them. Not exactly the outcome he'd been hoping for, but it wasn't like it hadn't happened before. He pressed a finger to his earpiece. "Simmons?"

"Got them, sir," Simmons' voice came from the receiver, her accent apparent. "They're heading down the block. Should I dispatch the team?"

"Wait for me back on the Bus. Tell Skye and Mack to gear up," the Director instructed. "I've got a feeling they're the best to handle the situation right now."

"Daisy," Simmons corrected automatically.

"Damn it. Daisy. Okay, try for a calmer approach first. I.C.E.R.s only."

"Aye-aye, Captain." Daisy's voice this time. "We're ready when you are."

"Good," Coulson said. He took out his own I.C.E.R., then turned around to find out what had been thrown at the wall. Maybe Fitz could analyze it. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but this wasn't it. He pulled it out.

It was a dagger, and an ancient-looking one at that. The blade was bronze and double-edged, just like Percy's sword, and was about as long as Coulson's forearm. The handle. . .wasn't a handle. It was more of a hilt, complete with a crossguard, leather wrapped around the grip. The pommel was small, barely even there, and in the center of the hilt was a symbol he recognized as a Greek omega.

Coulson placed it gingerly inside his briefcase and headed for the Bus.

★

The plane was sitting camouflaged in a deserted park. Coulson was just about to doubt his sense of direction when a hole opened up in the air, and the sound of whirring machinery reached him. The door unfolded into a ramp, revealing agents Mack, Daisy, Simmons, and Fitz waiting for him. The first two were in gear.

"Ready to go," Daisy quipped, leaning against the opening.

"I'm not," Coulson announced. He presented the briefcase to the scientists. "FitzSimmons, I want you to find out everything you can on this."

Fitz stepped forward to receive it. He undid the latches and opened the case to reveal the dagger, kept safe by the flex foam.

"Woah," Mack said in surprise. "Where did that come from?"

"The subject had it on her, apparently. She threw it at the brick wall as a distraction. It sunk up to the hilt in the mortar."

"Seriously?" Mack sounded impressed. "Girl's got an arm. And an eye."