Detainment

Even knee-deep in work mode, fleshing out a meeting memo to discuss the limitations of using duralumin alloy in the new drones, Annabeth hears and recognizes the familiar gait several seconds before the footsteps come to a stop behind her.

"What are you up to, anything important?" Lana asks, leaning a casual hand on the top of her chair.

Annabeth polishes off the last bullet point before turning her head to make eye contact.

"I feel like I should say yes, out of principle."

"Right," Lana snorts, "Well, if you're bored with your oh-so-high-priority task, I have something fun for us."

The other woman jerks her head towards her office, and Annabeth lets out a small grin, promising to join her as soon as she emails out the memo.

LINEBREAK

Lana's soundproof office is a welcome respite, blocking out the noises of incessant typing, ringing phones, and mindless chatter that Annabeth has had to endure for hours on end. As she settles into the chair on the opposite side of the desk, Lana drops a stack of paper down onto the wood with a dull thud. Annabeth eyes it warily. Almost eight inches tall, it doesn't look any more appetizing than planning out unnecessary meetings for people who could have resolved their issues in a brief email thread.

"Alpha testing reports and their corresponding beta testing proposals," Lana explains, catching her hesitant expression, "And you are going to help me decide which ones to approve."

Annabeth brightens almost instantly, moving her glasses from her head to her nose and grabbing the first stapled packet.

"For the new tech projects?"

"Some new, some old," Lana shrugs, grabbing a second copy of the same report, "And others that I was able to pull off the backburner."

Annabeth nods absently, already starting to read through the testing protocol for a new type of solar panel.

The pair leaf through the reports, initially in silence, then break into a discussion, going back and forth on the strengths of the testing modality, edge cases left unconsidered, the quality and quantity of repeated tests, and so on. And when Annabeth has nothing left to say, Lana nods, brings an ink stamp down onto the cover, sealing the project's fate, and moves on to the next. As a single hour bleeds into two, and finally three, the daunting stack of paper has been neatly separated into two piles: the approved projects and the ones to be sent back for more rigorous lab testing.

When the clock finally rolls past four pm, Annabeth marvels at how she had barely even noticed the day pass by.

"Finished in record time," Lana announces, stretching her arms in her seat and glancing down at her phone following a short buzz.

Annabeth opens her mouth to reply, but Lana's cell buzzes twice more in a row.

"Someone's persistent," she comments instead, raising her eyebrows.

"It's Clark." Lana rolls her eyes but opens the messages anyways.

"I don't want to seem like I'm intruding," Annabeth pauses, "But he's the one you told me about, right? The childhood friend."

Lana looks up, expression surprised, before she drops it and sighs.

"The very same." She shakes her head. "Do I even want to know how you figured that one out?"

Annabeth shrugs, and, with a slightly sheepish smile, gives a half-answer if she's ever heard one.

"Sorry, once my brain connects the dots, there's no unlearning it."

"Clearly," Lana laughs lightly.

She looks down at the phone again, which prompts Annabeth to ask her if everything is alright.

"He's just being a journalist," she says flippantly, brushing it off, "He's on the scent of some kind of story and is looking for information he thinks I have."

There it is, Annabeth thinks. "Do you?" She tilts her head. "Have it, I mean."

Her supervisor purses her lips for a long moment, the fingers of her hand hovering over certain keys on the device.

"Nothing concrete," she says finally, putting the phone down, "I might as well be spreading rumors."

Annabeth hums, pretending to consider the statement for a few seconds.

"There's always some kind of truth hidden at the source of a rumor, even if it's not the one you expect. And," she says, risking a paper cut by toying with the corner of the approved stack, "In my experience, it can be easier to find evidence when you have an idea of what you're looking for."

Lana leans back into her chair, hair creasing where it presses against her neck.

"Sometimes, Annabeth, you sound like you've lived more years than some of the people on this floor."

She delivers the observation with a thoughtful tone and a half smile, not completely serious, but Annabeth can't help but think that sometimes, it really does feel like that.

Aloud, however, she says, "I hope that's not you calling me old," and pulls a face.

Lana huffs. "You are far too young to be making that joke."

"Didn't you just say I was wise beyond my years?" Annabeth teases, smirking.

"I distinctly remember not using that word," Lana shoots back.

As she and the older woman share a laugh, Annabeth takes a minute to pause, staring out the window and twisting a knot out of her forearm, a consequence of keeping up with her archery practice. Her thoughts drift to her usual topic of choice.

While not as high up as the penthouse, Lana's office still towers over several other skyscrapers in Metropolis, giving Annabeth a bird's eye view of the city. She's come to almost like it, with its vibrant green parks, crisp summer air, and easily navigable streets. And yet, it still doesn't compare to New York City. Metropolis is all straight, neat lines, not minimalistic thank the gods, but sleek, nonetheless. In the daytime, the buildings are practically blinding, white cement and silver windows. Annabeth misses the grittiness of home. Graffitied alleyways, chipped brick, and statues covered in rust as if they were literally steeped in history.

"You know," Lana speaks suddenly, pulling Annabeth out of her architectural reverie, "I read your interview notes from back in May, and you're different than what they wrote you out to be."

Annabeth blinks, focusing in on Lana, and gives another half-shrug.

"Everyone embellishes a little."

"No, not that," Lana says, "I think I was expecting someone a bit more like...Lex."

Annabeth knows this. She knows this because that had been her whole point. She had drafted a version of herself that would give her the greatest chance of making it into the company. Her interview responses, resume, and demeanor had all been a purposeful choice. She knows this. So why does the comparison still feel like a sharp stab to the gut? To be likened to someone she considers a monster in the mortal world feels like a betrayal. Whether one from Lana, or to herself, or to her past, she can't seem to detangle the mess of emotions right away. She doesn't want to let her true feelings show, but they must, at least a little, because Lana sees the look on her face and backtracks immediately.

"I didn't mean..." she tries, but Annabeth shakes her head, desperate for some kind of control.

"It's okay," she starts, "I just had a different opinion of Mr. Luthor before I started working here, and now..." She purses her lips, cutting off her own words, but Lana gets the point.

"It was just my first impression from the notes," Lana clarifies, quickly, "I definitely don't think that way anymore, now that I've gotten to know you."

Annabeth gives her a weak smile, but on the inside, she almost wants to scream. You don't know me, she thinks, not really. She doesn't spend every waking hour lying her to supervisor, but so many of their conversations have ulterior motives that Annabeth's psyche is wearing thin trying to keep track of them all. What if, without even realizing it, she actually does resemble—

"How do you feel about a change of title?"

Annabeth jerks back into focus, squashing that train of thought as far down as she can possibly manage. Now is not the time.

"What kind of change?" she asks, brows furrowing.

"From intern to assistant," Lana replies, lips twitching at the way Annabeth gapes a little bit.

"Yours?"

It comes out a little more aggressive than she means it to.

"No, Heyeck's."

Lana breaks her own poker face to laugh at the way Annabeth scowls. "Yes, my assistant."

A whirlwind of new possibilities floods her mind. She hadn't exactly planned for this, and Annabeth is at odds with herself, confused and more than a little excited about what it means for the bigger picture.

"You'd pretty much be doing a lot more tasks like this one, just with higher clearance. To be honest," Lana lowers her voice mock conspiratorially, "It's kind of an excuse to bring you places."

"I'm only here for the summer," Annabeth argues, just to push back a little, but it's a flimsy counterpoint.

Lana shrugs, leaning back. "So it's a temp position then. And you can see how you feel by the end of August."

"Okay," Annabeth agrees, letting out an almost disbelieving laugh, "Yes, I accept."

When Lana ushers her out of the office and home for the day with the promise of a new employment contract to be delivered to her inbox by morning, Annabeth pauses in the doorway, hearing the soft whoosh of a text message being sent, and smiles.

LINEBREAK

Following a bout of grumbling and groaning made quiet by a delicious bribe, Annabeth finds herself sitting on Dennis Bryant's couch once again, a plate of butter biscuits and a cup of tea placed before her. Wait here, Dennis had said before clutching the railing and ascending the stairs, so here Annabeth waits, sipping on the pleasantly bitter drink.

The man finally emerges with a battered tin box in his hands, which he drops into her lap before disappearing again into the kitchen. This time, he returns for good, a small piece of metal glinting in his fist. Annabeth wordlessly passes him the box.

"You ready?" Dennis asks, grinning, and turns a key into the lock, "I didn't want to show my hand right away, but I think now's the time."

Annabeth has no idea what she is or isn't ready for. Dennis had called her to visit without giving any additional information as to why.

In two rotations, the lid pops open, and Dennis pulls it the rest of the way. The joints creak like they haven't been used in decades.

Inside is a small stack of tri-folded paper, yellowed with age, and upon Dennis's encouraging nod, Annabeth pulls them free, flipping the top and bottom out to read.

Her eyes widen.

"You still have these?" she asks, breathless, snapping her gaze back to the older man's.

Annabeth flips to the next couple of pages, eyes roaming. She thought she'd need more time, but this, this speeds up the investigation process tremendously.

"That rabbit hole I mentioned?" Dennis starts, and Annabeth hums but her attention doesn't leave the contents of the box, "I pulled myself out pretty early, but that doesn't mean I didn't keep a few souvenirs."

When she reaches the last two documents in the stack, Annabeth's brows shoot up to her hairline.

"Now where in the world, did you get these?"

Dennis chuckles, looking far too pleased with himself.

"I used to be pretty spry, you know, back in my good old days." He puffs his chest exaggeratedly. "I knew how to be sneaky."

Annabeth laughs but doesn't dispute his claim.

"And I wasn't sure these would hold up in court back then," Dennis explains.

Annabeth grins, folding up the stack of papers and tucking them safely away into the box.

"Lucky for us, the court of appeals determined handwriting analysis to count as expert testimony in 1999."

"You a law student or something?" Dennis asks, looking impressed. Then, he squints. "Don't tell me... is this your thesis?"

Annabeth bursts out in an expected fit of laughter at the thought. Not because this isn't something she would do to further her education had she been in law school, but because it very well might have been.

"No, no," she says, still snickering, "I'm not, I'm studying architecture."

She can't tell if Dennis is disappointed or relieved by that admission, but he does look somewhat baffled by her choice of major, which amuses her further.

"Do you enjoy it?"

"I love it," Annabeth grins, and then can't help but gush because she hasn't been awarded an opportunity to talk about the topic recently, "I'm reading this book right now about the importance of post-modernism, and how a structure can't serve its many masters while conforming to the radical simplicity of modernism. The way Venturi reads buildings is genius, even if some of his built works don't necessarily display the same complexity that he described in his theory sections."

"I'm not sure I understood any of that," Dennis laughs, scratching his chin, "But I can tell you're passionate. Are you in school for the summer?"

Annabeth makes a noise in her throat to signal no. "I'm in Metropolis."

The older man makes an 'ahh' face and nods knowingly. "For research."

"Actually, I have an internship," she pauses, "At LexCorp."

Annabeth hides her smile behind another sip of tea when Dennis blinks, flabbergasted.

"Why," he starts, then closes his eyes and shakes his head, "Never mind. The less I know the better." Then he pauses again. "It's the middle of the week, how are you getting to and from Virginia?"

Annabeth casts a swift glance out the window, just in time to see Nico unsuccessfully attempt to shoo a curious squirrel away from his boot laces. The son of Hades mutters something, likely a curse, and moves to a different square of the sidewalk, but the small critter follows in his shadow.

Annabeth tamps down another laugh and repeats after Dennis.

"The less you know the better."

LINEBREAK

That weekend, in the safety of her heavily secured apartment, Annabeth compiles all of her evidence into a single crisp brown envelope.

Two newspaper articles printed from the microfiche room, both dated 1993, the contents of Dennis's tin box, Dennis's contact information, a flash drive containing a few heavily incriminating audio clips, and a brief, typed letter summarizing the nature of the crimes outlined in the provided documents. Everything is ordered precisely, the letter resting at the top like a page of contents, and inserted carefully into the envelope.

Annabeth places it on her kitchen table and stares. It's highly unassuming. Simple. Nondescript. Contains information capable of setting off a figurative bomb. Annabeth stares at it some more.

It would be so easy to just walk down to the police station and drop it off. It's only a ten-minute walk, and she could run there in two if she really wanted. Annabeth chews her lip thoughtfully and leans against the chair backing with a sigh. She knows the decision she has to make; she just doesn't want to make it. Before she can talk herself out of it, and come up with another way to make everything work out the way she wants it to, Annabeth swallows her pride, straightens the envelope, and, in a font unrecognizable from her own, writes the words she doesn't want to write on the blank cover.

LINEBREAK

Nearing the end of Tuesday's workday, Annabeth scrolls through Lana's schedule for the week, courtesy of her new cushy job title, and finds the block of time she's looking for.

Tuesday, July 1st

4:30 PM to 6:30 PM.

Out of Office. Personal Leave.

Making sure none of the details have changed, Annabeth closes out all of her open tabs, packs her belongings, and pokes her head into Lana's office.

"I forgot I have some almost overdue library books, mind if I step out early to return them?"

Lana waves her away as she rearranges the papers on her desk to leave for the day, stating that she, too, has somewhere to be in thirty minutes.

Exiting the building, Annabeth stops by a nearby café for a pastry, taking time to enjoy the soft Italian music winding through tables and chairs. She's got a little over half an hour to kill, after all.

LINEBREAK

Annabeth paces outside a high rise, nearly wearing a groove in the concrete as she cranes her neck left and right to catch a glimpse of someone heading in her direction. She would look a little crazy to outsiders, but the Yankees cap on her head does its job, shielding her suspicious behavior from view.

Thankfully, she only has to wait another few minutes before someone trudges along, scanning a set of keys over a grey pad, and yanks the door open. Annabeth slips in behind undetected. Careful to stay quiet and just enough feet away, Annabeth makes it onto the elevator just as the automatic metal doors meet in the middle.

Standing in front of a plaque embossed with the number 207, she checks her watch one more time, just in case. Annabeth unzips her backpack to retrieve the infamous brown envelope and places it face-down on the rough welcome mat, the object becoming visible the moment it leaves her grasp. Then, she lifts her knuckles and knocks sharply, before hurrying to a vantage point several doors down the hall.

There's a slow, cautious creak of a hinge. A familiar woman with dark hair steps out, casting her gaze down both sides of the hallway. Despite being invisible, Annabeth stands very, very still. The woman looks down, stooping to gather Annabeth's pride and joy in her hands, and inspects it carefully, its weight, the writing on the cover, even smelling it. Finally, she pries open the metal fastening and slides out the contents, irises flicking left and right through the first page. Her eyes widen, getting larger and larger until she reaches the end, sucking in a sharp breath. She shoves everything back inside, scans the hallway again, and retreats, slamming the door shut behind her.

In her head, Annabeth mentally starts a countdown.

LINEBREAK

"Any day now," Annabeth says into the phone squashed between her ear and her shoulder, as she runs a sponge over a dirty dish, "Are you sure you're ready?"

"Annabeth, dear, just because I'm graying does not mean you need to coddle me," Dennis says, then coughs some phlegm out of his throat, "I can tell a lie."

She pinches the bridge of her nose, leaving a trail of bubbles.

"The whole point is not to lie, you have to tell the truth," she replies, exasperated, "And if they ask about me—"

"They won't," Dennis interrupts, but sensing her rebuttal, continues, "But if they do, I don't know you and I don't know where to find you."

"You can't lie," Annabeth reminds him, for what feels like the tenth time.

"At the heart of it, an insurance agent is just a fancy salesman. I know my way around words," Dennis snarks, more chipper than usual, "Besides, other than your first name and a few odd details, I really don't know much."

Annabeth mutters a well-meaning good luck and hangs up, returning to her dishes and trying to scrub away the sting that sentence leaves.

LINEBREAK

The weekend comes and goes without fuss.

Lana releases word of LexCorp's plan to install their new solar panels at Metropolis University's greenhouse for beta testing, which generates some local buzz. On Friday, she thanks Annabeth for suggesting the location change, confirming what Annabeth had predicted about school improvements leading to more positive media coverage.

On Sunday, Annabeth tries a new martial arts gym, getting out a fight her limbs had desperately needed for days. Following an especially brutal defeat (not hers), she relents and spends another hour giving pointers to new and regular patrons. It feels somewhat like camp, and yet still so different. She's used to coaching teenagers, not middle-aged adults whose first instinct is to sidestep a punch instead of meeting it head-on with a sharp and deadly weapon.

Even the first few days of work the following week are quiet. Not dull, but uneventful all the same. Lana looks jittery, and Annabeth sees her less than usual, but she's not exactly surprised by the change in demeanor.

Almost exactly one week later, the countdown reaches zero.

After work on Wednesday, she meets Piper at a somewhat fancy restaurant for dinner at her friend's request and treat. Piper orders for the both of them, promising Annabeth she'll like the food and they chatter aimlessly as the waiter heads to the kitchen to punch in their requests.

"We haven't heard much from you recently," Piper says at some point, hesitant to sound confrontational, "Everything okay?"

Annabeth rubs her temples and sighs. "I've just been really busy."

Piper sends her a look that says she doesn't believe a word coming out of Annabeth's mouth.

"You've been distracted all night," she remarks.

Annabeth hadn't noticed.

"I'm fine," she replies, firmly.

Piper takes the hint, for now, and that's the end of that conversation.

She starts another, about the most recent hike she and Shel have been on. Twelve miles up, with a gradient not fit for the faint of heart, but the most incredible views make the journey worth it, Piper says. Annabeth is leaning over the table, as Piper swipes through photos of her and her girlfriend at the peak, hair blowing in the mountain wind, when Annabeth feels her phone buzz. Distantly, she hears several other devices in the establishment go off at the same time.

She leans back with an apology, and clicks on the offending notification, one from the Daily Planet. She only has to wait a moment for her phone to translate the article.

LEX LUTHOR FROM RAGS TO RICHES: A TALE TAINTED BY MURDER

By Clark Kent and Lois Lane

Alexander 'Lex' Luthor, the city's well-known benefactor wasn't always the man he is known to be today. Growing up in Southside Metropolis, infamously dubbed the 'suicide slums,' Luthor hasn't always had the lavish lifestyle he currently flaunts. Following the death of his parents and the inheritance of a rather large life insurance policy, Luthor has built himself and his company, LexCorp, up to the tech giant that it is today. However, behind this rags-to-riches success story, lies a horrific secret.

Recently uncovered evidence suggests the car crash that killed Lionel and Lillian Luthor was no accident and paints the surviving Luthor as the culprit. While the source of these documents shall remain unnamed for safety and security reasons, the credibility has been thoroughly vetted by the Daily Planet.

"It's my firm belief that [Lionel] Luthor did not fill out that insurance claim himself," an anonymous source said, "And just a few days later, the car runs straight into a truck leaving [Lex Luthor] with a couple hundred grand? I don't think so."

The following documents show...

Annabeth is aware of her lips twitching as she reads through, however much she tries to stop them. She can also feel Piper's curious eyes fixated on her, but she ignores them and plows through the article at unprecedented speed. She'll have time for a more thorough dive later.

Once she's finished, she looks up at Piper with an unnaturally pleased smile. The other girl extends her arm and opens and closes her hand in a 'gimme' gesture. Annabeth hands her the phone.

It's even more satisfying to watch her friend read it, the way Piper's jaw drops a little at the title and then continues to hang lower and lower with every passing sentence. When she finishes, Piper places the phone gingerly back on the table and slides it over.

"Isn't that your boss?" she hisses in Greek, looking around.

Other restaurant patrons are also glued to their phones, exchanging similar expressions of horror and disbelief with their dining partners, and texting furiously.

"Not for long," Annabeth replies in the same tongue, smirk turning sharper.

"You," Piper pauses, interrupted by the waiter setting down plates of food before them, "You terrify me, you know that?"

Her eyes are crazed, the kaleidoscope of colors shifting faster than usual.

Annabeth smiles around her fork. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

LINEBREAK

The next morning, Annabeth's walk to LexCorp is overwhelming. It seems that overnight, every person in the city has seen and read Clark and Lois's article. The attention-grabbing headline is plastered across every newspaper on every corner stand she passes. And when she arrives at her place of work, she has to shove her way through a crowd of reporters camped outside, clamoring for quotes. Several white vans and cars flashing red and blue decorate the street, parked in every available and unavailable spot. Normally stationed inside, the building guards have doubled in number and line the outside of every glass door, only stepping aside to let her through once she flashes her security badge.

Annabeth stops beside a coworker she recognizes who has also paused before the turnstiles to survey the scene from within the safety of the building.

"What's happening?" Annabeth asks, her voice only a few notches higher than a whisper.

The woman wrings her hands nervously. "You saw the Daily Planet article?"

"Who hasn't?" Annabeth retorts.

"The city wants answers," her coworker replies, then mutters, "And I don't think I want to be here anymore."

Behind them both, someone barks out an order for the employees to move, and Annabeth immediately whirls around, backing out of the way and pulling the woman with her. What looks like a small army of uniformed officers burst through the turnstiles, and although Lex Luthor is surrounded by them on all sides, handcuffed and being herded along, the cold fury on his face makes everyone in the lobby take a step back.

"You're making a mistake," he seethes quietly, in a downright deadly tone, to the police around him before falling silent.

In the chaos, Annabeth makes eye contact with him for just a fraction of a moment. In that small instant, she can see that Luthor is beyond livid, on the warpath, plotting ruin to his unknown assailant. He doesn't believe for one second that all of this is the culmination of some unfortunate coincidence. Annabeth turns her gaze to the ground, only observing through her eyelashes.

To everyone else, he remains eerily composed, but she knows better. While he doesn't struggle against his bonds, his stare roams the lobby, sharp and cataloging every detail of the scene. As the officers lead him into and through the gaggle of shouting journalists and live cameras, Annabeth can tell: Luthor's eyes promise revenge.

LINEBREAK

Getting to some heavy bits! I love Annie but she's not a robot and the scheming has to get to her eventually.

I originally wanted to write a Making Waves chapter, but the urge to leave you guys on a little bit of a cliffhanger won out so here you go!

Also, if the story feels kind of one-sided at times, remember that it's only from Annabeth's perspective, and other pov's/unexplained plot points will be explored...later (read: sequels)

Let me know how you guys felt about this one! Thanks for reading <33

EDIT: I fucked up the dates so Tues July 8th was changed to Tues July 1st for the timeline to make sense