Dethronement

It's not every day that the CEO of one of the most influential multinational conglomerates is arrested on suspicion of murder, and it shows.

It's not like Luthor being arrested has any direct and immediate effect on the responsibilities of the employees on her floor. Annabeth can't say the same for the marketing, public relations, and legal departments, but at the very least, technology should've been spared. The usual chain of command spans from project managers and supervisors all the way up to Lana, who only involves Luthor when strictly necessary. There's no reason Annabeth's coworkers can't simply continue working on their ongoing tasks, pushing code changes, sending new features to the testing stage, and complaining to their neighbors about product designers and their wildly unreasonable sprint deadlines. Everyone is sitting at their computers, as usual, but she can see that not a single person is doing a shred of their assigned work.

They had all read the memo that Heyeck, the company's chief operating officer had sent out in the morning, only an hour after the police had dragged Luthor away in handcuffs, Annabeth included. His words had been well written, reassuring the workforce of their continued employment and humbly asking them to conduct their days as usual with the promise of answers to come. But, at the end of the day, it was like fixing a cracking foundation with epoxy injections: a naïve, short-term solution for a much deeper, complex problem.

Instead, Annabeth's coworkers are scrolling through various social media feeds, reading professional and opinionated accounts of the breaking news. They are texting their family and friends about how it feels to work in a building that, until recently, housed a man who had supposedly killed his parents as a teenager.

Annabeth herself has to bite her jaw to keep from laughing at a text from Leo that reads THIS YOU followed by a string of alternating question and exclamation marks. Hasn't been two months yet, she replies, not really answering his question. She tucks her phone into her lap at the sound of familiar footsteps.

Lana looks haggard. It's the best word Annabeth can conjure to describe the other woman's current state. The usual neat office wear and pristine makeup can only do so much to distract from her exhaustion, the deep bags under her eyes, and the tired, but tense slump of her shoulders.

"Emergency board meeting on Monday," Lana says softly, "You up for it?"

Several pairs of eyes around the room watch the interaction. The woman hasn't left her office in hours.

"Are you?" Annabeth can't help but ask. Guilt courses through her at the utter stress that streaks across Lana's face. "I mean, are you sure you want me there?"

"The burden of being my assistant," Lana says, then sighs, "You don't actually have to, I just—"

"I'll come."

Annabeth knows that attending board meetings is absolutely not required of her as Lana's assistant. She had read the new contract as thoroughly as the first. Disregarding her own motivations for saying yes, Lana, though she won't say it to Annabeth's face, just wants her support, and that's reason enough.

Lana's face folds in relief. It does only little to assuage the pit in Annabeth's stomach.

LINEBREAK

Friday is somehow worse than the day before.

The office is strangely quiet, and emptier than Annabeth has ever seen it. There are more of her coworkers missing than there are present. She usually despises the background noise, the typing, the chattering, the glug of the water cooler, but today, the silence is almost eerie.

Thirty-six hours after detonation and Metropolis is still reeling from the shockwaves.

Lana is once again holed up in her office. Annabeth had not seen her enter in the morning, nor come out even once since then. Around two-thirty, Annabeth checks in on her.

"How's it going?" she asks quietly, once the other woman is safely off the phone.

With a hand over her face, Lana rubs her temples and lets out a groan of frustration.

"We sent out notices to all of our divisions, our major business partners, the heads of our subsidiaries, everyone. Yes, Luthor really has been arrested, yes, we are aware of the stock price, yes, we are working on a short and long-term plan. And, yet, everyone keeps goddamn calling me to ask the same questions I've already answered as much as I can!"

In the short silence following her outburst, the desk phone rings again, and Lana snatches it up, musters as much restraint as she can, and says, "Yes?" with thinly veiled irritation.

Her face pinches severely, before smoothing out.

"Yes, cooperate." She pauses, her expression annoyed with the person's next words. "I'm aware that Luthor's crime does not directly involve the company. I'm telling you to cooperate with the investigators anyway. Have the legal team provide any documents they need." She pauses again. "No, I don't expect fraud, but I'd sure like to double-check," she says sarcastically, and puts the receiver back down, glaring at it.

"Advising the legal team doesn't seem like it falls under the chief of technology title," Annabeth observes.

"It doesn't," Lana closes her eyes, "And yet, here I am, doing it anyways."

"Have you eaten?"

Lana raises her gaze, brows furrowing. The concern on Annabeth's face is completely genuine. She walks up and places a tinfoil-wrapped sandwich before the other woman.

"You didn't take a break yesterday either," she points out, "So I brought extra today."

Lana gingerly picks up the food, looking touched. She opens her mouth, then seems to change to mind.

"Thank you, Annabeth," she says, instead of what probably would have been a polite refusal.

Annabeth stands still, and they stare at each other for a moment before Lana seems to understand why she hasn't moved. The other woman huffs and unwraps the sandwich, taking a bite. She hums slightly, pleased at the taste, and goes in for another.

Her agenda fulfilled, Annabeth almost turns to get back to her desk, but Lana's voice stops her.

"What's this?" she asks, curiously, eyes catching the letters on the foil, "T minus one?"

Despite the high-strung atmosphere, Annabeth smiles.

"My boyfriend made them for the week, counting down to my birthday tomorrow."

Lana lets out a surprised laugh.

LINEBREAK

When Annabeth turns her spare key in the lock and crosses into the Jackson-Blofis household, she's welcomed by a loud pop and a mouthful of blue confetti. Just as her vision clears, her assailants erupt in a chorus of "Surprise!" at varying volumes. A small hobbling creature launches herself at her legs with a war cry, babbling "Anna, Anna, Anna." She reaches down and scoops her up. Estelle giggles and starts to pick the plastic off her head, no doubt ripping out a few hairs in the process.

Percy steps forward, the first to actually greet her, and cups her face in his hands.

"Happy birthday wise girl," he murmurs, softly kissing both of her cheeks. He then repeats the action to his sister, sloppily, making the little girl squeal in protest.

She doesn't even have the time to respond before she's accosted again in a tight hug that smells faintly like licorice. Then it's Paul's turn to embrace her, more loosely, but just as warm. It's overwhelming, in the best way possible. They usher her inside, where the entire apartment has been decorated with haphazard streamers, balloons, and a table full of some of her favorite foods. Estelle wiggles in her grip, and Annabeth sets the toddler down, watching her run to catch up with her parents, who are arranging the plates and utensils.

"Mom doesn't even do all this for my birthday," Percy says, pouting childishly.

Annabeth raises her chin up to meet his gaze and smirks. "She likes me more."

Playfully dodging his attempt at a real kiss, Annabeth joins the rest of her family around the dining table to eat lunch.

LINEBREAK

Annabeth examines the documents before her. She tilts her head, frowning. Behind her, Percy drops his chin onto her shoulder, halfway into her curls, and mumbles a "What's up?".

"It's interesting," she begins, letting Percy hum at her to continue, "If I wasn't there to see it, I honestly would not know which is yours and which is Estelle's."

Percy shoots back up with an indignant, "Hey!", making Annabeth burst into laughter. "It's not that bad," he protests halfheartedly, but he's offended because she's kind of right.

On the fridge before them, suspended by touristy NYC magnets, hang three colorful pages, jagged on the edges where Estelle had ripped them from her book, insistent on conducting a coloring competition as part of Annabeth's birthday festivities.

Estelle had scribbled furiously on her drawing of a mermaid, individual scales of its tail a mish-mash of four different colors, spilling over into the ocean background. The creature's hair is a bright pink and not fully filled in, a stark contrast against its dark blue skin tone. She, of course, had been crowned the winner. Percy's, only marginally neater, is a neon yellow and purple striped shark. She had watched him in the act, trying but eventually failing to remain inside the lines. She looks pointedly at those two drawings, and then at her own, a navy octopus, suction cups carefully filled in a light grey.

"I'll have you know," Percy starts, angling himself so she can see him place his hands on his hips, "I have it on good authority that sharks wish they looked like that."

Annabeth visibly struggles to hold in another laugh, and Sally tells Percy to stop arguing with himself and bring out the cake.

Staring down at the flickering candles, arranged spherically in the blue icing, she listens to Percy's horrible rendition of the classic birthday song, Sally and Paul trying to keep up, but eventually dissolving into laughter.

Today, she turns twenty. It's a number larger than seven-year-old Annabeth could have dreamed of. It's an achievement. During the section of the song where they toast to her, she makes eye contact with Percy, and she can tell he's thinking the exact same thing. We made it. She feels her throat tighten with emotion.

When the singing finally comes to an end, Annabeth leans down and blows it all out.

LINEBREAK

She hardly brings anything more than a backpack when she visits Percy. And why would she, when his closet is right there, filled with sweatshirts that belong to her just as much as they do to him? She slides one on, leaning against the wall and flipping through a spare oceanography textbook as she waits.

It isn't long before Percy returns from the kitchen, arms full of candy and chips they have no hope of finishing.

"You have fun today?" he asks, as he sets everything down on his desk.

When Annabeth looks up from reading the cheesy little notes he's scribbled in the margins, he's standing inches away, smiling proud like he had organized the whole event all by himself.

"I did," she says, looping her arms around his neck with a teasing smile, "Tell Sally I said thanks."

Percy huffs and pinches the side of her waist in retaliation. Annabeth raises an eyebrow.

"I'm not the ticklish one in this relationship, seaweed brain."

Immediately, his hands shoot up in surrender, then wrap around his midsection, and he backs away slowly at the smirk on her face.

Silence wraps around them like a blanket, as they watch each other. They've known each other too long for lulls in conversation to be awkward. Percy wants to say something, she can tell, but he's stalling, which is curious.

"So..." he finally speaks, biting his lip.

"So," she echoes, but waits for him to fully finish choosing his words.

"I was talking to Piper the other day..." Percy loses his footing for just a second, and Annabeth has a sinking feeling she knows what he's going to say. She doesn't want him to continue because if he does, she won't be able to lie to him, but she doesn't interrupt him either. "And she mentioned that you were kind of, I dunno, off? And I trust Piper, obviously, but I figured you really were just stressed out at the moment. And then today, I thought you were going to be in a better mood, not that you weren't! Just that, I know what you're like when you finish one of your projects, you get that specific smile, like the one after your Environmental Systems final, and I saw the arrest live on tv, so I thought you'd have that smile today, but you...didn't."

Percy stops his rant earlier than she was expecting, which leaves Annabeth scrambling to decide what to say, though he seems content to wait as long as she had for him. Many thoughts, far too many to sort through, flood her brain, and Annabeth can hardly keep up with them herself.

"It's not over," is what makes it out of the chaos.

Percy frowns.

"You got him on a double murder charge. He's behind bars and awaiting trial, how is it not over?"

And okay, Annabeth can handle the direction this conversation is going.

"It's not enough to hold him, I need more evidence," she explains, her lips sour and downturned.

"But the article," Percy protests, "How is it not enough?"

"Luthor has money which means lawyers and—" Annabeth cuts herself off with a shake of her head, "Trust me, it's not."

Percy stops arguing, he knows better. "What do you need?" he asks instead.

"Luthor did something, something terrible, and I know for a fact that he did it—"

"So what's the—"

"I have no proof!" Annabeth explodes, hands clenching at her sides, "I can't prove it! If I present my theory to the authorities, or—or in front of a judge, and they ask me how I know, what am I going to say? 'Oh, don't worry about actual evidence, I know a sixteen-year-old that can talk to the dead!'"

She's out of steam now, breathing heavily like she's just finished dusting a monster. Percy lets her sit in the silence for a few moments so she can regain control.

"You'll find the proof, I know you will," he says, softly, "I also know that's not what this is about. C'mon, talk to me, Annie."

She barely responds to the nickname, another glaring sign that something is wrong. Percy isn't always right, not like in the way she and the other Athena and Minerva kids can be. But, after all these years, when it's about Annabeth, he's never wrong.

It's why she had known, from the minute he had opened his mouth about Piper, that she was going to have to come clean about the thing that's been bothering her, no matter how much she had tried to avoid it. The words feel heavy on her tongue, thick and sludgy like cement, but then she looks up. On the other end of that stare is Percy, and that makes all the difference.

"Last week, Lana said, that she thought I was going to be like him," Annabeth presses her lips together, but the words come out, like she knew they would, "Like Luthor. It was just one of those throwaway comments, and she says she doesn't feel that way anymore, but what if she's right?"

"She's not," Percy says, the certainty in his voice stronger than she's ever heard it.

Annabeth sighs. "You don't know that—"

"Yes, I do," he insists, then folds his arms, "Actually you know what, explain it to me." Annabeth furrows her brows at the change in his posture. "Tell me why you think she's right, and I'll argue every single one of your points."

There's a challenging glint in his eyes, one she knows far too well. Even so, she takes the bait.

"I'm ambitious, and arrogant—"

"Name me one Athena kid who isn't."

"I've been manipulating people for months," she reveals, but Percy just shrugs in response.

"Not with malicious intent, though. Hades, you did the same to me during my first capture the flag, and look at us today!" He smiles lopsidedly.

Annabeth refuses to bow. "Then you said it yourself, my need to win."

"That's not really a problem. Winning is good. Besides, you say that, but I feel like you're confusing winning with surviving," Percy points out, tone shifting to something a little more serious.

Annabeth grits her teeth.

"I can be kind of an asshole," she tries. It's one of her weaker arguments for sure.

"Which I love about you," Percy retorts, a soft smile on his lips.

She almost stops, but the last one tumbles out before she can think to swallow it.

"We have the same fatal flaw."

Percy pulls back the humor at the stricken look on her face.

"I've been working around his pride. It's the only reason I've gotten this far, and it's because I know his hubris too well."

A feeling of shame rolls around in her stomach at the confession. Admitting that she only knows exactly how to hit Luthor where it hurts because they share the same excessive pride stings more than she was expecting it to.

"I think that's a good thing," Percy says slowly, and Annabeth's brow creases as she opens her mouth, "No wait, let me finish. You being aware of your fatal flaw is what makes you different than Luthor. Yeah, sometimes you believe you can do something better than anyone else, but you don't always act on that feeling. I mean, you let Nico, and even Leo, help you with this whole grand plan, even if I bet your first instinct was to figure it out yourself."

A heavy feeling of something slams into the back of her corneas and she can feel her eyes start to shine. Percy crosses the space between them, gripping her hands in his.

"You told me, that Luthor thinks he's above everyone else, like he's the greatest thing to walk this planet, like he's some kind of god." When Percy smiles at her, it's proud and much too fond. "You're the one with actual ichor in your veins, and even you know better."

As hard as she had tried to hold them in, the tears, like bottled-up feelings in Percy's presence, spill over, trailing down her cheeks. She takes a shuddering breath in, and feels his lips press against her forehead.

"When'd you get so good at arguing?" she laughs wetly. She wants to wipe her face, but Percy won't let go of her hands.

"Freshman and sophomore year? Living under the same roof? Ring any bells?" Percy teases, finally untangling his fingers to hug her tight to his chest.

"Oh gods, remember the night before that chem test," she mumbles, letting his shirt dry her tears, "And you wanted me to ditch studying to go, what was it, surfing in Sydney."

His shoulders shake with laughter at the memory. "I remember winning you over, and I remember you acing it anyways."

Annabeth rolls her eyes at the smugness in his voice but clutches him even tighter. "Percy?" Her cadence is still a little shaky, but he just hums in response.

"Thank you."

"Anytime, wise girl."

LINEBREAK

Sunday is about as lazy as they come.

Paul makes the family a magnificent pancake spread, a collection of toppings so impressive Annabeth genuinely gapes the moment she sees it, before schooling her face into something less ravenous and more appropriately hungry. Percy, naturally, sees it and snickers at her until Sally carries a sleepy Estelle out of her room, directing his teasing to a new target.

Later, they watch cartoons, or at least, Percy and Estelle do, while Paul runs a red marker over an endless stack of paper, muttering pleas for the gods to help him overcome the burden of high school essays, and Sally sits across from him at the table, penning a draft of her new novel into a notebook. Annabeth sits on the couch, legs outstretched, and toes tucked under Percy's thighs. She alternates between glancing over at the colorful animations and doing research for the next step of the plan.

Just as Annabeth sets her phone down after firing out a text, she makes direct eye contact with Estelle, who has crawled from Percy's lap and onto her legs to demand attention. Annabeth flips her laptop closed and obliges her.

At a few minutes past five pm, the doorbell rings, and Paul disappears down the hall to answer it. When he returns, Leo stands in his shadow, donning the brightest, most mismatched outfit she has ever seen in her entire life.

"What on earth are you wearing, dear?" Sally asks, eyebrows to the ceiling. Paul mutters something about this not being the distraction he asked for and returns to his work.

"I said to dress inconspicuous," Annabeth says.

"I'm hiding in plain sight," he tells them, with a wild grin.

Annabeth stares. Next to her, Percy sighs and heads to his room to get Leo a change of clothes.

LINEBREAK

All of her supplies gathered into a single backpack, Annabeth laces her sneakers tight. Leo pulls his half-burnt boots and toolbelt over his new, much-more-appropriate-for-breaking-and-entering outfit. She hands him a pair of gloves that match her own, completing the look.

"You got everything?" Percy asks for the third time. He stares longingly toward the front door.

"Yeah man, it's all here, no need to worry," Leo assures him, "Are you sure you don't wanna join?"

"I'm on babysitting duty," Percy says regrettably, carding a hand through his hair. Annabeth knows that his tone of voice is fake. Percy loves to babysit. "Just, keep—" Percy stops, then turns from Leo to Annabeth. "Him safe."

Annabeth laughs, pressing a kiss to her boyfriend's cheek as a goodbye, and drags Leo out of the apartment before he can protest in mock offense.

LINEBREAK

Festus touches down at a safe distance from their target, metal creaking as his claws dig into the soft soil. He unhinges his jaw and blows a puff of fire straight into Leo's face, making a noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, before unfurling his wings and launching back into the air.

"Relationship troubles?" Annabeth smirks at him.

Leo sputters, trying to get the taste of smoke off his tongue. "I've been skimping on his motor oil 'cause he's been eating through my supply, that little—" He gags for a moment, then recovers. "Whatever, let's do this thing."

The sun has almost set. It's dark enough for them to not be noticed immediately, but the dim light allows them to sneak comfortably along the brick wall. Annabeth leads them, footsteps quiet and soft against the concrete. Suddenly, she stops and points to a section of the wall twenty or so feet away.

"There it is." She hands Leo her Yankees hat, fixes him with a stare that promises consequences if he messes with it, and watches him gingerly fix it atop his head. "Do your thing."

She can't see him approach the tall, imposing gate, or open the keypad beside it and plug a small device into the wall. She can't see him fiddling with the controls, disabling the camera, and motion sensors, and gods knows what other security measures Luthor has in place. She can't see any of it, but she had had Leo walk her through his plan on the way over, twice, so she stands still, waiting patiently with bated breath.

After a few, long minutes, the son of Hephaestus materializes in front of her, her hat in his outstretched fingers.

"We're clear," he announces, a little breathless. Annabeth can't blame him. He's a bit of a loose cannon and she can't imagine he's been given the green light to commit any crimes recently.

She nods, and they make their way over to the non-transmitting camera. Annabeth's fingers brush over the embossed metal, 1835 Park Ridge Lane, before grabbing onto the metal bars of the gate and hoisting herself swiftly to the top.

At the entrance to the building, Leo steps to the front once more, plugging his little contraption into the large dark pad beside the door. She watches with sharp eyes as he types out a series of commands into his device.

"Inside cameras too?" he confirms, "The man is in jail, what's he gonna do?"

"Doesn't mean he's not watching," Annabeth says, fingers twitching absently, "Blackout everything."

"Yes, ma'am," he replies, a hand leaving his keyboard to give her a salute, and she rolls her eyes.

Finally, a green outline of a phantom hand lights up the pad, and the lock clicks open. Leo grins proudly and gestures for her to do the honors. Annabeth pushes open the front door.

Luthor's mansion is hideous.

Utterly hideous.

In fact, it's such an offensive eyesore, that Annabeth physically recoils at the sight.

The space is flat and empty, exposed concrete and slabs of grey rock everywhere she turns her head. The walls that aren't made of raw building material are almost white, but also tinged grey, sucking the life out of everything inside. Which is also ironic, considering there's almost nothing in the mansion but open space and Luthor's poor definition of art. She shudders. Minimalism.

Across the large room are two twin paintings that each depict a human skull at varying angles, bones distorted in watercolor. As they continue, treading carefully across the center of the floor because there's quite literally nowhere to hide, she passes a sculpture, made of shiny dark metal, shaped like, what she can only describe as, a blob. At the edge of that room, there's another piece, another skull, this one some sort of prehistoric creature or monster. She peers closer. Its teeth are made of sharpened bullets.

Behind her, Leo takes a step back at the sight. "Oh. That's cool. I'm going home."

Annabeth turns to him. "That bug you made me, find it and remove it. I wove it into his jacket, dark blue, double-breasted, silver buttons. It should be in his closet."

Leo blanches further. "You want me to go in the man's bedroom? No way!"

She fixes him with an unimpressed stare. "It's not like he has empousai living under his mattress, you'll be fine."

"That's not the kind of weird shit I'm worried about," Leo mutters, stomping off in search of Luthor's bedroom.

Annabeth creeps around until she enters another open space—and why are there no doors—that holds a massive black table, and one of the largest desktop computers she's ever seen. On the opposite side of the room is an enormous marble statue that towers over her, arm outstretched as if offering a handshake. Her eyes widen as she reaches a gloved finger to touch the cold stone. It's Julius Caesar, and it's most definitely authentic. A ruthless, powerful, intelligent dictator. It's no surprise to Annabeth that the priceless depiction of one of Rome's most famous leaders is here, in Luthor's office. She spares the imposing figure one last glance before striding across to the desk.

There is not one single personal item. No picture frame, no handwritten notes, not even a paperweight. Just the lone monitor and an expensive-looking pen, sharp on one edge.

She almost turns on the computer, but in the center of the top edge is the faint indication of an inactive camera and Leo is still in the other room, so she decides not to take her chances.

Instead, she leans over and runs a hand across the underside of the desk. It's bare. She straightens, gazing at her surroundings. A painting of messy black and white horizontal strokes catches her eye, and she traces her fingertips around its edge, but there is no latch or clasp that suggests it swings open to reveal a safe like those classic villain types have. She groans in frustration. Opposite her, Julius Caesar stares tauntingly back, the cut stone of his cheeks almost grim. How could there be nothing, not a single thing, indicative of greater villainy? She rests a hand on the plush leather chair, fingers tightening around it, and glances back down at the desk, glaring like it will make something reveal itself to her.

Suddenly, Annabeth stops, noticing something strange with her current position. She gives the chair under her grip an experimental push. It doesn't budge. Curious. She squats down, examining the legs of the chair, trying to wiggle them where they stand. When they remain still, she realizes that they are attached to the floor. There's no reason to build an office chair that doesn't move. Even if the designer forgoes the wheels, they insert some material underneath that makes it easy to adjust.

A sudden thought occurs to her, and she lowers herself down onto the seat, keeping an eye on the floor around her. She waits for a second, then another, but nothing seems to happen.

Leo skids around the corner, almost passing by, but reels in his momentum when he sees her.

"Thank the gods," he says, patting his toolbelt, "All done! You would not believe the things I've seen in that horrible, horrible—"

"How much does Luthor weigh?"

Leo blinks. "Say what now?"

Annabeth racks her brain. "It's got to be a range, right? Weight fluctuates pretty easily throughout the day, so it can't be that precise," she mutters to herself, "He's about six-two, well built, so probably over one-ninety—"

"He's got a punching bag, like right next to his bed," Leo offers, making a face, "Who lives like that?"

"Closer to two hundred then if he's keeping up a daily routine," Annabeth muses, doing some quick math, "Have you seen anything around here that weighs about forty pounds?"

Leo stares blankly at her for a moment, Annabeth also trying to think of objects she has passed in the house. For the fourth time in the last hour, she curses minimalism to Hades and back. Suddenly, he gasps and dashes out of sight, returning a few minutes later with a large five-gallon water jug in his arms.

"Okay, so I peeked in his kitchen, I was hungry, sue me. Honestly, there were just a bunch of weird drinks and cuts of red meat, but he had this fancy-looking water cooler," he rambles, carrying it over to Annabeth and gently lowering it onto her lap. Clearly, he's deduced her train of thought. "I mean, I did find, I think it was a protein bar. And when I tell you, that shit sucked, like really—"

The weight in Annabeth's lap settles and she hears a faint hiss, cutting Leo off. Something on the desk clicks open, and she maneuvers around the water jug to slide the lifted panel aside to reveal a shallow compartment, a few envelopes and documents neatly lined up. Annabeth looks up and shares a victory grin with Leo.

It's hardly secure, anyone with a similar enough weight being able to open it, but Annabeth figures it's less about the security and more about keeping unnecessary objects out of immediate view.

She hands the stack of papers to Leo, keeping the two envelopes for herself, and shifts the cooler farther down her knees so she has the space to read. With glasses perched on her nose, she rifles through. The first one makes her snort, some kind of utility bill notice, but the second is much more interesting.

For one, it's not addressed to Luthor, but to someone named Julian Alarie. The mailing address lists a PO Box in Metropolis, but, like the other envelope, it's been cleanly unsealed by the pen slash letter opener on the desk. She removes its contents.

Dear Mister Alarie,

It has come to our attention that your institution, Caesar Contemporary, does not comply with recent policy changes. As of this January's tax reform legislation, organizations that operate as art museums do not qualify as private operating foundations unless the museum is open to the public during government-set business hours for at least 1,000 hours per year. Audits show that Caesar Contemporary has not been meeting these standards. Unless this oversight is rectified within the next two weeks, the government will have no choice but to pursue further action.

Annabeth reads to the end, where the letter is signed by some small subsection of the government, and frowns in thought. Julian Alarie, Caesar Contemporary? She looks up at the marble statue in the distance. It's a little too on the nose.

She pulls out her phone. A quick search reveals Caesar Contemporary to be a small art museum in a quiet part of the city, only a fifteen-minute walk from her office. Anonymously financed, privately run, and no mention of an Alarie. It has visiting hours listed now, though Annabeth bets they hadn't been there a few weeks ago. This might just be what she's been looking for, she muses, gloved fingers flicking the top corner of the letter, perhaps Luthor is hiding more than just art.

"Anything interesting?" she asks Leo, who looks up, startled. His eyes are a little wide behind a pair of his own translation glasses.

"Huh? Uh, kind of?" He flips to a different page than the one he had currently been on and hands the whole stack over. "Legal contracts with a couple of companies and some reports. I dunno if it's the juicy blackmail material you're looking for. You?"

Annabeth spares the page a glance, but it's just a merger from a recent LexCorp acquisition. "A possible alias and secondary location," she says, nonchalantly.

"Great!" Leo claps his hands together sharply, and she sees a few sparks of flame spill out. "Can we go now, please? Little Caesars over there is freaking me out."

Annabeth could not agree more.

She deliberates for just a second, before returning the envelopes to the hidden compartment and handing the documents over to Leo to put in his backpack for a more thorough read-through later. She stands, lifting the water jug with her, and watches the lid sink back into the desk, the outline indistinguishable from the rest of the surface.

After ensuring that everything is back in its original place, namely, that Leo has not left a DNA-riddled, half-eaten protein bar somewhere in Luthor's trash, they sneak back out, clamber onto Festus's waiting back, and leave 1835 Park Ridge Lane in the metaphorical dust, minutes before a dark car turns onto the street.

LINEBREAK

Lana, and, therefore, Annabeth are early to Monday's emergency board meeting. The older woman had paced outside the room before entering and then continued to fidget in her seat up until the moment the board members and remaining c-suite officers filter in. A few adults give her looks, ranging from mild irritation to simple acknowledgment, but Annabeth meets them all with a silent professional greeting. Lana had already informed them of her presence days ago, and they already had their chances to protest and complain and accept her inevitable attendance.

The chairman of the board, Bauer, arrives last this time, taking his seat at one head of the table. He looks up at the empty space directly across from him, the one Luthor would have been occupying, had he not been currently incapacitated.

"I'd like to call to order an emergency meeting of LexCorp Incorporated on July 14th, 2022."

Attendance follows quicker and tenser than usual, with all participants eager to address the elephant in the room. However, once the meeting officially commences, everyone is suddenly hesitant to speak. Annabeth's eyes dart around. It's, for lack of a better word, awkward.

Suddenly, Heyeck exhales, a quiet admission of defeat.

"The number of two-week notices the HR department has received in the last few days is staggering," he admits, "We need to do damage control before it gets worse. We need an interim CEO—"

"Interim?" Lana repeats, incredulous. It's the first time she's spoken since the elevator ride up, and she sounds impossibly angry. "For how long? No, we need a long-term solution. Our investors, our global business partners, they're all furious, and threatening to pull funding or break contracts. They would rather lose millions now than continue to do business with a company whose CEO is being prepared for prison as we speak! If we appoint an interim CEO, they'll see us as weak—"

"He's coming back," Abernathy interrupts and all eyes fall upon her. She looks almost embarrassed by the attention. "I mean, these kinds of scandals happen. I doubt they'll hold him for long, even if he's convicted. The interim position, it would only be until Luthor comes back."

"The man is awaiting trial for the murder of his parents," Flores says, matter-of-factly, "Even if he is found innocent, due to the nature and size of the scandal, as inadequate as that word is to describe the current situation, it's unlikely the public will accept him back with open arms."

"Our stocks will likely never regain their original value," Heath summarizes for her, uncharacteristically serious.

"Luthor's been eating away at this company for years," Markham sneers, "This is the perfect opportunity to save it."

Across from him, Vaughn clenches his fists and glares. "Luthor is the very reason LexCorp is the empire that it is today. He's had the guts to do what needed to be done over the years despite you fighting him on every single damn decision!"

Annabeth can feel this meeting start to devolve into a full-blown argument, the two opposing sides boiling over with rage in the face of a crucial moment in LexCorp's future history.

Lana is fidgeting again, with a small rectangular device Annabeth has seen her turn over in the palm of her hand many times already. As Bauer tries to rein in the near shouting, Annabeth sneaks the other woman a glance, full of question and concern.

Lana meets her eyes, then stares down at her hands.

It's a strange kind of silent conversation, where both sides believe they know more than the other, but only one is right. Annabeth dangerously walks the line of providing support without showing she knows what she's providing it for.

Lana gives Annabeth one last long look, before standing up, chair purposefully scratching the hard floor.

"I have something I need to share," she declares, and suddenly, she's the center of attention. She flicks open the cap of the flash drive in her grip. "The reporters who wrote the Luthor article had more evidence than they published and shared this with me. I know some of us have had our suspicions, however unbacked, but this should shed some light on the situation."

Lana plugs the drive into the table and presses a button. There's a short staticky crackle of sound. Then—

"Your company told me those planes were fine." The intensity of the familiar voice is jarring, chock-full of hissed rage.

Then, someone else, much softer and hesitant. "Yes, but sir, we mentioned the risk—"

"Minimal!" It comes out as a roar. "You said it was minimal. The replacement material was ill-advised, not prohibited. I read the failure statistics. What I'm hearing, is that you did not do your job correctly."

"No, no, not at all, sir, we wrote those reports just as you asked."

"The real reports, you incompetent fool!"

"We apologize for our mistake, I apologize—"

Luthor's voice is quiet again, but it's the clearest sound in the room. "The cleanup had better go more smoothly than your initial work, or your company won't be the only thing I rip from you."

The recording ends, and Lana retrieves the flash drive before taking her seat once more. With a hand over her mouth in artificial horror, Annabeth drinks in the board of directors once more. It's not the same set of faces she remembers from her very first meeting. Her assigned scores are no longer accurate, she observes, with a feeling akin to victory. And despite the range in expression, from fright to anger to triumph, every single one is ashen white.

"I think we know what we need to do," Lana says, softly, "We've covered for Luthor too many times. And yes, I will admit that some of those times have brought us great profit, but the risk has proven to be too great. LexCorp stands on its own. This company is not just Luthor's personal playground."

She waits for her words to sink in.

Lana doesn't look towards her, thank the gods, because Annabeth is struggling to hold the full breadth of her emotions in. She feels an immense well of pride towards Lana, and herself, but it's the 'towards' Lana part that surprises her.

"I agree. We cannot do this any longer." It's Bauer who speaks, the first of genuinely non-impartial judgments he's shared publicly with the board. "I proposition we terminate Alexander Luthor's status as LexCorp's CEO."

The sentence is heavy, but another director seconds it immediately, and it almost feels like the room collectively sighs.

"Before we vote," Kasten, the financial officer says, "Mr. Heyeck is right. We cannot leave the company headless. But, Ms. Lang is also right, a temporary CEO will not solve our current issues."

He doesn't explain further, but everyone in the room understands the implication.

"I nominate Ms. Lang," Bauer announces.

Several heads swivel to him in shock.

"The work you have put forth in the past few weeks has not gone unnoticed, and neither has your dedication since the start of your employment," he continues, like the only person in the room he is addressing is Lana, "You've played a monumental role in recovery in the wake of recent disasters, and I believe you would make a fine CEO of LexCorp if you choose to accept the nomination."

Lana is in a similar state of shock, but her expression is not one of disbelief. She, too, knows she would do well in the role. Annabeth hides her smile.

"I accept."

Bauer finally opens his posture to the rest of the room, but he doesn't have to wait long before two other directors, Tran and Flores, simultaneously second the nomination. Bauer smiles then, only a slight uptick of his lips. He puts the termination of Luthor to vote.

Annabeth has gone over this exact scenario in her head at her first board meeting. Back then, she knew how it would have played out, with no interference on her part. Vaughn, Abernathy, and Heath on one side, Tran, Flores, and Markham on the other. Three versus three, with Bauer being the unpredictable, tie-breaking vote.

Now, the scores have shifted, exactly like she had planned.

Five hands raise in the air, two remain down.

Lex Luthor, fired. Fired.

Annabeth holds in a breathless laugh, but Heyeck lets it out for her, spine curving forward in his chair in visible relief. Vaughn looks severely irritated, as if he had known the outcome and was displeased all the same. Abernathy, on the other hand, looks almost frightened. Annabeth doesn't have the time to decipher that expression, because Bauer speaks up again.

"I put to vote the proposition to elect Lana Lang as full-term LexCorp CEO."

Six arms go up this time, Vaughn's hand reluctant to rise, and Annabeth has to squash the urge to raise her own in solidarity.

Lana smiles then, bright and with an energy Annabeth hasn't seen in weeks. She stands up, delivering a short speech promising the success and prosperity of LexCorp in the months to come. She thanks her colleagues for the opportunity and opens the floor for discussion on how to fully distance the company from its former, soon-to-be convicted criminal CEO and settle workplace distress.

Annabeth leans back in her seat, dutifully taking notes on all the suggestions thrown around for Lana to review later, but she can't stop the smile from overtaking her face. The familiar self-satisfied smile, the one Percy had noticed was missing.

Bauer stops Lana after she finishes a particularly valuable train of thought, with an apology for interrupting. He stretches his arm out, gesturing to the spot across from him, and she stands, walking over.

Annabeth's been snipping away at LexCorp's threads, here and there, slowly, carefully, precisely choosing her stitches. Finally, the time is here. With one sharp tug, Luthor's hold on the company unravels completely.

Lana takes her seat at the table.

A.N. all hot girls cry on their birthday

PSA: you heard it here first: lex luthor's mansion looks like the kombucha king's house

And also, Annie did not, in fact, bring an extra sandwich. T-1 was her Friday lunch.

Some other notes just for shits: the 1,000 hours thing is true, passed in 2017, I've realized I cannot rest until this story is finished, and I would love it if you would comment with your thoughts <33

P.S. I've been thinking more about Annabeth's characterization in PJO and how she can be kind of a polarizing person because you either love her or hate her, and specifically that one post that says she's a good person, but not necessarily a nice or pleasant one. And like that whole situation with her using Percy as a means to win capture the flag in the first book showing how she does sometimes manipulate people to get her way. And obviously not everyone's going to be cool with something like that, but Percy is one of the people who is. Over time, he gets why she does it and understands that she's not motivated by some strictly selfish reason. There's a lot of times in the books where she does have that need to win, but I think sometimes it comes from a place of "If I win this game or this fight, it's a little more proof that I'll survive in the real world with the monsters." Anyways,,, until next time!