The Olive Branch. It was headed this way.

Percy smirked. "Come back for round two, Miss Chase?" he said under his breath. He hadn't planned on anyone hearing it. But of course, Percy's plans didn't go right most of the time.

"At this point it's more like round two hundred." Travis Stoll said loudly.

His identical-looking brother, Connor, nodded his head in agreement. "Yeah, you two are like, obsessed with each other."

"Stolls!" Katie Gardener called over from the other side of The Argo II. "Are they bothering you Captain Jackson?"

He sighed. "Katie, how many times have I told you to call me Percy?"

She smiled. "About as many times as you've gone toe to toe with Annabeth Chase."

"So like three hundred times?" R.E.D. yelled from her position at the mast.

Percy groaned. "Guys we've only met about twenty times."

Leo Valdez snorted. "That's only in the last month."

"Enough!" Piper McLean called. "What we really should be talking about is the chemistry between our fine Captain here, and Miss Annabeth Chase."

"Thank you, Piper! I've had enou- Wait what?! Chemistry? There's no chemistry in between us! Have you forgotten how we try to kill each other an average five times a week?"

Katie sighed dreamily. "It can be a forbidden love."

Percy shook his head. "You guys are impossible. Just get into your positions."

Annabeth Chase was so close. She could practically taste victory. The Argo II was slowing down for a confrontation. She had him now. Him. Percy Jackson. The greatest pirate captain sailing the Mare Nostrum. Supposedly. She personally thought that Luke Castellan could give him a run for his money.

"Captain Chase!" her first mate, Reyna Ramirez-Arellano, yelled. She pointed to The Argo II. A lone man, with a black tricorn hat adorned with a green feather, stood leaning on his sword cockily. The rest of his crew was spread over the whole ship. Rachel Elizabeth Dare stood at the mast, Piper McLean was perched in the Crow's Nest, and Connor and Travis Stoll stood behind Katie Gardner on the far side of the ship. Jackson's Quartermaster, Leo Valdez, was steering the ship while his Captain was busy. The First Mate was nowhere to be found.

Jackson took off his hat and bowed slightly. Annabeth's hands balled into fists. He was mocking her because she was a woman, or the size of her ship, or maybe both. However, it didn't matter, because both of them angered Annabeth equally. She took her bronze knife and threw it straight at his heart. He should've died. But that would've been too easy. At the last minute, he brought up his sword, Riptide, and knocked her blade out of the way. It slid across the deck, stopping at his brother's feet. Tyson picked it up and slipped it in his pocket.

Annabeth felt like tearing her hair out in frustration. What in the name of God was her crew doing?! Malcolm Pace, her half brother, paced (Haha, see what I did there?) the deck, muttering to himself, whilst Hazel and Frank leaned over a book of naval techniques, including how to retreat. Annabeth couldn't blame them. Captain Jackson seemed to have a way with the sea, an advantage that she lacked. She was a brilliant strategist, but she had just gotten her sea legs, something that she had grown to assume that Jackson had been born with. The jerk.

The Ships were now close enough for Annabeth to send part of her crew onto The Argo II if she wanted, but letting Jackson make the first move seemed like the smarter choice. If she had learned anything over the last year of chasing him, it was that he was reckless. However, he was exceptionally and deceivingly good at thinking on his feet.

She waited for an attack. Nothing came. After five minutes, Annabeth decided to roll the dice, since Jackson wasn't touching them.

"Malcolm, figure out what's going on on that ship." she ordered. "Beckendorf go make sure everything's alright down below."

What is he doing? Jackson was far from stupid, but he generally tended to charge first, and then "wing it". He had a good crew, better than hers, Annabeth would grudgingly admit, they were all skilled, but they had no real order. Sure, they had a Captain, a First Mate and a Quartermaster, but they didn't have formations or naval techniques really, it was all spur of the moment.

"Malcolm, what are you thinking?" she asked as he walked up to her.

"He's waiting for something."

"What?"

"I don't know, he didn't really tell me his whole plan."

"Cut the sarcasm," Annabeth snapped. "We don't have time for it."

"But we do." A dreadfully familiar voice said from behind them. Her ex-best friend, Thalia Grace, stood behind Beckendorf, her silver knife at his throat.

"Thalia." Annabeth said in a hoarse voice. "What are you doing here?" She felt a prickling sensation against her throat. Riptide.

"She's part of my crew of course."

Annabeth's fists clenched. Percy Jackson had snuck onto her ship, and was now holding her at swordpoint.