Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

     Percy… isn’t entirely sure how he got here.

     Hang on. Rewind. Play the tape again.

     Okay. He was just having a normal day. The sun was shining, the birds (pigeons) were singing, Manhattan traffic was abysmal, and everything was fine.

     And then a portal appeared in the sky over one of the tallest towers on the island and shit hit the fan.

     “Annabeth, are you seeing this?” Percy called, having instantly summoned an IM in a nearby fountain. Creatures were descending from a hole in the sky, weaving around airborne explosions. People were running and screaming.

     “Percy, what- oh my gods,” Annabeth breathed.

     “I’ve gotta help,” Percy decided, staring up at the chaos descending upon the city.

     “Percy, I’m not sure those are monsters,” his girlfriend tried to caution. “Celestial bronze might not work!”

     Percy engaged his watch, a replica that Tyson made of the one he’d lost in the Labyrinth years ago. The shield formed up over his arm. “I’ll be careful, Wise Girl. But I’ve got to try. If I don’t call you back in an hour, call me. I’ll see you later, alright?”

     Annabeth glared at him, half in frustration and half in concern. “Stay alive. Come back to us, Seaweed Brain. I love you.”

     Percy smiled. “I love you too, Annabeth.” He waved his hand through the mist and dismissed the IM. Without hesitation, he pulled his pen out of his pocket and uncapped it, charging off towards the starting hoard of creatures.

     So we’re caught up now. Manhattan Island. Giant portal in the sky. Explosions, monsters, the works.

     Once he was in range, Percy threw his sword at the nearest one to test if the metal even worked on them.

     Percy’s grin when the sword skewered it was half-feral. Before the others noticed their fallen comrade, Percy slipped away to the nearest familiar statue, activating the same command that brought the statues into the Battle of Manhattan during the Titan War. By the time it started to march away to activate more statues, Riptide had already returned.

     Percy threw himself into the fray, keeping the few currently grounded creatures from chasing after mortals and cutting them down like he would any other grunt-level monster. He was only a few blocks from the portal when some kind of aircraft started falling from the sky. He spared a moment to glance towards the area it was headed for.

     People were mostly out of the way, but they were still coming in too hot.

     Percy pulled water from his surroundings and cushioned the aircraft as it crashed. Once it stopped moving, Percy let the water go and continued moving towards the epicenter. Which coincidentally brought him closer to the craft as it opened its bay door.

     Three people in strange tactical gear ran out from the plane and around the corner on Park towards Grand Central. None of them seemed to notice Percy running after them, pulling stuck mortals out of cars and dodging people trying to run away from the portal in the sky.

     A roar from above caught Percy’s attention. He snapped his head up to see some kind of flying Goliath descending on the city like a demonic, armored space fish. It was easily larger than Grand Central Station. As it flew down Park Avenue, more grunt creatures dropped from it’s armor onto the streets and the sides of buildings. They surrounded Percy, the three unknowns, and whatever people hadn’t managed to get away.

     As Percy watched flying chariots soar sound the city causing destruction and chaos, he wished that he had the Apollo cabin behind him. Aerial support from Jason and Tempest would have been great, too. With a heartfelt curse, he channeled the water within the creatures scaling the nearby buildings and pulled them down. Some screamed as they fell, but Percy didn’t have it in him to care. They were targeting mortals indiscriminately.

     After a while, Percy cycled back to the bridge in front of Grand Central Station in time to see some of the creatures closing in on the three people from earlier get shot down by lightning. Percy stiffened instinctually, but the caped man who dropped from the sky looked nothing like Zeus or any god he was familiar with. And he sure as hell wasn’t Jason.

     Percy took a moment to watch from afar as the four adults rounded up to talk a moment, slowly approached by a fifth on a beat-up motorbike.

     An IM appeared in the air next to Percy. He turned to face it, casting glances around him to make sure he wasn’t missing anything.

     “Percy, what’s going on?” Jason asked, looking around the hellscape with concern.

     “No idea, Jason,” Percy said, returning a loose eye on the adults. “Manhattan’s under siege from monsters coming from a portal, but they’re not like anything I’ve ever seen. There’s a small team fighting out here and I’ve been keeping at the edge of their zones. Camp Half-Blood is too far out for them to feasibly make it even if they left now, if Chiron even lets them leave to help at all.” He looked up for a moment to watch more chariots fly across the sky. “Shame. I could really use some aerial support right about now.”

     Jason nodded, twirling his coin on his fingers. “I’ll talk to Leo, see what we can do. Stay safe, Percy.”

     “You too, Jason. I’ll see you on the other side.”

     The IM disappeared in time for a giant armored space fish to fly around the corner. And it was chasing after what looked like a flying suit of armor down Park Avenue, right towards the gathered adults. And - in extension - Percy.

     One of the men turned big and green, crumpled in the space fish’s skull, and then the flying suit of armor shot a missile at the exposed flesh. Percy ducked under his shield to avoid the falling debris. The creatures still on the sides of the nearby buildings screeched in rage, so Percy used his powers to yank more of them down to their deaths. He looked up in time to see several more space fish exit the portal.

     Percy cursed long and hard. Yeah, he was sorely missing backup right now. Festus, Tempest, Blackjack, the Campers. He edged close enough to the adults to hear what they were saying.

     “Call it, Captain,” the suit said.

     The one dressed like a flag with a bulls-eye shield stepped forward. “Alright, listen up. Until we can close that portal, our priority is containment. Barton, I want you on that roof. Eyes on everything, call out patterns and strays.”

     The archer nodded, his bow nocked and his eyes already scanning his assigned perch.

     “Stark, you got the perimeter. Anything gets more than three blocks out, you turn it back or you turn it to ash,” the Captain continued, staring at the metal suit.

     Barton cast a glance to Stark. “Can you give me a lift?”

     “Right,” Stark said, marching up and behind him, grabbing the back of his uniform. “Better clench up, Legolas.” Without another word, Stark engaged the thrusters on the suit and pulled Barton up and away. Percy continued to drop creatures from above, unseen.

     “Thor,” the Captain said, turning to the caped man with the hammer and a penchant for lightning. Percy blinked. Odd coincidence, that. “You got to try and bottleneck that portal. Slow them down. You got the lightning. Light the bastards up.” Thor nodded, swung his hammer, and flew off.

     “You and me, we stay here on the ground. Keep the fighting here,” Captain continued, talking to the redheaded woman. "And Hulk…” He turned to the green giant, pointing in the general direction of the climbing creatures. “Smash.”

     The Hulk jumped up and onto the side of a building, pounding the creatures there into oblivion. Thor turned the Chrysler Building into a lightning rod. Percy hung around the edges of the ground-level fight for now, pulling creatures down to their deaths and neatly killing any that were dumb enough to try their luck. Percy cast another glance up at the sky. At the earliest, Festus wouldn’t get there with reinforcements for at least another twenty minutes. And then they ran the risk of friendly fire.

     If they even managed to escape the watchful eye of the camp directors, of course. A big if.

     Percy fought on the periphery of the ground fight. The Captain launched Redhead onto a chariot and started taking on his enemies alone. The closer he ran the risk of being overwhelmed, the closer Percy came. After a few minutes, Stark barreled in and started helping out before blasting off again and knocking a few creatures off of a building.

     After a few minutes and Percy had bought himself a bit of breathing room, he ducked behind a car, concentrated on all the creatures climbing that he could see on the buildings closest to him, and yanked. They fell screaming. Percy could see Barton casting a confused glance around. He kept ducked behind the car and prayed the Mist was still protecting him.

     The Hulk and Thor crashed a space fish into Grand Central Station, so that was a thing. As the Captain finished the rest of his fight, exhausted, Percy abandoned the spot he’d been holding and moved east on 42nd. He could see a hub of activity a block down. He ducked into a bank where he heard screaming and quickly cut down the creatures on the second floor. A motion behind him caught his attention and he whirled, sword swinging-

     Only for it to clang on the Captain’s striped shield. The eyes of the man behind it were wide. Percy immediately disengaged. “Sorry. Don’t sneak up on someone with a sword.” Ignoring the slightly stunned Captain, he glanced down at the people below and noted them streaming out of the building. Percy jumped over the railing before the man could recover, slipping into the crowd and back onto the street in search of more enemies to clear out.

     He continued to fight; dropping enemies from buildings and off of chariots, cutting them down with Riptide, rescuing people from the line of fire. And then Stark came crashing onto the street like a red and gold missile. Nearby creatures shot him while he was down, giving him no chance to get up and defend himself.

     “Hey, uglies!” Percy called, momentarily grabbing their attention. “Pick on someone your own size!” He came in running, slamming one with his shield and slashing at the others. Behind Percy, Stark got himself onto his feet.

     “Kid, what- where’d you come from?”

     Percy cut through an enemy before turning his best wolf’s stare on the armored man behind him. “Not a kid.” He twisted back around and embedded Riptide in another creature’s face. Percy waved the hand under his shield, focusing his power and yanking another set of enemies down from the sky.

     Stark stiffened, clearly listening to something in his ear. “How long?” he asked, mild panic clear in his voice. “Jarvis, put everything we have into the thrusters.” The suit blasted off, leaving Percy alone in the middle of the street, surrounded by corpses of his own making. The area temporarily cleared, Percy went off in search of more people to save.

     Just down the road, Thor and the Captain were surrounded. At some point the man in blue had lost his cowl and he’d gotten a little banged up. Percy threw Riptide again, impaling an enemy that had been aiming for the man’s unprotected back. Thor launched a car into more creatures while Percy retrieved his sword and cut down a few more.

     Thor helped his comrade up, looking between Percy and his friend somewhat warily. Percy nodded and moved to leave when the Captain barked, “Do it!” into his communicator.

     Percy paused, looking between them.

     “Stark, these things are still coming!” the Captain continued, scanning the skies above them. Percy focused again on the well of power in him and pulled more creatures off of approaching chariots. He would only be able to do that so many more times. The man’s eyes widened, but it wasn’t at Percy. “Stark, you know that’s a one-way trip,” he said, concerned and heavy. Percy stiffened, watching the Captain and the sky closely. The sound of thrusters approached and Stark blasted above them, a missile on his back. Percy cursed.

     Stark changed the heading of himself and the missile until they were both pointed right up at the portal.

     “Where does that portal go?” Percy bit out hurriedly.

     Thor glanced at him. “Space.”

     Percy swore again, remembering a conversation he’d listened to Leo and Annabeth having a while back. Space was a vacuum. It had little to no gravity. Would the Earth’s gravity through the portal be enough to pull Stark back? Did the Earth’s gravity even pass through the veil of the portal at all? Percy stretched out his senses until he could pinpoint what he thought was Stark. He held on to that feeling as he watched the missile and the suit carrying it disappear into the portal.

     After a moment, the creatures all around them dropped like stones. Percy immediately tugged at Stark’s signature, trying to speed up the suit’s return to Earth. He held out a hand to the side, grabbing the attention of both men by his side. “Wait,” Percy said. “He’s almost through.” A bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face.

     Thor looked up at the approaching fireball and back to Percy. He then turned and shared a pained and resigned look with the Captain. “Close it,” the Captain said softly.

     Percy cursed, pulling his hand back and refocusing on Stark’s signature. It wasn’t hard, finding a pocket of moisture in the vacuum of space. He tugged on it harder. If Stark didn’t make it through the portal, he’d be done. The beam from the tower cut off with a sound like thunder. The portal started to fold in on itself.

     Stark passed through just before it closed.

     Percy allowed himself a moment to breathe before he realized the suit wasn’t active. He swore again, throwing a hand up and trying to work carefully against gravity. Stark was already falling at terminal velocity, and if Percy wasn’t careful he could kill him trying to slow him down anyway.

     “Son of a gun,” the Captain said, looking up in amazement.

     “I can’t slow him down!” Percy snapped.

     Alarmed, Thor started to swing his hammer in prep for takeoff, but the Hulk beat him to it. Stark was caught and brought down onto the bridge in front of the trashed Grand Central Station. Percy was the first to start running towards the armored man and his green savior, quickly stopping at his side and flipping the heavy armor onto its back.

     “Is he breathing?” the Captain asked, a few steps behind. Thor tore off the golden faceplate, but it was hard to tell if the man inside was breathing inside his shell. Percy placed a hand on the chestplate, feeling for the motion of blood inside the man beneath it. He was well beyond starting to tax his powers with all this blood-bending. Sensing the blood may not be as hard as controlling it, but it was a certain level of strain all the same.

     “His heart is pumping,” he said. “He’s alive.”

     After a moment of silence, the Hulk roared, making Percy flinch and startling Stark awake with a gasp. The Hulk roared again in triumph as Stark looked between Percy, Thor, the Captain, and the Hulk, his eyes alert.

     “What the hell?” he breathed out. “What just happened?”

     Percy leaned back from the knee he’d taken and rested on his heels, watching with a crooked smile.

     “Please tell me nobody kissed me,” Stark continued.

     “We won,” the Captain said after a moment, looking up at the sky.

     Stark sighed, letting his head drop back. “All right, yay!” he said tiredly. “Hurray. Good job, guys. Let’s just not come in tomorrow. Let’s just take a day.”

     Percy raised an eyebrow slightly, looking between the adults and trying to decide how much of a joke that was. Was this their job? He could kinda relate.

     “Have you ever tried shawarma?” Stark continued, looking between them all. “There’s a shawarma joint about two blocks from here.” Yeah, Percy remembered it. That’s where he’d saved the man from being overwhelmed before he went off to hijack a missile. “I don’t know what it is, but I want to try it.”

     Percy snorted, rocking back further and then back up onto his feet, grabbing his sword from beside him as he stood. All eyes followed him as he stood and took a few steps back.

     “We’re not finished yet,” Thor said, talking to Stark. While he watched Percy with interest, he didn’t seem immediately concerned by his presence. Everyone turned to stare at Thor and Percy.

     Stark didn't let it go. “...And then shawarma after.”

     Percy cracked another smile.

     “Who are you, son?” the Captain asked, eyeing Percy.

     “Your sword,” Thor asked, interested eyes examining what he could of the blade from a distance. “May I see it?”

     Percy shrugged, handing it carefully over by the hilt and ignoring the Captain’s question.

     “Does it have a name?”

     “Anaklusmos ,” Percy said. “Riptide.”

     “A worthy name,” Thor hummed, returning the sword to its owner.

     The two men seemed to snap to some form of attention at the same time, listening to something in their earpieces. With a heavy sigh, the Captain helped Stark off of the pavement. “Come with us, kid, we’ve got some things we should talk about,” he said.

     Percy turned his wolf stare onto the Captain. “I’m not a kid.”

     The looks he was given were all at least a smidge patronizing, although Stark looked slightly less so. But he followed loosely after them all the same, planning to slip away while they were distracted. A minute or so after they got Stark up, he got his chance. Once he was a decent distance away, Percy snapped his fingers and summoned the mist to muddy their memories of his face. He didn’t want to be found.

     That done, he shrunk his shield back into a watch and his sword back into a pen. He quickly jogged the half mile to the East River and disappeared into the water. He was at Camp Half-Blood ten minutes later.

Chapter Text

     “Cap, you’ve got a kid with a sword at the edge of your fight, he’s been keeping an eye on you,” Barton called out over the comms, shooting down another flying alien.

      “I’m sorry, I thought I just heard you warn Cap about a kid with a sword. Did I hear that right?” Tony called back incredulously.

     Clint let another arrow fly, sparing a moment to hit the kid with an assessing gaze. “Jet black hair, six feet tall, orange shirt, black jacket, blue jeans. Three-foot bronze sword with a leaf-shaped blade. Bronze shield about four feet wide. Can’t be more than 17. And he’s a damn good fighter.”

     Down below, he could see good ol’ Captain America spare his somewhat-hidden backup a glance. “I see him.”

     The kid continued to cut down his enemies, a deadly whirlwind of bronze and cobalt blood.

     Iron Man came blasting in a few minutes later, helping the Captain out before blasting off again. “Well, not the weirdest thing we’ve seen today,” he admitted.

     After a few more minutes, Clint watched in confusion as almost every alien scaling a building fell at the same time, screaming as they went down. “A whole squad of chitauri just fell off their perches all at once,” he reported over the comms. “I don’t know why.” He looked around again, but didn’t see anything but the kid taking a moment of cover behind a car.

     After Thor and Banner crashed through Grand Central, he spotted a figure on the move. “Kid’s headed east on 42nd.”

      “I’ve got bigger fish to fry!” Nat called, probably still flying around like a lunatic.

      “Headed that way already,” Cap said.

     As Steve made his way down the street, he heard screaming from inside a bank. He ducked, shield raised and ready to fight-

     Only for the kid to slam his sword against Steve’s shield with more power than his frame would suggest he possessed. His eyes were a sharp sea green, and there was something hard about them. Jaded, predatory, experienced. This teenager in front of him was no stranger to a fight.

     The kid’s eyes widened a little as they registered who he’d swung at before he immediately stepped back and disengaged. “Sorry,” he said, sounding both sincere and like he was chastising him. “Don’t sneak up on someone with a sword.” The kid glanced down towards the mass of fleeing civilians on the ground floor before fluidly vaulting over the side.

     Steve lurched forward just in time to see him slip into the crowd and out onto the streets. He quickly reported the strange encounter to the rest of the team.

     The kid seemed to drop off the radar for a little while after that, until Iron Man was shot down onto the street he was cutting through. Some of the aliens the boy had been targeting turned and shot the red and gold armor while it was down.

     “Hey, uglies!” the kid called, grabbing their attention. Stark used the chance to raise his helmet up and try to get up off the ground. “Pick on someone your own size!” The teen came in running, slamming the shield against the closest alien to Tony, placing himself in a spot to defend the fallen hero while he used his sword to mercilessly cut his enemies down.

     “Kid, what- where’d you come from?” Tony asked, his brain skipping over his appreciation and straight to ‘what the fuck kind of kid is this, he’s a veritable killing machine!’

     The teenager cut down another target and turned to stare at the suit of armor still on a knee behind him. His green eyes were ice cold and his face screamed ‘I’m far more dangerous than you realize.’ “Not a kid,” he said, watching a second longer before spinning back around and slamming his sharp sword through another alien’s face. The hand under the shield flexed and Tony made idle note of an alien falling from a building without warning.

     And then Fury was in his ear, warning about a missile incoming. He blasted off immediately.

     A minute later, the kid showed up again on the edge of the fight that Steve and Thor were in the middle of. When Steve heard a sound from behind him, he whirled as quickly as his winded self could while half on the ground, seeing a bronze sword sticking out of the back of a chitauri that had likely been primed to shoot Steve’s unprotected back.

     The kid ran up and retrieved his weapon a moment later and started cutting down a few more aliens. When the last of the nearby enemies had fallen by his blade, the teen paused to watch Thor helping Steve up, eyeing the slightly wary look on the god’s face. The kid looked between them, nodded once, and turned as if to leave.

     Natasha’s voice cut through on the comms, saying she could close the portal, and Steve didn’t hesitate to give the order. The kid paused, hanging back with a look of interest on his face. In their earpieces, Stark told them to hold off.

     “Stark, these things are still coming!” Steve continued, scanning the skies above them. The aliens on chariots above them all fell off and to their deaths at the same time. Steve’s eyebrows scrunched. Odd. And then Stark continued talking. “Stark, you know that’s a one-way trip,” he continued.

     The kid stiffened, looking between Steve and the sky. The sound of thrusters approached and Iron Man came into view, steering a missile up towards the portal.

     The kid swore. “Where does that portal go?” he bit out hurriedly.

     Thor spared him a glance. “Space.”

     The kid cursed again, something in another language. He stared up at the sky, a million things flickering through his eyes before he seemed to snap into a laser-intense focus. After a moment, all the aliens dropped like stones. The kid held a quelling hand out to his side, as if to keep Thor and Steve from going anywhere. His eyes didn’t leave the portal, that look of intense concentration sharpening. “Wait,” he said. “He’s almost through.”

     Thor looked up at the approaching fireball and back to the strange teenager. He then turned and shared a pained and resigned look with Steve. “Close it,” Steve said softly.

     The kid swore again, foreign and creative, pulling his hand back. The beam from the tower cut off with a sound like thunder. The portal started to fold in on itself.

     Stark passed through just before it closed.

     The teenager cussed again- how many swears did he know?- throwing a hand up and staring intently at Iron Man as if he could see something wrong that no one else could.

     “Son of a gun,” the Captain said, looking up in amazement. He didn’t notice the way the kid’s face shifted from neutral concentration to alarmed and frustrated concentration.

     “I can’t slow him down!” the teen snapped.

     Steve cast the kid an concerned, confused look before following his gaze back to Stark. The man who’s suit had yet to move out of uncontrolled free-fall.

     Alarmed, Thor started to swing his hammer in prep for takeoff, but the Hulk beat him to it. Stark was caught and brought down onto the bridge in front of the trashed Grand Central Station. The teenager was the first to start running towards the armored man and his green savior. He threw his sword aside, quickly stopping at Stark’s side and flipping the heavy armor onto its back.

     “Is he breathing?” Steve asked, a few steps behind. Thor tore off the golden faceplate, but it was hard to tell if the man inside was breathing inside his shell.

     The kid placed a hand on the chestplate, staring intently at Stark for a moment. “His heart is pumping,” he said. “He’s alive.”

     Steve let out a small breath. How could he tell? Why was Tony unconscious?

     After a moment of silence, the Hulk roared, making the teenager flinch and startling Stark awake with a gasp. The Hulk roared again in triumph as Stark looked between the kid, Thor, Steve, and the Hulk with alert eyes.

     “What the hell?” he breathed out. “What just happened?”

     The kid leaned back from the knee he’d taken and rested on his heels, watching with a crooked trouble-maker’s smile.

     “Please tell me nobody kissed me,” Stark continued.

     “We won,” the Captain said after a moment, looking up at the sky.

     Stark sighed, letting his head drop back. “All right, yay!” he said tiredly. “Hurray. Good job, guys. Let’s just not come in tomorrow. Let’s just take a day.”

     The kid raised an eyebrow slightly, looking between the adults like he was trying to decide how much of a joke that was. Steve could relate.

     “Have you ever tried shawarma?” Stark continued, looking between them all. “There’s a shawarma joint about two blocks from here.” Stark saw the recognition go off in the kid’s eyes. That’s where he’d saved Tony from being overwhelmed before he went off to hijack a missile. “I don’t know what it is, but I want to try it.”

     The teenager snorted, rocking back further as he grabbed his sword from the pavement and then rocked back up onto his feet. All eyes followed him as he stood and took a few steps back.

     “We’re not finished yet,” Thor said, talking to Stark. While Thor watched the kid with interest, he didn’t seem immediately concerned by his presence. Everyone turned to stare at Thor and the strange teenager.

     “...And then shawarma after.”

     The kid cracked another smile.

     “Who are you, son?” Steve asked, eyeing the teenager. Aside from dust and grime from running around in the warzone that was Manhattan, he looked remarkably unharmed. A few small scratches and small smudges of blood here and there excepted. And his skills in battle were… alarmingly good.

     “Your sword,” Thor asked, interested eyes examining what he could of the blade from a distance. “May I see it?”

     The teenager shrugged, handing it carefully over by the hilt and ignoring Steve’s question entirely. No one missed the action.

     “Does it have a name?”

     “Anaklusmos,” the kid said. “Riptide.”

     “A worthy name,” Thor hummed, returning the sword to its owner.

     The comms came back to life and reminded them that they still had work to do. With a heavy sigh, Steve helped Tony off of the pavement. “Come with us, kid, we’ve got some things we should talk about,” he said.

     The teenager turned the same wolf stare he’d hit Tony with onto the Captain. “I’m not a kid.”

     The looks he was given were all at least a smidge patronizing, although Tony looked slightly less so. But the kid followed loosely after them all the same. A minute or so after they got Stark up, he slipped away. The Avengers didn’t even notice until they were already walking through the doors of Stark Tower.

     And strangely enough, they could no longer quite remember what he had looked like.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     Percy was almost immediately tackled by a dozen Campers that were happy to see he was alright. Apparently people had been watching the attack happen on the news inside the Big House, and it was no secret where Percy had been.

     Once people had pulled far enough away to let Percy breathe, Annabeth stepped in and slugged him in the shoulder. “I told you to stay safe, Seaweed Brain,” she griped.

     “I did! I was!” he protested, rubbing his shoulder before spreading his arms wide. “Look, not a scratch!”

     Of course, what little hurts he had were healed on the way over, but that wasn’t something he should be pointing out at the moment. Annabeth just shot him a look that was a mix of exasperated and fond. She knew him well.

     A handful of nearby campers were complimenting him and gushing about clips they’d seen on the TV, Percy fighting like a hurricane on the streets of Manhattan alongside the group that had been dubbed the ‘Avengers’. They dragged him to the Big House where the news was still showing footage they’d collected from the whole mess.

     The Captain- Captain America- throwing his shield and bashing enemies. Barton- Hawkeye- shooting aliens down like a son of Apollo. Redhead- Black Widow- slipping around the battlefield with deadly grace. Stark- Iron Man- soaring through the skies and blasting everything he could reach. Thor, lighting up his enemies like the Norse God of myths. The Hulk, smashing through everything in his way.

     And Percy, a wraith of violence and bronze, the furious and deadly eye in a storm of his own creation. The cameras never quite managed to get a clear shot of his face, not enough to make a recognizable profile. But there were glimpses. Sea-green eyes set in a face so fierce that it made everyone watching glad that he was on their side.

     There’s clips of him skirting around the edges of Avenger skirmishes. Throwing his sword here, slamming a shield there, cutting through alien after alien in defense of himself and the mortals around him. A clip of him in the bank, cutting through the chitauri poised to shoot the people below like fish in a barrel. Jumping down and disappearing after the job is done.

     The Avengers must have said something, because he already had a name.

     Riptide.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     Finding the kid is… difficult. To say the least . He simply dropped off the damn radar. How could it be possible to have no clear shots of his face? How is no one able to pin down his features enough to ID him? Especially when most of them got a good look at him?

     Jet black hair, sea green eyes. Six foot. Upper teens. Orange shirt, black jacket, blue jeans. Bronze sword and shield.

     It should not be so hard.

     Fury, Nat, Hill, Barton… they’re suspicious. They don’t like it. And frankly, everyone with an ego feels a little shown up.

     A teenager just appears out of nowhere, cuts through chitauri like nobody’s business, and no one knows anything about him. Not even a little bit.

     After everything, they weren’t inclined to believe Fury on his declaration that the boy was an unknown. Not until they saw how much the situation infuriated him, anyway. Fury didn’t like being in the dark. And all they’ve got on this kid are a few quips, a very vague description, a rough outline of his abilities, and the name of his sword. Anaklusmos - Greek for Riptide.

     The kid was dangerous. Unknown. And there’s absolutely nothing they could do about it.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

      “Not much is known about the mysterious figure known only as ‘Riptide’,” the news anchor said, speaking over compiled bits of footage from the Battle of New York. “The Avengers have put out a statement declaring that while his help was greatly appreciated, he was not a part of their team. In fact, they state that they saw him for the first time fighting alongside them on the streets of Manhattan. Despite- or perhaps because of- the lack of information on the mysterious fighter, Riptide has become quite the online sensation. New amateur footage of his exploits are regularly being uploaded on the internet by thankful witnesses to his heroic actions.

     “But the question remains - just who is Riptide? And where is he now?”

Chapter Text

     So, Percy… didn’t normally do this.

     Camper and satyr numbers are still… low, between the two recent wars. So he’d been sent on a mission to find a demigod in Rose Hill, Tennessee.

     So Percy, being one of the more powerful demigods- as well as a Camp Counselor for Camp Half-Blood- was currently trudging through the conservative dusting of snow on the streets towards the house of the demigod he’d been sent for. He used what little control of the Mist he had to make it so that if people saw anything odd about the unfamiliar eighteen-year-old walking the streets alone, they’d think nothing of it.

     Percy huffed into his hands and glanced up at the sky. December 23rd. Normally, he’d be at home with his mom and Paul and Estelle. Or spending it at Camp with other campers or Annabeth or any of his friends.

     Hopefully he could get this over with and be home in time for Christmas.

     Eventually Percy found the empty street he was looking for and followed it down to a lone house with a large garage. Then he just… walked up and knocked on the door.

     There was the faint sound of movement, and then there was a ten-year-old kid with blonde hair and blue eyes staring up at him, his face an impassive mask that just barely covered for suspicion and curiosity.

     “Can I help you?” the kid asked.

     Percy shuffled a little on his feet, took a deep breath, and started to explain.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     It didn’t take nearly as much explaining as Percy thought it would.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     About an hour after Percy showed up at Harley Keener’s door, there was a bang from the garage.

     The two of them tensed up.

     “Harley, is anyone else supposed to be here?” Percy asked evenly, shifting to scan outside the windows.

     Harley shook his head. “No. Mom’s at the diner and my sister’s sleeping. Dad’s been gone for years.”

     Percy slipped his pen out of his pocket and uncapped it, the sword shimmering to life as he moved quietly to the windows for a better look. At Harley’s sharp intake of breath, he looked over to see the kid staring between him and the sword with wide eyes.

     “Are you Riptide?” he asked, voice hushed and a little awed.

     Percy grimaced a little, as uncomfortable with the more…  glamorous sides of recognition as always. “Technically, Riptide is the sword,”   he grumbled, “but yeah. Let’s just… keep that on the down-low, okay? I don’t need anyone connecting my real name to ‘Riptide’.”

     Harley nodded vigorously and darted off to his room, muttering quietly the whole time about how ‘oh my god, Riptide is in my house, isn’t he, like an Avenger, or something?’

     Percy waited tensely for Harley to come back, only for the kid to return with a faded camo cap, two well-worn jackets over his sweater, a potato gun, and a large, bulging sack thrown across his body that seemed to be full of potatoes.

     In truth, the sight was enough to give him pause. Because… where did he even start with that?

     Harley seemed to take offense at whatever dumbfounded expression Percy was probably making, simply stalking past him, throwing the door open, and walking outside.

     “Wha- hey,” Percy hissed, following after him. “Harley, wait up! It could be a monster, and you don’t have a proper weapon!”

     Harley scoffed. “Excuse you, I built this myself!” he hissed quietly back, hefting the device up for emphasis.  “It’s more than powerful enough to knock someone on their ass, you’ll see!”

     Percy blinked a little at the slightly crass language coming from such a small kid, and then he shook his head, grabbing Harley’s shoulder and holding him in place. “Harley, that’s not what I meant. Monsters can only be killed by Celestial Bronze or Imperial Gold weapons. Demigod weapons. If it’s a monster, a potato gun can’t kill it, no matter how powerful it is.”

     Harley shook him off and turned around the corner straight through the open door to the garage. “Freeze!” the kid called.

     Percy turned the corner, sword and shield raised, in time to see a slightly battered man look up at the door with raised eyebrows. There was a glowing circle under his shirt, and something about the man pinged at the back of Percy’s memory. He scanned the room, but there didn’t seem to be any monsters. Just the man.

     “Don’t move,” Harley continued, keeping his aim steady while Percy slipped in behind him, keeping his sword tucked just out of sight and the shield pulled in a way that made it less recognizable as what it was.

     The man set down the pliers he’d been holding and raised his hands in a show of surrender. “You got me,” he said, not sounding all that chagrined or apologetic in the least. But he wasn’t sarcastic, and there wasn’t any hostility. Maybe just a little bit of analytical curiosity. He seemed to scan the weapon in Harley’s hands. “Nice potato gun.” He paused, before apparently deciding to just keep talking. “Barrel’s a little long. Between that and the wide gauge it’s gonna diminish your FPS.”

     Without hesitation, Harley adjusted his aim, fired, and a potato flew at incredible speeds to absolutely shatter a glass that had been perched high on a shelf. Then he returned to pointing the barrel in the intruder’s direction.

     The man let his hands fall to his knees with a considering, sideways nod. “And now you’re out of ammo,” he pointed out. The man glanced up at Percy, eyes narrowing slightly as he seemed to analyze him.

     “What’s that on your chest?” Harley asked, drawing the man’s attention back. Where had Percy seen him before?

     The man seemed a little surprised at the question before glancing neutrally down at the table. He reached out a hand and nudged a nearby box. “It’s an, uh, electromagnet. You should know, you got a box of them right here.”

     And Percy was officially out of his depth.

     Harley, apparently, wasn’t. “What does it power?” How could a kid sound so bored about some unknown man in his garage?

     The man looked between them, a few small emotions flitting across his otherwise indiscernible expression before he stood up, flipped the lamp to shine behind him, and stepped to the side, showcasing a suit of high-tech, highly-damaged metal armor sat on the couch like someone waiting for the party to start.

     Percy’s eyes widened, because that- he knew that suit. Or at least, he’d seen one very similar.

     Harley, on the other hand, dropped the potato gun with a gasp of awe. “Oh, my god!” he exclaimed, looking between the man and the suit. “That...” he stepped closer, making Percy shift warily behind him as he watched the man for any movements towards the kid he was supposed to be protecting.

     “That’s… is that Iron Man?”

     “Technically, I am,” the man corrected, and Percy took a sharp breath. The man- Stark-  Percy remembered, eyed him.

     Harley took a few steps forward, blindly pulling a rolled up newspaper out of his bag and slapping it onto Stark’s chest as he passed him. “Technically,” Harley corrected, “you’re dead.”

     Stark took the paper and unrolled it, staring down at the front page with a light huff. “Valid point.” He looked back up at Percy and narrowed his eyes again, his eyes flicking to the shield and then to the hand edged just enough behind his leg to hide the sword.

     “What happened to him?” Harley asked, climbing up on the couch to get a better, hands-on look at the suit.

     Stark didn’t look away from Percy. “Life. I built him. I take care of him.” He glanced down long enough to roll up the paper and toss it on the table. “I’ll fix him.”

     Percy took advantage of the distraction to make the shield disappear, stepping forward to grab the paper for himself.

     'MANDARIN ATTACK: STARK PRESUMED DEAD'

     Percy skimmed the article as fast as his demigod brain allowed, conscious of the sword hidden behind his leg and the way that Stark was switching between watching him and watching Harley.

     “Like a mechanic,”  Harley said.

     “Yeah.”

     Harley hummed, the sound of metal sliding as he moved the suit’s head. “If I was building Iron Man and War Machine…”

     “It’s ‘Iron Patriot’ now,” Stark said, somewhat absent-mindedly.

     “That’s way cooler!”

     Percy snorted and shook his head, still skimming the article but definitely disagreeing with Harley on that one.

     “No, it’s not,” Stark agreed testily.

     “Anyways,” Harley continued, entirely unfazed, “I would have added in, um, the retro…”

     Stark looked over at him sharply, clearly interested. “Retro-reflective panels?”

     Harley nodded. “To make him stealth mode.”

     “You want a stealth mode?” Stark mused.

     “Cool, right?”

     Stark shrugged one shoulder, looking like he was already doing the math in his head. “That’s actually a good idea. Maybe I’ll build one.”

     There was a sharp clank and Percy finally abandoned the newspaper. Harley had a red metal finger in his hand. “Oops.”

      “Not a good idea,” Stark admonished. “What are you doing? You’re gonna break his finger?” He threw his arm out in the direction of the armor. “He’s in pain. He’s been injured. Leave him alone.”

     “S-sorry,” Harley apologized, looking genuinely contrite but still fiddling with and flexing the detached suit finger in his hands.

     “Are you?” Stark challenged. Percy took the free moment to cap Riptide and return it to his pocket. The man sighed. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll fix it. So, uh, who’s home?”

     “Well, my mom already left for the diner and Dad went to 7-11 to get scratchers.” Harley rubbed at his nose idly, setting the finger aside momentarily while Stark crossed his arms, still watching the kid intently. Percy was being ignored, and that was fine by him. Less likely that he'd be recognized that way.

     Harley didn’t let go of the finger, bringing it back to fiddle with as he continued. “I guess he won, because that was six years ago,” he said calmly.

     Percy choked at the straight delivery, earning himself twin glances while he looked up to the sky as if praying for guidance.

     Stark hummed, still watching Percy. “Which happens. Dads leave. And, what, your older brother stayed home to babysit? Cousin? You don’t look related. Neighborhood babysitter?”

     “Distant relative,” Percy said blandly.

     Stark hummed again, before looking between the two of them. “Here’s what I need,” he started, drawing an incredulous glance from Percy and a surprised one from Harley. "A laptop, a digital watch, a cell phone, the pneumatic actuator from your bazooka over there, a map of town, a big spring, and a tuna fish sandwich.”

     Harley’s gaze slid to Percy before snapping back to Stark, uninterested. “What’s in it for us?”

     Stark seemed to deliberate. “Salvation. What’s his name?”

     “Who?” Harley asked, carefully not looking at Percy.

     Percy appreciated that. He didn’t particularly want to be introduced, on the off-chance that Stark recognized ‘Riptide’.

     “The kid who bullies you at school,” Stark clarified, like it was obvious. “What’s his name?”

     Harley’s impassive mask cracked. “How’d you know that?”

     Stark just walked over to the suit, pulling something out from inside. “I’ve got just the thing. This is a piñata for a cricket. I’m kidding. This is a very powerful weapon. Point it away from your face, press the button on top. It discourages bullying.”

     Percy crossed his arms from across the room, an eyebrow climbing high on his face.

     “Non-lethal, just to cover one’s ass. Deal?”

     Harley glanced at Percy, an action that didn’t go unnoticed. Percy shrugged. It was Harley’s choice. And if it was non-lethal, Percy didn’t particularly care. Harley turned back to Stark and reached for the weapon, only for the man to hold it out of reach.

     “Deal? What do you say?”

     “Deal,” Harley declared.

    Stark handed him the large, pill-shaped weapon. “What’s your name?”

     “Harley,” the kid answered, turning over the red and gold weapon with curious eyes. “And you’re…”

     “The mechanic,” Stark said, not even missing a beat. “Tony.” His eyes shifted back to Percy. “And you?”

     Percy stared impassively back. “You don’t need to know. Besides, Mr. Stark, we’ve already met.”

     Stark raised an eyebrow. “Well, you’ll have to forgive me. I meet a lot of people, kid. You’ll need to refresh my memory.”

     Percy just grinned at him, the look a little too sharply amused. “You didn’t get a name the first time, either,” he taunted.

     Stark just narrowed his eyes at him before seeming to decide that he didn’t care. “Well, suit yourself, Blue.”

     Percy rolled his eyes. He was wearing a blue sweatshirt, and apparently Stark didn’t want to waste energy digging deeper for a name. That was fine with him.

     “You know what keeps going through my head?” Stark asked, looking back at Harley again. “‘Where’s my sandwich.’”

Chapter Text

      Tony’s had a long few days. Happy got caught in a Mandarin attack and now he’s in the hospital. Tony gave his home address to a terrorist and endangered Pepper. His house and his lab are now at the bottom of the ocean, so there’s that too. And his only available Iron Man suit was momentarily out of commission.

      So now Tony was in the middle of Nowhere, Rose Hill, Tennessee in some random kid’s garage.

      And this random kid- Harley, apparently- was wicked smart for his age. Far smarter than his resources allow for. Which, frankly, is a shame, but not something that Tony can dwell on at the moment.

      And then there’s the other kid. Kid-who-refuses-to-be-named. Maybe eighteen years old, (like, half a foot taller than Tony) six feet tall, green eyes, black hair, lightly tanned skin. Most definitely a heartbreaker, but Tony doubts that the kid knows that. Blue sweatshirt, black coat, dark jeans.

      There’s something about this kid that’s familiar, and Tony just can’t place it. It bothers him.

      The kid- Blue, for lack of a better name- said that they’d met before. Been all smug about it when he said that Tony’s never been told his name. There’s something that the kid isn’t saying, and Blue thinks it’s funny.

      Granted, it probably is, at least to him. Not that Tony appreciates it much at the moment.

      And he still doesn’t know what Blue is to Harley. This whole situation is a puzzle.

      Harley seems to trust the older boy, but he doesn’t really seem to know him. Which is an interesting combination for a kid who doesn’t seem to trust strangers easily.

      (He seemed to more-or-less trust Tony, but considering that kids love Iron Man, he feels like he’s more of an exception to the rule.)

      And Blue doesn’t seem overly familiar with Harley, either. But he’s certainly protective. Tony sees how sharp his eyes are, assessing every movement that Tony makes around the kid. Gives Tony the impression that Blue would not hesitate to throw himself between anyone and this kid. Which is, again, strange for two people that have likely only met recently.

      If Tony had Jarvis right about now, he’d be able to run some kind of a check on Harley, look at the kid’s background for anything that would have thrown these two together. He would have run facial recognition on Blue and gotten a name and a history.

      But Jarvis is locked in a non-functional suit and Tony doesn’t have what he needs to fix it.

      But at least now Tony has allies. Sort of. If that’s what he can call Harley and Blue. It wasn’t long before Tony gave them his laundry list and the two of them started gathering what he needed that they had on hand.

      Correction: Harley started gathering what he needed. Blue didn’t seem to know where to find anything. More points for the ‘near-strangers’ tally.

      But there were still some things missing and Tony wanted to check out the bomb site while he was here, so a spare coat, hat, and scarf were scrounged up and the three of them walked into town. Harley was all carefully contained excitement and curiosity, his eyes pinging between Blue and Tony in equal measure- interesting- and Blue was vigilant, watching everything and everyone around them as if waiting for something to jump out of the shadows, but still confident enough that the monsters he was watching for would be dealt with.

      “The sandwich was fair, the spring was a little rusty; the rest of the materials, I’ll make do,” Tony said, crossing the surprisingly well-populated street with Harley and Blue at his heels. Harley pointed them in the right direction of their next stop. “By the way, when you said your sister had a watch…” Tony started, turning to flash the small, pink Dora the Explorer watch he was now wearing on his wrist. “I was kinda hoping for something a little more adult than that.”

      Blue smirked, and the expression struck Tony as familiar. But there was still frustratingly little real recognition.

     “She’s six,” Harley laughed. “Anyway, it’s a limited edition.”

      They turned the corner into an alley and walked closer to their destination. Tony eyed the ruined walls, the broken windows, the crater in the street, and the shadows etched into the brick.

      “When are we gonna talk about New York?” Harley asked, glancing between Tony and Blue like he expected one of them to say something.

      “Maybe never,” Tony said, a vise closing around his heart, just a little. “Relax about it.”

      “What about the Avengers?” Harley pressed, sounding somehow entirely innocently curious about it. “Can we talk about them?”

      “I dunno. Later.” The vise wound just a little bit tighter and Tony stuck out a hand, drifting a ways away from Harley on their path as if distance would ease the discomfort. “Hey, kid, give me a little space.” Tony glanced for a moment at Blue, realizing that the kid was watching him with calculating eyes. He shook it off and turned to study the bomb site.

      His eyes skipped over the memorials, moving straight for the bomb shadows instead. He counted them idly.

      ... huh.

      “What’s the official story here?” Tony asked, not looking away from the stone walls. “What happened?”

      “I guess this guy named Chad Davis used to live roundabouts,” Harley said slowly, with all the hallmarks of a tragic story that he’d heard many times over with very few changes in narrative. The kid sat slowly at the edge of the street crater. “He won a bunch of medals in the army. And one day, folks said he went crazy and made, you know, a bomb.”

      Tony stepped close to one wall and examined it.

      “Then he blew himself up, right here,” Harley finished.

      Tony let the information sink in and he continued his slow walk, eyes darting and cataloging everything. Neither Blue nor Harley said anything.

      “Six people died, right?” he asked.

      “Yeah,” Harley nodded, voice quiet.

      “Including Chad Davis.”

      “Yeah, yeah.”

      Tony turned around again, looking over everything with a squint. He walked backwards around the crater, keeping his eyes on the two ruined walls. “Yeah,” Tony said, moving to sit beside Harley. “That doesn’t make sense.” Not dismissive, not unbelieving, but simply matter-of-fact. There was something off.

      Harley shot him a confused glance, and Blue stood off to the side with an unreadable expression on his face.

      “Think about it,” Tony prompted. Harley’s brain was good for something, he knew. “Six dead, only five shadows.”

      “Yeah,” Harley said softly. “People said these shadows are like the marks of souls going to heaven. Except the bomb guy. He went to hell, on account of he didn’t get a shadow. That’s why there’s only five.”

      Tony very much doubted that, but he didn’t say it. “Do you buy that?”

      “It’s what everyone says,” Harley replied.

      A non-answer if he’d ever heard one. Tony looked up to ask Blue, but found that he had a slightly sardonic expression on his face. That more or less answered that question.

      Following Tony’s gaze, Harley blinked at Blue and something in his small face shifted. “Wait-”

      Blue cut him off with a pointed glance at Tony, which wasn’t at all suspicious. “I’ll tell you about it later, Harley,” he said quietly. The look on Blue’s face shifted to something strained before it smoothed out. “I’m actually one of the few people who can answer a few of your questions.”

      And Tony had no idea what he was talking about, and Harley seemed to not entirely understand the last bit either. But it was clear that Blue wasn’t going to say anything more about it in front of Tony.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

      Harley warily eyed the staring match that Stark had started with Percy before he took it upon himself to change the subject. “You know what this crater reminds me of?”

      Stark seemed to have an idea of where this was going, because his face pinched. “No idea. I’m not… I don’t care.”

      Harley just grinned, looking up for emphasis. “That giant wormhole in, um, in New York.”

      Stark had scrunched his eyes closed and pressed a hand to his face, clearly irritated.

      “Does it remind you?” Harley asked impishly.

      Stark pulled his hand away and looked at Harley, some of his earlier almost-friendliness gone. “That’s manipulative. I don’t want to talk about it.”

      “Are they coming back? The aliens?”

      “Maybe. Can you stop?” And there was something now, in Stark’s face, in his voice, that raised flags in Percy’s mind. “Remember what I told you, that I have an anxiety issue?”

      Percy did. He was actually pleasantly surprised that Stark would admit it out loud. He'd seemed like the type to try and bury it. Maybe he still was, but addressing it was a step in the right direction. Gods knew Percy had seen plenty of campers with similar problems after everything they’d been through. And Percy had seen New York. He’d been there, he’d fought and seen what Iron Man had been trying to do. Things like that stay with you.

      And Percy had the advantage of having been exposed to some really freaky stuff over the years, so the sudden existence of aliens wasn’t nearly as daunting as it maybe should have been.

      “Does this subject make you edgy?” Harley asked.

      And dear gods, did this child have no tact?

      Stark huffed out a stressed breath, his voice edging a little higher. “Yeah, a little bit. Can I just catch my breath for a second?” He took a deep inhale, looking straight ahead and not at Harley, but Harley kept talking.

      “Are there bad guys in Rose Hill?” And oh, that was a good question, but Harley- “Do you need a plastic bag to breathe into?”

      “Harley.”

      “Do you have medication?” Harley asked, too focused to pay Percy any mind.

      Stark let out a sharp breath. “No.”

      “Do you need to be on it?”

      “Probably.”

      “Do you have PTSD?”

      “I don’t think so,” Stark said shortly.

       ‘I think you might,’ Percy didn’t say. “Harley,” he cut in, louder this time. Harley and Stark both snapped their heads to him, and Percy ignored Stark to give the man the illusion of space. “I get that you’re curious, but dial it back,” Percy continued, quieter. He glanced at Stark for a fraction of a second, noting his slightly slower breathing and his still-focused attention. Percy switched into Greek, relatively sure that Stark didn’t know it. “I know you’re trying to help, but you can't help anxiety by overwhelming it. What happened in New York didn’t phase me. But I’ve been fighting monsters since I was a kid. I’ve fought beside friends and I’ve fought against Gods. I’ve seen friends die right beside me in times of war. Hopefully things you’ll never have to experience.”

      Stark’s face was confused, but he was listening intently. Percy spared a moment to hope that he didn’t have an eidetic memory or whatever Annabeth called it. “I don’t know what he saw up there in space. But what I do know is that he’s a protector who now realizes that there are much bigger threats watching us than he or the Avengers can currently handle. I’m not trying to scare you, but I’m trying to tell you that maybe he is scared. And he has every right to be. So when he tells you he doesn’t want to talk about it, know that it’s probably for a good reason, okay?”

      Harley nodded his head shakily with wide eyes. Whether it was the realization that he was understanding a language he’d never spoken, or it was the reality of Stark’s possible mental state sinking in, Percy didn’t know. “Got it?” Percy asked carefully.

      “Yeah. Um, got it.”

      Percy sighed, shifting his eyes back to Stark, who was watching him intently again, the reigns of his panic apparently back in his controlled grasp. "What was that?” Stark asked. “Latin? No. Greek?” The man glanced at Harley. “I didn’t figure you’d know a language like that, kid.”

      “Uh…” Harley looked a little bit like a deer in headlights, so Percy jumped in.

      “It’s a heritage thing. Really not all that interesting,” he deflected.

      “Uh huh,” Stark said, sounding disbelieving but generally indifferent. He took a deep breath. “Okay, back to business. Where were we?” Stark sniffed loudly in the cold, winter air. “The guy who died. Relatives? Mom? Mrs. Davis, where is she?”

      “Where she always is,” Harley answered, his more impassive mask back in place. He shrugged. "The bar. I guess she just sits there. Buys just enough to keep them from kicking her out."

      Stark sighed, a little bit of tension unwinding from his frame. “See? Now you’re being helpful.” He got up from the ground and started walking towards the street. “I’m going to go see if I can find anything from her. You two... go home, okay? It’s late.”

      And without another word, Stark disappeared around the corner towards the bar.

      Harley turned to Percy with wide eyes. “We’re not really going back, are we?"

      Percy stared after Stark, his mind whirring. If Annabeth was here, she’d laugh at him for it. But right now it was just Percy and Harley. And Percy had a feeling that Stark was wrapped up in something he might not be able to handle without his suit.

      “No,” Percy decided. “Not yet. I’m going to keep an eye on Stark, and I can tell you more about whatever you want to know that I can explain, okay?”

      Harley nodded, an excited fire lighting up in his eyes. “Okay.”

Chapter Text

      Percy and Harley hadn’t even been talking for ten minutes before screams started filling the air from the general direction of the bar.

      Percy cursed colorfully under his breath just in time for the first gunshots to ring out. “Harley, stay right here. Don’t go anywhere unless you’re in danger, and even then, you either hide, find me, or go home. Got it?”

      Harley nodded. 

      “Right. Here,” Percy reiterated, staring the kid down for a moment before engaging his shield and running in the direction of the bar. He pulled Riptide out of his pocket, but he didn’t uncap it yet. While it’d just pass through mortals, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be useful. He'd prefer to have it on hand.

      He saw Stark run out of the door and into the street, hands awkwardly behind his back. Then the man turned towards the bar, said something, and started to run down the street. Only to stop short at the sight of a man with a gun getting out of his car and staring him down. At which point Stark sensibly turned and ran in the other direction.

      The man raised his gun at Stark’s unprotected back-

      -and got hit in the shoulder with a snowball, knocking his aim off and just barely missing his target. Percy spun his head to see Harley ducking behind a large pole and immediately swallowed half a dozen more creative curses.

      Stark jumped through a glass storefront window and disappeared, which was either going to make Percy’s job a lot easier or a lot harder. Percy dove in after him, hauling the man up off the floor and dragging him behind the counter.

      “Kid, what are you doing here?” Stark asked urgently, sounding appropriately concerned about a teenager in an overpowered firefight.

      And oh, that sounded familiar, but Percy was a little too busy to laugh. “Crazy lady with a shotgun headed our way, Stark,” he bit out instead, uncapping Riptide and cutting the cuffs on Stark’s hands apart. “Nice new accessories, by the way, they really bring out the stolen clothes.”

       “Blue-” Stark cut himself off, staring at the sword and shield with wide eyes. His gaze snapped up to Percy’s face with a new awareness. “Riptide.”

      “I’d say the one and only, but you guys literally named me after my own sword, so...” Percy grinned at him, the expression sharp.

      “What’re you doing he-”

      There was a fresh crunch of glass and they both whirled to see the crazy lady step into the closed diner, aiming her shotgun in their faces. Percy’s shield was up and ready before he even registered the threat, the shots scattering harmlessly against the godly metal. And then suddenly there was a slender hand gripping the top of the shield, glowing red-orange from the inside and sending off intense waves of heat.

      Stark scrambled back while Percy yanked the shield from her grasp, not willing to test whether or not she could melt the celestial bronze. Because, no thanks. He swept out his sword and found himself disappointed when it simply passed through her harmlessly. Aside from drawing a startled gasp, it was entirely useless against her person. But not against whatever she was holding-

      “Well, well,” the woman purred, her eyes glowing from within with the same energy that flowed under her skin. “If it isn’t the mysterious Riptide. Was that sword supposed to hurt me?”

      “Stark, go!” Percy hissed, aware of the man at his back.

      Stark made a sound of protest from behind him, but there were sounds of movement. “Like hell, kid!”

      Percy kept his focus on Miss Glowstick instead. He wasn’t sure how he’d take her down without his sword, but he’d just have to make do. He lunged forward and slammed his shield into the side of her head, making her stumble back just a little before she swept in for a hit. Percy twisted out of the way, but she was fast.  

      There was the sound of a liquid jug sliding on the floor and something sloshing out onto the tile floor, but Percy didn’t so much as spare a glance. Between blows he heard the doors to the kitchen open and swing back shut. Miss Glowstick’s attention wavered and Percy took the chance, bashing her again as hard as he could, following it up with a savage kick to her stomach that sent her down. Percy immediately turned tail and jumped over the pool of liquid and through the kitchen doors.

      Stark’s head snapped to him, relaxing only the smallest bit when he realized that it was just Percy. “Kid, I need you to light that oil up,” he said quickly, turning his attention back to the microwave and a valve.

      Percy could hear Miss Glowstick getting up in the other room, so he didn’t bother to ask. He just snatched up a convenient lighter from its spot by the back door (he’d never been so thankful for someone’s smoking habits) and lit up the trail that Stark had laid out. The fire caught on the oil with a soft whoosh that spread out under the kitchen’s saloon-style doors and lit up the puddle in the dining room like a glorious moat of fire.

      Stark snatched Percy’s sleeve and tugged him behind a table, pressing a few buttons on the microwave and turning it on. “You walked right into this one,” Stark called for Miss Glowstick to hear. “I’ve dated hotter chicks than you.”

      Percy updated his mental analysis of Stark to include ‘uses quips as a possible coping mechanism’, finding himself idly reminded of the jokes Stark had made after falling from the wormhole in Manhattan.

      The doors slammed open as Miss Glowstick crashed into the room. She collapsed momentarily onto all fours, glowing and singed and burned and overall fine, even after having walked through a particularly large swath of fire.

      “That’s all you got?” she panted out, sounding far too amused for Percy’s continued comfort.

      Stark pulled Percy just around the corner, Percy only following because Stark had this look in his eyes. The man yanked a hose out of its housing, the turned knob now hissing something into the air.

      “A cheap trick and a cheesy one-liner?” Glowstick continued taunting, stalking slowly towards them.

      “Sweetheart,” Stark started, keeping Percy behind him, “that could be the name of my autobiography.” Then he patted urgently on Percy’s arm with considerable force, and they didn’t waste any time flying out the back door and into the alley. Stark tugged him- again, what’s with all the tugging?- behind one of those sturdy ice-chests, holding the small door open like a shield. Percy crouched down at his feet and held out his own, effectively covering himself and what little of Stark that the man couldn’t.

      A moment later, the building they’d just run out of exploded.

      The danger passed and their ears ringing, both Percy and Stark staggered up from their positions, surveying the newly-destroyed alley with wide eyes. Percy looked up to see the prone body of Miss Glowstick suspended on power lines and grimaced.

      And then there was a deep twang of metal creaking, and they both looked over to see one leg of the Rose Hill water tower glowing a molten red. The structure shuddered and shifted. 

      Percy cursed. Stark nodded. “Run.”

      They both turned tail and ran into a tree farm. Stark slid into a chain link fence in hopes that it’d cave, but it didn’t. Percy shoved by him and swung with his sword, cleaving the metal and using his shield to bash the sharp spines apart. Then he grabbed Stark, who was looking up at the falling water tower that was beginning to spill in their direction, and he pulled him through to the other side. Then he tugged Stark behind him and stood his ground, hands and shield outstretched.

      “Kid, what are you- we gotta run!” Stark snapped, trying to pull Percy back by the coat. But Percy was done letting himself be pulled around.

      “Trust me, Stark!” Percy snapped. 

      Either way, they were out of time. The tower crashed into the ground and split open like a thin-skinned metal melon, sending a veritable tsunami of water crashing their way as it tore through everything in its path.

      Stark tensed behind him, but Percy held firm. Before their eyes, the water split into two paths, creating a shield in front of them and washing all debris and shorn metal past them without coming nearly close enough to harm them. Stark gasped, but Percy was concentrated on directing the water where he was pretty sure the deluge wouldn’t hurt anyone.

      After what felt like a blink and yet an eternity, the rush was over, leaving Percy and Stark standing in the middle of absolute destruction, entirely dry and unscathed.

      “Let me go!” a familiar voice grunted, drawing Stark out of his shock and snapping both of their attention to where the water tower had once stood.

      “Help me!” a man mocked, walking leisurely towards them with a struggling Harley over his shoulder. It was the guy who'd shot at Stark in the street. And like Miss Glowstick, he seemed to have the same strange glow to him. Considering someone had to be the one to bring down the water tower, Percy was pretty sure he knew who Mister Glowstick was here for. The man set Harley down before twisting him into a secure hold. “Anyway. Hey, kid, what would you like for Christmas?”

      “Mr. Stark, I am so sorry. Blue-”

      “No, no, no,” Glowstick 2.0 interrupted, silencing Harley before he could continue. “I think he was trying to say, 'I want my goddamn file'.”

      File?

      “It’s not your fault, kid,” Stark said calmly. “Remember what I told you about bullies?”

      Mister Glowstick just rolled his eyes, but Harley’s widened. Stark nodded, just a little. While Glowstick stared between Stark and Percy with predatory interest, Harley reached into his coat, pulled out a familiar red and gold ‘bully deterrent’, shoved it in Glowstick’s face, and pressed the button.

      Percy had closed his eyes at the last second, remembering Stark’s warning, so the bright flash didn’t stun him like it did Mister Glowstick. Harley was dropped and the kid scrambled away, disappearing into the maze of rubble.

      “You like that, Westworld?” Stark taunted, shifting closer as the downed man scrambled back up. “That’s the thing about smart guys- we always cover our ass.” Stark flipped his hand out in a practiced maneuver and a disk popped out over his palm. There was a familiar sound of a repulsor firing up and then boom, a streak of white light slammed Mister Glowstick in the face. The man flew several feet before slamming into another pile of debris. He didn’t get up. 

      Stark hurriedly pulled the repulsor off of himself and threw it. It sizzled in the dirt while Stark shook out his likely-burned band. He stalked over to Mister Glowstick, fished around in the man’s pockets, and pulled out car keys.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

      “What was that, kid?” Tony asked, stuffing the car keys he'd lifted from Savin into his own pocket while his mind replayed the last five minutes.

      A wall of water, just stopping. Flowing around them like it couldn’t possibly get near.

      Blue shot him a very familiar glare. One that he’d seen twice on the streets of Manhattan. “I’m not a kid,” he said, his voice a threat.

      Riptide. Blue was Riptide. Stark let his eyes fall to the familiar sword and shield, before finding the kid’s face again. How could he not have recognized him? Jet black hair, sea green eyes, six feet tall. This was the kid that had saved his ass in Manhattan, who’d been there when he woke up on the pavement.

      The kid who’d disappeared, taking the memory of his face with him. How?

      “Who are you?” Stark asked, taking a few bold steps forward. This kid didn’t so much as stiffen, but his eyes were hard.

      “You can keep calling me Riptide. You won’t get any other name out of me than the ones you give me,” he promised.

      “And what was that?” Tony asked, gesturing sharply to the swath of earth untouched by water.

      Blue stared at him, unflinching and proud, but not arrogant. “I’m more than just a sword and a shield, Stark. Just like you’re more than your armor. You have your skills, and I have mine.”

      Tony stared at him incredulously. “My skills don’t involve redirecting water!”

      Blue- Riptide?- just shrugged, entirely unapologetically. His eyes slipped behind Tony to rest on Savin. “We should go.”

      Tony took a deep breath, glancing back at the man collapsed in the debris, face smoldering and eyes unseeing. “There’s something we need to grab first.”

      Blue nodded, waving his sword hand lazily to indicate that Tony should lead the way. They picked carefully around the rubble until they were back on the street. Then Tony walked them back to the bar, intent on finding that file and getting the hell out of Rose Hill. He turned back to Blue to tell him to wait at the door, only to realize that at some point during their trek, the sword and shield had disappeared. Tony gaped for a moment at the kid’s empty hands, earning him a raised eyebrow. “Stay here. I’ll be back in a second,” Tony said, turning into the bar and pushing that particular mystery away for the moment. He walked to where Mrs. Davis had been sitting, crouching down onto the floor and looking in the direction he’d seen her slide the folder in.

      “Ah hah,” Tony murmured, reaching out and grabbing the manilla folder from where it had been hidden. “Bingo.” He straightened up, opening the file and idly skimming the contents as he walked back out of the bar, Blue right on his heels. He steered his path towards where he’d seen Savin get out of his car while he did his little inventory.

      “You’re welcome,” Harley snarked, making himself known on the street only a few feet away.

      Tony looked up to find Harley bundled up, slightly wet, and wearing a cowboy hat, of all things. Where did the kid even get that? “For what?” Tony asked. “Did I miss something?”

      “Me, saving your life,” the kid pressed.

      Tony kept walking, his eyes forward as they went. Then he blinked and turned to look down at Harley. “Yeah. A, I saved you first. B, thanks. Sort of.” His voice softened a little as they came to a stop at Tony’s new car. “And C, if you do someone a solid, don’t be a yutz. Alright? Just play it cool. Otherwise you come off grandiose.”

      Normally he didn’t give out advice, but… the kid had something. He unlocked the car and opened the driver door.

      “Unlike you?” Harley asked pointedly.

      Tony paused, looking over with a raised eyebrow. Then he opened the door further, content to let it go.

      “Admit it, you need me,” the kid continued.

      And Tony turned to face him fully, because what? What was his angle here?

      “We’re connected,” Harley said solemnly. Behind him, he could hear Blue choke back a chuckle.

      “What I need is for you to go home, be with your mom-” Tony reached out and took the cowboy hat. “-keep your trap shut, guard the suit, and stay connected to the telephone because if I call, you better pick up. Okay?” He looked up and scanned the street as if sensing something. “Can you feel that?” Tony clapped Harley on the shoulder. “We’re done here.” He shifted and stepped into the car. “Move out of the way, or I’m gonna run you over. Bye, kids.”

      Tony closed the door as he settled into the driver’s seat, slotting the key into the ignition and starting the car. There were murmurs of Blue and Harley talking, but Tony didn’t care to make it out.  When he looked over, he found that Harley was close to the driver’s window but looking up over the car. Tony rolled the window down with a sigh.

      “I’m sorry, kid,” he said, entirely genuine this time. He let it show on his face. “You did good.”

      “So now you’re just gonna leave me here like my dad did?” Harley asked, his voice flat and his face even flatter, conveying a betrayed disappointment.

      Tony looked askance in lieu of rolling his eyes outright. “Yeah,” he said, just as flat. He blinked twice before looking back over. Harley was a good manipulator, he’d give him that, but he wasn’t that good. “Wait, you’re guilt-tripping me, aren’t you?”

      Harley made a show of hugging himself and making himself small and pitiful. “I’m cold,” he whined childishly, sounding younger than his ten years.

      “I can tell,” Tony mocked, throwing the childish tone back at him. “You know how I can tell?” He let it sit a beat while he stared Harley down, a small smile threatening to ruin Tony’s own childish pout. “Because we’re connected.” He shifted the wheel and pulled out of the parking spot at a considerable speed for the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere like Rose Hill, Tennessee.

Chapter Text

      Tony sobered quickly, starting his drive out of Tennessee in the darkness. God, it was late. Or at least, it felt like it. It had only been eight P.M. when they’d gone to the bomb site, but between the action of the day and the fact that it got so damn dark in the winter, it felt much later than the eight-forty P.M. that it actually was. He let out a deep breath and scrubbed his hand through his hair.

      Okay, so Savin and Hot Lady had been trying to recover a file from Chad Davis’ mother. And they’d both been packing some serious heat. What about it was so important?

      He blindly threw his hand to the passenger seat to pick up the file, only for his hand to stop part-way when it hit something else.

      “Eyes on the road, Stark,” the ‘something else’ murmured.

      Tony flinched so hard that the car swerved sharply on the empty road before Tony regained control. He snapped his head to the side, heart slamming in his chest, to find that Blue was chilling in the passenger seat, file open in his hands, and a look of frustrated concentration on his face as he looked through it. Tony immediately pulled over and slammed on the brakes, earning an irritated look from his passenger.

      “No,” Tony snapped. “No, don’t give me that look. What the fuck? How did you get in here? How long have you been here? And what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

      Tony honestly felt that he was understating things a little here. How the fuck did Blue get in the car without him noticing? When? The only time it could have been was-

      “Harley,” Tony realized. “While I was distracted with Harley, you got in the car.”

      “Yep,” Blue said, popping the ‘p’ and back to reading the file.

      But how? Tony would have heard the door opening and closing, would have felt the weight of another person getting in the car. He would have noticed a passenger that had been in the car right next to him for the last ten fucking minutes!

      Wouldn’t he?

       “Anyway, the ‘how’s aren’t important,” Blue said flippantly. “I’m here because- frankly- you need backup. And it looks like I’m the closest thing you’ve got.” The kid lifted his sharp, sea-green eyes from the file to stare at him. “Harley's safe, and he can take care of himself for a bit. You can’t get rid of me. And for the record, there’s no way in hell you’re reading this file while driving. If you want to read it, I’m going to be driving. That’s not up for negotiation.”

      Tony gaped at him. “Excuse me?”

      “Look, Stark, this became my business when you dropped in on Harley’s doorstep,” Blue snapped. No, not Blue. This was Riptide. “I’m involved and you aren’t going to get rid of me. I’ll follow your lead for the most part, but there’s going to have to be some give here. I’m already here. And even if you kicked me out of this car right now, you’ll find that I’ll be waiting for you wherever you go.”

      A small sliver of cold brushed down Tony’s spine, because that last bit? He wasn’t sure if it was a threat, but it was sure as hell a promise. And the look in Riptide’s eyes left no doubt in Tony’s mind that somehow, it was true.

      Some of the intensity drained from Riptide’s face, leaving him somewhere closer to the ‘Blue’ that Tony had come to be acquainted with over the past few hours. “You know more about what’s going on than I do,” the kid admitted, his tone calm. “And, to be honest, I’m horribly dyslexic. I’ve spent the last ten minutes trying to figure out what I’m looking at here and I’ve gotten just about nothing. But what I can do is extremely aggressive evasive driving. So if you want to know what’s in this file and not risk me missing something, you’re gonna let me take the wheel.”

     Tony let out a harsh breath, digging his knuckles into his eyes. He sat in stifling silence for a long moment as he ran his options in his mind and counted his breaths.

     As much as he didn’t want to admit it, the kid was right. He needed the help. Riptide was capable. Powerful, even. And he could probably use some help with the file.

     The file.

     Pulling his head from his hands, Tony snatched the file and started flipping through it. There was something…

     Chad Davis. Name, age, stats, service records, yada yada yada. A large MIA stamped in bold black ink at the top. But that didn’t make sense. Chad Davis had no record of going off-grid in any capacity. Hmm. Tony flipped the page over to skim the back. Only a second into his examination, he realized the ink in MIA was stronger on this side. Which meant-

     No. Not MIA.

      AIM.

     Oh, shit.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     Percy watched as Stark’s eyes grew wide, a million thoughts flying across his face until they finally settled into realization. And then, paying Percy no mind, Stark fiddled with the car until the built-in phone started ringing.

     Percy crossed his arms and shifted to lean against the door, an eyebrow raised but interested in where Stark was going with… whatever it was that he was doing.

     The tone rang once, twice, three times. It cut off on the fourth.

     “Uh, hello?” a voice inquired.

     “You ever have a chick straddling you and you look up and suddenly she’s glowing from the inside out, kind of a bright orange?” Stark asked, leafing through the rest of the file as he talked.

     Percy snorted at the description, earning himself a slightly amused side-eye from Stark.

     “Yeah, I’ve had that,” the voice deadpanned. “Who is this?”

     Percy started to snicker, earning himself another glance. “It’s me, pal,” Stark said, not missing a beat. “Now last time I went missing, if I remember correctly, you came looking for me. What are you doing?”

     And ow, okay, there was a little bit of buried hurt-anger-accusation there, but that was probably fair. Percy sobered a little.

     “A little knock-and-talk, making friends in Pakistan. What are you doing?”

     The teasing banter was easy, and clearly whoever this was on the line knew how to defuse Stark’s mood.

     “Your redesign, your big Iron Patriot rebrand, that was AIM, right?”

      Oh. Percy had made it a point to know a little bit about what was going on in the ‘superhero’ world ever since the invasion of New York. At least enough attention to know who the players were so he knew who to avoid. This was War-Machine-turned-Iron-Patriot, then.

     “Yeah,” War Machine- because that was the cooler name, no doubt about it- said, clearly curious about where this was going.

     Stark crushed the file in his fist, locking eyes with Percy in apparent agitation. Percy just blinked back calmly. “I’m gonna find a heavy-duty comm sat right now, I need your login,” Stark said to the car.

     “It’s the same as it’s always been, ‘WarMachine68’.”

     Stark started messing with the touchscreen on the car, pulling up a map and settling on a location nearby, a five-minute stretch behind them. “And password, please.”

     War Machine sounded a little exasperated. “Well, look, I gotta change it every time you hack in, Tony.”

     Stark rolled his eyes. “It’s not the ‘80s, nobody says ‘hack’ anymore,” he chided impatiently. “Give me your login.”

     The man on the other end of the line sighed, heavy and resigned. When he spoke, it was in a tone of defeat. “‘War Machine Rox’ with an ‘X,’ all caps.”

     Percy barked out a laugh, immediately trying to smother it in his fist. But it was too late, he’d been heard, even through Stark’s own delighted laughing.

     “Yeah, okay,” ‘Iron Patriot’ said heavily, clearly ready to be done with it. “And who the hell’s with you?”

     “That is,” Stark said slowly, looking legitimately thrilled by this, “so much better than ‘Iron Patriot.’ And for the record: Rhodey, meet Riptide.”

     “And by the way, ‘War Machine’ is definitely more badass than ‘Iron Patriot’,” Percy chimed in, like the smug little bastard he knew he was.

     “Oh, hell, are you serious?” ‘Rhodey’ asked incredulously. “Riptide? I thought he went off the grid?”

     “I did,” Percy confirmed, meeting Stark’s stare-down. “The plan was to never see an Avenger ever again, and then one showed up in the garage of someone I’d been visiting. Stark here looked like he needed a hand, so I hitched a ride.”

     “Well, shit. Nice to meet you, I guess.” And Rhodey did sound genuine, if not a little confused.

     “‘Kay,” Stark interrupted. “We need to get into AIM’s systems, so we’ll leave you to… whatever it is you were doing. I’ll see you later.”

     “Yeah, you will. And Riptide, if you run off before I get to meet you, I’m gonna be upset,” War Machine joked.

     Percy snorted. “I’ll stick around as long as I can, Sir.”

     Stark’s hands hovered over the ‘end call’ button. “Bye, Rhodes.”

     “Bye, Tones. Stop fucking dying, got it?”

     Percy laughed. “I’ll try to keep him alive.”

     “Thanks.”

     Stark hung up and put the car back into gear. “Now let’s go see what AIM’s been up to.”

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     It wasn’t even five minutes before Stark had parked in the parking lot of some event hall currently packed with news vans and attendees.

     “Alright, Blue,” Stark said, turning off the ignition, gathering the files, and stuffing them in the glove box. “Here’s the plan: we sneak into one of those camera vans and I get set up on their systems. You… I dunno, just don’t get us caught, or something.” He grabbed the cowboy hat he’d stolen from Harley and set it on his head, getting out of the car and locking it behind them.

     Percy took the liberty of weaving a smidge of the Mist around the two of them as they made their way through the crowd and ducked into an empty news van. He’d taken some lessons from Hazel and Annabeth, and the small blessing from Hecate had definitely helped. It made things like, say, keeping records of him from the Invasion of Manhattan from linking to his real name, as well as things like making mortals look the other way when needed. (Or keeping errant billionaires from noticing when he passes a kid a bronze blade and slips into their car.)

     Stark quickly sat down at the workstation and started tapping away. He turned off the sound from inside the event hall and hummed at whatever he saw on the computer. “That ain’t gonna cut it,” he mused to himself.

     The door to the van opened and both of them stiffened. Percy flicked his eyes to the unimpressed man on his phone standing at the door and made himself relax, using it as a silent signal to Stark that they weren’t in physical danger. In danger of getting thrown out? Still in the air.

     “Excuse me, sirs. I don’t know who-” the man started, trailing off immediately when Stark spun slowly around enough for him to get a good look of his face.

     Stark preemptively shushed him, and the guy’s eyes went wide. His mouth dropped wide open in shock. Percy shifted uncomfortably in early-onset second-hand embarrassment, but the guy didn’t seem to notice.

     “Mom, I need to call you back,” the man whispered excitedly into his phone. “Something magical is happening.”

     Stark motioned for the guy to curb his enthusiasm and breathe while the man started to grow more and more excited.

     “Tony Stark is in my van.”

     “Shhh. Keep it down.”

     “Tony Stark is in my van.”

     “No, he’s not.”

     “I knew you were alive!” the guy insisted somewhat-quietly, taking off his glasses and bobbing in excitement.

     “Come on in,” Stark whispered. “Close the door.”

     The dude wasted exactly no time scrambling in and closing the door behind him, looking at Stark with wide, wonder-filled eyes. Percy watched the exchange with slightly morbid interest, both glad to have been forgotten and supposing that it wasn’t going as badly as he thought it would. The guy, Gary, reigned himself in when asked and gave him space, and Stark was surprisingly gracious. He’d expected more dry snark and cutting comments, but Stark was different with a fan like this, it looked like.

     But when the conversation started devolving, Stark was quick to cut to the chase. “Gary. Listen to me, okay? I don’t want to clip your wings, here. We’re both a little over-excited. I’ve got an issue. I‘m chasing bad guys. I’m trying to grab a little something from some hard-crypt data files.”

     And at this point, it was entirely over Percy’s head.

     “I don’t have enough juice,” Stark continued. “I need you to jump on the roof… right?” Gary nodded. “Recalibrate the ISDNs. Pump it up by about 40%.”

     “Got it,” Gary said solemnly.

     Stark nodded. “Got it? It’s a mission.”

     “Yeah.”

     “Tony needs Gary.”

     “...And Gary needs Tony,” Gary finished. Percy bit his lip to smother a smile.

     “Be quiet about it,” Stark stressed.

     “Yeah.”

     “Go.”

     Gary spun and let himself out of the van, closing the door behind him and filling the silence with the sound of him climbing up top.

     Percy pierced the quiet first. “Thank the gods,” he huffed, a relieved smile on his face. Stark shot him a wary, confused glance. “There’s almost no possible way that I would have been able to do what you needed him to do.”

     Stark huffed a laugh. “You can’t possibly be that bad, kid.”

     Percy rolled his eyes, shooting Stark a warning glare on ‘kid’ while he twirled Riptide’s pen form in his hand. Stark raised his hands in mock surrender, but his little smirk said that he’d meant no harm by it. Percy was beginning to get the feeling that he’d call anyone younger than him by ten years or more ‘kid’. While Stark was by no means old, he still had twenty years on Percy.

     Within a few minutes, there was a rhythmic bang coming from the top of the van, signaling that Stark was clear to try whatever it was that he needed to do. Percy wandered closer to watch over the man’s shoulder as he typed away. In seconds, Stark was logging into the ‘National Security Contractors’ portal using the War Machine login. Then they were in AIM. Stark’s hands flew over the keys with incredible speed and suddenly they had full access.

     Stark pulled up a video marked /EXTREMIS_CANDIDATE and /SGT. CHAD DAVIS. He routed the video to a nearby screen and hit play.

     “What would you regard as the defining moment of your life?” the interviewer asked.

     “Well, uh, I think that would be the day that I decided not to let my injury beat me,” Davis said, his face open and guileless.

     Stark started typing on the computer again. He pulled up another file, this one with a familiar face. Miss Glowstick.

     “Will you please state your name for the camera?” the same interviewer asked.

     “Ellen Brandt,” Miss Glowstick said, her red hair longer than it had been hours before and her left arm missing above the elbow. It had been gone long enough that the amputation was completely healed over.

     “Okay. So, the injections are administered periodically,” the interviewer said, the video switching camera angles for a moment to land on him.

     “Killian,” Stark murmured, probably for Percy’s benefit.

    “Addiction will not be tolerated,” Killian continued. Stark made a few frustrated motions towards the screen. “And those who cannot regulate will be cut from the program.”

     Stark closed the file and started typing again, more sharply this time. He pulled up another video file labeled /INJECTION_TEST/ PHASE1.

     Killian was on screen again, this time in front of a group of candidates wearing matching light athletic wear. “Once misfits, cripples… You are the next iteration of human evolution.”

     Stark pressed a few buttons and skipped ahead.

     Killian was- once again- the first to speak. This video was split into several active cameras, allowing for multiple angles of whatever the hell they were doing. “Alright. Everybody, before we start… I promise you, looking back at your life, there will be nothing as bitter as the memory of that glorious risk you prudently elected to forego. Today is your glory. Let’s begin.”

     The cameras bounced around, showing people getting put into standing restraining contraptions, hooked up to vital-reading machines, and then given IV injections. They watched as Ellen Brandt, the future-former Miss Glowstick, started to glow from the inside the same way she had earlier in the night.

     She started groaning in pain, and the camera panned down to show her regrowing her arm, looking as molten on the surface as a swath of cooling lava. She screamed.

     But her pain didn’t have a candle on the guy strapped in as her neighbor. His glow was violent and pulsing, and his screams were of agony.

     Killian took one look at him and started giving rushed orders. “We gotta get out of here! We gotta get out of here! Get her out,” he said, motioning towards Brandt. “Get them out of here!”

     The camera kept steady on the man left behind as everyone cleared out, glowing ever brighter and in intense pain. He started smoking, his skin darkening as he glowed fiercer, and then-

     He exploded in a flash of intense flame.

     “A bomb is not a bomb when it’s a misfire,” Stark murmured, his intense gaze locked on the screen. “The stuff doesn’t always work. Right, pal?” He turned to glare at a frozen shot of Killian. “It’s faulty, but you found a buyer, didn’t you? Sold it to the Mandarin.” Stark stared at the smoldering ruins of the test room. “Got you, pal,” he whispered. He took a deep shuddering breath, and then he started closing out of everything he’d opened.

     “Alright, Riptide,” Stark said at last. “I guess you’re driving.”

Chapter Text

     As they drove, Stark called Harley and walked him through setting up shop with the Iron Man suit. There was a lot of stuff that Harley needed to do to get its systems up and running again, and for some reason Stark had tasked the kid with eating candy to keep focused. But with Percy driving, Stark devoted his full attention to it from the passenger seat.

     “Okay, while we’re waiting on that…'' Stark shifted in his seat so he could look at Percy. “How exactly do you two know each other?”

     “We’re distantly related,” Percy answered again. It was technically true, and Stark wouldn’t find anything with this information if he tried. “Although, you crashed our first meeting. So, thanks for that,” he added with a healthy dose of dry sarcasm. “But if I’m right, his father is my cousin.”

     Stark makes an incredulous noise of protest. “You mean you don’t know?”

     Percy rolled his eyes. “Again, distantly related.”

     “Whoah, wait, really?” Harley piped up, excited. “Who?”

     The non-specific question would sound to Stark like he was asking who Percy’s father was, when Harley was really asking who his own father was.

     Percy switched seamlessly into Ancient Greek for Harley’s ears. “If your godly parent isn’t Hephaestus, I will drown all my meals in Cabin Nine’s tabasco sauce for a week. I’m serious.”

     Harley laughed, replying in English. “What, is it that bad?”

     “Gods, yes. Absolutely.” Percy shuddered. “I don’t know what they do to it, but it’s like it’s concentrated. ”

    Stark gave Percy a side-eye. “Yeah, okay. Harley, tell me what’s happening,” Stark said, shifting back to business. “Give me a full report.”

     “Yeah, I’m still eating that candy. Do you want me to keep eating it?” Harley asked.

     Stark didn’t even seem to blink. Not that Percy could be sure, since his eyes were on the road, but there was no hesitation from Stark. “How much have you had?”

     “Two or three bowls.”

     “Harley, there’s a big difference between two and three bowls,” Percy pointed out exasperatedly.

     Stark smirked. “Can you still see straight?”

     There was a pause. “Sort of.”

     “Dear gods,” Percy muttered.

     “That means you’re fine. Give me Jarvis,” Stark said. “Jarvis, how are we?”

     “It’s totally fine, sir,” the suit’s AI spoke up from over the phone. “I seem to do quite well for a stretch, and then at the end of the sentence I say the wrong cranberry.”

     Percy snorted, glancing over in time to see Stark pull a face.

     “And, sir, you were right. Once I factored in available AIM downlink facilities I was able to pinpoint the Mandarin’s broadcast signal.”

     Stark shuffled, all business. “What are we talking? Far East, Europe, North Africa, Iran, Pakistan, Syria? Where is it?”

     “Actually, sir, it’s in Miami,” Jarvis declared.

     Stark sighed. “Okay, kid, I’m gonna have to walk you through rebooting Jarvis’ speech drive, but not right now. Harley, where is he really? Just look on the screen and tell me where it is.”

     A pause, a shuffle, a few clacks of a keyboard, and then- “Um, it does say Miami, Florida.”

     Stark let out a tired sigh, rubbing his forehead. Percy shot him a concerned glance that was either unnoticed or ignored. “Okay first things first, I need the armor. Where are we at with it?”

     “Uh… it’s not charging.”

     Stark pulled in a sharp breath, clenching his fists tight and bringing his arms in close. Percy immediately pulled over. Stark was going to need space, and he needed it now.

     As Percy parked, Jarvis spoke up. “Actually, sir, it is charging, but the power source is questionable. It may not succeed in revitalizing the Mark 42.”

     Stark shook his head, his body tense and trembling. “What’s questionable about electricity? All right? It’s my suit, and I can’t… I’m not gonna… I don’t wanna…” Percy unbuckled quickly as Stark’s breaths grew heavier.

     “Stark,” he cut in, firm but not sharp. “Look at me. Stark.”

     Stark snapped his head over, eyes wide and frantic. Percy rolled the windows down without looking.

     “Breathe. Slowly. In and out, like this,” Percy said, taking exaggerated movements to give Stark a speed to match. “Don’t think, just breathe. Feel the breeze. The leather under your fingers. Okay? The smell of the air. Focus on what you see, what you hear. Breathe.”

     Stark closed his eyes and his breathing started to slowly steady.

      “Tony, um…” Harley started from the other end of the phone call. “You’re a mechanic, right?”  

     It was a clearly leading question, but Stark answered it anyway. “Right.”

     “You said so.”

     Stark took another steady breath. “Yes, I did,” he said, sounding slightly bemused.

     “Why don’t you just build something?”

     Stark took a few more breaths, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. Percy watched as they flicked across his face before the man’s expression settled into something else. Eyes unfocused, he tilted his head with a look that Percy had seen on Annabeth’s face hundreds of times over the years. Percy couldn’t keep the relieved, proud smile off his face. Proud of Harley for poking him the way he needed, and proud of Stark for working through his panic so quickly.

     “Okay,” Stark said simply, looking up and meeting Percy’s eyes with resolve before turning his gaze to the car’s screen. “Thanks, kid.”

     Percy huffed, drawing Stark’s attention. “So,” Percy started with a smile, “what’s the plan?”

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     While Stark was busy running around the Home Depot filling his carts with whatever he needed, Percy slipped away into a bathroom to send an Iris Message.

     “Oh Fleecy, do me a solid,” Percy murmured, tossing a drachma into the spray of water. “Show me Annabeth Chase.”

     The air shimmered as the drachma disappeared, summoning the IM. Annabeth was in the living room of the Jackson-Blofis residence, playing with Estelle on the carpet while Sally and Paul were on the couch. The sight of his mom, step-dad, little sister, and girlfriend all together in one place brought a soft smile to his face.

     His mom noticed him first. “Oh! Percy! How’s the quest?”

     Percy huffed a small laugh as Annabeth and Paul turned to look at him. “Well, it just got a lot more complicated.”

     Annabeth raised an eyebrow. “Complicated how?”

     “Well, I was talking to Harley about everything and then there was the sound of someone breaking into the garage. We go and check it out, only to find Tony Stark and a beat-up Iron Man suit.”

     Paul sucked in a breath. “So he’s alive? We saw the news, his house was blown to bits and he was assumed dead when he didn’t emerge from the rubble.”

     Percy let out a put-upon sigh. “Well, apparently he was chasing a lead on the Mandarin, who I guess is a terrorist? I’ve not seen a lot of the news lately while I’ve been at camp. Stark crash-landed in Rose Hill and broke into Harley’s garage to try and fix the suit. Things snowballed from there. He got in a shootout with a bad guy in a bar and then we blew up a mom-and-pop restaurant. So, now Stark knows that the older kid hanging around Harley is ‘Riptide’ and he knows I can control water.”

     Annabeth groaned. “And how did that part get out?”

     “The bad guys are like mortal, artificial versions of Leo,” Percy said. “They can heat themselves up to crazy degrees, and maybe regenerate limbs? But, uh, after we blew up the crazy lady trying to kill Stark and I, her partner melted the leg of the water tower and I redirected the water so Stark and I wouldn’t get whammied. We left Harley in Rose Hill with the suit and I forced my way into being Stark’s backup.”

     Annabeth opened her mouth to protest, but Percy cut her off. “I know we aren’t supposed to get caught up using our powers for mortal affairs, but, Annabeth, there’s something big going on here. Stark needs my help, and I got involved when Harley got involved.” He sighed. “I don’t know if I’m going to make it in time for Christmas.”

     Christmas Eve was tomorrow morning.

     “He needs to get to the Mandarin’s hideout in Miami, and that’s a long drive,” Percy continued. “So unless we decide that we’re comfortable exposing Nico, Ms. O’Leary, or Blackjack to a mortal superhero, we’re going to have to go by car.”

     Annabeth made a face. “You’re better off driving, then,” she said, resigned. “But come home as soon as you can, okay?”

     “Of course, Wise Girl. I’ll try and stay safe. I love you guys.”

     There was a chorus of ‘love you’s and ‘goodbye’s and then Percy swept his hand through the mist to end the call. With that settled, Percy sighed and left the bathroom in search of Stark.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     Tony spent the night fiddling in the back of the car, assembling his new repertoire of fix-it weapons. They’d stopped at a motel for a few hours so he could get the more delicate work done on steady land, and Blue had taken the opportunity to sleep ahead of the long drive. But at their pace now, it looked like they’d be arriving at the Mandarin’s signal origin sometime shortly after noon on Christmas Eve.

     The drive was long, but Tony kept himself busy with his tinkering while Blue drove. They’d chattered here and there, but the mysterious Riptide offered up no personal information and Tony was both too focused on his work to care and didn’t know how much he really wanted to share with an enigmatic, sword-wielding, possibly water-bending kid who- aside from saving his bacon a few times- was a total unknown.

     Blue seemed to respect Tony’s reluctance and they left it at that.

     But eventually, Blue parked the car a block away from their destination and they snuck closer to the compound. It was a villa-type mansion with expansive gardens and red terra-cotta roof tiling. The two of them climbed a tree towards the edge of the property and took a few minutes to scout the area.

     Guards, dogs, guns… well. It’d certainly be interesting. Once they had hashed a loose plan they vaulted over one of the stone walls and into the large garden. Tony took the lead with his bag of goodies while Riptide watched his back. They took down a few scattered guards that got in their way using a combination of Tony’s improvised tech, taser, and Riptide’s sword and shield. Although, Tony noted that Riptide only ever used the hilt of his sword to knock people out. He seemed to try to avoid using the blade.

     Points for not being a killer, Tony supposed. Not that he could entirely say the same of himself.

     Tony’s favorite weapons were his little Christmas ornament bauble bombs. It felt properly ironic for raiding a terrorist stronghold in the early afternoon of Christmas Eve.

     In what felt like no time at all, Tony and Percy were in the building.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     “Okay,” Stark whispered, taking the gun off of a guard. “You maintain the perimeter, and I’ll check in here, okay?”

     Percy nodded. “Don’t get caught, Stark. And don’t get killed.”

     Stark gave him a serious nod. “You too, Blue. Come back in one piece.”

     So Percy snuck back out of the house and started a perimeter guard of his own, taking guards down quietly and hiding them in the foliage as he went. After a few minutes he heard a faint gunshot from inside the house, and Percy started to make his way carefully back. It could have been nothing, or it could have been Stark getting hurt. He had to be careful, but that didn’t mean leaving Stark out to dry.

     So he skulked back around, only to see that Mr. Glowstick was back from the dead and carrying a limp Stark over his shoulders. The creep walked deep into the garden towards another structure.

     Percy swore under his breath, but he moved to follow. In minutes Stark had been strung up on a vertical metal bed frame in some kind of lab hidden within an outbuilding. The entrances were more heavily guarded and there was some woman inside working in the lab space. So how was Percy going to play this?

     Before he could get a proper plan of action from where Percy was hidden in a bush against one of the windows, Stark seemed to wake up. The scientist approached, they talked, Stark yelled. Percy couldn’t hear the finer points through the glass. She held up some kind of card or paper or something and they kept talking. Stark seemed to tell her to let him go.

     But then the scientist walked away, back up towards her station, and Killian walked in. The scientist stopped halfway back, turning to watch with closed-off body language. Whatever was going on, she didn’t like it anymore. Well, good for her, because Percy was getting antsy. Something about Killian didn’t feel right. He walked with too much confidence and power to not have something up his sleeves. Either that, or he was an arrogant idiot. Percy just couldn’t afford to bank on that alternative.

     He huffed and slipped away from the window, recognizing a villain monologue when he saw one. He made his way to the entrance, distracted the guards, knocked them out, and hid them. And then he slipped into the lab building.

     “-a thought that would guide me for years to come,” Killian said, his voice echoing softly around the stone space. “Anonymity, Tony. Thanks to you, it’s been my mantra ever since. Right?”

     Percy crept carefully forward, concealing himself carefully and watching the scientist nod a little at Killian’s prompting.

     “You simply rule from behind the scenes,” Killian continued. “Because the second you give evil a face- a bin Laden, a Gaddafi, a Mandarin-  you hand the people a target.”

     “You’re something else,” Stark said slowly, disgusted.

     Killian sat down and opened a briefcase, pausing to look up a Stark. “You have met him, I assume?”

     “Yeah, Sir Laurence Oblivier,” Stark quipped with a sigh.

     “I know he’s a little over the top sometimes,” Killian said, sounding perfectly congenial. “It’s not entirely my fault. He has a tendency… He’s a stage actor.” Killian shrugged, like this was a light conversation between friends. Percy moved to the next shadow, wrapping himself in the Mist but not relying on it. All it took was one clear-sighted mortal… “They say his Lear was the toast of Croydon, wherever that is. Anyway, the point is, ever since that big dude with the hammer fell out of the sky, subtlety has kind of had its day.”

     “What’s next for you in your world?” Stark asked blankly.

     Killian seemed glad that Stark asked. “Well, I wanted to repay you the selfsame gift that you so graciously imparted to me.”

     He held up a fist and there was the sound of metal clinking together before he tossed whatever he was holding to the floor like he was bowling. Three metal orbs slid out before snapping into a triangular position. He pressed a button on a remote, and a hologram appeared above them.

     A woman was strapped into one of those Extremis injection contraptions, glowing from the inside. Only, she didn’t look like she’d signed up for this and Stark had gone absolutely tense.

     “Desperation,” Killian said. “Now, this is live. I’m not sure if you can tell, but at this moment her body is trying to decide whether to accept Extremis or just give up. And if it gives up, I have to say the detonation is quite spectacular.”

     Stark pulled hard on his zip ties, his eyes redder than they’d been before. She was someone important to him, then. Percy found it hard to swallow.

     Killian seemed to find Stark’s clear pain quite enjoyable. “But until that point it’s really just a lot of pain.” He clicked the remote and the hologram went away. Killian stood up and moved close to Stark, putting on airs of a gracious boss. “We haven’t even talked salary yet!” he exclaimed, as if Stark would ever work for this douchebag.

     Percy took the opportunity to sneak over to the scientist, momentarily tuning the crazy dude out. He manipulated the Mist to cover her, too, and clapped a hand over her mouth and dragged her to the floor behind cover.

     She stared at him with wide eyes, and Percy started talking. “You don’t want to be here,” Percy observed in a whisper. “But here’s what you’re going to do. Killian needs you, right?” She nodded hastily, clearly afraid. “I’m going to make an illusion of you threatening to put that creepy glowstick juice in your body and blow the place up. You’re going to stay on the floor where it’s safe. Got it?”

     She nodded again, frantic but resolved.

     Percy took a deep breath and focused. This was going to be hard, and he couldn’t afford to mess it up. Illusions weren’t his thing. Using the Mist this way wasn’t his thing. But there were only a few ways he saw this going, and if the scientist stood up to Killian while Stark’s mind was waiting in the wings, Percy had no doubt that Killian would kill her.

     “Let him go,” illusion-scientist said, her voice strong and her posture proud but afraid. She was holding one of the Extremis injectors to her neck.

     Killian paused from where he was choking Stark and turned to her. “Maya…” he started, calm and entreating.

     “I said let him go!” Illusion-Maya yelled, shifting her weight and bringing the thing closer to her skin.

     Both Killian and Stark were watching the show with wide eyes. “What are you doing?” Killian asked. The real Maya whispered a convincing line to Percy and he used it with a nod, a bead of sweat running down his face.

     Illusion-Maya stood up straighter. “1200 CCs. A dose half of this size, I’m dead.”

     Killian turned, long-suffering, towards Stark as if talking to a friend. “It's times like this my temper is tested somewhat,” the douchebag in his pretentious white suit said testily. “Maya, give me the injector.”

     Illusion-Maya shook her head and relayed the words that Real-Maya whispered to Percy. “If I die, Killian, what happens to your soldiers? What happens to your projects?” And oh boy, Percy could tell that Maya really meant this.

     Killian took a few steps forward and ‘Maya’ stepped back. “We’re not doing this, okay?” Killian denied.

     “What happens to you? What happens to you if you go too hot?”

     Killian paused there, taking a deep and irritated breath. He turned to look at Stark. And then his arm snapped up and he shot ‘Maya’.

     Stark flinched at the sound and ‘Maya’ stumbled back, clutching at her abdomen before falling to her knees. Unfortunately, Percy knew what a dying person looked like. It wasn’t hard to imagine. The real Maya looked at him with horrified eyes, but Percy didn’t look away from his work.

     “The good news is,” Killian said softly, as if he’d just put an unruly child to bed and was embarrassed by their behavior, “a high-level position has just been vacated.”

     Percy, vowing to apologize to Stark later for the horror dancing in the man’s eyes as he watched ‘Maya’ die, let her fall the rest of the way to the ground, face just out of sight.

     “You are a maniac,” Stark spat.

     “No, I’m a visionary,” Killian corrected mildly. “But I do own a maniac.” The man climbed up the stairs and moved to leave the building. “And he takes the stage tonight.”

Chapter Text

     Percy held the Mist illusion covering himself and Maya for a long moment, listening to Killian’s footsteps disappear. Once it was clear he let it fall with a gasp that immediately drew the attention of both a concerned Maya and an alarmed Stark.

     “Blue, kid, is that you?” he asked, craning his head to get a look.

     Percy shot him a half-hearted glare, trying to catch his breath. Maya set a hand on his shoulder that he very nearly reflexively threw off.  “Are you okay?” she asked, drawing Stark’s shocked attention to her.

     “Maya?” the man blurted. “I thought- Killian shot you!”

     She shook her head over Percy’s shoulder. “No, he- he shot an illusion. It wasn’t real, none of it was,” Maya said, her voice unsteady as she glanced down at Percy.

     Percy stabbed Riptide into the floor and used it to lever himself up, wiping an arm of his jacket over his face. The sound of footsteps started echoing from the exit, growing slightly louder with the chatter of the guards coming to presumably watch over Stark and take Maya’s body away.

     “Maya, hide,” Percy hissed. When she darted off behind a cabinet, Percy moved to press himself against the wall beside the doorway out. He locked eyes with Stark, who was looking at Percy with some expression between awe, shock, horror, and confusion. ‘Later,’ he mouthed.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     Maya Hansen. A bright mind, a scientist that had started this to help people, to do good in the world. And then she got put under Killian’s thumb and started making bad choices. The lost potential was… heartbreaking, in a way.

     And then Killian showed them what he’d been doing to Pepper. Pepper, who should have been safe. Somewhere in Malibu, under protection. And Killian was torturing her, having injected her with Extremis and knowing that at any moment, it could kill her. His Pepper, the love of his life, the one person he’d been terrified that he couldn’t protect, his whole world.

     And then Maya stood up and threatened Killian, threatened to blow the whole operation right then and there. And then Killian had shot her without hesitation.

     Tony could only watch as she crumpled in pain, watch as her face went through disbelief and devastation and fear. It was horrifying. And then she just… collapsed. Gone. Gone, or moments from.

     So to see Maya’s body disappear like a wisp of fog, to see the real one sitting just meters away from where she had been? To see Riptide, down on his hands and knees and clearly exhausted by something? And Maya wearing the same expression that Tony was sure he was wearing?

     Tony’s largest asset, first and foremost- aside from his fortune, anyway- was his brain. His mind, his intelligence, the way he could decimate any problem or puzzle in front of him.

     Well, the pieces were there. The haunted look Maya wore implied it hadn’t been her doing. The way she looked at Riptide was answer enough. And as for the kid- he was the only one who could have possibly done it. But how? How was that possible? Hell, how was anything that he did possible? That thing with the water tower, his skills in combat, the illusion?

     And Riptide looked wrung out. It couldn’t have been from a fight, not after he’d come out just fine after mowing down a veritable army of chitauri six months ago. So, the illusion?

     And that’s all without touching on the picture he’d painted. Both Tony and Killian had believed that the illusion was the real deal, without a shadow of a doubt. That was… that was really something. But what really got Tony was that Maya’s ‘death’ was horrifyingly accurate for the wound she would have received had she been really standing there. The blood, the expressions, all of it.

     So for Riptide to just pull that out of thin air… it means that he’s seen that kind of death before.

     And Tony doesn’t know how to process that.

     But the time for dwelling was over, because the exhausted Riptide was back on his feet and pressing himself against the wall for an ambush.

     The fresh guards only made it three steps into the room before one was knocked out with a shield bash to the face and the other with a viscous knock to the head with the hilt of a leaf-shaped blade. Riptide checked to make sure they were truly out before dragging them into a corner and leaving them there.

     Then Riptide stumbled and pressed his hand against a nearby wall to steady himself, breathing heavily

     “Whoah, kid, are you okay?” Tony asked, concern rising by the minute.

     Riptide nodded. “I will be,” he murmured. He stayed against the wall for a long moment before taking a deep breath and pushing off, walking over to Tony and cutting each of the zip ties off of his wrists.

     Tony stepped down from the bed frame that had been his shackles and reached out to grab the kid by the shoulder. Riptide stiffened, eyes snapping up in a flash. “Blue, are you sure you’re okay?”

     Riptide- because he was no doubt still in battle-mode, and Tony hated that there was a difference- stared at him for a moment before letting out a nearly-indiscernible sigh. “I’ve had worse, Stark,” he said softly, like that made Tony feel better. “Just a little worn out. I said I’ll be okay, and I really will be."

     “Yeah, but will be doesn’t mean you are,” Tony pointed out, quickly scanning him for injuries. There wasn’t anything he could see, at least. He let go of the kid’s shoulder and took a step back. “Thanks for the save.”

     Riptide shrugged. “That’s what backup’s for,” he brushed off neutrally.

     Any further conversation was halted by bright, small-sounding beeps.

     Did that make sense? Small-sounding beeps? It made sense to Tony. Whatever.

     Tony wandered to the table where they’d put his things, picking up the offending object. Well, offending on multiple counts, considering the beeping was the alarm that he’d set on little Abby Keener’s pink, sparkly, limited-edition Dora the Explorer watch.

     The alarm that he’d set to go off when the Mark 42 was supposed to be done charging.

     Tony silenced it and stuffed it in his pocket, grabbing his other things, but leaving the backpack. Wasn’t room for that in an Iron Man suit. He was vaguely aware of Blue- because he was more Blue than Riptide at the moment, and somehow that was the more concerning of the two sides of the coin at the moment- sitting heavily on a stool and leaning against a table. Maya hovered awkwardly and anxiously nearby, seemingly unsure if she should help or give him space.

     Blue seemed to catch her indecision, asking her quietly if she had any water that he could have. She bustled away into the lab and brought back two bottles for him, which he promptly cracked open and immediately downed so fast that Tony was sure he and Maya both feared he was going to drown himself. Within a minute the water was gone and Blue had perked up a little like he was some kind of fucking daisy.

     Tony did some mental math, calculating the speed his armor flew at and the distance between Rose Hill and Miami. Once he’d gotten his ballpark estimate, he flexed his arms out in the way that would make the receptors embedded in his skin send out the signal to summon the Mark 42.

     He glanced at Maya before he looked over at the kid. “Blue, my suit’s gonna be here in like, three minutes. Are you gonna be ready to roll by then?” he asked, masking his concern with indifference.

     Blue took a deep breath. “Yeah. Got a plan?”

     Tony hummed, but the noise was entirely non-committal. “Well, when it smashes through these windows, it’s going to alert everyone in the area that I’m up to something. They don’t know about you, right?”

     Blue nodded.

     “Cool,” Tony said, a little relieved. “That means you’re the bang they won’t see coming. Be careful, don’t get shot, you know the drill. We fight our way out from there.”

     Blue nodded again, leaning sideways onto his propped arm. “And after that?”

     “Uh, find Pepper, find Killian, and put that bastard in the ground,” Tony finished seriously.

     “And Maya?”

     Both of them looked up to stare at Maya, who looked more than a little uncomfortable at the sudden attention. “I don’t want anything to do with Killian or AIM anymore,” she said, crossing her arms tight. She glanced over to where the illusion of herself had died. “But I don’t know that I can help much.”

     “Then you stay here,” Tony said. “When we clear the compound, you can get the hell out of dodge.”

     Her head snapped up. “You’d let me go? Just like that?” Maya asked incredulously.

     Tony shrugged. “You stay here, you could die. If you leave when it’s clear, I could always find you if I needed to.”

     A window shattered as a gauntlet crashed through, startling everyone in the room before it wrapped itself around Tony’s right hand.

     “Oh, hell yeah,” he said appreciatively. “That’s what I like to see.”

     Blue and Maya backed farther away from the windows as another piece of the suit flew in and attached itself to his leg. But after a moment, the sound of approaching guards reached their ears and there wasn’t any more of the suit.

     “Where’s the rest?” Tony asked, looking at the windows in bafflement.

     Blue sighed heavily and wandered back to where he’d stashed the unconscious guards, picking up one of their guns and handing it over to Tony. “I guess we’ll have to make due while we wait,” the kid said, gesturing for Maya to fall back behind cover and shifting his strange, bronze shield into a defensive position. He shot her a glance. “We’ll come back when it’s safe for you to go.”

     Riptide prowled forward with grace and the ease of experience. And wasn’t that a terrifying thought?

     A small group of guards came around the corner and the two of them made quick work of them, using the shock of Riptide’s presence to their advantage. And by the time the fight was over, the rest of Tony’s suit seemed to finally get with the flight plan.

     “Ah! Better late than never, huh Stark?” Riptide teased with a grin, though he looked relieved.

     Tony spared him a glance between bracing for more armored additions. “You know what, Blue? Call me Tony.” When Riptide shot him a surprised look, Tony just grinned at him.

     Stark was what people called him when they were either too formal, trying to get something from him, or they saw him as mud staining the fabric of history. Riptide didn’t seem to fall in any of those categories.

     They made their way up and out of the outbuilding, where Tony saw the last three pieces of his armor coming with a small amount of fear. He snapped up his leg to get the boot to land correctly, held out his hand to welcome the second gauntlet, and then he watched the last piece in apprehension.

     “Not this time,” he murmured, remembering what happened during the test run. “Not the face!” He snapped a hand out and caught the armor before it could impact. He let out a relieved sigh, pointedly ignoring Riptide's snickers, and pressed the faceplate into the rest of his helmet.

     “Phew! It’s good to be back,” Tony said, watching his HUD flicker to life and start displaying information. “Hello, by the way.”

     “Oh, hello, sir,” Jarvis greeted.

     Tony and Riptide looked up at the sound of a helicopter and watched a Chinook fly up and away. And then there was another familiar sound…

     Tony looked over and saw a familiar suit of red white and blue armor flying off in another direction. ‘Iron Patriot,’ his HUD confirmed.

     “All personnel, Stark is loose and somewhere in the compound,” someone said over scattered loudspeakers. “Repeat, Stark is loose and somewhere in the compound.”

     “Ah, man,” Riptide sighed. “Here we go.”

     Tony shifted to the steps and flexed the suit to initiate take-off, only-

     -the thrusters weren’t working. “Aw, crap.”

     “Looks like we’re doing this the old-fashioned way, then,” Riptide said, descending the steps and moving towards the main house. “Let’s go.”

     “Ugh, I don’t know if you’ve ever had to use an Iron Man suit to hurry down tiny stone stairs,” Tony complained, trailing off when Riptide snickered. “Yeah, yeah, laugh at Iron Man. It’s hilarious.”

     They made their way through the gardens, dropping a wayward guard here and there, before a phone call came through in Tony’s helmet.

     “Tony?” a familiar voice called.

     Riptide glanced his way, having heard through the current speaker settings on the suit.

     “Rhodey, tell me that was you in the suit.”

     “No,” Rhodey said heavily. “You got yours?”

     Tony huffed. “Uh, mhmm, kind of.” He glanced at Riptide and then at the house. “Main house, as fast as you can. There’s a few people I’d like you to meet.”

Chapter Text

     While Stark- Tony, it might take a while for Percy to acclimate to calling him Tony- moved through the main house in search of a car battery and some cables to charge his suit thrusters or something, Percy doubled quickly back to where Maya was and escorted her to the edge of the property. She apparently had a car around somewhere and she could take it from there.

     And when Percy got back to the main house, he just followed the sounds of Sta- Tony and ‘Rhodey’ ‘interrogating’ someone.

      “This is the Mandarin?” an incredulous voice asked, echoing gently down the hall.

     “Yeah, I know, it’s… it’s embarrassing,” Tony rumbled.

     A new voice spoke up. British-sounding. “Hi, Trevor. Trevor Slattery,” he prattled airily. “I know I’m shorter in person. A bit smaller. Everyone says that. But, um, hey, if you’re here to arrest me, there’s some people I’d like to roll on.”

     “Here’s how it works, Meryl Streep,” Tony said as Percy rounded a corner. “You tell him where Pepper is and he’ll stop doing it.”

     “Doing what?” Trevor Slattery asked confusedly. And then “-Ow ow ow ow! I get it! Alright!”

     Percy rounded the final corner to see a man with a gun in a green shirt that could only be Rhodey standing over a dude in a laid-back reclining chair that was clutching his own earlobe. “On your six,” Percy murmured, not wanting to get shot because he’d spooked someone.

     Rhodey twitched and shot him a glance while Tony just sent him a sideways nod.

     This ‘Trevor’ person looked between the three of them, more or less unruffled despite the situation he was in. “Uh, I don’t know about any Pepper, but I know about the plan.”

     “Spill,” Tony ordered.

     Rhodey shifted where he stood. “Do you know what they did to my suit?”

     Trevor looked at him like he was bonkers. “What? No,” he scoffed. Rhodey dropped his military firing stance to shoot both Tony and Percy an exasperated, incredulous look. “But I do know it’s happening off the coast. Something to do with a big boat. I can take you there!” he tried.

     Then Trevor shouted, startling everyone in the room but himself as he started chanting “Olé, olé, olé, olé” at the soccer match on the TV.

     Rhodey pushed his gun farther into Trevor’s face. “Tony,” he said loudly over the cheers, “I swear to God, I‘m gonna blow his face off,” he warned.

     Now that the soccer goal- or football, as it were- was scored, Trevor was a little bit back on task. “Oh, and this next bit may include the vice president as well. Is that… is that important?”

     “Somewhat,” Tony sighed.

     “Yeah, a little bit,” Rhodey added, sounding irritated.

     Tony motioned with his head for Rhodey to come over to them. The trio wandered a few paces away where they could talk while keeping an eye on the harmless British lunatic. “So?” Tony whispered.

     “What are we gonna do?” Rhodey glanced at where Trevor was popping another canned drink. Beer, maybe? Percy couldn’t read the label at this distance, dyslexia or no. “I mean, we don’t have any transport.”

     Tony sighed. “Right.” Then his expression flickered, and he swiveled to look at Trevor. “Hey, Ringo. Didn’t you say something about a ‘lovely speedboat’?

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     Tony and Rhodey were quick to inform Percy, upon finding the speedboat in question, that his grin was unholy.

     Percy shrugged, cracking his knuckles in front of him, the expression never falling from his face.

     Rhodey seemed to give Percy a double-take as they unmoored the boat. “Wait, dude, where’d your sword and shield go?”

     Percy shot him a shark-like grin while Tony sighed and spoke up for him. “Rhodey, I’ve been trying to figure that out for the past eighteen hours.”

     “That’s for me to know and you to wonder about,” Percy said simply, hopping on the boat and making himself comfortable with the workings of the ship. Ah, the perks to being the son of Poseidon. Intimate knowledge of essentially every form of sailing. And with Percy on board, they’d get wherever they were going even faster.

     He managed to get the other two to allow him to drive the boat, having to fix them with his ‘wolf stare’ to show that he was really serious about claiming the wheel. From there, they made their way out of the channel and into the larger bay. 

     “Okay,” Tony started, looking between the two of them. “If he’s right about the location, we’re about twenty minutes out from where Pepper is.”

     “But we also have to figure out this vice president thing, right?” Rhodey prodded.

     “Right.” Tony shot his friend a look . “I wonder who I’m calling right now. Oh!” he said, faux surprised. “That's the vice president.”

     Percy snorted, earning a twinkle-eyed glance from Tony and an exasperated one from Rhodes.

     “Hello?” a voice called over the speaker. Thank the gods for fancy wind-blocking speedboat cabins, was he right?

     “Sir, this is Tony Stark.”

     A pause. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

     “We believe you’re about to be drawn into the Mandarin campaign,” Tony said, wasting no time. “We gotta get you somewhere safe as soon as possible.”

     This time, the VP of the United States sounded a little bit grimly amused. “Mr. Stark, I’m about to eat honey-roast ham, surrounded by the Agency’s finest. The president is safe on Air Force One with Colonel Rhodes.” A breath. “I think we’re good, here.”

     Rhodey huffed. “Sir, this is Colonel Rhodes,” he said firmly. “They’re using the Iron Patriot as a Trojan Horse.”

     Neither Tony nor Rhodes missed Percy’s wry expression at ‘Trojan Horse ,’ but they didn’t comment on it aside from strange looks.

     “They’re gonna take out the president somehow,” Rhodey continued. “We have to immediately alert that plane.”

     “Okay, I’m on it. I‘ll have security lock it down. If need be, they can have F-22s in the air in thirty seconds. Thank you, Colonel.”

     Rhodey sighed in relief. “Rhodes and Stark out.”

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     Across the country, Vice President Rodriguez ended the call.

     “Everything okay, sir?” an agent asked.

     Rodriguez smiled. “Couldn’t be better.” He pressed the phone into the man’s hand and moved back into the main room, leaning down to press a kiss onto the top of a little girl’s head.

     A little girl that was holding a large teddy bear beside her in her wheelchair, one of her legs missing from below the knee.

     “I love you, babe,” he said quietly.

     Once AIM’s work was complete, he could give his daughter the gift of her leg back.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     At the Miami Airport, President Ellis was climbing the steps to Air Force One when the Iron Patriot armor descended from the sky and landed harshly on the pavement. The armor walked up to the base of the steps before stopping and delivering a crisp salute.

     “Colonel Rhodes,” Ellis greeted. “Glad to see you could make it, son. I feel safer already.”

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     “We gotta make a decision,” Rhodey said. “We can either save the president, or Pepper. We can’t do both.”

     “Why not?” Percy asked, raising an eyebrow at them both. Was there something he was missing?

     “Sir, I have an update from Malibu,” Jarvis interrupted. “The cranes have finally arrived, and the cellar doors are being cleared as we speak.”

     “And what about the suit I’m wearing?” Tony prompted.

     “The armor is now at 92%.”

     Tony pulled the cables connecting his suit to the car battery he’d taken to lugging around with two sparking snaps. “That’s going to have to do,” he mused. Tony turned back to Rhodey and Percy. “Alright, here’s what we’re gonna do-”

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     When the clock hit five P.M. on Air Force One, Savin used the commandeered Iron Patriot armor he was wearing to lock the unsuspecting crew in the back of the plane and moved to eliminate the security agents and advisors populating the front.

     When all that was left of command was the President himself, Savin shoved him in the suit, set the coordinates, and let the armor fly off with its new prisoner. Then he killed the pilots, donned a parachute and put on pilot’s hat for shits and giggles. He heard a noise, and then-

     An Iron Man gauntlet burst through a window and shot him in the chest.

     Iron Man slipped onto the plane from behind Savin and tackled him, slamming him against a wall with extreme prejudice.

     “The president,” Tony snapped, a repulsor aimed at the man’s face.

     Savin flashed an insincere smile before looking faux disappointed. “He’s not here.” Then his hand lit up a burning orange and wrapped itself around the wrist of the suit. Electricity crackled as the suit began to overheat.

     “Try the jet stream?” Savin asked. He held up a remote trigger. “Speaking of which, go fish.” He pressed a button and the door at the rear of the plane exploded.

     Savin grappled against the suit for a long moment before Tony broke free, firing a strong blast from the repulsor built into his chest. The force of the blast carved a whole straight through Savin’s rib cage, the wall behind him, and straight into the empty room at his back. Savin coughed, a look of pained shock on his face.

     “Walk away from that, you son of a bitch,” Tony muttered.

     By the time he reached the main cabin, everyone had already been sucked out into open air. The Iron Man suit flew out after them, spotting a dozen or so people tumbling through the sky.

     “How many in the air?”

      “Thirteen, sir.”

     “How many can I carry?”

      “Four, sir.”

     Tony wasted no time diving after them. He reached the first flight attendant and caught her, instructing her to catch the next guy, and then the next, and the next, until he had a barrel of monkeys-esque group chain going on. They spread out their limbs as best as they could and then the suit pulled up as they flew forward. Turn the vertical momentum into horizontal momentum, push the limits of the thrusters-

     -they were close to the water and gong just a smidge too fast, deploy the flaps-

      SPLASH, the thirteen sky-divers were dropped in the water at speeds no faster than someone falling off of water skis. They’d be alright. And their adrenaline-high cheering was a balm for the soul.

     “Nice work, guys,” Tony called, the suit hovering to admire their work a moment. “Good team effort all around. Go us. Alright, Jarvis,” he said, drifting backwards over the water. “But it’s only half-done. We’ve still got to get Pepper-”

     Unfortunately he hadn’t been paying enough attention to what was behind him or how close the bridge was, because the Iron Man suit flew directly in front of a semi truck and shattered into pieces all over the roadway.

     Sitting stiff and startled in the dark speedboat cabin’s below-decks, Tony let out a tense gust of air. “That came out of nowhere. Wow.”

     The door opened behind him, pre-sunset light filtering in around where Rhodey crouched on the steps outside the door. “Give me some good news, man,” his friend chimed.

     “I think they all made it,” Tony said honestly, turning to look at his friend through the remote HUD apparatus on his face.

     “Oh, thank God,” Rhodey sighed in relief.

     “Yeah, but I missed the president.”

     Rhodey stood up, spirits dampened. “You couldn’t save the president with the suit, how are we going to save Pepper with nothing?” he asked, moving across the ship in abject frustration. Tony knew better than to think it was aimed at him. Besides, Tony had a plan.

     “Uh… Say, Jarvis, is it that time?” he asked.

     “The House Party Protocol, sir?”

     Tony quirked a smile. “Correct.”

     With the clean-up crews managing the rubble of his house in Malibu, that meant that the vault was close to being uncovered. If everything went well, Tony would have no shortage of suits to choose from. After all, how could you have a Mark 42 without all the Marks that came before?

Chapter Text

     The location that the ‘Mandarin’ had coughed up was the Roxxon Corporation’s Norco, a damaged oil-bearing ship left in a shipyard in Miami. A group of towering, blue dock cranes stood over it in the water.

     Percy remembered this ship. Two years ago, the scow spilled a million gallons of crude oil off of the coast of Pensacola, Florida. It did incredible damage to the marine life in the area, angered the sea gods, and the mortals responsible never saw a day in court.

     Now, the damaged boat sat forgotten in the shipyard.

     Or, almost forgotten, if not for the activity all around and the giant pole-and-string-lights Christmas Tree on deck.

     When they’d arrived, the sun was just beginning to set, so they kept the boat out of sight.

     “Look, I need you to trust me,” Percy insisted, staring at an armorless Tony Stark and Colonel Rhodes. The speedboat rocked gently under their feet.

     “There’s no way that we’re going to let you just swim up to what is now a floating fortress,” Rhodes insisted. “They’ll spot you and you’ll be a fish in a barrel. And even if they didn’t see you, you’d be too tired to put up much of a fight!” Rhodes gestured towards the Norco where it sat about a mile away.

     Tony, though, he was watching Percy with a more indiscernible expression.

     Rhodey followed Percy’s gaze and did a double-take. “Tones, you have got to be kidding me,” he said. “There’s no way that you’re considering this!”

     Tony only spared his friend a glance before zeroing back onto Percy. “Riptide, he won’t let this go until you show him what you showed me.”

     Riptide. Tony usually called him ‘Blue’, so he was really serious about this. Percy just wasn’t sure that he really wanted to have this conversation right now.

     “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tony,” Percy said neutrally.

     Tony scoffed. “Right. So what did happen with the water tower last night?” When Percy just ticked his jaw, Tony continued. “Because you told me to trust you then, too. Right before Savin brought the water tower down on us and not a single drop of water so much as touched us.”

     Rhodey looked between them incredulously.

     “But you had nothing to do with that, right, Riptide?” Stark prodded. “The water just formed a wall in front of us on its own, just diverted around us on its own.”

     There was a beat of silence, and then Percy sighed, rubbing his face. He looked back up at the two men watching him carefully. “Trust me.”

     Tony nodded, and this time Rhodey didn’t object. He just looked… thoughtful.

     Percy let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Thank you.” With one last glance, Percy dove off the edge of the boat and into the water.

     He had sea life to talk to, an area to scout, and creatures to warn away.

     It should be a piece of cake.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     After Riptide dove off of the boat and didn’t resurface, Rhodey whirled on Tony.

     “What were you talking about, Tony?”

     Tony sighed, and told Rhodes the story of the night they’d had in detail as they waited for Riptide to return. From the crash landing to the break-in, from the ‘bomb site’ to the bar fight. The fall of the water tower and the drive to Miami. Their warpath through the compound. How Riptide appeared in the half-basement lab with a horrified and very not-dead Maya Hansen at his side.

     By the time Tony was finished and he’d answered all the questions he could, night had fallen and they’d started to get worried.

     Then the boat rocked softly with a slightly louder splash and both of them turned to see Riptide straightening up at the back of the speedboat. He seemed unharmed, but it was a little dark, and-

     “Are you dry?” Rhodey blurted.

     Riptide blinked, and then looked down at himself. “Schist,” he murmured. “I knew I was forgetting something.” He sighed. “Whatever,” he said, slightly louder. “Not like that particular secret wasn’t at least halfway out of the bag already.”

     “So you can mess with water,” Tony stressed.

     Riptide looked up and locked eyes with him. “Yes. But if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to have as few people know about that as possible.”

     Tony shared a glance with Rhodey, a little taken aback himself. “Why?”

     “Why do you think?” Riptide snapped. “Living in secret keeps me safe. After I helped you and your Avengers out in New York, I‘ve had to watch my back constantly. Government agencies like S.H.I.E.L.D. try and track me down, make me another tool in their arsenal. For a group of secret agents, they sure aren’t as subtle as they think they are when it comes to tracking me.”

     Riptide threw an agitated hand up. “And that’s just after they’ve seen me fight without overtly using powers. Imagine how bad it’ll get if they realize I can do more than fight with a sword and a shield?”

     He pointed a finger at Tony’s chest. “Before you dropped in on the middle of my business last night, Stark, I’d been doing okay. Kept my head down and out of view of Avengers and whoever the ha- hell else. But unfortunately for me, I can’t turn my back when someone needs help, so I ignored what was in my best interests and I joined up with you. So now Iron Man, Iron Patriot- War Machine, whatever you call yourself- and an AIM scientist have seen me do impossible things. One of which is an active Avenger, another who is a Colonel in the United States Air Force, and the last who was definitely working with a terrorist until a few hours ago.

     “So forgive me for not being up-front about what I can do.”

     The boat was silent for a long moment, the only sounds to be heard were the calls of night birds, the gentle lapping of waves, and the soft sea breeze.

     Riptide took a deep, steadying breath. “Whatever. Let’s just make a plan.”

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     The three of them snuck onto the docks and made their way towards the Norco.

     Tony and Rhodey each had a handgun, but Percy was using his sword. He’d tucked Riptide away in favor of a crowbar he’d found, since the celestial bronze sword didn’t hurt mortals and it glowed a little in the darkness. Glowing swords did not equal stealth. It did, however, equal some pretty great looks from Tony and Rhodes, so he’d had fun with that.

     “You’re not gonna freak out on me, right?” Rhodes asked as they ducked behind a dormant scissor lift.

     “I hope not,” Tony shot back.

     Percy swallowed the reply on his own tongue, deciding that ‘just another day on the job’ would bring on questions he didn’t want.

     They kept moving forward, passing barrels and shipping crates and bypassing all the personnel loading up the Norco. The ship sure as hell wasn’t seaworthy, so Percy doubted they were getting ready to set sail.

     Percy looked up over the boat’s Christmas tree and cursed. When Tony and Rhodes glanced his way, he nodded in its direction. “Rhodey, I think I found your suit. And if I’m right, the president."

     Two spotlights had converged in the air over the star on the tree of lights, illuminating the Iron Patriot suit strung up by the arms between two cranes. In a sick sort of irony, the position was reminiscent of Jesus on the cross, only suspended in the air, on the holiday celebrating his birthday, no less.

     “Oh, my God,” Rhodey breathed. “He’s strung up over the oil tanker. They’re gonna light him up.”

     “Viking funeral,” Tony mused. “Public execution.”

     Rhodey nodded. “Yeah, death by oil. ”

     Percy cut in, still staring at the suit. “No, there won’t be any more oil in these waters because of that ship, not if I can help it,” he promised, voice low.

     They waited for their chance and sprinted quietly for the cranes, climbing up the staircases on the outside.

     “Broadcast will commence shortly,” an announcer called on the shipyard PA. “Take final positions.”

     “Is your gun up?” Rhodey asked Tony as they approached the platform, his own gun raised.

     “Yep,” Tony said, snapping his arm up with a whip to make it so. His form was awful. “What do I do?”

     “Stay on my six, cover high, and don’t shoot me in the back.”

     “Six, high, back. All right.”

     And then a spotlight hit them and bullets started flying. Percy protected them as much as he could with his shield as they ran for cover. Tony shot and missed their shooter, so Percy took the opportunity to summon some water from below and knock the bastard off of his perch.

     Rhodes and Tony looked around their cover in time to see him fall, and then they turned to stare at Percy.

     “Wow,” he deadpanned, voice flat as he scanned for more hostiles that had seen them. “What a crazy wave, just came and knocked him right off. Never seen anything like it.”

     “All personnel, we have hostiles on east unit 12. I repeat, hostiles on east unit 12.”

     Percy tuned the two of them out as they started to bicker over ammunition.

     “Three men, one woman, all armed,” Percy reported, watching the group jump from the opposite crane’s staircases and land on a suspended shipping crate. “Extremis, by the looks of it.” He looked around, spotting more people setting their sights on them with unnatural glows beneath their skins.

     “God, I would kill for some armor right now,” Rhodey hissed.

     Tony kept his eyes out on the horizon. “You’re right. We need backup.”

     “Yeah, a bunch.”

     Percy followed the man’s gaze to see… stars? No, they were growing brighter. And they were in a formation of sorts.

     “You know what?” Tony asked, drawing Rhodey’s attention back. At Tony’s nod, the Colonel looked over, too.

     Rhodey’s gun dropped a little. “Is… is that?”

     “Yep.”

     A small grin started forming on Rhodes’ face. “Are those…”

     Tony looked a little smug. “Yeah.”

     Dozens of Iron Man suits flew in and surrounded the Norco. And gods, if that wasn’t one of the coolest things Percy had seen in a long while.

     Tony gave his friend a pat on the back. “Merry Christmas, buddy. Jarvis, target Extremis heat signatures. Disable with extreme prejudice.”

     “Yes, sir,” Jarvis said, the confirmation echoing from the speakers in all of the armors.

     “What are you waiting for?” Tony said calmly. “It’s Christmas.” He stepped forward, making a faux-sign of the cross and spread his arms wide. “Take them to church.”

     The armors blasted off in unison, flitting around the area and taking out hostile after hostile in a symphony of screams, repulsor blasts, and clanking metal.

     “So this is how you’ve been managing your down time, huh?” Rhodey asked as they ducked for cover when a suit passed close by.

     “Everybody needs a hobby.” Then he started calling out directions for his suits by name, like ‘Igor,’ ‘Red Snapper,’ and ‘Heartbreaker’.

     One suit in particular careened into a large shipping container suspended between one of the many cranes, lighting up the oil barrels inside and making deadly barrel-shaped fireworks. One explosion tore apart the building on top of the middle crane.

     Another suit swooped down and enveloped Tony.

     “Oh yeah, that’s awesome,” Rhodey said, jumping from foot to foot in excitement. “Give me a suit, okay?” He spread out his arms like Tony did.

     Tony blinked, the faceplate up to display his expression. “I’m sorry, they’re only coded to me.”

     Rhodey made a face. “What does that mean?”

     “I got you covered.” The faceplate slammed down and Iron Man flew off.

     Another suit slammed in for a landing. “Good evening, Colonel,” Jarvis greeted. “Can I give you a lift?” The suit walked up and pressed itself into Rhodey’s still-open arms, turning the pose into a hug instead.

     Rhodes rolled his eyes. “Very funny.” He tightened his grip, and then there was one.

     Percy slid down the crane and started his fight on the ground. He had some people who were about to find themselves hit by some freak waves.

     The next few minutes passed that way, Percy keeping on the fringes of fights and dousing fires as they came up. Whether they were in human form or otherwise. So when part of the ship blew up underneath his feet, Percy smothered it with a giant wave.

     “The President is secure, Tony, I’m clearing the area,” Rhodey called through the systems. Tony had been kind enough to give Percy an earpiece. He figured he wouldn’t be wearing it long enough to attract monsters.

     When Percy caught sight of Tony reaching out for someone clinging to a broken piece of the crane, he didn’t hesitate to move underneath them. “Stark, I’m right underneath you. I’ve got you.”

     When the figure fell, Percy absorbed the fall with a ‘wave’, which he immediately plucked her from. “I’ve got her, Tony, I’ve got her. She’s okay,” he called from their spot at the base of the ‘Christmas tree’.

     There was a shuddering gasp over the comms. “Thanks, kid.”

     The woman’s wide eyes turned to Percy. “Who are you?”

     “I’m Riptide, ma’am, but Tony calls me Blue.” He eyed the way that the water evaporated from her skin. Considering this woman was the one from Killian’s hologram and she wasn’t currently exploding, he could guess that her body had adapted to the Extremis.

     Percy kept her close by while he used his shield to deflect occasional bullets and his powers to douse fires and Extremis-bearing hostiles as they popped up. He answered her questions as best as he could.

     Then for an awful moment, Tony was falling from the crane, only to be encased by another suit and to fly right back up.

     “Oh, my God!” Pepper called, looking on in horror.

     Percy sighed. “Unfortunately, you get used to it,” he said, earning a horrified look that he didn’t see.

     Percy cleaned up a few more Extremis enemies before Jarvis spoke up over the earpiece. “Mark 42, inbound.”

     Tony huffed. “Well, I’ll be damned. The prodigal son returns.”

     Percy laughed. “Stark, wasn’t that the suit that you got hit by a semi?” he taunted.

     “Stuff it, Blue.”

     “Make me,” Percy shot back.

     “Jarvis,” Stark said, “do me a favor and blow Mark 42.”

     Percy snapped his head up to see a figure jump onto an arm of the crane and slide down, the deck he’d been on blowing to pieces behind him. He jumped into a suit once he ran out of sliding room, but the suit was damaged and he struggled to right himself.

     “I’ve got you, Tony!” Percy called, holding up a hand and willing the water around them to rise. He let himself get swept up with it so that when they reached Stark, he could keep him and the suit dry. With so much of it damaged, he wasn’t sure if he'd electrocute the man or short out the suit otherwise. Then Percy dragged them back down to the deck and used the rest of the wave to push the falling crane where it wouldn’t fall down on them.

     Percy let Tony fall to the ground, where Pepper immediately converged on them both.

     The helmet of the Mark 42 clattered to the ground nearby and drew their attention. And then it popped open, but the space within was blessedly empty.

     Stark let out a relieved scoff before there was an ominous creaking of metal and someone stood up from within all the carnage.

     “Oh, schist,” Percy hissed, putting Pepper and Tony behind him.

     It was Killian, with his hair singed and burned away, his skin marred in horrible charcoal-colored burns. He walked like he was in agony, glowing from the cracks but filled with absolute rage.

     “No more false faces,” Killian snarled, loping towards them sideways with a crooked ankle. Tony and Pepper skittered back, Percy still standing guard between them and him. “You said you wanted the Mandarin?” Killian rasped. “You’re looking right at him. It was always me, Tony, right from the start. I am the Mandarin!”

     The madman stood up straighter, fire burning throughout his body, and then with a mighty THWANG, he was smacked away with incredible force.

     Tony and Percy looked over to see Pepper, glowing from within and holding a large, yellow pole. They just stared at her for a long moment, and Tony in particular seemed absolutely floored. He hadn’t pieced it together yet before this moment, apparently, which was odd for him. Blindspot, maybe? Heat of the moment?

     (Hah, Percy was funny, okay?)

     “I got nothing,” he said eventually.

     And wow, the mighty Tony Stark without a quip or sarcastic one-liner? Call the papers.

     An Iron Man suit flew to hover overhead just as Killian stood up. “Jarvis, subject at my 12 o’clock is not a target, disengage!” Tony shouted, the suit having singled out Pepper as a higher target due to her proximity to Tony.

     The suit veered to the side, its focus centered on Killian instead.

     “Oh, thank God,” Tony breathed.

     But Killian sent a fist through the suit’s chest and ripped it apart, a few pieces flying to rest at their feet. Pepper darted forward, picked up a leg, and slammed it into the man’s face. The force knocked him back a dozen feet back into the fiery shipping container he’d emerged from. Before Tony or Percy could think to move, she picked up a repulsor, strapped it to her wrist, kicked a small Iron Man warhead at Killian, and then shot it out of the air.

     When the explosion cleared, there was no sign of Killian at all.

     “Honey?” Tony called slowly, causing her to turn around and face them both.

     She blinked. “Oh, my God,” she panted. “That was really violent.”

     Tony sighed. “You scared the devil out of me. I thought you were-”

     “I was dead,” she guessed, walking back to them. “Why, because I fell 200 feet?”

     “No, more like because when the Extremis serum doesn’t react well to its host, the person explodes,” Tony said. “And yes, the fall scared me, but even if you weren’t all badass and glowy, Riptide caught you anyway.” Tony nodded to Percy. “Thanks for that. Both catches, actually.”

     Percy shrugged. “I do what I can.”

     Pepper glanced down at herself with a shuddering breath. “Who’s the hot mess now?”

     “It’s still debatable,” Tony deflected. “Probably tipping your way a little bit. Why don’t you dress like this at home, huh?” he asked, nodding at her outfit. Black athletic leggings and matching sports bra, strawberry-blonde hair left loose.

     She looked back down at her arms as they gently glowed from the inside. “You now, I think I understand why you don’t want to give up the suits.” She looked up at him with exhausted eyes. “What am I going to complain about now?”

     “Well, it’s me,” Tony said, pulling himself to his feet. “You’ll think of something.”

     Percy snorted. Pepper looked amused, and Tony shot him a fake stink-eye.

     Tony walked up to her and put a hand on her arm. When she looked him in the face, there were tears in her eyes. “Am I gonna be okay?”

     “No.” Percy looked over at Tony sharply, but the man wasn’t done. “You’re in a relationship with me. Everything will never be okay.” Percy rolled his eyes, but it got a small smile out of Pepper so that was something. “But I think I can figure this out, yeah. I almost had this 20 years ago when I was drunk, that’s what Maya wanted me for. I think I can get you better. That’s what I do, I fix stuff.”

     It was quiet for a long moment. “And all your distractions?” she asked.

     “Uh… I’m going to shave them down a little bit,” he admitted. “Jarvis, hey.” Tony tapped at his ear.

     “All wrapped up here, sir. Will there be anything else?”

     “You know what to do.”

     “The Clean Slate Protocol, sir?” the AI asked, sounding a touch incredulous.

     “Screw it, it’s Christmas,” Tony said. “Yes, yes.” He stepped forward and wrapped Pepper in a hug.

     The Iron Man armors that remained began flying up into different directions in the sky, detonating one after another in a truly impressive display of fire and sparks.

     They looked up at the sky, Tony and Pepper over each other’s shoulders and Percy as he turned slowly in place. It was beautiful, in a way. And he was sure it meant something more to the two of them than it did for Percy.

     But eventually Jarvis ran out of suits to destroy, and the show was over. The Norco was an absolute mess of metal, bodies, fire, and gratuitous water puddles. The dock was no different, having had an entire crane fall to its knees. When Tony and Pepper realized they had no plan to get off of the ship and back to the land of the sane, Percy laughed.

     “Alright, look,” he said, shrinking his shield and discarding the crowbar. He crossed his arms. “Provided that any freak water shows are forgotten and never mentioned to company outside of our own, I’ll help you guys get back to civilization.”

     Tony and Pepper shared a silent conversation before Tony nodded. “Deal.”

     Percy summoned some water up over the edge of the boat and used it to make a smooth platform. He stepped up onto it, holding a hand out for the couple staring at him with wide eyes and open mouths. “Come on,” he prodded.

     “You’re walking on water,” Pepper said weakly.

     Percy smirked. “Not exactly. Just increased the surface tension. It’s functionally as solid as any floor. Now come on. I don’t know about you, but I have places to be.”

     Tony and Pepper stepped warily onto the water platform, stifling gasps when it started moving, bringing them back over the edge of the ship and below deck, closer to sea level. They’d avoid more cameras this way. Percy willed the platform to move in the shadows parallel to the shore, deciding that it was better if they picked a spot further from the docks to make landfall.

     “Didn’t know you had plans, Blue,” Tony said, his voice slightly tight as he watched the water beneath him like any moment he could fall through.

     Percy hummed an affirmative. “Of course I did,” he shrugged, quieting his voice over the open water. “Christmas Eve with my family, you know? But this isn’t the first time something’s come up, so they get it. As long as I come home safe and let them know beforehand that I’m making a detour.”

     “Where do you live?” Pepper asked, all concern. “We can have a car or a plane take you home-”

     Percy laughed, cutting her off gently. “I appreciate the offer, ma’am, but I’ll make it home alright on my own. Faster than either of you will, I imagine.” He directed the water platform to a nearby deserted beach that neighbored a road. It deposited the three of them on the sand.

     When Pepper and Tony moved to leave the beach and Percy hung back, they paused. “Blue?”

     Percy shook his head. “You don’t need me anymore, Tony.”

     Tony nodded slowly. “And is there any way I could call you?”

     Percy was going to say no, when a little lightbulb went off in his brain. He shot them a trouble-maker’s smirk. “Well, fish are horrible gossips. Go out to the ocean, find a fish, tell them you need me and where, and I might pop on by.”

     Pepper smiled, amused at his joke, but Tony looked a little bit constipated, clearly unsure whether or not Percy was pulling his leg. Percy stepped backwards into the surf, waving a cheerful salute their way before disappearing into the waves and heading home.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     “He was joking, right?” Pepper asked as they walked up the beach.

     Tony made an uncertain noise in the back of his throat. “Pep, I honestly have no clue, and that terrifies me.”

     She laughed at him.

Chapter Text

     Thanks to Mrs. O’Leary, Percy made it back home before midnight on Christmas Eve. As he sat with his family and his girlfriend opening presents the next morning, the news broke on the TV that United States Vice President Rodriguez had been arrested in connection to the Mandarin attacks, a conspiracy to take the Presidency, and involvement in a plot to kill President Ellis.

     That evening, British actor Trevor Slattery was arrested in connection to his role in the whole mess.

     A few days later, Percy made his way back to Rose Hill, Tennessee.

     Harley blinked up at him from behind the door. “You’re back!”

     Percy quirked a grin. “Of course I am. We still had more to talk about before Stark dropped in.”

     Harley bounced up a little in his toes. “Tell me everything.”

     Percy gave him a slightly sanitized recap of the events of Christmas Eve, but Harley seemed to eat it up all the same. After that, they moved on to more of what Harley needed to know.

     Now that Harley knew he was a demigod, his scent would be stronger and more attractive to monsters. To tide the kid over until summertime, Percy gave him a celestial bronze dagger before he'd left with Tony, and now he had time to show him how to use it properly. He warned Harley away from things like computers and phones until Percy could bring him something made from the Hephaestus cabin.

     Now that the two camps were in contact, they’d started trading knowledge on certain things. Between the Vulcan and Hephaestus campers (as well as a smattering of other assorted kids), they’d managed to figure out how to make certain kinds of tech that wouldn’t be beacons for monsters.

     And that aside, the devices had neat accessibility options for them, too. For example, they could be set to Ancient Greek or Latin to make it easier on their unfortunately dyslexic brains, since the Greek demigods of Camp Half-Blood were hard-wired for Ancient Greek and the Roman demigods of Camp Jupiter were hard-wired for Ancient Latin.

     And Percy of course reminded Harley that he shouldn’t tell anyone that he was a demigod. At most, only his immediate family should be aware if they could be trusted to keep it to themselves.

     Percy left Harley a handful of gold drachmas and showed him how to send an Iris Message in case he needed to contact Percy in the event of an emergency. With everything taken care of that could be taken care of, the older demigod promised to be back in a few weeks with a phone and a computer that was safe to use.

     When he finally left the Keener residence to return to New York, he left an excited Harley to practice with his new knife and wonder at what tomorrow would bring.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     “Hang on. Wait. Are you telling me that you ran into an Avenger on a new demigod wellness-check mission?” Leo asked incredulously. “Dude.”

     Jason just laughed at him. “Percy, what is your luck?”

     Annabeth’s face was twisted into something between wry and exasperated. “And you told Iron Man that if he wanted to call you he should pass a message through fish?”

     Percy crossed his hands behind his head with a smirk. He was proud of that one, actually.

     The Seven Demigods that had gone on the quest to keep Gaia from rising last year had all congregated in New Rome. Percy and Annabeth were attending New Rome University for college, and of course Frank, Hazel, and Jason were campers at Camp Jupiter, so they were already around. Leo had been in the area for business related to the new tech that the Hephaestus and Vulcan campers (the Roman siblings of the residents of Hephaestus’s Cabin Nine) were spearheading. Piper was using the opportunity to visit with Jason, seeing as a gathering of the Seven was a good excuse for that.

     Nico and Will weren’t members of the Seven, but Nico had been a part of that quest and was the ambassador between the Greek Camp Half-Blood and the Roman Camp Jupiter. Will, a son of Apollo, was here as both their friend and Nico’s boyfriend.

     “And let’s not forget that after running into Iron Man, he essentially joined the man’s quest and wound up in a mortal battle in Miami,” Nico added dryly.

     Hazel sighed. “Did you at least use the Mist like we’ve been working on?”

     Percy sobered a little. “Yeah, of course. Aside from Harley, no one who saw me will be able to remember the exact features of my face, and no one knows my name. The only names they know me by are ‘Riptide’ and ‘Blue’. And I told Stark that Harley and I were distantly related through our fathers, so any way he tries to find me through that connection will be a dead end.”

     “Little mercies, then” Piper mused. “Still, once was one thing, but twice?”

     “And he set it up so that there might be a third,” Frank pointed out.

     “So, hang on, wait.” Leo perked up, shifting forward in his seat. A wisp of his hair caught fire in his excitement and Percy put it out. “Percy has a cool code name, right? Well, what if he needs to call us or something when he’s around an Avenger?”

     Will raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

     “I dunno, maybe Percy needs backup or he just happened to be with an Avenger when someone IMs him, I don’t know,” Leo said, waving a dismissive hand. “Not important. But, guys, we should have code names too!”

     The collective groans around the table were instantaneous.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     “Oooh, okay, so, for Annabeth! What about, um… Dagger! Uh, Architect? Atalanta!”

     “Leo Valdez, if you ever call me Dagger, you’ll find mine in your face. Are we clear?”

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     “Piper’s got her charmspeak, so… what about Siren?”

     “As much as I’d rather not have anyone call me ‘Siren’, I know you won’t let this go, and I can’t think of anything better.”

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     “Okay, isn’t Nico, like, the Ghost King or something? So what about Ghost? Or, Phantom, maybe, because of the shadow-travel and the fact that he’s kinda older than pretty much all of us.”

     A sigh from Nico. “Leo…”

     “Oh, and Will can be Virtuoso, because he’s a son of Apollo! And it’s an Italian word, which is a language Nico knows, and since they’re a couple, it matches!”

     “Okay, but if my name matches Nico’s, why doesn’t his name match mine?”

     An absolutely terrifying smirk. “Well, if you really want matching names, Will, we can say that you’re a Grave Robber and that Nico is a Cradle Robber. How about that?”

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     “Uh, Hazel, you’re a Sagittarius, right?”

     “Yeah. Why?”

     “Well, with your whole ‘power over riches’ thing as the daughter of Pluto, I figure giving you a gemstone name makes sense. And your eyes are gold and Topaz is yellow, but it’s also one of the gemstones for the Sagittarius sign.”

     “Leo, why do you know that?”

     “Look, I may or may not have been thinking about this since Percy made it on worldwide news, okay? But anyway, Sagittarius is a centaur constellation that uses a bow, right? And Frank is an archer who can turn into all kinds of animals, like a horse! So Frank’s name can be Sagittarius, and then they’re both couple’s code names!”

     “Leo, buddy, know that I love you, but also that I hate that that makes sense.”

     “Aawww, Frank, I love you too, bro!”

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     “Jason can bring the lighting and the winds and stuff, so I figure Tempest makes sense.”

     “Uh, Leo… you know that Tempest is the storm spirit that I befriended, right?”

     “Yeah, but Riptide is Percy’s sword, so what does it matter? Tempest suits you and your powers the same way that Riptide suits Percy and his powers.”

     A sigh. “Alright, whatever.”

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     “Wait, Leo, hang on. If everyone has to have a name, what about you?”

     “Well, Pipes, I’m glad you asked. I’m Inferno, duh!”

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     Tony figured out the Extremis problem before too long. It took a little bit of work, but Pepper was back to her normal self pretty soon. No more worrying about running too hot and exploding in a devastating ball of fire.

     But then Tony thought, why stop there? So he designed some cool tech and set himself an appointment. In the end, the shrapnel buried in his chest from Afghanistan was gone, and the arc reactor-powered electromagnet embedded in his chest was removed. He no longer had to worry about metal slivers sliding their way into his heart.

     Pepper was free of Extremis, and Tony was no longer a dead man walking.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     Happy Hogan woke up in the hospital to a marathon of Downton Abbey. Tony’s friend, former bodyguard, and current Forehead of Security would make a full recovery and be back to terrorizing the employees of Stark Industries about their badges for a long time to come.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     Ten-year-old Harley Keener came home mid-February to discover that his garage had been entirely revamped on the inside.

     State-of-the-art tools, machines, workbenches, computers, internet… anything a growing engineer like him could possibly need. There was a vending machine in the corner and a restored antique car in the back. Stairs led up to a loft and the whole place was clean and well-lit.

     And on a steel table was a plaque that read ‘POTATO GUN, MARK II’ that was signed ‘YOUR PAL, THE MECHANIC’. Beside it was a new and improved spud gun that piggybacked off of the Harley Keener original design, as well as little Abby Keener’s limited edition Dora the Explorer watch.

     It was an engineering wonderland. And it was all for Harley.

     And if he told Percy about his new find and a certain Leo Valdez showed up to demigod-proof his tech a week later? Well, Harley supposed that the Mechanic didn’t need to know.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     Tony Stark gazed over the water from where he stood at the top of the cliffs of Point Dume in Malibu, California. All that remained of his house now were the front steps and sections of the outer wall that were no taller than Tony himself was. The rest of the mansion had either fallen to the Pacific Ocean below, or been torn down by the recovery crews.

     He fingered the crumpled paper bag in his hands before reaching inside and pulling the contents out.

     A deactivated arc reactor that powered an electromagnet. The very same one that had- until very recently- been embedded in his chest.

     Tony stared at it, weighed it with his hands. To think that this had been what kept him alive for the past few years. A technological marvel of his own creation, a product of his mind. A shield of armor for his heart, representative of what he as Iron Man stood for.

     It had been a crutch. One he’d needed, sure, but it was a crutch all the same. Now, he’d been healed. This arc reactor, this compulsion he’d had to throw everything into his suits… the drive that brought him to develop and create 35 unique and functioning Iron Man suits in the span of six months.

     So Tony looked down at the arc reactor in his hands. Remembered everything he’d gone through with it. Then he lifted his arm, pulled it back, and threw it. He watched it make a perfect arc over the edge of the cliff. He watched it fall through the air and hit the water.

     Today would be the dawn of a new age for Tony Stark, for Iron Man.

     And he couldn’t wait to see where it would take him.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     Percy had been minding his own business, okay? He and Annabeth had gone to the beach. It was the weekend, there weren’t any classes, and hey- Camp Jupiter, and therefore New Rome- was in California.

     He’d been-as was previously stated- minding his own business, surfing with his girlfriend, and a fish had come to speak to him.

     “I’m sorry, he what?” Percy blurted, turning to the barred surfperch with an incredulous expression.

     ‘He threw something into the sea, my lord.’

     Percy just stared at the fish blankly for a moment that was entirely too long before he groaned, scrubbed his face, and thanked the fish.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     Stark had relocated to Avengers Tower in Manhattan since his Malibu mansion had disappeared into the ocean.

     As such, it was child’s play to borrow Annabeth’s Yankees cap of invisibility and leave the arc reactor where Stark would find it.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     Tony didn’t know what to think when he saw the arc reactor.

     It was sitting on the kitchen table of the new Avengers common room. Just… sitting there. All polished and shiny and dressed up with a pretty blue bow. No one could tell him how it got there. Not even Jarvis. It was terrifying.

     So Tony gingerly opened up the note pinned underneath it after they’d run every scan he could imagine.

     ‘Hey, asshole. I didn’t take you for a litterer. Next time I find this at the bottom of the ocean, I’m throwing it straight at your big, fat head.

     ‘Don’t get yourself killed. And remember: I’m only a message away.

     ‘-Riptide.

     ‘P.S; if you call me for anything less than an actual problem, we will have words, Stark.’

Chapter Text

      Thank the Gods for demigod technology.

      Or, well. Thank Leo Valdez, the Hephaestus Cabin, their Roman siblings (the Vulcan campers), and a conglomeration of other technologically-minded demigods and legacies.

      Since finally cracking the code to demigod-safe tech, Percy had been able to enjoy some of the luxuries of the digital age. It was great. He could watch Netflix now. Phone calls and texts were no longer a problem, especially once a demigod phone service and internet carrier started up with help from the Messenger gods and spirits across both pantheons. Things were looking up. It was great.

      It also meant that when Percy was called away for a mission or whatever, he could keep up with his classes in New Rome. Technology was great.

      (Homework, not so much. But Annabeth would kill him if he didn’t do it, so he was a near-model student.)

      Percy found himself on various little missions every month or so as the camps recuperated after weathering two wars in as many years. Every once in a while he’d attract attention from people he didn’t want finding him.

      (*cough* S.H.I.E.L.D. *cough*)

      It was usually by chance and was more often than not the same team, which led Percy to believe that one of the gods either had it in for him, or they just thought his life made for the best reality T.V. show. Thankfully he usually spotted the agents before they spotted him, and he’d escape the situation without notice.

      Percy was not always that lucky.

      A woman in her mid-twenties wandered into the shop he was hiding out in, the tips of her dark hair fading into a slightly lighter color. She was very pretty, but that wasn’t what had Percy’s attention.

      No, this was one of the agents he kept running into. Skye. She hadn’t seriously noticed him yet, fiddling with a pair of sunglasses and peering out the shop window.

      It didn’t matter that much that she hadn’t recognized him yet. Percy still wanted to scream. He made more space between the two of them, idling further down an aisle of snacks and avoiding contact with her like any other teenager his age might.

      The door chimed again and someone else walked in. Percy spared them the customary glance. Ugh, Ward. He didn’t like Ward. The few times that he’d run into this team and he’d been recognized as a person of interest, the man had been a little too aggressive for Percy’s tastes.

      And he reminded Percy too much of a wolf pretending to be something less dangerous, but not necessarily for the best of reasons. Something that was dangerous, but used its inherent intimidation factor as a cover to downplay it somehow.

      Ward made Percy wary.

      The two agents continued scoping out whatever was happening on the street, talking quietly and paying Percy no mind. The demigod paid for his stuff and slipped out, relieved when no one followed him, still focused on whatever had brought them here.

      But seriously. This was getting ridiculous. And he couldn’t even accuse them of stalking him, considering they typically looked just as surprised to see him as he was to see them.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

      “Fitz, I swear I’ve seen his face somewhere,” Simmons said quietly, trying to look inconspicuous and ever so slightly missing the mark. Had Percy not been on alert the moment he saw they were in the area, he may not have noticed.

      But he was, so he did.

      Percy saw Fitz give him an apprehensive but considering look out of the corner of his eyes. Percy continued to pretend he didn’t notice them, but he only shifted his face far enough that he could still see them while they puzzled it out. While he didn’t want them to get a good look at his face, he also didn't want to turn his back.

      Those ‘Night-Night guns’ or whatever the hell they were called were not fun. Ward had managed to get a hit in on ‘Riptide’ the first time they got close and recognized him. Fortunately for Percy, he was a demigod child of the one of the Big Three, and so he was made of stronger stuff than mortals. One hit was only enough to make itself a nuisance, rather than knock him out like it should.

      “No, I think… I think you’re right,” Fitz said slowly. “He is kinda familiar.” Then he snapped, lighting up in excitement. “Wait, remember a few years ago when there was a manhunt for that kid? The one they thought killed his mother and blew up the St. Louis Arch and then got in a gunfight on a beach in LA?”

      Simmons lit up too, and Percy needed to disappear, like, yesterday.

      “But it turned out he was just kidnapped!” she chimed in excitedly. “I think he was on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s radar for a while but I haven’t heard anything about it in years…”

      Oh, that was fantastic. Percy snapped discreetly, calling on the Mist to muddy his features and make himself unremarkable, knowing that it would shift whatever footage existed on him in the building accordingly. It would have to do.

      “We’ll have to ask Coulson,” Simmons continued. “Oh, where did he go?”

      “Wha- he was just here!” Fitz exclaimed quietly, swivelling around to look.

      Neither of them noticed Percy slip out the door.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

      When he turned the corner and saw Coulson’s team chilling at a café, Percy bit down a soundless scream.

      When he figured out which gods were responsible for these shenanigans, they were going to have words. It was bad enough that his friends had started making bets.

      Maybe Percy should just… visit Stark or something. S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn’t be there, right?

      (It wasn’t impossible, Percy reminded himself near-hysterically. After all, S.H.I.E.L.D. was wrapped up with the Avengers and so was Iron Man. They sort of shared space on a Venn Diagram.)

      Fine. This was fine. He could just… keep walking and pray they didn’t have reason to notice him. Especially now that Fitz and Simmons had sort-of recognized ‘Percy Jackson’ last time, even if they couldn’t quite place him. After all, Percy wasn’t twelve anymore. He’d grown, so whatever mugshots they remembered from the news were far outdated.

      As Percy passed them by on the opposite side of the street, he heard a very familiar hissing sound.

      “Oh, for fuck’s sake-”

      He whirled to see an enraged harpy throwing herself at him.

      His shield was engaged in time for her claws to catch on the metal instead of his skin. Percy had Riptide out in his hand a moment later. He kicked the monster away, sparing a glance for the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents nearby.

      Predictably, they were all out of their seats and those who were armed were pointing their weapons at him and the harpy. Unfortunately for Percy, they seemed to be seeing the harpy as less of a threat as Percy at the moment.

      He gritted his teeth and shifted the Mist slightly enough for them to clock the feathered monster as an honest threat without revealing her… otherworldly nature.

      The shift in the agents was immediate. Coulson, Ward, and May started to fan out with their targets trained primarily on the harpy while Skye, Fitz, and Simmons hung back.

      Percy spun, lashing out with a savage swipe of his sword that trailed a golden line on the monster’s arm. She hissed at him, and he almost snarled back on principle. Did they really have to do this now?

      “You should not have picked this fight,” Percy admonished, low and dangerous. “Didn’t you know you were out of your league?”

      He didn’t even give the harpy a chance to answer, lunging forward and plunging celestial bronze into her stomach.

      The monster screamed at him in rage, but didn’t disintegrate. Instead, she lashed out with claws that glanced off of Percy’s shield.

      “Put down your weapons!” Coulson shouted.

      Percy spared them only half a glance, swinging his sword one more time and finishing the fight. The harpy exploded into golden glitter and Percy stepped back, brushing it off of his shoulders as best as he could with his sword in hand and shield still held defensively. He was sure it was scattered in his hair, too.

      “What did you just do?” Ward snapped, voice cutting.

      Percy turned his Wolf’s stare on the agent. “Something you wouldn’t have been able to.”

      May cut Ward off before he could say something snappish. “Where did she go?”

      Their weapons were still trained on Percy, which was not appreciated.

      “Hell,” Percy said shortly. “Literal, actual Hell. What you just saw was a creature that can’t be harmed by your weapons. I took care of it. You’re welcome. With any luck, she won’t be coming back for a few years.”

      “That’s a rather strange story,” Coulson said blithely, like this was a calm conversation. “Why should we believe you?”

      Percy hit him with an unimpressed, raised eyebrow. “What– Thor, Loki, and Aliens are real and this is where you draw the line?” he asked skeptically. “I’m a little disappointed, Coulson.”

      The three stiffened minutely. “Who the hell are you?” Ward said, his voice a threat.

      Percy swiveled his unimpressed stare to Ward. “What, like it’s hard? I expected better from S.H.I.E.L.D, given how much fun you people seem to have trailing after me.” He waved his sword in a non-threatening manner. “You people call me ‘Riptide’. Don’t tell me you don’t remember trying to shoot me, Ward.”

      He rolled his eyes as much as was safe when three people were pointing guns your way. Well, more than three, now that the other half of the team had gotten their hands on Night-Night guns back there. They’re trying to be sly, but Percy isn’t an idiot. “And of course I know your names, after running into you as many times as I have it would be stupid for me not to.”

      Coulson looked interested, May looked assessing, and Ward looked both angry and vaguely insulted.

      “I don’t remember seeing you more than three times,” May said, her eyes narrowed.

      “Yeah, well, that’s because when I see you coming, I usually find myself going the other way before you get to see me,” Percy said dryly. “There’s only so many times a guy wants to hear you try and pitch your Index to me or try to shoot me before I just decide to avoid you.”

      Percy would like a distraction, please. While he could fight his way out, he’d rather not. And they were positioned well enough that if Percy tried running, he probably wouldn't be able to dodge all of their shots.

      He could try the large-scale Mist manipulation that he used at the Mandarin’s compound, but… Percy wasn’t comfortable showing these people that he had anything resembling actual powers. And for another, if he just disappeared or something like that, they might wise up and shoot the spot he had been on principle. Then he would be invisible and shot, and then he wouldn't be able to keep up the illusion. Not to mention that even if he pulled it off, he’d be exhausted, and there wasn’t enough water around for him to feasibly recover fast enough to get away clean.

      “And if you could tell Skye, Fitz, and Simmons that I can see them trying to sneaky, that’d be great.”

      Coulson cast them a look, spotting the three of them looking a little bit like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

      As Coulson started to look back towards Riptide, Percy spotted a familiar shape and his eyes blew wide. He raised his sword and shield in a guard position just in time for the griffon to slam into them. Percy staggered back a few feet to the shocked and alarmed cries of the agents and bystanders (few that there were) alike.

      He rolled out from under the monster before it could strike, lashing out with Riptide as he did. He also took a moment to lament his awful luck. A harpy, he could handle alone. But a griffon while also dealing with a group of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents? Percy wanted to cry a little bit.

      Maybe he could work this in his favor.

      Ward fired at the monster between himself and Percy. But, naturally, the bullet merely sank into the creature and spilled only a handful of black dust before the hole closed back up. I was about as irritating to the monster as a paintball.

      Percy yelped, throwing himself out of the way and shooting the agents a withering glare. “What part of ‘your weapons won’t work’ did you not understand?” he snapped. But while the bullet may not have really, permanently hurt the griffon, it did make it angry. It snapped it’s attention to Ward instead. Ward dodged a swipe, prompting Percy to dart around the monster and place himself in it’s path, entirely between the griffon and the agents.

      A few more shots rang out from behind Percy, the bullets cutting into the monster like anything else, leaving small holes leaking black sand in their wake for mere moments before sealing slowly to a trickle and disappearing entirely. It screeched in rage and Percy blocked a strike, lashing out with his sword to make a gash in it’s offending limb.

      “Coulson, get your team out of here before Ward gets the rest of you killed!” Percy snapped, turning intense, serious, and irritated sea-green eyes on the senior agent.

      Percy struck again, making sure that the griffon’s attention was firmly on him now. He heard Coulson call his team back. Someone behind him fired a few rounds from the Night-Night guns to no effect, and Percy had to fight to get it’s attention back again. He rolled to the side to allow himself a look at Coulson and his team.

      Their eyes were wide, seeming to finally realize that this wasn’t something they could handle.

      “Go!” Percy snapped.

      They hesitated, clearly not wanting to leave him alone when they still had questions and unwilling to walk away from something they would very much like to know more about, but they scattered when a swipe from the winged monster sent a table flying in their direction.

      Percy was under no illusion that they were not simply regrouping to somewhere just outside the radius of danger so they could watch. But with them out of the way, Percy laid into the monster, using it as his target to vent his frustrations. Besides, he hadn’t had a good fight in a while. Demigods were made for war against creatures like this. And this fight, this was one he could take.

      The griffon scattered into gold dust and Percy wasted no time in getting the hell out of dodge, using the Mist to drop off the radar and make sure that any footage would be unable to point back to one Perseus Jackson.

Chapter Text

     “Stark,” a familiar voice called from the space behind Tony.

     Tony turned around and pretended to be surprised that Nick Fury was standing at the doorway to the new Avengers common room in the Tower. In reality, Jarvis had silently informed him of the spy’s presence in the building several minutes earlier.

     When Blue snuck into the Tower, it was a little endearing in a terrifying kind of way. When anyone else did it, it was not so cute.

     Rogers looked up from where he was seated on a comfortable chair in the corner, as did Romanov and Barton from where they were hanging out on the couch. Rogers looked surprised to see Fury, but the resident spies did not. Either they were using their poker faces or they had been warned of the visit.

     Either was possible.

     Banner, who had just walked in, was idling awkwardly by the fridge.

     “Fury,” Tony greeted politely. “How nice to see you in my Tower. Only… I didn’t get your RSVP. Did it get lost in the mail? Do I need to check my spam folder?”

     The look Fury sent him was dry and unamused. “You’ve been in contact with Riptide.”

     All eyes roved to Tony now, surprise and intrigue leaking almost palpably into the room.

     Tony crossed his arms and leaned against the island, shooting his best innocent look Fury’s way. “Have I? You’ll have to refresh my memory– I don’t seem to remember that.”

     “Rose Hill, Tennessee,” Fury said, taking a step into the room. “December 23rd. Ring any bells?”

     Tony hummed, his lips in a flat line. “Hmm, yeah. My house had been blown up while I was in it, and I crash-landed a broken suit into the snow. I remember. But what does this have to do with Riptide?”

     Fury threw out a few holographic pads and they activated upon hitting the floor. Security footage started up. It was grainy, but Tony recognized the little diner. Sure enough, a small Tony Stark crashed through the window on-screen with his hands cuffed together. Before video-Tony could get to his feet, a familiar teenager ran into frame through the very window Tony had destroyed and hauled him to his feet and behind the counter.

     The other four Avengers in the room were watching with curiosity. Rogers and Banner had moved closer to get a better look.

     In the footage, you can see a blip on the screen between the kid not having a weapon and using a familiar sword to cut the cuffs off of Tony’s hands. The feed is too low-quality in the dark to see Tony’s face in detail, but it’s clear enough that he’d been caught by surprise. Then Miss Ellen Brandt stepped into view and suddenly the kid had a shield over his arm that hadn't been there moments before.

     “That sure looks a hell of a lot like Riptide to me, Stark,” Fury said evenly as they watched the fight play out. Brandt grabbing the shield, Riptide swiping at her– and Tony did not see the way the sword had phased right through the first time, and that was interesting, doubly so because the kid didn’t even seem surprised. Come to think of it, he hadn’t used it much on the Roxxon Norco, had he?

     And then on-screen Tony ran into the back room while Riptide kept Brandt occupied.

     A few sets of disbelieving eyes slipped to him. “The hell, Stark? You just left him?”

     Tony scowled at Barton. “Of course not,” he snapped. He glared at Fury. “And for the record– I hadn’t recognized the kid as Riptide until this. Made a whole lot more sense why he wouldn’t give me his real name once I’d figured it out.”

     The looks he got ranged in between incredulous and disappointed. “What, you didn’t recognize him?” Romanov prodded.

     On-screen, another feed popped up– this one of the kitchen where Tony had retreated to. While Riptide went toe-to-toe with Brandt, Tony was scrambling for the oil.

     “None of us can do a customary sketch of the kid and you’re gonna rag on me for not recognizing him?” Tony snarked. Rogers, Barton, and Banner had the grace to look sheepish.

     On-screen Riptide finished the fight with a savage kick and leaped over the oil Tony had slicked over the floor, joining the Avenger in the kitchen. The oil went up in flames, video-Tony pulled the kid behind a table while fiddling with a microwave. Everything went down like he remembered it– Brandt was glowy and on fire and then they were gone just in time for the metal in the microwave to spark the gas Tony had started pumping into the air and boom. End of footage.

     “I ran into him while I was in Rose Hill,” Tony admitted. “Hadn’t recognized me at first either, funny enough. But that only lasted a minute. Anyway, when I asked for his name, he’d just said that we’d already met. I asked him to refresh my memory, and he just said that I hadn’t gotten a name the first time either. I called him Blue. He was serious, but not a stick in the mud. Sense of humor in there once you know what to look for– he can sass with the best of them. Helped me get my suit up and running again.”

     Fury raised an eyebrow. “What, that’s all you got? Serious with a streak for sass?”

     Tony rolled his eyes. “Black hair, green eyes, six feet tall. I’d guess eighteen. Blue sweatshirt. That’s what I named him for. He was familiar in a way I couldn’t figure out until he saved my ass at the diner. Fluent in another language– Greek, I think, but his accent is New York. So if he was born anywhere else, he’s been in the States for a long time.” He tried to straddle the line between telling Fury enough to leave it alone while also keeping the kid’s confidence. Blue had earned that much from him.

     He hesitated, clenching a hand around his wrist. “He’s… the kid’s jaded in a way that he shouldn’t be. Like us. There’s not a doubt in my mind that he’s been through hell and back– seen things that no one should ever have to see.” Tony’s mind flashed back to watching Maya Hansen die before the illusion faded. But the image he conjured was so real that there was no way Blue hadn’t had to watch someone die at some point in his life. And there was the way he was prepared for Tony’s panic attacks– at the bomb site and then in the car.

     Tony said nothing of the kid’s powers.

     The air in the common room was heavy.

     “And you have no idea what he was doing in Rose Hill?” Fury prodded skeptically.

     Tony laughed. “Honestly? No.” And that was mostly the truth. Blue had mentioned that he was meeting Harley, some kind of long-lost relative, but Tony didn’t honestly think that was the whole story. Either way, Tony wasn’t going to put Harley in the crosshairs.

     The look on Fury’s face said that he didn’t believe him, but Tony didn’t care all that much at the moment. “Sorry to break it to you, Fury, but I can’t help you.”

     It didn’t take long for the spymaster to leave after that, but Tony didn't stop fielding inquiries from the other Avengers for a while.

     But Tony was relieved that nothing was said about Riptide’s presence on the Norco.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     Percy ducked, pulling his companion with him to cover.

     “What is with you guys?” he griped, engaging his shield to better cover them both. She hissed, the sound drawing Percy’s attention to the side of her shirt that was slowly staining red. “Shit.”

     He peered around to make sure that no one hostile was currently looking in their direction before snapping to keep unfriendly eyes away. Percy pulled a med-kit from his book bag while his companion watched him warily.

     “What are you doing?” she asked.

     Percy only spared her a glance before cutting another look at their surroundings and setting the kit to the side. “Helping.” He nodded to her side. “Can I take a look?”

     She watched him for a very long moment before nodding.

     Percy brushed her hand away and carefully lifted the hem of the ruined shirt– thankfully the wound was just north of her hip, so it didn’t have to go far. He inspected it closely before letting out a relieved puff of breath. “Just a graze,” he reported. “We were lucky.” He rubbed a disinfecting wipe all over his hands before cleaning what he could of her wound and bandaging it.

     While he worked on the field dressing with an ease of practice that seemed to unsettle his patient, he told her a story, conscious of at least one pair of listening ears aside from her own.

     “When I was twelve, I went to summer camp,” he started. It earned him an odd look that was ignored. “At the time, I had just had to watch the only family I had disappear in front of my very eyes. I was all alone in a place I didn’t know and all anyone seemed to do was pity me. I was put in Cabin 11, and I made my first friend at camp there.

     “Luke was nineteen and he was Cabin 11’s head counselor. He was nice. He looked after everyone like a brother or a good friend. He helped me settle in and taught me how to use a sword. He was the kind of person everyone trusted– that everyone went to if they had a problem. But not everything was as it seemed. Something important had been stolen– something powerful. And pretty soon I was framed for it. I cleared my name and everything went back to normal.

     “Then Luke came to me and asked if we could talk. So I followed him into the woods. He told me he was leaving camp. Then he told me that the theft had been him all along, and he was angry that I managed to return what had been taken. For the first time, I could see him as he was. He was bitter and angry at the world. If it meant getting revenge for how he felt it had failed him, he was willing to do anything to tear it down. He left me for dead that day.”

     Percy tightened the bandages properly. “I was lucky to survive that time. But Luke wasn’t finished. He kept coming back to destroy everything that the rest of us had ever loved. I fought him a few more times before I turned sixteen. By the time he died, we had lost so many kids because of him– either killed by his hands or by his orders.” He packed up his medkit and slipped it back in his bag, taking the opportunity to check for the extra pair of eyes.

     “Why are you telling me this?” his companion asked, confused– and, despite herself, concerned.

     Percy looked up at her seriously. “Because, Skye, I know a wolf in sheep’s clothing when I see one.” She bristled, seeming to think he was referring to her somehow. “And there’s someone on your team that reminds me of Luke in all of the worst ways. He spends years gaining your trust and making himself an integral part of life. And all the while, that rage inside him festers. And the moment you are no longer on his side, he will make you either join him or die. But if you’re lucky enough, you’ll get the same third option I did.”

     When Skye just stared at him with wide eyes, he continued.

     “You’ll live, and you’ll make him fight for every drop of blood he goes on to spill.” Percy straightens up and casts a glance back around. The coast was clear. His eyes find Coulson where the man had been watching and listening.

     Coulson’s stare is intense as he steps into view and positions himself closer to Skye. Guarding– as if Percy hadn’t been aware of the man’s presence for quite some time. He had no doubt that if Coulson had thought Percy was going to hurt her, he would have shot the demigod. “Riptide.”

     “Coulson,” Percy greeted smoothly. He cast a glance to where the rest of the team seemed to have finally spotted them. Agent May was at the front with Agent Ward behind her a few paces. Fitz and Simmons looked ruffled but okay, and they pulled up the rear. Percy could see how their interests sharpened upon noticing him– but none so much as Ward.

     Percy turned to look at Coulson, keeping his face out of the rest of the team’s sight. “Pray that I’m wrong,” he said lowly, “but Ward has always struck me as a wolf.”

     May and Ward approached with their guns drawn, but May’s was pointed at the ground. Still ready, but not too ready. Percy couldn’t say the same about Ward.

     “Thank you, Riptide,” Coulson said, just loud enough to be heard by everyone. “For helping her.”

     Percy shrugged. What was he supposed to do? Not help her? “Not a problem,” he shot back easily. “Maybe in return, you guys can let me go on my way. Besides,” he said, nodding at Skye. “I tried to clean it as best as I could, but I’ve only got a field kit. I would hate for that to get infected.”

     Ward started to protest, but May and Coulson had already shared a look and come to an agreement. “Perhaps we’ll get to talk to you next time,” Coulson agreed with a bland smile.

     Percy snorted. “We’ll see.” He hefted the backpack onto his shoulders and cast one last glance around at the team he can’t seem to stop running into. “Try not to die before then.”

     “You too!” Simmons called somewhat cheerfully, earning a few varied looks from her team.

     Percy, already turned to leave, laughed. “I’ll try my best,” he promised.

     A few moments later and he was gone, the S.H.I.E.L.D. team left in the dust for another day.

     He’d warned them. The ball was in their court now. Maybe they’d do something about it.

Chapter Text

Hey, everyone, and happy holidays! I’m so sorry to get your hopes up with an update, but I’m afraid this isn’t a chapter. I’m sorry for dropping off the map!

This fic is NOT abandoned, nor will it be. I just got slammed with Life. Between school and Adulting and my new normal of working 45+ hours a week (more like 50, and soon to be a guaranteed 55+ as of next week), you might understand why I haven’t had time to write. I didn’t even have time to try my hand at NaNoWriMo this year! I’ve written maybe 500 words total in the past several months.

Anyway, I’m not dead, and neither is this fic. It’s just unfortunately stalled out while I try to keep a roof over my head.

Thank you all so much for your support, and I hope to be back with a real chapter soon! ❤️❤️❤️

-December 21, 2021

Hey, Reread Squad. Miss me? I miss me too. I doubt many people are gonna see this, and that's fine. If it was super important, I'd make another announcement chapter.

Do I have a roommate now? Yes! Thank all the things that are holy! However, just as I got my feet back under me and things started looking up again-- we got hit with hella inflation, as i'm sure many of you adult Americans can relate. Rent went up, and my hours at work went down. In short-- not much has changed. It's frustrating, and it's definitely not doing my mental state any favors, holy fuck. I'm trying to get back into school to put a pause on my student loans, and i'm wrangling my muse in an effort to return to this fic. I never wanted this fic to be one of those super-slow-to-update ones, but alas, Life™️ . Two chapters in two years is not exactly great, huh? lol. But this is NOT ABANDONED. And my little brain is going brrrrrrr, even if I can't always find the time wo put it to words.

Love you guys.

-April 20, 2023

Chapter Text

     “What’re you thinking, Seaweed Brain?” Annabeth said, interrupting Percy’s line of thought as he stared over Camp Half-Blood.

     “That we need a vacation,” he said immediately.

     She blinked, a little taken off-guard by the ready answer. Her whole body pivoted to give him her undivided– albeit baffled– attention. “Um. What?”

     “A vacation,” Percy repeated. His head turned until he was staring her straight in the face. The expression was somewhere between dead, resigned, and stressed. “If I have to run into a single S.H.I.E.L.D. agent within the next two weeks, I cannot be held responsible for what I might do.”

     Despite the honesty of the statement, Annabeth laughed. “Alright then, Percy. You want a vacation? Tell me all about it.”

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     “Riptide, do you really think…?” Skye asked quietly on the Air Bus, just her and Coulson in the room.

     Coulson pursed his lips. “I don’t know. He never struck me as the type to sow dissent, but…”

     “But we don’t really know him,” Skye contintuned quietly. “And he doesn’t really know us. I mean– sure, we run into him, like, a stupid amount of times, but I’ve always been under the impression that he doesn’t want to see us. So it doesn’t make sense that he would… I don’t know, want to make us distrust each other.”

     “Keep what he said between us, for now,” Coulson said quietly. “I’ll look into it.”

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     Pepper paused upon walking into the common room. She’d known that Tony was looking to install something, but she hadn’t known exactly what.

    “Tony, what is this?” she asked slowly.

     The other Avengers present had gathered to check it out out of sheer curiosity or boredom, Pepper was sure, but they didn’t quite have the context necessary to understand why Pepper was… well.

     Tony hummed, turning to look at her with that slightly manic, slightly sheepish look that said he knew what she was thinking. “Saltwater fish tank, Pep.”

     It was a pretty big one, too, all things considered. Sleek and fitting with the Tower’s current aesthetic. And set in the top corner was a familiar blue bow.

     “Mhmm,” Pepper hummed, looking between Tony and the fish-filled tank in exasperated resignation. “And the bow?”

     Tony nodded sagely. “A reminder.”

     Bruce, Steve, Natasha, and Clint were all watching with curiosity and confusion. They’d clearly guessed there was something else going on here.

     “A reminder of what?” Bruce asked.

     Tony paused, glanced at Pepper, and then looked slightly apprehensively at the fish. He patted the tank. “Fish are friends. Not food,” he deflected.

     Clint looked at him quizzically. “Did you just quote Finding Nemo ?”

     “Ground rules!” Tony said, clapping as if to bring the conversation on track. “Be kind to the fish– what goes around, comes around. Don’t feed them after midnight.”

     “What are they, Gremlins?” Natasha cut in.

     Steve looked between them uncertainly. “What are Gremlins?”

     “Do not threaten the fish,” Tony said louder. “Address them by their given names.”

     Pepper closed her eyes.

     “Don’t tap on the glass. Jarvis will tattle on you if you do,” he continued.

     “What is happening,” Clint whispered.

     Pepper walked away.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     Stark Industries seemed a little surprised when Tony Stark launched a new initiative for cleaning up the oceans, but somewhere, Percy Jackson saw the headline and laughed.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     “Alright, campers!” Percy called, standing on the beach. “Today we’re working on fighting when you’re on unstable ground.”

     There was a pretty good turnout for this activity actually, for a variety of reasons.

     One: they were going to get tips from Percy Jackson, Son of Poseidon and survivor of two demigod wars, numerous quests, and an actual Alien Invasion.

     Two: Percy Jackson was incredibly easy on the eyes. Tanned skin, defined muscles, hair that looks perpetually windswept in the best way, and those eyes. Everyone knew he and Annabeth were a thing, but who said the campers couldn’t look?

     Three: Percy Jackson was not wearing a shirt and he was ripped as hell.

     Percy got out Riptide and started giving demonstrations, lunging this way or moving that way to give the audience an idea of what they should be doing.

     What he didn’t realize was that a few of the campers had brought their phones.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     Social media erupted hours later.

     Thanks to some very careful spoofing, the exact origins of the pictures and short videos were impossible to determine or trace.

     They all featured the same thing: A young man with a familiar sword working out on the beach, his scarred and chiseled body on display, and a pair of swim trunks on. He looked fierce, but also like a god made man. None of the posted content showed anyone else, and the exact particulars of his face were impossible to pin. All that could be seen was a blurred expression, and– on occasion– bright, sea-green eyes.

     The fan clubs online went nuts.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     “Social media has been in an uproar since yesterday afternoon when images were posted of what appears to be the mysterious Riptide-”

     Everyone’s attention was on the TV in an instant.

     “-practicing some of his moves on a beach. Many speculate-”

     “Holy shit,” Rhodey whistled, having come over to visit Tony. They shared a significant look. (Since as far as the others knew, Rhodey had never met Riptide, so he couldn’t exactly comment.)

     “Look at those scars,” Bruce murmured, looking somewhere between horrified and sad.

     The picture was swapped for a compilation of short clips, some of them comparing the kid’s moves side-by-side with what they’d seen in New York when he battled the Chitauri.

     Steve glanced between the TV and Tony. “Can you find where these were taken? Maybe we can actually talk to this kid.”

     Tony pursed his lips. “Maybe.” Could he? Again, maybe. Depending on whether people posted them where they were taken, and then there was whether or not he would still be there. And of course there was the issue of whether or not Tony really wanted the kid to be found.

     Still, it would be best to at least make it look like he was actually looking.

     (Tony doubted he’d find anything anyway.)

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     “So, what do you think about London?” Percy said out of nowhere, in the middle of doing his coursework.

     Annabeth looked up. “London?”

     “For vacation,” Percy clarified.

     His girlfriend looked at him judgmentally. “And I’m sure this location has nothing to do with the list of active locations of interest to S.H.I.E.L.D. that I’m not supposed to know that Leo has.”

     Percy’s pen paused before he ducked his head lower and kept working. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

     “Sure. And definitely nothing to do with the news salivating over the campers’ clips of ‘Riptide’.”

     Percy hunched further, and when he spoke he sounded hunted. “The what of who?”

     “Right,” she said, disbelieving. Then she sighed. “Fine. I’ve always wanted to see London.”

     Annabeth tactfully ignored her boyfriend’s sigh of relief.

–––––•~∞~•–––––

     They took a cruise, naturally. Putting the son of Poseidon in the sky inside of a metal tube would never be a good idea. And Percy had never been on a cruise ship before— barring the Princess Andromeda, of course. And Percy had no fond memories of that ship.

     So they spent eight days at sea, enjoying the salty air and each other’s presence. Annabeth would read and sketch and Percy would swim or train with her outside of view when they weren’t studying. Sometimes they would find a secluded place with a view to sit and talk or to call friends and family back home. All too soon, they were docking in England.

     They were just starting their self-guided tour through Greenwich when the weird shit started happening.

     Percy closed his eyes and looked to the sky.

     “Why me?” he groaned.

     Annabeth just laughed.