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“Most of the demigods in New York we can pick up using one of the Strawberry Service trucks, but there’s one someone else will have to do.”
“Who is it, Katie?”
“A daughter of Ceres; she works as a secretary at Stark Industries.”
“And why can’t she be picked up using one of the vans?”
“Because it would look suspicious.”
“Why?”
“She’s allergic to strawberries, Jackson!”
*~*
“Oh! I forgot to tell you honey. You know the man across the hall, Mr Nicks, moved out of the apartment.”
“Vaguely, Ma. Why?”
“The new family just moved in! A lovely couple called May and Ben Parker, and their nephew Peter. The floor is throwing a welcome dinner for them tonight. I’ve already offered to babysit Peter whenever his aunt and uncle are working - the boy is so smart, and such a sweetheart.”
“So the opposite of me, then.”
“Percy!”
*~*
“Hey, Perce, do you know if legacies are all awful or if it’s just some of them?”
“No idea, Wise Girl, why?”
“I told you how one of my colleagues at the architecture firm has been bragging about her fiance, yeah? Well, I met him for the first time today at a communal lunch. The man was extremely shifty and suspicious, and he had a SPQR tattoo on his arm, with the symbol of Vulcan.”
“...Please tell me you interrogated him.”
“Exactly who do you take me for, Seaweed Brain? So it turns out this guy - a legacy of Vulcan, who ran away from Camp Jupiter after serving in the Fifth Legion for only two years - abandoned this whole family that he has in the middle of nowhere to come to NY and marry my colleague.”
“Hades, you’re not serious.”
“I’d love to tell you that this is a joke, but it isn’t. We need to talk to Grover about sending someone out to find his kids as soon as possible.”
“Alright, so where is this family, other than Middle of Nowhere, USA?”
“Somewhere called Rose Hill, in Tennessee.”
*~*
“Oi, Jackson, what do you remember about when your gods had that ridiculous Roman/Greek split personality nonsense?”
“Not sure. They kept flickering between different appearances and personalities, more often than not. Why’re you asking, Fierro?”
“Something similar’s happening with the Norse gods too. Magnus and Sam noticed that they were glitching between different looks, and others have started seeing it too. Thor keeps turning into a blonde, buff dude rather than his usual appearance as a farting, ginger haired monstrosity. Heimdall keeps having random moments where he has flashes of gold eyes and actual common sense. No one really knows what’s going on, but-”
“Then you remembered that we’d had something similar, yeah. But there’s never been two aspects of Norse gods, have there?”
“TJ and Sam are researching that at this very moment, but we don’t think so. There are plenty of fictional representations of them, but none have the kind of traction that would directly affect their appearances and personalities.”
“Huh. Weird.”
“You’re telling me!”
“I’ll ask Annabeth, and a few others. See if we can get to the bottom of this. Otherwise, you just kind of have to deal with it.”
“Alright. Thanks, Jackson.”
“Don’t mention it, Fierro.”
*~*
“Percy! Good to see you, man.”
“You too, Carter. I was in Brooklyn, thought I might as well drop by. Who’s your friend?”
“Oh! Yeah, this is the Ancient One. She’s the Sorcerer Supreme, in charge of a group of wizards known as the Masters of the Mystic Arts. Her team protects our dimension and reality from outside threats. Sadie meets up with them monthly to compare notes on magical skills and stuff. Especially about the Infinity Stones.”
“Sorry, what in Zeus’ name are Infinity Stones?”
“Christmas decorations. No, I’m kidding. They’re…”
*~*
“Agent Hill.”
“Fury.”
“Find our file on specialised consultants.”
“Yes sir.”
“Is there a section on supernatural concerns?”
“Yes, there is. There’s one contact listed under the subheading.”
“What does it say?”
“One surname, followed by a New York state phone number.”
“What’s the surname?”
“...Jackson.”
*~*
After Loki escaped from the Helicarrier, Fury gave in and ordered Hill to dial the number filed under ‘supernatural consultants’. They were totally out of their depth, he could see that now, and even if he could pull the Avengers together into a team, they were definitely going to need some help.
Stark, Rogers, Romanoff, Barton and Thor were gathered in a meeting room, watching Fury walk in, phone in hand. “Who are you calling?” Rogers asked, curiously.
“The S.H.I.E.L.D. supernatural consultancy number.”
“Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” Stark held his hands up. “You mean you had someone to consult about all this ridiculous stuff and you didn’t think to contact them?”
Glaring at him, Fury conceded stiffly, “I am well aware that I should have called this number earlier, but I hadn’t thought that I needed to. Loki was imprisoned here, after all.” At that, most of the team looked sheepish.
When no one responded, Fury dialled the number Hill had given him, put the phone on speaker, and left it in the middle of the table. It rang three times before the call was picked up.
“Hello?” the voice was female, with a slight New York accent and a yard of crisp professionalism.
“Mrs Jackson?” Fury asked, pausing in his pacing.
A slight pause. “That would be me,” she replied, “Can I help you?”
“This is SHIELD,” he explained, “One of our files had your number as the one to call if we ever needed supernatural help.” Barton and Romanoff exchanged a glance.
“Oh,” Mrs Jackson seemed to consider something. “Yes, okay. Is this about that Loki character?”
Everyone in the meeting room looked at each other, but none of them responded. She seemed to take that as a yes. “Alright, give me a second; I need to get my husband.” There was some shuffling as the phone was moved, then all they could hear was a distant conversation in a language that definitely wasn’t English. Stark raised an eyebrow.
When the phone was shuffled back, a different voice spoke up - masculine, with a strong New York accent and a twang that came from living in the worse parts of the city. “Whatever the problem is, go from the beginning, and don’t leave anything out.”
As the one with the best memory and the most information, Romanoff succinctly summarised the situation, which the couple on the other end of the line responded to by humming and muttering indistinctly. Once she was finished, the new male voice made a comment. “Did you guys really not realise that Loki wanted to be captured so he could split your team up before you became a team?”
“The word you’re looking for is ‘preemptively’. Also, they probably haven’t been on the other side of that kind of manipulation as much as you or I have,” Mrs Jackson reminded her husband. “People from SHIELD are more experienced at doing the manipulation themselves, rather than learning to recognise and resist it.” He conceded the point, as Romanoff’s lips tightened and Barton’s jaw clenched. Neither seemed to appreciate the woman’s statement.
“Anyway,” Mr Jackson continued, “Your Loki wants to invade, and he wants to make a spectacle out of it, in a way that will humiliate at least one of you, if not more. Can any of you think of a location where he could possibly manage this?”
There was a short silence, as all of the Avengers considered his question. Then Stark swore explosively. “Yep, I know where he’s going to be. My tower.”
“Whose tower?” asked Mrs Jackson, sounding amused.
“Stark Tower,” Fury elaborated, “Set up a perimeter surrounding Stark Tower and start evacuating civilians. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
There was muted agreement from the other end of the line. “Plan 23 for perimeter,” Mrs Jackson was saying, “Get Cabin 7 and anyone willing from Brooklyn to set up an infirmary at the Museum of Modern Arts; it needs to be all hands on deck for anyone in the state to get mortals evacuated and contain the invasion force for as long as possible until SHIELD’s team shows up. I’ll see if I can dig up that shield - we can keep an eye on…” her voice faded out into the background, and finally Stark pressed the ‘end call’ button.
The following silence was broken by Barton exclaiming, “Okay, why on earth didn’t we contact them before?!”
“They seem to have far more experience with these kinds of situations,” Rogers agreed, “Although the idea that there have been other scenarios similar to this - that we are unaware of, even now - is alarming.”
At that statement, Fury’s anger dissolved, and he shook his head. “That is not the concern at the moment - though we will be investigating that possibility, as I agree with you. The concern currently is Loki’s attack on New York, and you guys working together to fight it off.”
*~*
“No, Kane, I’m not kidding - though I kind of wish I was. There’s an attack going on, led by this split-personality Loki character, on NYC from Stark Tower. We’ve got the city’s statue automatons forming a perimeter - I’ll explain that one later, Sadie, I promise - and any demigods we can alert in the city are guiding their fellow civilians into the subway tunnels and making sure they’re as far out from the line of fire as possible. The biggest problem is setting up an infirmary for people who get injured. It’s at the MoMA, and Will Solace from the Apollo cabin is in charge, but if you have any healers to lend to the cause, please come help.”
“Sure, Percy, Jaz and a couple of others can help out. We can see the portal forming from here. Will we be able to fight the attacking force ourselves?”
“Yeah, but we have to be subtle about it. The focus needs to be on the mortal superheroes - they call themselves the Avengers, or Earth’s Mightiest Heroes or something.”
“Ironic, given your name means avenger or destroyer, and if anyone’s the earth’s mightiest hero, it’s the person who’s saved the world more times than years I’ve been alive.”
“Yeah, I know, it’s kind of hilarious from our standpoint, but whatever. Are you coming or not?”
“Gods, yeah, of course I’m coming! I’ve never fought aliens before…”
*~*
None of the Avengers had really managed to catch a glimpse of the people the Jacksons had recruited to help out against the alien invasion, but all of them had noticed the results of their actions: the blocks around Stark Tower were practically empty of civilians, and alien bodies were already littering the streets everywhere Steve turned. He personally hadn’t been over to the MoMA, but according to Clint there was a fully functioning infirmary there, plenty of people moving in and out, and fighters posted at the entrances and exits. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to get close enough to be any more definite about the fighters themselves, but two were apparently carrying bows, a couple had swords, and one was holding a carved staff of some sort. And not even the super spies had spotted whoever had formed the perimeter - no one knew what ‘Plan Twenty-Three’ was (that Mrs Jackson had mentioned) but all of them could see that it was working alarmingly effectively.
When Natasha figured out how they could close the portal, she asked, “But how are we going to stop them from just opening another one and coming back?”
“Well, there aren’t any nuclear missiles heading our way that we can use to destroy their base,” Tony joked over comms.
Behind Steve, a voice announced, “I’ve got something.”
The girl behind Steve was somewhere around eighteen or nineteen years old, with dark brown skin and long curly hair. She was wearing combat trousers, a faded purple shirt and a jean jacket with a trident patch on her shoulder. At her side, an enormous sword was sheathed, which looked even larger when compared to her small frame.
Steve and Natasha exchanged glances. If she was old enough to have gone through university, then he’d throw away his shield. Were these the kind of people the Jacksons had recruited? Speaking of which, how old were the Jacksons themselves?
“What do you have?” asked Natasha softly, stepping forward.
Carefully, the girl reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a jar of something glowing green. “This.” Taking another step forward, Nat gently took the jar. “Careful,” the girl warned, “The glass is reinforced, but if it breaks, there’s nothing I can do to help you.”
Eyes wide, Natasha changed her grip on the jar again. “Thank you,” she smiled.
“Now come on,” the girl grinned, suddenly full of a confidence they hadn’t seen before, “Let’s hitch a ride up.”
“Wha-”
*~*
“Um, Perce, Hazel just jumped onto an alien scooter with one of those Avenger dudes.”
“Good for her! Fighting a species from outer space has been on my bucket list for a while now, but it’s about time this got wrapped up, don’t you think Neeks?”
“Oh yeah, true. I’m heading back to the MoMA in case Will needs me. See you once this nonsense is over?”
“Definitely - we’re meeting at Ma’s for coffee and blue cookies.”
“Sounds good.”
*~*
It wasn’t until after the fact that Tony realised that there were people on their team who knew who the Jacksons were. Or, who one of them was, at least.
“Jackson? Supernatural?” Erik Selvig shook his head with a grin. “That boy and his lovely wife have been at least indirectly involved in every disaster you can imagine, and quite a few you can’t. I’m not surprised they’re your contact for the not-mortal side of affairs; the two of them know basically everyone over that side, and can therefore find out practically anything one could ask for. I’m surprised you didn’t recognise their name when it first came up, Lord Thor. You’ve been in contact with her cousin often enough.”
Thor chuckled. “It took me some time to work it out, that’s true. But the Battle of Manhattan is well known amongst us, even six years later, and the heroes from that time are not ones we’re likely to forget.”
“Wait.” Clint held up a hand. “You mean you know these Jacksons?”
“Personally?” Thor exclaimed, “No, I’ve never had the pleasure. But I’ve heard of him and his wife both; they are famous heroes, and have saved the world many times. And of course I’ve met her cousin a few times - he’s helped me on more than one occasion.”
Tony blinked. Three times. And then twice more, for good measure. “They’re heroes? And what do you mean, the Battle of Manhattan? There hasn’t been a battle in this city before, not until today.”
This time, Erik was the one who laughed. “Mortals’ minds are so small. You’re superheroes yourselves, aren’t you, Avengers?” he snorted. “Are your minds just so inflexible that you can’t even consider the possibilities?”
“Six years ago…” Nat muttered. “You mean the blackout? That was a cover for a whole battle?”
“Spreading rumours, are you, Thor?”
The group whirled around to see a green haired figure crouched by Loki. She was wearing an unusual mix of green and pink, and had both hands clasped over Loki’s handcuffs. “And to think I came here out of my own good will to help you dump this sucker in his prison…” she sang, smirking.
“Not rumours, Fierro, but facts about your friends!” Thor declared.
Fierro rolled her eyes. “Those friends are the only reason why I’m here at all. Well, that and making sure this one,” she kicked Loki, “doesn’t get free again. The last time I do a favour for Jackson,” she muttered under her breath.
“You know the Jacksons too?” Clint asked. “Does that mean you know the people who were working at the infirmary? And the one who helped Nat close the portal?”
She shrugged. “Probably. We’re always willing to back each other up - perks of being part of such an exclusive community. Who helped your friend close the portal?”
Gesturing, Natasha said, “So tall. Long curly hair. African American. Purple t-shirt.”
“Owns an enormous gold sword?” inquired Fierro, grinning when Natasha nodded. “Yeah, I know her. Speaking of which, are we going to get going, Thunder Boy? I don’t want to miss out on blue cookies again, my boyfriend will never let me live it down.” Standing, she lazily kicked Loki in the back of the calf, grinning when he fell into a kneel.
Laughing, Thor strode over. “We can go, my little argr.” He grabbed Loki and towed him out the door, Fierro following him, grumbling about not liking the word argr as she ran a hand through her green hair.
The door slammed shut behind them, and Tony sighed.
“If we ever get a straight answer about the Jacksons out of anybody, I will paint my Iron Man suit pink and blue.”
*~*
“Hold on a sec, my phone’s going off. Yeah, Pep? How’re things at Stark Tower?”
“You want to explain to me why Tony is muttering about evasive answers and how he can’t seem to track down the two most elusive people in the entirety of the USA, and why ‘Jackson’ seems to be every other word?”
“No, not really. It’s not our fault that the man can’t handle a mystery, is it?”
“But is it your fault that the phone number on SHIELD’s files is untrackable?”
“Leo’s, technically. But yes. Given Beth’s and my knowledge, we don’t want the government of all things to know where we live and where we work. You know the number who could be put in danger if the wrong people got hold of that information.”
“The problem is, I do. Look, I’ll do what I can to keep him distracted from the mystery, but if Tony finds this number in my phone and confronts me about it, I won’t lie about knowing you.”
“Aw, Pepper. I don’t want to make a rift between you and your boss, and Annabeth doesn’t either. Just… just do what you think is right. And when the time comes that he’s asking for the truth, don’t betray his trust. You two have been getting closer, and if there comes a moment that he wants to know all of you, this is something you’ll need to explain anyway.”
“I know. And I will. But I don’t want to betray your and Annabeth’s trust either, Percy. Not after everything the camp’s done to help me keep my position here.”
“In which case, when it comes to how much you want to tell, trust your gut. We trust you to know how much to say. You know Stark far better than the rest of us.”
“Yeah, true. I was honestly not expecting everything to be so chaotic when my two worlds collided, but I think that was just wishful thinking. Enjoy yourself, Jackson.”
“Back atcha, Potts. Call if anything else happens.”
*~*
“Hey, Percy, can you do me a favour?”
“Sure, Paul, what’s up?”
“Well, you know how a bunch of locals were working on clean up over here after the battle? Well, there’s been a government intervention, and they’ve been forced to hand over the work they were doing and any alien tech that they might’ve come across.”
“I heard about that, yeah. What about it?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure some of the guys have kept some of the alien tech they picked up, unbeknownst to the government. If you wouldn’t mind, I think it would be best for everyone in New York if whatever they’re planning could get shut down now, before it becomes something bigger.”
“No, you’re right. Thanks for the tip off, Paul. We’re on it. Tell Mum and Stella hi for me.”
“Will do.”
*~*
“Oy, Reyna! How’s Hylla’s hunt for HYDRA going?”
“Pretty good, I think. They’re currently trying to track down someone the people inside HYDRA only refer to as the Asset. They’re assuming that that name is referring to an assassin only known as the Winter Soldier. You heard of him?”
“Yeah! Nico mentions him sometimes - as a fellow death-cheater. Isn’t he supposed to be under insane psychological manipulation and stuff?”
“From the evidence and rumours, yes. Hylla’s recruiting Thalia and the Hunters to try and track him down, but when they do, do you think you could recruit some of your more magical-leaning friends to help out?”
“Sure, Sadie and the others at Brooklyn House would be happy to help out someone under conditioning that deep, and they could probably pull in some of their other friends if needed.”
“Brilliant, Percy. I’ll tell your cousin and my sister to get in touch when they need it. Are you still coming for Annabeth’s birthday?”
“Yep. We’re trying to get everyone together, and New Rome seemed like the safest place to attempt the… gathering. Honestly, people from so many different pantheons are going to be in the same space, I’ll be surprised if it doesn’t trigger some sort of nuclear explosion.”
“Because that’s just so reassuring, Jackson…”
*~*
“Jackson, speaking.”
“Annabeth, would you like to explain why I’m spending my weekends running interference on a government investigation into your surname and seemingly untrackable phone number?”
“Malcolm, SHIELD found our number on one of their files. Labelled ‘supernatural consultants’, apparently.”
“Who managed to put your and Percy’s number on a SHIELD file?”
“I have a few guesses, but honestly, that’s not the concern here. Just remember, Mal. They can’t learn about our world. Not people like SHIELD. The Avengers would at least try to protect our teenagers and young people. SHIELD would use them as weapons, no matter the protest.”
“...I would love to say the government would never act like that, but unfortunately I know better. But still, don’t the Avengers have demigods and stuff working really closely with them?”
“Technically, yes. However, as smart as the team seems, they are remarkably clueless to the mythical connections and background that they have. Except for Thor, of course, but even his existence doesn’t seem to have set any of the others wondering if there are other pagan gods still out there - even Barton, and I have it on good authority that he’s a legacy of Apollo.”
“Hades. I wish that surprised me, but mortals can be alarmingly obtuse when the Mist demands it.”
“Truer words have never been said. I’m sorry Perce and I are giving you more work to do, but hopefully they’ll give up sooner rather than later. If not, stick Nyssa or Jake on the job - apparently their computer science minors aren’t as much of a brain workout as either wanted.”
“Yeah, it’s fine. And I will: those Hephaestus kids could do with a challenge for once. See you later, Annabeth.”
“Bye, Pace.”