The Son of Mischief and Moonlight

The morning sun threw dramatic, action-movie-worthy shadows over the training grounds of K'un Lun. Harry squinted as he surveyed the lineup. His friends stood in a semi-circle, looking slightly terrified, as they faced the calm figure of Yu-Ti, master of K'un Lun. Yu-Ti's robes billowed in that mysterious, "I'm so wise the wind just cooperates" way that only mystics seemed to pull off.

Hermione leaned over to Harry, eyebrows knitted. "We're supposed to… spar with him?"

"Looks that way," Harry muttered, trying to keep his voice casual. Inside, though, he was bouncing between excitement and serious doubt. He was pretty much made of magic and godly blessings, but he'd just watched Yu-Ti dismantle a few walls with his mind—probably without even trying.

Thalia, never one to back down, cracked her knuckles. "Finally. I was starting to think we'd spend all our time meditating."

Yu-Ti didn't say a word. He just gave each of them a calm nod, beckoning forward the first challenger with a serene "bring it on" smile. Connor went first, because of course he did—Connor was always up for being the guinea pig. He came in with a jab, probably expecting Yu-Ti to dodge or block. Instead, Yu-Ti sidestepped and gave Connor a tiny push. Somehow, that "tiny push" sent him sprawling face-first into the dirt.

Next was Thalia. She darted forward, quick as lightning, and then… ended up flat on her back in two seconds flat. Clarisse, Beckendorf, Annabeth—they all tried, each sure they'd be the exception. Each found themselves facing the ground, thoroughly bested by the serene man in the flowing robes.

When Hermione stepped up, she tried a more strategic approach, watching his every movement, anticipating every counter. Yu-Ti, however, seemed to read her like an open book, gently deflecting her attempts until she, too, stumbled back, sighing with frustration.

Then, finally, it was Harry's turn.

Yu-Ti raised an eyebrow, giving him a slight, intrigued nod, like he'd just met a puzzle that might actually be worth his time. Harry grinned back, a little of that Loki trickster glint showing. He knew better than to rush in wildly, especially after watching his friends drop like flies. His mother, Artemis, always said that being patient was half the battle—and, well, he'd learned the hard way she was usually right.

The two moved in a slow circle, a deadly dance with Yu-Ti dodging every strike with supernatural calm. But unlike the others, Harry adapted, watching every shift and subtle change in stance. For a split second, he thought he might even land a hit.

That was, until Yu-Ti lifted one finger, stopping Harry's strike mid-air. One finger. Just like that.

Yu-Ti's eyes sparkled. "Impressive, Haris Lokison," he said with a serene nod. "You have potential. But learn to control that spark of impatience."

Harry flashed him a lopsided grin, barely winded. "I'll work on that, Master."

In the background, Lei Kung and Brunhilde had been watching the whole thing. Brunhilde crossed her arms, eyes narrowing in that "I could totally take him" way she always did, but before she could step forward, Lei Kung held up a hand.

"Brunhilde, here, you are a student like everyone else. Save your energy for tomorrow's training."

She opened her mouth to argue, but Lei Kung's gaze was steady, a silent reminder that even Valkyries weren't above the rules in K'un Lun. After a moment, she gave a reluctant nod, though her smirk remained.

Meanwhile, Connor was groaning dramatically from the ground. "Seriously, I didn't even see him move. Is that even legal?"

Thalia rolled her eyes. "Welcome to training with actual gods, Connor."

Beckendorf, wincing as he rubbed his shoulder, chimed in, "Connor, you're the one who practically threw yourself at the ground. Don't blame Yu-Ti."

Silena sighed, patting Connor on the back. "Maybe try a little more thinking and a little less flailing next time?"

Connor shot her a wounded look. "You know, some of us don't have godly powers, magic hair, or magical training on the side."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I don't know—your flailing technique seems pretty advanced to me."

Connor threw his hands up. "See? This is what I get for trying!"

Yu-Ti clapped his hands, silencing the chatter, his gaze sliding over the group like he was analyzing every flaw in their form, every weakness they were trying to hide. "Today, you have learned a simple truth," he said with a smile that was way too calm. "Strength without balance, courage without discipline, and force without precision will all fall short. K'un Lun teaches not only skill, but humility."

"Oh good," muttered Clarisse, just loud enough for Annabeth to elbow her in the ribs.

"Humility," Beckendorf echoed with a smirk. "Also known as 'spending face-time with the dirt.'"

Yu-Ti's expression didn't change, but somehow, he seemed more amused. "Yes. And tomorrow, you will have the chance to embrace that humility once again. At dawn."

Connor groaned, and Silena patted him on the back. "Well, at least it can't get worse… right?"

"Wanna bet?" Harry muttered.

As they walked back toward the temple, feeling bruised and humbled, Harry couldn't help but glance at Brunhilde. Even with her Valkyrie pride, she'd held back. He gave her a sidelong look, smirking. "You itching to take him on?"

She shrugged, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. "Maybe. But in K'un Lun, I guess I'm just a student… for now."

Harry chuckled, the weight of the training and the mystery of this place settling over him like a second skin. He'd come here with gifts from gods, sure, but he was realizing something: there was still so much to learn. And something told him, with Yu-Ti watching over him, he was in for a long, strange journey.

—

Lance Alvers sat on the curb, his head throbbing, his lip bleeding, and his heart still pounding. He winced, rubbing the back of his neck where one of the neighborhood thugs had managed to land a punch before he'd been interrupted. Around him, the world seemed to shift in strange, unexplainable ways—like the ground was suddenly a lot more... alive. He couldn't quite put it into words, but the earth felt different beneath his fingers, like he was connected to it somehow.

"Uh, hey... Kitty?" Lance's voice came out rough, as if he'd been screaming for hours. Maybe he had been. He couldn't remember. "Are we... are we gonna get in trouble for that?"

Kitty Pryde sat next to him on the curb, still catching her breath. Her fingers twitched, as if testing something, and she couldn't help but grin. "I don't know," she said, her voice oddly light despite the chaos. "But that was awesome, right?"

Lance shot her a confused look, wiping the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. "What? You're not scared? That was insane! You just... phased through that guy's fist like it was nothing!" He glanced at her again, narrowing his eyes. "And then the ground—" He flung an arm in the general direction of the small crater that had appeared beneath them when the thugs had tried to rough him up. "What the hell was that?"

Kitty shrugged, trying to act cool about it. "I mean... I don't know. It felt kind of like—" She reached out her hand and waved it in the air in a weird motion, like she was pulling something out of thin air. "Like I could go through stuff? Like, you know, ghosts do?"

Lance blinked at her, the confusion still written all over his face. "You're not freaked out? You just went through a guy's fist—his fist—and you're sitting here like we're just discussing the latest episode of Star Trek?"

Kitty rolled her eyes, brushing off her clothes as if that could somehow normalize the situation. "Look, I'm a nerd. I've read about this stuff. People who can phase through walls? That's a thing, Lance. Like, actual mutants do that. I think. I mean, I'm not totally sure, but still. That was pretty awesome. Don't you think?"

Lance shot her a skeptical look. "Yeah, sure. Totally awesome," he muttered sarcastically. "Except for the part where I got my butt handed to me by a bunch of neighborhood bullies who want to teach me 'a lesson' for not helping them smuggle drugs into school." He ran a hand through his messy brown hair. "Like that's really what I need right now. Some guys who think it's okay to make my life worse just because I don't want to break the law." His voice dropped low. "I don't even know why they're picking on me. I don't want to get involved in any of their crap."

Kitty tilted her head, her dark eyes filled with sympathy. "You're not involved, though. You don't have to do what they say, Lance. You know that, right?" She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I don't think it's about you. I think it's about them. They're just looking for someone to blame for their bad decisions. And they're definitely not gonna mess with us again now that we... well, did that."

Lance's lips twitched slightly at the thought. "Yeah, about that... what exactly happened back there? The earth, Kitty. It just... moved. Like, it listened to me." He raised his hands as if he was still trying to figure out what he was even asking. "It's like I could feel the ground... and then, boom! I think I just made a hole in the street."

Kitty grinned again, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "You did! You totally did! That was like... geokinesis, right? I mean, that's a real thing. Like Earth powers. Some mutants can control rocks, dirt, plants—all that kind of stuff. You were, like, moving the ground with your mind. You're a geokinetic. That's cool."

Lance blinked, processing her words. Geokinetic. It was a word he'd never heard before, but it seemed to make sense. He looked down at his hands. They were shaking slightly. "But... I didn't do it on purpose. I just wanted to stop those guys from hurting you. And the ground... just... reacted. It's like it heard me or something. Or... I don't know. What if it was just a fluke?"

Kitty snorted. "A fluke? Lance, you just created a hole in the ground big enough to fit a car. I think it's more than a fluke." She paused, narrowing her eyes. "You didn't feel... anything weird when it happened? Like, a tingle or a pulse?"

Lance thought for a second, trying to remember what it had felt like. "Yeah," he said slowly. "It felt like I... I don't know... connected to the earth, like it was alive, like it was listening to me. But it wasn't just that. It was... more. It was like I could control it."

"See? That's totally geokinesis!" Kitty said, clearly proud of herself for figuring it out. "I bet you can move rocks and dirt and maybe even plants too! You might even be able to cause earthquakes, if you really get the hang of it."

Lance's eyes widened. "Earthquakes? Really? That sounds... dangerous."

"Yeah," Kitty said with a mischievous grin, "but it's also awesome. Think of it like being a superhero. You can stop bad guys and save the day and all that stuff. You'll be like one of those Comic Book characters."

Lance wasn't sure if he was ready for a superhero life, but something about the way Kitty said it made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he could be. He looked at her with a mix of wonder and uncertainty. "What about you, Kitty? What can you do now? I saw you go right through that guy's fist. It was like you just... vanished into thin air."

Kitty's grin widened. "I think I can turn into a ghost or something. You know, phase through walls, become invisible to people, walk through objects. I've read about people who can do that too. But I don't know exactly how to control it yet."

Lance sat back on the curb, his mind spinning with what had just happened. It was a lot to take in—too much, really—but at the same time, something about it felt right. Maybe he wasn't just some orphan with no future. Maybe he was something else. Maybe they both were.

"So... you think we're like, mutants now?" Lance asked, his voice quieter now, less frantic than before. He glanced over at Kitty, waiting for her answer.

Kitty looked up at the sky, thinking for a moment. "I don't know, Lance. Maybe. But even if we are, that doesn't mean we're alone. We can figure this out together, okay?"

Lance smiled, a little unsure but feeling a sense of hope he hadn't had before. "Yeah... together."

And for the first time that day, it didn't seem so bad.

—

Natasha Romanoff and Yelena Belova sat in their small, dimly lit bedroom in their Deerfield home. The walls were covered with posters of famous pop stars, but they both knew this was all just a façade—nothing more than a cover for their true identities. They weren't just typical schoolgirls. They were agents. Soldiers, even, though neither of them liked to think too much about the brutal training that awaited them when their parents' mission ended.

"Well, that was the weirdest thing that's ever happened to me," Natasha muttered, leaning against the window, her brow furrowed as she stared into the quiet suburban street. It was a pretty ordinary view for an extraordinary girl. And yet, her instincts were telling her that nothing about their latest encounter was ordinary.

Yelena flopped onto her bed, staring at the ceiling as she picked at the hem of her sweatshirt. "Yeah, I was about to ask them for their autographs." She rolled her eyes. "Except they're way too weird. Like, monster hunters? What even is that? And we're supposed to be demigods? Who even talks like that?"

Natasha snorted, crossing her arms. "And what's with the whole 'monsters under your skin' bit?" She paused, remembering how Kelli and Tammi, the two cheerleaders, had practically cornered them after lunch. The way they'd looked at them, with too much knowing in their eyes... it was unsettling. "It's like they were trying to mess with our heads. What do they even know about us?"

Yelena shifted uncomfortably, still not completely convinced they hadn't misread the situation. "I don't know, Nat. Something felt... off. They knew too much. It's like they were waiting for us. And I swear, when they talked about us being 'demigods,' there was something in their eyes—like they were seeing right through us."

Natasha's face darkened. She wasn't one to trust people easily, especially after everything she'd been through. And while her training had made her excellent at reading people, those two girls had thrown her off. "I think they know more than they're letting on. But that doesn't explain why they would think we're demigods. We're not even... well, we're not anything like them."

Yelena sat up, the playful grin on her face gone. "Yeah, we're definitely not. Demigods? If that's what they think we are, I'm pretty sure they've been watching way too many mythology movies."

Natasha looked back at her younger sister, her expression hardening. "No, Yelena. Something's wrong here. We need to be careful. We don't know what they're after." She glanced over at the closed door, ensuring their parents—if you could call them that—weren't lurking nearby. "And we don't want them to find out what we really are."

Yelena's eyes narrowed. "You mean, what we really are, or what they think we are?"

"The second one," Natasha answered. "They think we're some kind of superheroes. Or... they think we should be. But that's not who we are. We're just... survivors. We've got too many secrets, and I don't trust them with any of them."

Yelena leaned back against her pillow, exhaling dramatically. "So, you think we should just pretend like nothing happened? Like we didn't get called 'demigods' by two girls who sound like they've read too many comic books?"

"Yeah, exactly that," Natasha said, a touch of bitterness in her tone. "We're not going to make any noise about this. Not yet. We've got bigger things to worry about."

Yelena frowned. "What, like being shipped off to the Red Room once this mission is over?"

Natasha's eyes hardened, and she bit back a bitter laugh. "Yeah. Exactly that." She glanced toward the door again, this time with a more wary gaze. She could hear Alexei—"Alex," as he was known to the outside world—mumbling something in the kitchen, probably preparing dinner. She couldn't help but feel her stomach twist. "When that happens... we're not going back there, Yelena. Not alive."

Yelena's gaze softened, a rare moment of vulnerability breaking through her usually tough exterior. "But what if they find out? What if those girls—Kelli and Tammi—find out what we really are and tell everyone? You know how those superhero types work. They like to play hero."

Natasha's fingers tightened into fists. "If they try, we'll deal with them. But for now, we need to act normal. We don't make waves. We don't draw attention to ourselves. And we definitely don't tell anyone about the Red Room. You get that, Yelena?"

Yelena nodded slowly, chewing on the edge of her lower lip. "Yeah, I get it. But... I don't know. Something about this feels different. I don't like being in the dark like this."

Natasha sighed, standing up and pacing around the room, her footsteps light but purposeful. "Yeah. Me neither. But we don't have any choice. Not yet. We've survived this long by keeping our heads down and staying under the radar. We can't let some random cheerleaders get in the way of that."

Yelena blinked at her older sister, her sharp gaze taking in every word. "I still think we should have tried to figure out what they knew. We can't let anyone start poking around in our business. What if they know something about us? Or worse, what if they do know what we are?"

"We'll figure it out," Natasha said, shaking her head, more to herself than to Yelena. "But not right now. We need to be patient. If those girls come back or try to talk to us again, we'll handle it. But for now..." She paused, a glint of something cold in her eyes. "We stay quiet. Keep our secret. Play the game. When the mission is done, we'll be out of this normal life. And maybe then, we can decide what comes next."

Yelena gave a slow nod, though her expression was a mix of doubt and determination. "Okay. But I'm not letting those girls think they can just ignore us. If they're monsters, we'll deal with them." She smirked slightly, her eyes glinting with mischief. "But if they're not... well, then we'll have some fun with them."

Natasha raised an eyebrow at her. "That's my sister. Stay alert, Yelena. And keep your head in the game."

Yelena grinned, and for the first time that day, they both allowed themselves a brief moment of shared, unspoken understanding.

They didn't just survive. They adapted. And for now, that would have to be enough.

—

As Lance parked his bike outside Kitty's house, the early evening air was filled with the scent of freshly cut grass and the distant sound of cicadas buzzing. The sky above was painted in shades of pink and orange, signaling the end of another typical day in Deerfield. Well, not typical anymore.

Kitty Pryde stood next to him, her arms folded across her chest, her brow furrowed as she stared at the house in front of her. The conversation from earlier was still fresh in her mind—her powers, Lance's powers, and the whole mess with the thugs. The adrenaline from the confrontation had worn off, leaving her with a curious mix of excitement and unease. She was practically bouncing with the urge to tell someone, anyone, about what had just happened.

"I have to tell Natalie and Elena," Kitty said, her voice laced with the determination that came from being the curious, chatty nerd that she was. "I mean, we're talking about mutant powers here! They're my best friends. They'll understand, right?" She raised an eyebrow, hoping Lance would catch her meaning.

Lance, sitting on his bike, rubbed the back of his neck, trying to figure out the right words to convince her. Trust had never come easy to him. Orphaned young, he had learned to keep his cards close to his chest. He'd been betrayed before, and he wasn't about to make the same mistake again. Especially not now, with powers neither of them really understood yet.

"They're your friends, Kitty," he said quietly, his tone more serious than she was used to hearing. "But we don't know anything about what we're dealing with. I mean, sure, your powers seem cool and all, but... what if something goes wrong? What if someone else finds out about you—or us?"

Kitty frowned, biting her lip as she considered his words. She was smart enough to know Lance wasn't just being paranoid. The fact that they'd both awakened powers under such strange circumstances—right when they were facing down a couple of jerks—was enough to raise suspicion. But the thought of keeping all of this a secret from her friends felt wrong.

"But they're my friends," she said, her voice softer now, conflicted. "They'll help. I know they will."

Lance sighed, his gaze distant as he stared out into the street. His fingers drummed absently on the handlebars of his bike. "I don't know about that. Look, I get it. You want to tell them. I get that," he said, shifting slightly in his seat. "But this... this is bigger than just us. People are going to notice. And when they do, we have to be ready. We don't know who we can trust, not yet."

Kitty stood there for a moment, staring at him, her thoughts racing. She wanted to be excited about her powers, wanted to share them with someone. She hated keeping secrets, but Lance's words hit her harder than she expected.

"So... you really think we should just keep this to ourselves?" she asked, the uncertainty in her voice obvious.

Lance turned to her, his dark eyes serious but not unkind. "Not forever, Kitty. But for now? Yeah. We don't even know what we're capable of. We don't know if we're safe or if someone's going to come after us. And until we figure that out, we keep it between us." He paused, giving her a small, almost hesitant smile. "We've got each other. That's enough, right?"

Kitty looked at him for a long moment, considering. She trusted him, even if she didn't fully understand everything he was saying. She could tell he was speaking from a place of experience—maybe even too much experience.

"Alright," she said at last, letting out a deep breath. "But you do realize that if I have to keep this a secret from Natalie, I'm going to explode from the pressure, right?"

Lance chuckled, a small, reluctant laugh that made him seem a little more human. "Yeah, I get that. Just... give it some time. We don't even know what we're dealing with yet."

Kitty nodded, feeling a little more at ease now. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was so much more to this whole thing than she understood. But for now, she'd play it safe. Maybe.

"Okay," she said, giving him a little smile. "I'll keep it to myself... for now. But just so you know, I really want to tell them."

Lance smirked, looking over at her. "I'll be here when you do. Just... don't blame me when everything goes crazy, alright?"

"Deal." Kitty grinned. "But if this whole secret-keeping thing turns into a disaster, you're getting the blame."

"Fair enough," Lance agreed, the tension in his shoulders easing as he pushed his bike off the curb. "See you tomorrow?"

"Definitely," Kitty said, her mood lifted as she started walking toward the door.

As she reached the front step, she turned around one last time, flashing him a grin. "And Lance? Thanks. I'm glad you're here."

Lance gave a small, almost shy nod, watching her go inside. The door clicked shut behind her, and he lingered there for a moment, his mind racing with all the things he didn't know. But for now, at least, he had a sense of what he did know. And that, he figured, was enough.

For now.

—

The sleek, black jet touched down on the quiet airstrip outside Deerfield, Illinois, its engines humming softly as the group disembarked. The serene town before them seemed peaceful enough, but Charles Xavier's senses tingled with unease. His telepathy stretched out, reaching across the town as he honed in on the presences that awaited them.

Charles turned to face his companions, his calm expression hiding the urgency beneath. "There are two mutants nearby. They've only just awakened their powers. They're in danger."

Warren Worthington III, his wings hidden beneath a leather harness and long trench coat, gave a knowing nod. "I get the mutant thing, but what about the rest of it? Coach said something about... demigods?"

Charles' expression shifted, his telepathic focus expanding. "Yes. Demigods—and something darker. Monsters, of a sort. This town has its own peculiar energy. We're not just dealing with mutants today."

Hank McCoy—Beast—looked out the window, his holographic projector keeping him looking human, though he wasn't quite convinced that was enough for what was to come. "Monsters? Charles, you don't think it's connected to those kids, do you? That would be one weird coincidence."

Coach Hedge, who had been uncharacteristically quiet for most of the flight, adjusted his fake human feet and gave a rather unamused grunt. "Monsters, huh? You don't need to tell me twice. I've got enough celestial bronze on me to make the darn things regret ever showing up." He patted his trusty baseball bat, which was nestled securely in his hand, the familiar weight of it offering him comfort as he prepared for whatever lay ahead. His belt was loaded with various celestial bronze weapons, each one a reminder that his role as a protector of demigods was never far from his mind.

The rest of the group shared a knowing look. The centaur, despite his quirky demeanor and penchant for complaining, was always ready for battle. They all knew that when trouble showed up, Coach Hedge was the first to face it head-on.

Jean Grey, almost 10 but already brimming with untapped power, was sitting cross-legged with a book, her focus shifting between the conversation and her innate ability to sense the strange emotional undercurrents in the air. "I feel... something. Like there's more going on here than we understand."

Charles smiled warmly at her, always impressed by her growing awareness. "You're right, Jean. This isn't just about the mutants. We've got a complex situation on our hands. The presence of demigods and monsters means we're dealing with an intersection of magical and physical forces."

Warren shifted, his wings unconsciously twitching beneath his coat as he adjusted his stance. "So, demigods and monsters, huh? Sounds like a good day for a fight."

Charles' eyes gleamed with the wisdom of experience. "It's not just about fighting, Warren. It's about understanding what's going on. These forces are connected somehow—how, exactly, we don't know yet."

Coach Hedge gave a sharp whistle as they made their way off the jet and onto the tarmac. He swung his bat casually, twirling it in one hand like it was just another Tuesday. "Listen, if there's one thing I know, it's that you don't want to mess with monsters, especially when they think they've got the upper hand. I've been up against enough of them to know their tricks. Celestial bronze does wonders for convincing them they're out of their league."

Hank raised an eyebrow, a small grin tugging at his lips despite the tension. "I do love your enthusiasm, Coach. And the impressive arsenal you carry everywhere."

Coach Hedge gave him a sidelong look, his expression that mix of annoyance and pride that only a Satyr could pull off. "What can I say? I don't leave home without my gear. A Satyr's gotta be prepared, especially when demigods are involved." He jostled his belt slightly to make the weapons rattle, clearly more comfortable in his element than anyone else in the group.

The team started their way down the path toward Deerfield, the houses around them quiet but hiding the looming energy that Charles had sensed earlier. His mind reached out again, trying to zero in on the mutant presences. "They're close," he muttered. "And from what I can sense, they don't know how to control their powers yet. We need to find them before someone else does."

Warren adjusted his trench coat, his eyes scanning the town. "You know, Charles, if we're dealing with demigods and monsters, I'm kind of hoping this whole 'team-up' goes smoother than the last one."

Hank shot him a dry look. "And I'm sure those mutants won't mind a bit of company from a few 'monsters' as well."

Coach Hedge's nose twitched, his hooves clicking against the pavement as he muttered something under his breath about monsters that only the team could hear. "You know, I never did like suburbs. Too quiet for my taste. But the monsters like them, because no one expects a fight to break out. I've got enough celestial bronze to make sure that changes, though."

Jean looked up at him, concern flickering in her eyes. "You think we'll need it, Coach?"

"Always, kid," he replied with a grin. "Always be ready for a fight when you've got demigods and monsters running around. That's just rule number one in the life of a protector."

As they walked, the quiet hum of the town seemed to grow louder, until it felt like the world around them was holding its breath. They were walking straight into a storm, but whether it was one of their making or the town's, they weren't sure yet.

What they did know, however, was that in a town like Deerfield, where mutants, demigods, and monsters all converged, they were going to need every bit of their strength—and Coach Hedge's arsenal—to make it out unscathed.

---

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