Teacher, Not Hero (femPercy Jackson X YJ)

Fifty-Nine: Inner Storm

Yo author phantom was just 16 when her junior year built a depression machine it was designed to view a world unseen (she not gonna write cause she's author phantom)

I'm not gonna promise this is back bc then I'll just feel bad when I don't update for months. But I would, hypothetically, /like/ it to be back. Ive been just uh. *cough* reading danny phantom fics *cough cough* but we arent going to worry about that are we? No. No we are not. I'm sorry it's been so long. But uh. Yk. Ive also finally figured out who the new partner is going to be which is uhm. Advanced considering i plan nothing at all ever. Like an idiot. Its like 2 am dont fight me on this.

Anyway here u go u can stop starving now here's ur Tostitos.

3rd P.O.V:

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Percy raised her arms above her head, straightening her spine as she did so. Her fingers flexed and it seemed like every joint her body popped as she worked to release the tension crawling over her muscles.

A new partner.

She wasn't particularly concerned. Or at least, she hadn't been. But Slade had been determined in his mission to kill her. Deathstroke cost a pretty penny to hire, especially to hire under limited info. He hadn't known anything about her. Probably because if he did he would have declined.

All the smart ones do.

In any case, this "new partner" had shown their hand and, unfortunately for them, it wasn't a very good one.

The organization Deathstroke mentioned, the Light. She was 90% sure it was the same that backed Vandal Savage when he tried (and almost succeeded) to make the Justice League his bitch months ago.

How annoying.

Percy shifted her weight, allowing her body to fall into a warrior pose as she continued to stretch. She concentrated on moving the energy in her body. Forcing her muscles to relax in her core, her back, her arms, all the way down to her toes. She moved her body fluidly through practiced katas, tracking the steady motion of energy through her tendons and nerves.

The balance and recalibration of what Chiron had called her "inner storm" was important. It was important for all demigods, but for her especially.

Demigods weren't really....meant to exist. Godly power trapped under human skin put a shit ton of stress on the body. It was unnatural. Wrong. There was a reason many demigods didn't live very long and it was more than just getting killed by monsters. Some demigods just. Couldn't physically handle the strain of godliness. The power fighting to break free, pushing, pulsing, begging to be unconstrained by mortal flesh. Crawling under too thin skin and crackling in the bone marrow of kids never meant to have the power they did.

The careful redirection of energy, the soothing of it, the balancing of its burning presence was necessary if you didn't want to spontaneously combust; skin ripped apart and organs burned from the inside out. And the more powerful the demigod, the more necessary it became.

She had seen moments when Jason's skin seemed just a bit too thin in the heat of battle, lighting lighting up his veins and pulsing under his skin in an eldritch kind of way. Moments where Thalia's eyes looked a little to blue and her words sounded little too loud as if thunder itself was clawing at her vocal cords. Moments when Hazel's callouses cracked like rock and faint lines etched themselves around her eyes and mouth as if her skin was stone fracturing and breaking apart. Moments when Nico's featured were just a little too sharp and a little too long and a little too faded as he seemed to waver between solid and wraith like transparency. Moments where she felt her own body feel a little less solid, as if she would be swept up in the hurricanes she created, her very soul becoming one with the storm.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

She finished in her final pose, feeling her energy settle and her muscles no longer aching with rigid tension.

She caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of her eye and she turned to face the doorway of the training room. It was early in the morning. Far too early in fact. No one else should be awake. Hell, the only reason she was up was because she couldn't sleep (she could never sleep). 

To her surprise, the figure that greeted her was one Bruce Wayne, dressed more casually than she had ever seen him. Gone was the stiff cowl of the Bat and the sharp suits of the CEO. He met her instead with a t-shirt and sweats (that still probably cost more than her entire existence), seeming out of place and portraying fake confidence.

Still coasting on the inertia of her tai chi, feeling gentle and calm, she greeted him with a level of civility Annabeth would have been impressed with, casting a small nod in his direction. His gaze met her's and he nodded back. After a few moments of tense silence, he decided to broach the waters and break the proverbial ice.

"You're up early." He spoke slowly, carefully, as if one wrong word would set her off. Most times he would be right. But right now she found she didn't want to stir the vicious storm that she worked so hard to calm and settle.

"Couldn't sleep. You?" He nodded and replied with his conference.

"It's hard to sleep when things are so loud." She recognized the statement for what it was; an olive branch. She hummed in agreement. Given the effort Bruce had obviously put into his olive branch, however weak and flimsy it may look, Percy could respect it. Bruce was still a child, in many ways, to her. He was shaped by trauma and paranoia. More of a grown, broken child than a real adult and she could relate. So she extended her own olive branch. Perhaps grander, more solid than his, but she had a lot of practice on making peace with enemies. Besides. Grudges weren't really her style.

"I believe that we have gotten off on the wrong foot, Bruce. I know you're scared of me. You have every right to be. You're afraid of what would happen if I went dark side. Of who would stop me. But I'm not a god, Bruce. In fact I've actively worked to make sure I don't become one. You're scared for your family, for your son, for your understanding of the world as you known it. I make you uncomfortable. And you have acted out of that uncomfort. I'm not excusing your actions, you understand. You undermined me, doubted me, antagonize me, and have made my job here difficult. But I do understand why you acted the way you did. I'm not blameless. I've pushed your buttons and refused to give you an inch. But we are both adults. And we do hold real respect for each other. It is time we work together, Bruce. A storm is coming. And the only way we're going to make it out alive is if we brace for it together."

She walked a step towards him, squaring her stance and extending her hand. He looked down at it, then looked to her eyes. She held his gaze as he searched for something. Once satisfied, he grabbed her hand with his own. They shook.

Hundreds of miles away, a tall figure curled their fingers around the hilt of their weapon. The dark onyx cord seemed to suck the light towards it, consuming it hungrily as shadows bled from their form.

"Let us begin."