Sy

Despite the fact that Steve destroyed her armor while he work to get it off her, it didn't take her very long to get ready. Five years spent living at Camp Half Blood had taught her how to be battle ready quickly. And to always have spares of everything.

Tony had built her a ridiculous locker in the armory, along with everyone else. The locker was more like a walk in closet, every shelf and drawer filled with everything she might ever need. Not just extra armor, but weapons, knives, swords, even guns. There were also dozens of instruments and sound systems and anything that could help weaponize her gifts.

She didn't touch anything in the armory.

Everything in there was made from mortal metals, built by mortal hands. Things that, no matter how well intentioned he'd been, Tony had built for her to use to hurt and kill people with. They were the weapons of a mortal war. Something Ultron was not part of, and a war Sy did not want to fight. Demigods are not meant to harm mortals.

Sy strapped on her extra breastplate and sat down to out on the rest of her armor. She'd stored the extra set of celestial bronze armor in the back of the Tower room Tony had insisted she move into over a year ago. It felt so much longer that they'd begun their crusade against HYDRA, looking for justice for the events at the Triskelion, and answers for the holes in James's memories.

She also hooked a leather pouch with extra ambrosia and nectar in it over her belt. She lifted up her sword, the celestial bronze glowing faintly in the light. She may not be ready to fight, but Ultron is a threat that can't be ignored. A threat that as unwilling as she'd been, had been partially her fault. Sy ran her hand down the length of the blade before sheathing it carefully. She remembered the day she'd gotten it. It had been a few weeks after she'd been claimed, and Chiron took her aside. He'd carefully unwrapped the sword and handed it to her, the celestial bronze gleaming in the light.

"Use it only for emergencies." His voice echoed in the back of her head. "And only against monsters. Celestial bronze will pass through mortals, but other weapons will not. No hero should harm mortals unless absolutely necessary."

The sword was a gift from her mother, the leader of the muses.

It was also a message. A reminder of who she is.

Of all the gods on Olympus, the muses spend the most time with their children. More time than Dionysius and he lives at Camp Half Blood with Pollux. The patron goddesses of the arts had high expectations of their progeny, and the consequences of disappointing any one of them were steep. The arts were unforgiving in their discipline, regardless of what they studied. Any half blood descended from a muse learned that, and more, quickly.

By the end of her first summer, Sy had mastered several instruments, had a basic understanding of classical history, a working knowledge of astronomy and was already working on pointe in ballet her hands and feet bleeding from all work she put them through. The nightly dreams and training with the muses had begun from the night she was claimed, and beyond the training in the arts, it had been drilled into her and her cousin's heads that any new skills they came across, they were expected to master it. The sword had been a reminder of that expectation; and of Sy's failure to live up to it. By the time her second summer at camp had rolled around, she'd made sure that was no longer the case.

She took a deep breath, shaking away all thoughts of her unusual summer curriculum as she unscrewed the cap to a flask of nectar and took several sips. The energy that came with the godly drink poured through her body, healing her. The bruises she'd gotten from the explosion in the lab faded away, and so did her headache. Most of her aches and pains from her crash landing in Seoul vanished as well.

But the question of mortals still hovered over her shoulder; and she could practically feel the centaur's disapproving gaze burning into her back. Sy shook her head, dispelling the ghost of her mentor. She grabbed her violin and a speaker system, slinging them over her shoulder as she headed to the hangar. While the instrument may not be useful while battling an evil murder bot powered by her blood, it would be helpful with the evacuation efforts.

There is still a battle to be won.

She boarded the plane ahead of most of the team, knives strapped to her hips, celestial bronze sword on her back. Celestial bronze would kill Ultron and his drones just as effectively as the steel sword that Tony made for her, without the extra weight on her conscience. They were fighting robots, not people. And she needed that distinction in her life. She needed the clear lines, the sharp boundaries. Ones to remind her the difference between dream and reality, HYDRA and now, right and wrong. Hero or villain. Control and suggestion. Sy didn't want to dance on those lines anymore. Ends cannot justify her means, the world is made up of a thousand and ten shades of grey, and there is no clear stopping point. But Sy knew that somewhere there has to be. And if she can't find them, she was going to draw them for herself. She would not cross those lines anymore. She couldn't. Not if she wanted to stay sane.

Setting the violin and speaker down, she sat down next to Steve. Sy set her helmet on top of the violin case and leaned against his shoulder. Steve reached out a hand and she took it, squeezing it tightly once for comfort.

"This isn't going to end happy." She whispered to him roughly. Steve nodded.

"I know."

"People are going to die today. Probably a lot of them. The world is angry enough... what will it look like after this?" He just shook his head. The Avengers were a team created to fight threats the world had never, could never, have imagined. A group of remarkable people brought together in a desperate hope that they would to become something more, to fight the battles that the world couldn't face.

The side affect of that team, their team, fighting those battles, is a very human consequence. Damages from the Chitauri invasion were nowhere near healed. Tony's battle with the terrorist the Manderin left deep scars in California; Loki and Thor fighting the Dark Elves destroyed a good chunk of London, and the destruction of the Triskelion still fills the daily news cycle. The world is angry; especially because Ultron had been created in the heart of the Avengers team, and none of them had realized it until it was too late. Sy isn't sure how the team would manage to endure the fallout this time.

"Promise me to be careful?" She begged him. Steve just gave her a grim smile, squeezing her hand one more time before dropping it. She hadn't really expected any different. They all lead dangerous lives, and promises of safety and long lives had never really been on the table for any of them. It didn't stop them from trying, from begging each other to be careful, to keep themselves safe. From hoping. Sy's hand clenched, and Steve bumped against her knee. Looking up at him, they shared equally grim smiles.

Tony and Bruce's footsteps echoed through the hangar bay, the two genius's joining them on the ramp of the quinjet. Bruce dropped down next to her, his expression creased with exhaustion.

"If we all make it through today, it will be a miracle. If even one tin soldier is left standing, we've lost. There's going to be blood on the floor." Tony asserted, echoing Sy's previous sentiment as he sat down.

"I've got no plans tomorrow night." Steve joked. Sy poked him in the side, fear surging through her. She couldn't lose him. And Steve, the big lug, had a bad habit of sacrificing himself for others. In a lot of ways, he reminded her of the Son of Posiedon; loyal to a fault.

"No gallows humor. Not right now." Sy whispered, her voice strained. Bruce bumped her shoulder gently, the solid warmth of him next to her comforting. Paper crinkled as they spread out a map of Novi Grad on the floor. Sy's fingers hovered over the blue and green ink that already stained the worn map; battle lines from when the team had been to Sokovia to storm Strucker's castle. Her hands shook, and her chest tightened. Her vision tunneled and narrowed on the castle on the map. It took a near physical effort, but Sy forced herself to focus. Her fingers tapped an erratic rhythm against her thigh. She turned the paper, and traced out the edges of the city on the map with her hands. Their chosen battleground. For better or for worse, this was going to be their major stand against the murderous AI.

"I get first crack at the big guy. Iron Man's the one he's waiting for." Tony sighed. Vision walked down the hall behind them, the gold cape swirling behind the android. He had been up on the roof, chatting with Thor and Loki. Only Zeus knew what they'd been talking about, and Sy had the distinct impression she did not want to know herself.

"That's true, he hates you the most." Tony's expression broke, guilt and self recrimination swirled across his features before he got himself under control. Sy exchanged a loaded glance with Steve.

She was still angry with Tony, especially about Vision. Even though she ultimately agreed that the android needed to be created, she was beyond furious that the tinkerer had gone behind the team's back a second time. Tony had a habit of collecting guilt, while still failing to learn the central lesson.

But at his core, Tony Stark was a good man. And he shouldn't carry the weight of Ultron's actions on his shoulders alone. In some ways, they were all responsible. The Avengers are a team; and are responsible for each other. They should have balanced Tony out before Ultron had been created, and he should have talked to them instead of going around them so many times.

"Tony… promise me that you won't do anything stupid?" The billionaire tried to hike up one of his signature grins, but it fell rather flat.

"I'm a genius remember? Not exactly prone to being stupid."

"Tony…" Steve sighed. "Tony, Ultron, as flawed of an idea he was… as unfortunately he turned out… I understand why you wanted him. Why you though the world needed it. And it's a nice idea in theory. But what you tried to accomplish? That's not safety. That's control. It's what we stopped SHIELD and HYDRA from doing just a few months ago. And Tony? You're better than that." Tony shook his head and looked away. His face took on the expression he wore only when he was thinking about Afghanistan. He bowed his head, elbows resting on his knees. Tony's fingers tangled into his own hair, knuckles growing white enough that Sy worried that he might rip out his own hair.

"I can't… I can't waste, my life." He muttered finally. "I promised Yinsin that I… that I wouldn't, waste it." He shook his head, eyes screwed tightly shut; like he was trying to block out the whole world. Sy reached out tentatively, but Bruce pulled her hand away, shaking his head silently. She resigned herself to tapping her fingers on the inside of her leg, trying to calm the energy in her hands.

"He, he, he... died trying to help, help me escape the Ten Rings. The mach one, the original suit… he helped me build it. Originally, I'd only built armor for myself. I didn't get him protection, didn't even think to give him something, anything... in case something went wrong. And he died and I was allowed to live." His hand let go of his hair and he looked up at them all desperately. Searching for an absolution none of them could give to him.

"I had the chance to build the world a suit of armor. So I took it." he shook his head, his features twisted up with self loathing. "Instead I built a grenade, and pulled the pin." Steve sighed, and leaned forward, resting on hand on the older man's shoulder.

"You…you have a good heart, Tony. You just don't know how to use it sometimes." The four of them sat together in silence, trying to absorb the enormity of the situation. Ultron was their mess. The time to play the blame game had long since passed. They were a team, and so they would take responsibility as a team.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Sy sucked in her breath, tilting her head in the direction that the others were coming from. Like a switch had been flipped, all four of them straightened up and began preparing for take off.

"Ultron knows we're coming." Steve continued as if they'd never detoured into Tony's deep emotional scars, his expression carefully neutral. The others began to file aboard the jet, the twins whispering softly to each other, while Clint fingered his bow. Vision simply strode aboard, moving with smooth purpose. Tony sniffed and sighed, fiddling with a few things in a side compartment, deliberately turned away from her.

Sy moved to take her seat on board the jet, but Tony stopped her. He handed her a comms unit, an expectant expression on his face. She glared at him, the small black ear piece laying innocently in his hand.

"Come on. You're going to need it." He wheedled her. Sy took it hesitantly. She didn't put it in, simply held the technology in her hand. It was one thing to vaguely wish she had one, and it was another thing entirely to be handed one. Sy may be able to be around technology without it being too much of a threat to her, but she couldn't use it anymore than a Big Three kid could. The risk of monsters… it was trained into her to avoid technology. Her apartment doesn't have a TV or a computer for that exact reason.

The twins were the last to board the jet, and within minutes Clint was lifting off. Steve kept talking, turning to face the group. Sy sat back, breaking the huddle that they'd made. The engines growled, and the wind began to roar outside the small plane. Sy tuned it out, paying attention to Steve, and the team's reaction to his pep talk. Her knee bounced to a silent rhythm, and her fingers tapped out a matching beat on the seat next to her.

"Odds are, we'll be riding into heavy fire. And that's what we signed up for. But the people of Sokovia, they didn't. So our priority is getting them out. All they want is to live their lives in peace, and that's not going to happen today. But we can do our best to protect them. And we can get the job done. We'll find out what Ultron's been building. We'll find Natasha. And we'll clear the field. Keep the fight between us." Pietro Maximoff seemed startled by Steve's reminder of their priority to evacuate civilians.

Steve paused for a moment, before the sound of him walking to the front of the aircraft started up again. He glanced down, and Sy could taste the salty tang of sorrow in his voice. She knew he was looking at Peggy's picture inside his compass. He always looked to her when he needed direction. She was his North Star, never mind that she's been missing since the nineteen seventies.

The compass clicked shut decisively as Steve continued.

"Ultron thinks we're monsters. That we're what's wrong with the world. This isn't just about beating him. It's about whether he's right." The plane fell silent but for the sound of the engine, everyone wondering the same thing.

Were they monsters?

The question echoed in Sy's head. They tried to protect people, tried to help the planet. But what were they really doing? When the Chitauri invaded, thousands and thousands of people died. More died during the rampage of Manderain, and Tony's subsequent crusade to stop the terrorist. When she and Steve brought down the Triskelion it killed dozens of SHIELD agents and brought massive destruction to the DC metropolitan area. Thor's battle in London caused billions of dollars worth of damage and killed a few dozen people there too. That doesn't count the dozens of mini skirmishes various members of the Avengers have gotten involved in on the side; overpowered bank robbers, crazed scientists, terrorists with alien technology, HYDRA. It was adding up, fast. And no matter how rich Tony was, not even money could solve all the problems they were involved in. Sure their intentions were good; but wasn't that how the saying goes? The road the hell is paved with good intentions. Or Hades, in any case. Sy fiddled with her seatbelt, trying not to think about all the mortals she's hurt or killed, either directly or indirectly.

Thirty minutes later, Sy was still fidgeting in her seat, unable to sit still. She wanted to play, the way she always did before a mission. But something about having three unknowns on the quinjet made her uncomfortable. Her music is a reflection of herself, a brutally honest confession of her sins before she dove into a battle to commit more of them. It felt too personal to share. Besides, the jet had fallen into an almost peaceful silence since Steve had finished talking.

Sy wanted to punch something. Frustration was boiling over, tensing her muscles and she was compulsively opening and closing her fists, tapping her toes. She'd never had a problem with playing for strangers before, not even personal music. In fact she'd relished the audience. But nothing about her was the same anymore.

"Stop that." Pietro snapped at her. Sy shot to her feet, itching for a fight. To do something, anything. She couldn't sit still and do nothing, all her tension and energy bottled up with nowhere to go. The Maximof brother would be a nice outlet. Her hand drifted to her hip.

"Sy." Steve said sharply, forehead creased with worry even as his tone ordered her to stand down. She registered the burning stares of everyone in the jet; even Clint was watching her warily through the mirror from the front of the plane. Sy turned away, trying to cover up the huff that burst through her nose. Frustrated didn't even begin to cover the bitter turmoil that was churning in her gut and burning through her chest. She walked to the farthest point of the quinjet she could (it wasn't far) and slammed a fist into the wall. The painful sting was satisfying. Without pause she switched hands and slammed the other hand into the metal, the painful crunch and slide of damaged tendons under her skin doing nothing to deter her. The warm buttery taste of nectar soothed the injuries, repairing the damage she'd just inflicted on herself. To Hades with the rules and using godly food only in emergencies.

Sy ignored Steve's worried shout, and the mixture of noise indicating the team getting out of their seats as she formed another fist. By the gods she needed an outlet, and she wasn't about to let anyone from stopping her from using the one she found. But when she moved to hit the wall again, something warm caught her hand.

Pietro Maximoff was standing next to her, one hand wrapped carefully around her balled up fist.

"Let go." She snarled at him, ripping her arm away from him. When he didn't let go, Sy lunged at him. Her other arm swung wildly, her focus too scattered to aim properly. The blow glanced off his cheek as the Sokovian dodged her fist. In the process his grip on her arm loosened and she managed to pull away.

"What are you doing?" He growled right back. Sy just scoffed, turning away. She faced the back ramp, unable to turn to look at the team. Unable to face the disappointment she was sure would be lacing their expressions. The worry. The pity. She didn't need any of that from them. Didn't need to see it. Or hear it, or acknowledge her own instability in any way, shape, or form. Sy finally cracked, whoopie. What else is new?

"What is wrong?" He asked her more gently, coming to a standstill behind her. She slumped down to the floor and buried her head in her knees. The armor plating on her boots dug uncomfortably into her forehead. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

"I don't know. Nothing. Everything. It's a mess, and I don't know how we're going to get out of this one. Ultron… Ultron is mine. Tony might have designed him; but I birthed him. My power, my blood. You and your sister too. And it's just…" She gestured vaguely at the air before dropping her hands into her lap with a heavy sigh. She pulled out the comms unit from her pocket, glaring at the small piece of metal and plastic.

"Tony thinks I should wear this. But if I do, I could bring worse enemies down on us at the same time. My enemies. Enemies you guys can't fight. But if I don't… and Ultron gets away because of it…" Pietro Maximoff sat down on the cold metal ground next to her. She pretended not to notice him signaling the others to stay back. She was too gods damned tired to fight him on handling her at the moment.

"I don't know about Ultron, or other enemies or whatever it is you are that relates to making me. But I do know battles and war. I've been fighting all my life. Against invaders, the Avengers, Ultron. But the worst ones are always the ones I fight in myself. I am here, on this plane with the one man I hated more than almost anything on this earth. Because I know I must right a wrong I was a part of. Whatever you need to do, you do. But make sure it is the right thing." Sy stared at the comms unit for another long moment before tucking it into her ear, leaving it switched off. She would turn it on at the last possible moment.

Sy let herself get helped to her feet. She made her way back to the seat, shooting Steve a reassuring nod before turning to the black case at her feet. She knelt down and pulled out the violin. She tuned it slowly, taking a moment to center herself. She could do this. Ultron was waiting for them in Sokovia, and Sy had one last role to play. She survived Titans and Giants and insane gods and monster attacks and alien invasions and HYDRA. She could help kill one murderous robot and it's minions. Demigods were born for battle, blood staining bared teeth, a war cry on their lips and a weapon in their hands. This is her birthright, the never ending fight against annihilation on behalf of Olympus and its' gods.

But so is her music.

Sy closed her eyes. Her bow hovered in the air. Suspended in space.

Music filled the air, soft and low.