"Firm up your stance," Matt instructed, tapping his cane against the ground with a thoughtful frown. It echoed in the vacant gym. "Boxers aren't as mobile as swordsmen, and your blocks need to be solid. You'll be shifting your weight mainly between your back and front foot rather than moving around."

Frowning, Percy shifted his weight, trying to plant himself more firmly. "Like this?"

"Good," Matt confirmed, circling a little closer. "When you throw a punch, you want to put your weight behind the punch. Stay on your back foot for defense, your front foot for offense."

Percy shifted again, and then, decisively, pulled back his fist and swung. The chain on the heavy bag rattled, and he sidestepped it with a yelp. "Hey, I thought you said the heavy bags didn't swing back!"

Matt didn't answer right away, and when Percy looked back at him, he was frowning.

"I thought you said you didn't have the strength for wrestling?" he questioned.

"Uh, I don't?" Percy said, glancing apprehensively at the flailing bag. "What? Did I do something wrong?"

"Can I touch your arm for a moment?" Matt asked. Percy held it out, and Matt stepped forward, clasping his hand lightly around the bicep. "Flex." Percy did, confused. "Percy, from the density of your muscles, I'd say you're stronger than most grown men. You could probably beat Brett in a straight arm-wrestling match."

"You can hear that?" Percy asked, impressed. Matt smiled sheepishly.

"It's mostly tactile, in this case." He let go of Percy and stepped back. "Unless you're planning to get into hand-to-hand fights with a lot of well-trained fighters, I think you're fine."

"Oh." Percy's shoulders slumped. "Sorry for wasting your time."

Matt seemed to sense the shift in mood. "I'm not saying I won't teach you. But it seems like it's more about confidence than anything else. Against Fisk – you froze up, didn't you? You weren't pushing back at all."

"I pushed back," Percy protested, crossing his arms. Then, reluctantly, he admitted, "But yeah. I guess I panicked."

Matt nodded thoughtfully. "Sparring might help with that," he said. "Holding your own against other people without a sword in your hand." Percy shifted uncomfortably. "Or not. It won't hurt to have this in your skillset either way."

Percy relaxed. "Thanks. Uh, what was wrong with how I hit the bag?"

"That- oh." Matt chuckled, gesturing for him to get back into position. "Heavy bags- well. Watch."

Perpendicular from Percy, Matt hit the heavy bag, a much more precise strike than Percy's sloppy right hook. The bag jostled, but didn't swing.

"Oh." Startled, Percy looked down at his arms. They weren't scrawny anymore, not like they had been when he was a kid, but they weren't as muscular as Matt's either.

"Back on topic," Matt said with finality, shifting to stand beside Percy. "You don't need to pull your fist back like that. It doesn't add anything to your punch, and it tells your opponent what you're about to do. Start from your core, rock forward, and jab. Put your weight behind the punch."

He punched the air beside the punching bag. Percy watched until he pulled back, then took a deep breath and tried to imitate him. The bag recoiled with another deafening rattle, and Percy had to sidestep it again as it swung back toward him. Matt stepped into place and caught it, bracing the bag from behind.

"That was better," he said. "Try it with your left."

They practiced like that for a while, jabs and hooks and a couple of simple combos, before conversation started back up.

"What made you say wrestling wasn't for you?" Matt asked, still bracing the heavy bag. "I get the impression you still practice a fair amount of it."

"Yeah, I do." One, one, two. The wraps felt odd around Percy's knuckles, but at least his knuckles weren't bleeding. "I usually come out on bottom of those matches, literally. I mean, as a rule I only seriously spar against Ares and Athena kids, and I can make up that difference in swordplay, but wrestling? No way in hell."

"What difference?" Matt asked.

"Ares and Athena are gods of war," Percy explained. "They're the best fighters."

Matt was starting to smile, like Percy was telling him a funny joke. "And... why do you only spar against those kids?"

"It's not really fair otherwise," Percy said reasonably, and then realized what Matt was getting at. "Oh- I never thought of it like that, I guess."

"Foggy used to tell me that if you're at the bottom of the best class, you're still in the best class," Matt told him. And then, "You're slowing down. Need a break?"

"My hands are kind of sore," Percy admitted.

"Break," Matt decided, moving to sit at the edge of the ring. He gestured for Percy to join him, and Percy did, flexing his hands under the tight wrap.

"Is this how you were trained?" Percy asked, after gulping down half his water bottle.

"Let's assume that I want to train you as unlike how I was trained as possible," Matt told him. Percy winced.

"Oh, you had that kind of teacher." He screwed the lid back on. "Chiron says he's never understood do-or-die teachers. Something about making heroes that are really strong on the outside and really fragile on the inside."

Matt leaned back, staring straight ahead. "Sounds like a wise man."

"I sure hope so," Percy said. "He's like, ten thousand years old."

Matt laughed.

"How's setup for the art exhibition going?" he asked. "That's next weekend, isn't it?"

Percy brightened. "Yeah! Mom says Rachel paid for the venue and stuff already, and we have the setup all mapped out, plus all the tables and displays and stuff." He kicked his feet happily. "Steve even donated a big piece for display and a couple of smaller ones for the auction."

"I didn't know he did big pieces," Matt said. Percy nodded.

"Mr. Barnes says he doesn't do a lot of them," he said. "He was working on this one special, but he wants it back afterward because it's for Bucky."

"That's nice of him."

"Mom almost cried." Percy grinned a little and kicked his feet again. "Peter and Ned promised to help set up and stuff, and they helped me put up some flyers around the school too. They've been really cool about it."

"Peter's looking forward to it," Matt told him. "He asked me last week if I was going to come."

Percy laughed. "He asked you if you were going to come to an art exhibition?"

Matt chuckled. "I might, even if it's just for moral support. But yes, I'm not sure my input will be especially valuable."

Percy shrugged. "Mom and Foggy would both be pleased to see you there."

Matt's smile turned more genuine. "Then I don't see why I wouldn't."

Both of them were quiet for a minute. Percy finished his water bottle, and Matt gestured for him to go refill it. He looked at the posters as he passed by, and caught more than one with the name Murdock on it. By the time he returned, his mind had drifted, and he wasn't smiling anymore.

"Hey, Matt? Can I ask you a question?"

Matt picked up on the change in tone and frowned, shifting slightly to look more alert. "Sure. What is it?"

Percy shuffled uncomfortably, sat a few feet away, and drank some more water.

"Foggy said," he said at last, "that you told him you had the devil in you. Is... is that a temper thing? You get angry a lot?"

Matt's expression creased with concern, and he shifted to face Percy. "I wouldn't hurt you," he told Percy, soft and serious. "I don't hurt children."

That actually did make Percy feel better, even if it had nothing to do with his real question. "I know. I, um... I wanted to know how you know that you're not gonna hurt Foggy." Afraid that Matt would take it the wrong way, he elaborated hastily, "I've always had a really bad temper too, and I worry a lot that I'll accidentally take it out on one of my friends. I don't want to do that."

Matt made a quiet sound of comprehension and leaned back against the platform, thinking. After a moment, he said, "No one's ever accused me of being well-adjusted, but... what I do is, I make sure to handle it before it gets to that point. That's one of the reasons I put on the mask. To make sure I only hurt people that deserve it."

That... actually explained a lot about Matt. "Like monsters?"

"Monsters have been a good target lately too," Matt agreed. Percy almost smiled.

"Okay," he said, feeling better about it. "Can we go back to learning how to punch? I think the water fixed up my knuckles."


To his dismay, once the day itself arrived, Percy found the bustling crowd to be a little overwhelming. He was a people person, and Chiron had been teaching him a lot of leadership skills, but he wasn't a crowd person.

"What kind of New York City kid are you?" Peter teased, helping clear away some cups that had been abandoned.

"One that jabs people in the ribs if they get in my space," Percy deadpanned back, but his mood stayed high as he moved through the displays.

The turnout was pretty good, way better than Percy had expected. The artists that had offered to share their work were amazing, and while Percy wasn't usually much of an art person, he couldn't help but stop to marvel at the displays every so often. His mom was at the snack table, fielding questions in between sales; Percy knew she had a speech later that she was really nervous about, but you wouldn't have known it looking at her.

Sally hadn't wanted to load Percy with a lot of tasks during this event, but he'd promised to answer questions about the displays and to keep an eye on anyone who seemed to be making trouble. There weren't a lot of those, but twice Percy had chased off jerks with markers.

"You think this is funny?" he demanded of the second one, who looked mortified to have gotten caught. "You want to go around ruining someone's hard work? Why don't I go key your car, you douchebag? Get outta here!"

He stuck around long enough to watch the guy leave before returning to his friends. Ned looked surprisingly put out.

"I didn't think there were people who actually did that stuff," he said, staring at where the guy had run off to. Percy grunted.

"There are always people who get a kick out of being a jerk," he said darkly, sticking his hands in his pockets. After a moment, though, he softened. "Honestly, though, this is going really well. Rachel was a huge help getting everything ready for today." He glanced over with half a smile. "You two were too."

Both of them grinned at him, and Ned said, "It's pretty cool. I've never been to a fundraiser event like this before."

"Neither had I, until my mom started running them," Percy admitted, smiling sheepishly. "She was doing bake sales for ages before this though." He paused and stepped aside to explain the display to a couple that was debating about it, pointing out the artist's name and the organization they were promoting, and then pointed out his mom when they asked about the coordinator.

"You should put tip jars out next time."

Percy started, looking over at the girl heading in their direction. She waved at them, glancing at the displays as she passed, and stopped a few feet away.

"I go to a lot of art exhibitions, they're usually pretty cool," she explained, meeting Percy's eyes. "Some people like to tip when they're really impressed by a piece."

"I'll mention it to my mom," Percy said, smiling at her. "You're from Midtown, right? Michelle?"

"MJ works too," she said, and looked at Peter and Ned. "I wasn't expecting to see you two here."

"Percy asked," Peter explained, making Percy smile sheepishly. "What about you?"

"I told you, I like art exhibitions." MJ rocked on her heels. "And the backers made me kind of curious. How'd you catch Tony Stark's attention? He usually focuses on like, foreign aid and research stuff."

Percy scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. "Um, he knows me for secret reasons?"

MJ raised her eyebrows. "Okay, 007. Hey, how much of proceeds is your mom keeping?" Percy scowled at her. "Don't look at me like that. Sometimes people who run nonprofits want to be paid. Just a matter of how much."

Uncomfortable, Percy crossed his arms and shifted away. "Mom doesn't talk about money stuff around me 'cause it stresses me out. You'd have to ask her."

"How come?" MJ asked, completely unabashed.

"Uh." Percy glanced at the other two, but they seemed just as curious. He shrugged self-consciously. "Smelly Gabe was really financially abusive, which means he used money to control our behavior a lot. Refusing to pay for things, demanding money, stuff like that. I don't like talking about it."

"No, I get that," MJ said hastily, contrition flashing across her face. "So I probably shouldn't go and start interrogating your mom about her finances, huh?"

"I'd rather you didn't," Percy said honestly, and started when Peter nudged him.

"You never said this was personal," Peter complained, looking earnest. Percy started.

"I didn't?" Both boys shook their heads. "Huh. Sorry. I don't like to bring it up too much. Don't want to make things weird, you know?"

MJ shrugged. "When it's relevant, it's relevant," she said, which oddly did make Percy feel better.

The rest of the exhibition went off without a hitch. Both pieces Steve had donated for auction were enormously popular, no surprise there, but the rest of them got a lot of attention too. Toward the end, his mom delivered her speech, thanking everyone for their contributions and talking about meeting all the artists who had put up displays, and then also embarrassing him by calling him out special.

Afterward, MJ stayed to help clean up too, and Sally insisted on writing her a note crediting her for the hour she spent taking the displays back down and put things away. Ned suggested they head to a nearby park, and they took off when things were almost done.

"So hey," Peter said, once they were there and hanging out on the undersized playground equipment. "There's something I've been wanting to ask you about, but I dunno if you want to wait until MJ's gone home."

"Well, now that's not an option anymore," MJ said, glancing up with raised eyebrows. Peter winced, and Percy rolled his eyes.

"It's fine. What is it?" He had a suspicion as to what he wanted to talk about, anyway; Tony had tipped him off the week before.

"You sure?" Peter asked, pretty much confirming Percy's suspicion.

"You just wait," Ned told MJ in a whisper. "This is gnarly. Peter told me about it yesterday."

"Who says 'gnarly' anymore?" MJ asked.

Peter was still looking at Percy like a kicked puppy, so Percy gestured for him to answer, and Peter did. "Tony said... there's a prophecy? That's supposed to be fulfilled on your birthday in August?"

Percy exhaled, feeling a familiar weight settle across his shoulders again, and nodded. No point denying it now. "If I live to sixteen, which is looking surprisingly likely at this point... yeah."

"If?" Ned asked, high-pitched. MJ had a different concern.

"Oh my god, is that the secret reason you know Tony Stark?" she demanded.

"Yeah," Percy conceded with a somewhat strained smile. "They'll be making the whole story public after everything's over, but it's under wraps for now to like, minimize the number of people suggesting we avert the apocalypse by killing me before my next birthday."

MJ stared at him. "You're completely serious, aren't you?"

"Shit, that's why you never want to talk about this stuff," Ned whispered.

Percy nodded, shifting to sit sideways on the swing. "Less than six months now," he said quietly. "I'm trying not to think about it too much. Did you have any other questions, though? Now's the time."

"What's the prophecy?" MJ asked instantly. Percy grimaced.

"They haven't let me hear the whole thing," he admitted. "But the gist of it is, the next Big Three kid – uh, a child of my dad or his brothers – will make a choice that either saves the world or ends it when they turn sixteen." He looked away, scuffing his shoes along the ground. "Thalia, my cousin, swore an oath so she'd stop aging. My other cousin's about twelve right now, and his sister..." He cleared his throat as a lump swelled in it. "His sister died last year. So. She's not gonna be turning sixteen either."

"Dude," Ned said. "All that and you're still studying for tests and stuff?"

Startled, Percy let out a laugh. "I probably wouldn't be if we hadn't become friends," he said. "I'd pretty much written off the school year 'cause I knew it would suck. But yeah, that's why I've been so out of it."

"That's a pretty good reason," Peter agreed, looking pale. It was fading away though, replaced by open concern. "Can we help at all?"

Percy glanced between them, but all three seemed earnest – even MJ, who he technically barely knew. Color spread across his cheeks, and he smiled softly.

"You already are," he said honestly. "It's not often that I have friends during the school year. You guys have been really great."