Fury realized that he had never really faced fear until he encountered three of the most competent people he had ever known casually gossiping over lunch: Phil Coulson, Pepper Potts, and Annabeth Chase-Jackson. The mother-to-be had yet to begin to show the bump that had miraculously hitched a ride on the coming-back-to-life train that its mother had a traumatic month and a half before. The two women's respective partners were nowhere to be seen, and Coulson had a notepad in front of him and a pen in hand.

"Should I fear for the sanctity of SHIELD?" Fury asked.

"SHIELD's been compromised twice over, I don't think that you have to worry about it," Chase-Jackson said bluntly.

Unfortunate Eavesdropper #1 spewed her drink at Unfortunate, Arbitrary Agent #1.

Fury made a mental note to send Unfortunate Eavesdropper #1 back to Level One until she could get her reactions under control.

"How reassuring," Coulson said.

"Come sit with us," Potts invited. "Annabeth was telling us about her fellow demigods, and what to do if there's a fight that they use their powers in."

"How does this relate to Stark Industries?" Fury asked.

"I have two siblings that work in R&D," Chase-Jackson said. "And another one in SI's Legal Department."

"I'm going to start redoing application forms," Potts muttered. "Apparently, specifying gender isn't enough. Specifying species might be."

Chase-Jackson looked apologetic. "Hiding our existence is first nature, Pepper. We aren't just going to check the Demigod box and move along. Unlike Thor, we did generally grow up in the normal world. We have the means to erase our existence off of every written and electronic medium."

"Tell me more about the Mist," Coulson said.

"Yes, please. And why aren't we affected?" Potts asked.

Chase-Jackson snorted. "Hold onto your socks, the Mist is weird by anyone's standards."

Fury sighed.

She leaned back, linking her hands over her stomach and propping her elbows on the armrests. "I know that Percy's tried explaining the Mist to the Director, but the Mist kind of defies explanation. It's a curtain, meant to divide the mundane from the divine and keep them separate. People with a foot in both worlds—like myself—have the ability to influence it. But the thing is, the Mist keeps people from observing, not necessarily from seeing." Chase-Jackson wrinkled her nose. "Percy made a theory, a while back, after talking with his mom, who is fully mortal. Sally is one of the unusual mortals that have a limited ability to influence the Mist as well, but only to the point of being able to see through it, not do all the tricks that demigods can do."

Potts startled, sitting up straight. "It's not normal, being able to see through it?"

Chase-Jackson waved her off. "I'm getting to you and SHIELD as a whole, don't worry. Percy's theory actually covers all the exceptions to the rule that we've found so far, so I'm pretty proud of my Seaweed Brain."

Coulson's bland smile twitches in amusement.

"The normal exceptions are as follows: kids, traumatized teens that want to believe in anything but reality, rigidly logical or extremely observant people, and seemingly random adults," Chase-Jackson said, ticking them off her fingers. "There are two exceptions in living memory to that, and both were related to the Oracle at Delphi, so we won't get into that."

Fury can read the precise cursive of Coulson's notes even upside down: Look up: em-poh-sigh, ambrosia, Hesperides, Oracle at Delphi

"The prophet?" Potts asked.

Chase-Jackson hesitated. "Sort of. Remind me, I'll explain later. It generally boils down to open-mindedness, and what experiences have shaped your life, and even what you do for a living. Most of the adults that we know that see through the Mist were either forcibly yanked after their child risked their life to keep them safe, or they were artists, detectives of some sort, or one of the highly secretive alphabet soup agencies. The latter two rely on Holmes's motto of whatever remains, however unlikely, must be true, and the former vividly imagine all sorts to put them to paper, canvas, stone, or clay."

"So what happens now that superheroes and Norse demigods and…and humanoid spiders and flaming men are the norm?" Potts asked. "Does the Mist still work on people, even though all the other weird things are happening?"

Coulson looked up from his notes. Fury nodded. That was a good question.

"It's hard to tell," Chase-Jackson said. "Fear clouds memory, and the Mist helps. If it weren't for the fact the Chitauri were clearly from space, it could have just as easily been our monsters under a really rotten disguise." She paused. "There was also the fact that they targeted the mortals just as much as they did the demigods, which normally doesn't happen."

"Monsters?" Coulson asked.

The blonde rubbed her forehead.

Good. At least Fury wasn't the only one with a headache.

She sighed. "You two might understand more than Pepper," she said, nodding to Fury and Coulson. "You work in a world of spies, where for every spy you send out, there's another spy on the opposite side. They can look however they want: black, white, tan, tall, short, skinny, fat, bald, afro, male, female. They don't even have to appear human. Percy's hellhound showed up in the middle of exams once when he was fifteen and she looked like a poodle to the rest of the class, despite Mrs. O'Leary being the size of a garbage truck."

Potts clapped a hand over her mouth, clearly amused and slightly alarmed.

"So your spy manages to kill the enemy spy," she explained, waving her hand in the air dismissively. "And then your spy goes on to kill more enemy spies. But then, one day, and it might be a week or a decade after you killed the enemy spies, they come back, and they come to kill your spy, and possibly any of your other spies if they possibly can, until one of the enemy spies kills yours, and your spies don't come back like the enemy's do."

Potts looked aghast. Coulson looked grim, and Fury was pretty sure that his own face was doing something.

Chase-Jackson paused. "Well, not normally. I'm a rather significant exception." She paused again, looking hesitant. "Most monsters infiltrate schools and daycares. It's, um…the most likely way to find children of the gods. We normally don't make it out of school for this reason."

"The teachers are—"

"Only sometimes," the blonde said hurriedly. "More likely, especially nowadays, they go for being fellow students. Percy played a lethal game of dodgeball in seventh grade." She dragged her hand over her face. "Boy, that was a mess."

Potts looked terrifyingly blank. "You keep referring to Percy. What about you?"

Chase-Jackson's smile was mildly terrifying. "I ran away when I was seven after my father tried to deny the Chase's legacy and he and my stepmother refused to believe me when I would roll out of bed covered in spider silk because of the rivalry between Athena and Arachne. I got my GED when I was fourteen through less-than-legal means. Mostly because I don't exist beyond two years of private schooling and—now—a marriage license."

Coulson groaned. "No wonder you people are hard to track down."

"Even better, I was carried to my father's doorstep in a golden cradle borne on the West Wind," she added.

Fury was actually surprised at his own control. There was nothing more that he wanted other than to crack his bald head against the table in front of him and lose himself in hysterical laughter. Every time he thought that he might have these people somewhat defined—someone decided to correct him and say something along the lines of haha, got you again!

Potts reached up and smoothed her hair. "Is…everything in your world like this? Incredible and incredibly dangerous?"

Chase-Jackson appeared to consider this. "Well, at Camp Half-Blood, the rules for Capture-the-Flag explicitly state that no maiming is allowed. We have a climbing wall that tries to shake you off, throw boulders at you, and dumps lava on your head if you don't move fast enough. Archery practice is lethal to anything but the side of the barn with Percy there. We do have a lake. The naiads are nice, if a bit ditzy."

Coulson looked at Potts, who looked vaguely despairing. He said, "In other words, yes."

Chase-Jackson looked entirely too amused.

I LIVED! (We're gonna diiiiiiiiiiiiiiie...)

Aka, sophmore year of college. Love you guys! In case I miss responding to some people, allow me to assure you that I read each and every review and adore each of them.