Jim was vibrating with excitement. Literally. The enchanted staff was hovering in midair like an over-caffeinated hummingbird, spinning wildly as he rattled off increasingly dramatic proclamations.
"Do you realize what this means?!" Jim declared, twirling like a Broadway performer who had just snorted pure enthusiasm. "We are about to change the course of history! Future generations will sing of this moment! They will erect statues in our honor! They will name energy drinks after us!"
Jean, leaning lazily against the worktable, gave him a bemused look. "If they name an energy drink after you, I'm banning it. Nobody needs a beverage called 'Jim: Maximum Overdrive.'"
Beckendorf, arms crossed, eyed the floating staff like a man debating whether to throw it into a volcano. "Can we just put him in a soundproof box while we work?"
Jim gasped. Gasped. The kind of gasp normally reserved for someone discovering their long-lost twin or realizing they left the oven on. "How dare you, sir! I am the heart! The soul! The maestro of mysticism! The—"
Jean flicked him.
Just—reached out and flicked his staff form like an annoyed older sibling.
Jim spun out of control for a moment before righting himself, huffing. "Rude." He did an unnecessary barrel roll. "Anyway! What brilliant creation are we making today? Might I suggest a flaming chainsaw sword? Or a hammer that summons mini-hurricanes? Or—"
"Clarisse needs a new spear," Beckendorf interrupted before Jim could go full QVC commercial mode.
Jean raised an eyebrow. "She lost Maimer again?"
"She broke Maimer again," Beckendorf corrected. "Tried to block a war hammer with it. Didn't go well."
Jean let out a low whistle. "Yikes. That thing was Celestial Bronze."
"Was," Beckendorf confirmed grimly. "And she's been glaring at me at every meal like I'm the one who destroyed it."
Jim vibrated in place. "So we're making her an upgrade, right? A spear worthy of the wrath of Ares?! A divine lightning spear that can fry monsters extra crispy and make storm gods jealous?"
Beckendorf smirked. "That's the plan."
Jean grinned. "I like this plan."
Right on cue, Harry strolled in, a thick sketchbook tucked under one arm, the other hand occupied with a giant blue Slurpee. He took one look at the glowing ingot on the forge, at Beckendorf's mad scientist expression, at Jean's knowing smirk, and at Jim's general Jim-ness.
He took a long, slow sip of his Slurpee. "Alright. What dumb, possibly world-ending thing are we making this time?"
Beckendorf clapped him on the back. "You're gonna love this one."
—
Jean and Beckendorf got to work shaping the new metal—what they were tentatively calling Phoenix Bronze because "badass fire metal" apparently wasn't a professional enough term. The shaft would be reinforced Celestial Bronze, wrapped in insulated leather so Clarisse didn't accidentally electrocute herself every time she sneezed.
But the real magic? That was in the spearhead.
Harry slapped his sketchbook onto the worktable and flipped to a page covered in carefully drawn runes—angular symbols that seemed to hum with meaning even on paper.
Beckendorf leaned in. "Alright, runes I get, but why do they look so… directional?"
Harry tapped the page. "Because they are. A rune written left to right can mean something totally different than the same rune written right to left. Get it wrong, and instead of 'summon controlled lightning,' we might end up with 'summon uncontrolled lightning' or, worse—"
Jim gasped. "Summon localized tornado of doom?!"
Harry pointed at him. "Exactly."
Jim clapped his hands (somehow, despite not having actual hands). "Oh-ho-ho! I like localized tornadoes of doom."
Beckendorf sighed. "Let's not get struck by lightning today." He studied the sketches. "So these runes direct the charge?"
"Think of them like magical circuit boards," Harry explained. "Etch them in the right order, and the spear absorbs static electricity from the air, stores it, and releases it when Clarisse attacks. Basically, a built-in thunderstorm on a stick."
Jim did another unnecessary backflip. "FOR SCIENCE!"
Jean leaned over, tapping a rune. "And these?"
"Grounding runes," Harry said. "Without them, the spear might overcharge and—uh—explode."
Beckendorf stopped. "You just thought to mention that?"
Harry shrugged. "Trial and error, my dude."
Beckendorf sighed the deep, exhausted sigh of someone who had chosen the wrong friends but was too committed to back out now. "Fine. Walk me through the engraving."
—
Harry, despite his usual chaotic goblin energy, was dead serious when it came to runework. He stood beside Beckendorf, carefully guiding him through each etching. The metal they were using wasn't just Celestial Bronze—it was reinforced with Vibranium that Loki (Harry's dad) had definitely acquired legally (narrator voice: he had not).
Jim, of course, provided excellent commentary.
"Ooooh, that one looks like a funky little lightning bolt—OH, OH, can we make it bigger?"
"No, Jim."
"What about that swirl one? Can we make it glow? I love glowy things."
"It will glow when charged."
"Oh! OH! Can we make it shoot fire too? Lightning and fire? The ultimate combo!"
Harry sighed. "That's not how electricity works, Jim."
Jim huffed. "Boring. Limited by science."
Beckendorf tuned them out, hands steady as he carefully inscribed each rune. Sweat dripped down his brow. One wrong stroke and—
BZZZT!
The spearhead let out a low hum. Not loud, but deep, like the rumble before a thunderstorm. The runes shimmered, golden-red Phoenix fire mingling with crackling blue-white electricity.
Jean whistled. "That's one angry-looking spearhead."
Jim vibrated with excitement. "Oh-ho-HO! This is gonna be AMAZING."
Harry grinned, picking up the finished piece carefully. "Next step—" He turned to the others, eyes alight with mischief. "Testing."
Beckendorf smirked. "Clarisse is gonna owe us so many burgers for this."
Jean cracked her knuckles. "Let's go make some lightning."
Jim practically squealed. "FOR SCIENCE!"
—
Clarisse La Rue was a simple girl with simple desires: victory in battle, respect from her peers, and an unlimited supply of burgers. So when Harry, Jean, and Beckendorf strutted up to her table at the pavilion looking like they'd just invented fire, she didn't even look up from her plate of ribs.
Unfortunately, Harry didn't believe in ignoring a dramatic entrance.
"Clarisse." He thumped his wrist against the table. "We have something for you."
Clarisse raised an eyebrow. "Unless it's Ares finally admitting I can beat his sorry behind in a fight, I don't care."
Beckendorf grinned and dropped a long, cloth-wrapped package onto the table. It landed with a thunk, the kind of satisfying noise that weapons made when they were heavy, deadly, and about to ruin some monster's day. "Oh, you're gonna care."
Clarisse narrowed her eyes. "If this explodes, I'm breaking all three of your noses."
Jean, lounging next to Harry with all the smugness of a cat who'd just knocked something off a table, twirled a strand of red hair around her finger. "Please. Like we'd give you an unstable weapon."
Harry nodded. "Yeah, the unstable prototypes are our problem."
Jim, currently in wand form and strapped to Harry's wrist, vibrated with excitement. "Ooooh! This is it, folks! The moment of truth! The hero receives their legendary weapon, destiny is fulfilled, and the crowd goes wild!"
Harry sighed and smacked his wrist against the table. "Ignore him."
Clarisse sighed, setting down her ribs with a resigned air. "Fine." She grabbed the package. "Let's see it."
Beckendorf gestured dramatically. "Behold… Phoenix Strike!"
Clarisse stared. "Phoenix what?"
Jean groaned. "He's been calling it that all day."
Harry rubbed his temples. "It's not the name."
Beckendorf crossed his arms. "It's a great name."
Clarisse ignored them and ripped off the cloth. The second the spearhead was exposed, the runes along its length flickered to life—golden-red flames danced along the shaft, crackling with blue lightning. It hummed in her grip, perfectly balanced, radiating that subtle, dangerous I will wreck someone's day energy.
Clarisse ran a hand over the shaft, testing the grip. Gave it a casual twirl. The runes pulsed in response.
Her expression remained unreadable.
Harry leaned in. "Well?"
Clarisse twirled it again. "I'll have to test it in a fight."
Jean snorted. "We literally designed it to electrocute anything dumb enough to attack you. What more do you need?"
Clarisse arched an eyebrow. "What's it do?"
Beckendorf grinned. "Absorbs static electricity from the air, stores it, and releases it when you attack. You're basically carrying a thunderstorm."
Harry waggled his eyebrows. "You get to smite things, Clarisse. Smite."
Jim vibrated aggressively. "It's like Zeus himself went, 'Hey, you know what would be cool? A death stick that makes monsters cry!'"
Clarisse's lips almost twitched. Almost.
"And it won't fry me if I use it?" she asked.
Harry gave her a look. "What do you take me for? An amateur?"
Jean and Beckendorf exchanged deeply skeptical glances.
Harry huffed. "Okay, most of the time, I'm not an amateur."
Jean gestured vaguely. "There are grounding runes. They keep the lightning from zapping you into a crispy demigod."
Beckendorf nodded. "Unless you deliberately redirect it back at yourself, you're fine."
Clarisse tilted her head. "And if I do try to redirect it?"
Harry shrugged. "Then I guess you're just gonna have a real shocking experience."
Jim cackled. "BA-DUM-TSSSSS!"
Clarisse dragged a hand down her face. "I hate you."
Jean smirked. "No, you don't."
Clarisse pointed the spear at them. "If this thing malfunctions—"
Harry cut her off. "—You get an unlimited supply of burgers. We already agreed."
Clarisse eyed the weapon. Then them. Then back at the weapon.
Slowly, a grin spread across her face.
"…Fine." She tapped the spearhead against the ground. A crackling arc of electricity jumped into the dirt. "I like it."
Harry groaned. "But please, for the love of all that is good and holy, rename it. Maimer is a terrible name."
Clarisse smirked. "Says the guy whose weapon is named Jim."
Jim let out an exaggerated gasp. "Excuse you! I am a cultural icon!"
Harry scowled. "Jim is different."
Clarisse grinned. "Yeah? How?"
Jim answered first. "Because I'm awesome!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Not the point."
Clarisse ignored him, testing the weight of the spear on her shoulder. "I'll think about it."
Harry sighed dramatically. "It better be something cool. Like Stormbringer. Or Thunderfang. Or—"
"Bob."
Harry visibly twitched. "Clarisse."
"Shockey McStabberson."
Harry's left eye started twitching. "I swear to the gods—"
Clarisse grinned, slinging the spear over her shoulder as she turned to leave. "Thanks for the weapon, nerds."
Jean laughed. "Yeah, yeah. Just remember—you owe us so many burgers."
Clarisse waved a dismissive hand over her shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll pay up when it actually works in a fight."
Jim let out an offended huff. "The disrespect!"
Harry groaned. "We create literal magic, and this is the thanks we get."
Beckendorf patted his shoulder. "Welcome to the world of craftsmanship, Lokison. Nobody appreciates the artist until the art saves their butt."
Jean slung an arm around Harry's shoulders. "C'mon, drama queen. Let's go eat. I, for one, have earned some fries."
Harry sighed. "Fine. But if she actually names it Bob, I quit."
Jim cackled. "No, you won't."
"…No, I won't."
—
As they made their way back to the forge, Jean was still cackling, practically wiping tears from her eyes.
"Shockey McStabberson," she wheezed. "I swear, I almost lost it."
Harry groaned, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. "If she actually calls it that, I'm hexing her armor to make fart noises every time she moves."
Beckendorf, ever the calm and collected one, just chuckled as he unlocked the forge doors. "I'd pay drachma to see that."
Jim, still wrapped snugly around Harry's wrist in his wand form, started vibrating like an over-caffeinated squirrel. "Ooooh! You guys are in for a treat! I sense madness brewing in the Potter Brain! Beautiful, chaotic, possibly-electrically-hazardous madness!"
Harry smirked as they stepped inside. The forge was their domain, filled with the scent of burning celestial bronze, the hum of magical energy, and the occasional controlled explosion. He strode over to a worktable, unrolling a sketch with a dramatic flourish. "Alright, feast your eyes on these bad boys."
Jean and Beckendorf leaned in. The sketch depicted a pair of vicious-looking gauntlets, reinforced with celestial bronze, the knuckles embedded with charge plates, and intricate lightning runes curling over the surface like tiny, angry storm clouds. The design practically screamed "hit first, ask questions later."
Beckendorf let out a low whistle. "Not bad."
Jean arched a brow. "Not bad? Charlie, this is genius. It's like… electric knuckle sandwiches."
Jim gasped. "SPICY KNUCKLE SANDWICHES! Served fresh, extra crispy!" He suddenly switched to a dramatic announcer voice. "Warning: Side effects may include temporary paralysis, singed eyebrows, and the overwhelming urge to punch things."
Harry grinned. "I was thinking we could make these for Natasha."
Beckendorf nodded. "The Nemesis kid?"
Jean snorted. "She's ten and fights like she's got a personal vendetta against oxygen."
Jim wiggled in mock fear. "Tiny but terrifying! Like a caffeinated squirrel with knives! A small, angry storm cloud who will ruin your afternoon!"
Harry chuckled. "She's a Nemesis kid. She does have a personal vendetta against the entire world."
Beckendorf ran a hand over the sketch. "You're using the same runes as Clarisse's spear?"
Harry grabbed a piece of chalk and walked over to the massive rune-covered board in the forge. "Yeah, but we need to tweak them. The spear needed to store and release a charge on impact. The gauntlets need to channel the charge through the user's fists without, y'know, frying their own hands off."
Jim let out an exaggerated gasp, vibrating with fake scandal. "You're telling me the objective is not to electrocute the child? I'm shocked! SHOCKED, I SAY!"
Jean patted Harry's wrist. "Ignore him."
Harry rolled his eyes and sketched out the modifications. "So, instead of these runes here—" he circled a section "—which direct the energy outward in an explosion, we swap them for these—" he scribbled a few symbols "—which create a controlled flow, only activating when she actually punches something."
Beckendorf nodded. "And you'll need insulation runes here—" he pointed to the wrist section "—so she doesn't feel the charge herself."
Jean grinned. "Basically, we're making her tiny, vengeful Zeus fists."
Jim let out an unholy cackle. "LORD SMITEY OF PUNCHINGTON! Kneel before her wrath! TINY GOD OF ELECTRIFIED JUSTICE!"
Beckendorf crossed his arms, grinning. "Alright. Let's make some magic happen."
Jean smirked, cracking her knuckles. "Let's get sparky."
Jim vibrated with excitement. "FOR SCIENCE! AND POSSIBLY CHAOS! But mostly SCIENCE!"
And with that, the forge roared to life, sparks flying, hammers ringing, and Jim's non-stop commentary filling the air as the three demigods worked their magic.
—
The forge buzzed with more energy than a caffeine-addicted squirrel on roller skates. Sparks flew from the furnace, and the air was thick with the smell of molten metal and the occasional "Do not touch that! You'll regret it!" from Beckendorf, who was busy with his usual concentration.
Jean was in her element, her fiery red hair glowing under the heat of the forge, as she hovered over a few ingots of Phoenix Bronze. The metal glistened like liquid fire—probably because it was liquid fire.
"Alright," Jean said, rolling up her sleeves with the kind of purpose that could probably level an entire city. "Phoenix Bronze first. We don't want Natasha to feel like she's wearing a tank on her wrists, just... a really cool, possibly lethal tank."
Beckendorf, who was usually cool under pressure, was warming up to the idea of something that didn't come in a textbook. "We melt it down, pour it in molds, then add the Vibranium and Celestial Bronze later for the magic—both literally and figuratively."
Jim, who was bouncing off the walls like he'd mainlined five energy drinks and snorted pixie dust, zipped around them like an over-caffeinated wind-up toy. "Ooh, yes! I love this! It's like a superhero science project, but with way more explosions and way fewer permission slips!"
Harry smirked, watching Jim weave around the forge, his body wiggling like it was trying to escape its own existence. "Keep it up, Jim, and you might actually manage to explode something before we finish."
Jim's long-winded laugh echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls like he was auditioning for a part in a Looney Tunes sketch. "You can't stop the inevitable, my friend. Chaos is coming, and its name is Jim!"
Ignoring Jim's chaotic commentary, Jean and Beckendorf got to work. The Phoenix Bronze was heated to a molten state, glowing like a fiery sun that had been trapped inside an ingot. Jean grabbed a tongs and carefully lowered the molten metal into a mold, all while making sure it didn't suddenly turn into a one-way ticket to dangerous burn scars.
Harry was already sketching out the basic design of the gauntlets on a piece of enchanted parchment. "We want them sleek, so Natasha doesn't look like she's wearing an oversized metal glove from a villain's lair. But also lethal. So, you know, it's like a fist of justice wrapped in a sleek, futuristic punching machine."
"Got it," Jean said, her tone both serious and totally in control. She took a step back, giving the Phoenix Bronze a once-over. "Now, for the tricky part. I'll carve the Celestial Bronze runes into the surface. Each rune will channel the energy, making sure Natasha doesn't just electrocute the wrong person by accident. We need precision here."
She picked up the enchanted etching tool, and the tip of it glowed a soft blue. Her hands moved quickly and fluidly, leaving intricate symbols etched into the surface of the molten Phoenix Bronze. It looked like she was painting with lightning itself.
Jim, who had no intention of staying still for more than three seconds, suddenly shot past them, spinning mid-air like an over-caffeinated tornado. "RUNES! FANCY MAGIC SCRIBBLES! WHY NOT THROW IN A LITTLE DANCE MOVE WHILE YOU'RE AT IT, JEAN?!" he yelled, before attempting some uncoordinated version of the moonwalk and nearly running into the wall.
Harry was half-tempted to let Jim's reckless energy be the sole catalyst for disaster, but instead, he just shot him a side-eye. "You're going to break something. And if it's me, I swear I will turn you into a very expensive, very difficult-to-repair statue."
Jim, looking like he was personally offended by Harry's basic logic, waved him off. "Psh, who needs logic when you have a one-way ticket to 'this-is-so-not-a-good-idea-ville'? You know, I think I'm just about the greatest thing to happen to this project. No pressure!"
Beckendorf, who was once again playing the straight man in this circus, was heating the Vibranium in another section of the forge. "Vibranium is going to provide the reinforcement we need around the wrist joints. The last thing we need is Natasha getting zapped into a permanent new hair color."
Jim raised a finger. "Is it just me, or does the word zap sound like something that would be in an old-school cartoon? I can just imagine a giant electric cloud with the word KABOOM! flashing in big, bold letters."
"Yeah, and you'd probably be the one exploding, Jim," Beckendorf muttered, expertly pouring the molten Vibranium into the gauntlet molds. The metal solidified, taking shape quickly and flawlessly, like it had been waiting for this moment.
Jean gave the gauntlets a quick once-over, then went back to etching the runes on the Celestial Bronze. Her movements were fluid, graceful—like a spellcaster creating a masterpiece, and somehow, she managed to do all of this without setting anything on fire or turning the entire forge into a giant smoke cloud.
"I think we're good," Jean said, stepping back. She wiped a bit of sweat from her brow, admiring her work. "These are going to be the ultimate tools for punch-based justice."
Harry leaned over the workbench, eyeing the gauntlets. "Alright, so now we need to do the final step: adding the activation runes. These will make sure the electricity only activates when Natasha punches something—so no accidental zapping unless she means it."
Jim hovered nearby, making various "zing!" noises, and trying to act as if he were some kind of cosmic lightning rod. "Why don't we just let the runes speak for themselves, huh? Magic should be wild! Like me!"
Beckendorf, a few feet away, rolled his eyes. "You might be magic, Jim, but I think it's the kind of magic that usually ends up with someone calling for backup... and probably a medic."
With a few careful strokes of his own enchanted tool, Harry inscribed the final set of runes, making sure they were perfectly balanced. "That should do it. Now, for the final step—let's seal it up with another layer of Phoenix Bronze, and make sure it's ready to charge."
Jim made a loud, dramatic sound like someone was about to burst into flames. "OOOH, CHARGED UP AND READY TO GO! I CAN FEEL THE ELECTRICAL ENERGY IN MY BONES!"
Harry raised an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure that's not how any of this works, but sure, Jim. You keep telling yourself that."
Beckendorf gave the gauntlet one last look before holding it up triumphantly. "It's perfect. Now all we need is a test run."
Jean, crossing her arms, raised a brow at him. "You test it."
Beckendorf just grinned, clearly enjoying his moment of victory. "Fine, but I won't be responsible if I lose a couple of hairs in the process."
The final gauntlet gleamed under the forge's light, runes crackling with raw energy. There was a beat of silence, then Jim burst in again, his voice way too serious for his usual antics. "Buckle up, buttercups. The world of fist-based justice is about to meet its match. And her name is Natasha!"
Harry grinned, leaning back against the workbench. "Well, this ought to be interesting."
As the forge hummed with energy, the gauntlets stood ready, charged with potential and electric power, ready to deliver the ultimate punch to whoever dared face Natasha.
And if Jim had anything to say about it, the ride was about to get really interesting.
—
The sun was setting over the training grounds, and if there was any light left in the sky, it was mostly being blocked by the bodies of Ares kids who were rapidly realizing they might have bitten off more than they could chew. From where Harry, Jean, and Beckendorf stood at the edge of the field, the chaos unfolding looked like something out of an action movie. A scene where one little badass had an entire group of overconfident, muscle-bound kids cowering at her feet. Well, maybe not cowering—but definitely wishing they were somewhere else.
Natasha Romanoff, 10 years old, with a whole lot of I'm-going-to-break-you-now energy, was tossing the kids around like they were beanbags. Each punch was fast. Each kick was perfectly timed. If you didn't know better, you might think she had some ninja training (which, for the record, she totally did).
"Seriously," Harry muttered, looking on in awe, "I knew she was good, but watching a ten-year-old completely dominate an entire training field full of Ares kids is impressive. I might need to take notes."
Jean glanced over at him, eyebrow raised. "Don't get too cocky. One punch from her, and you'll be next on her list."
"I'll keep my distance," Harry said, grinning. "I don't need a right hook to remind me I'm not invincible."
Beckendorf, standing with arms crossed, leaned toward Harry and whispered, "Honestly, I think she's secretly a supervillain from the future sent back to test the human race's survival instinct. I'm telling you, Harry—she's ridiculous."
Before Harry could respond, Natasha nailed a kid with a spin-kick that would've made Black Widow proud—sending him flying like a ragdoll. The Ares kid landed on the grass with a thud, his eyes crossed as if asking, What just happened?
Harry clapped his hands. "Okay, okay! I think we can safely call this one for Natasha."
Jean rolled her eyes, but she couldn't suppress a small smile. "Yeah, she's got it covered. We should probably get her those new gauntlets before she accidentally becomes too unstoppable."
"Right," Beckendorf said, nudging the bundle wrapped in cloth he was holding like it was something sacred. "Time to make this official."
And just like that, Harry's wand, Jim, who had been sitting on Harry's wrist in the form of his convenient-but-slightly-annoying portable weapon, sprang to life.
"OH YEAH! TIME FOR THE MOST EPIC GIFT EVER! I'M TALKING 'BOOM-ZAP-CRASH' LEVEL COOL! THIS IS THE MOMENT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR!" Jim shouted in his usual over-the-top manner.
Jean gave him a half-glare, half-laugh. "Jim, for once, could you not make this a Broadway show?"
Jim paused, dramatically placing a hand to his chest. "What? No love for the theatrics? Come on, Jean! I'm practically brimming with charisma over here!"
Before she could retort, Natasha had finished off another opponent with a perfectly timed shoulder-check. She looked over at them with an easy grin that was both mischievous and endearing.
"What's all this? A surprise?" she asked, her voice light but with that edge of curiosity that only a Black Widow could pull off.
Beckendorf—still looking like a model who could make even a t-shirt look amazing—unfurled the cloth to reveal the new gauntlets. They gleamed in the fading sunlight, an intoxicating mix of Phoenix Bronze, Celestial Bronze, and just enough Vibranium to make anyone second-guess whether they'd want to get in a fight with Natasha.
Her eyes widened. "Whoa. Those are—"
"Yep," Harry said, cutting her off with a dramatic flair, "for you."
"And yes, I did personally supervise the design," Beckendorf added, his grin smug enough to suggest he'd actually been the mastermind behind them. "If I didn't, I'd have been out of a job, right?"
"You guys are ridiculous," Natasha said, reaching for the gauntlets. "I've only been kicking the asses of everyone in sight. Now you give me toys that might literally send someone into the stratosphere? You spoil me."
Harry shrugged. "What can I say? We love to make an impression."
"Indeed," Jean said with a sly grin. "You've already broken every bone in their bodies. Now you can break their souls."
As Natasha slid the gauntlets onto her wrists, a soft hum filled the air. It was subtle at first, like the sound of a storm building in the distance, but then—BOOM—the gauntlets flared to life, glowing with magical energy.
"That's what I'm talking about," Natasha said, flexing her fingers as the hum deepened. "What do these do?"
Beckendorf leaned back, crossing his arms with the sort of pride only someone who'd just created a masterpiece could have. "Oh, these are more than just pretty arm accessories. These babies channel energy through the Celestial Bronze runes, specifically lightning. Punch something? It's going to feel that electricity. You get to zap people like they've never been zapped before."
"And," Harry added with a grin, "the Vibranium bits are there for the tech side. Your arm won't snap off if you try to use it."
Jean added helpfully, "Because I know how much you like your arms intact."
"Ah yes, arms—those weird appendages I keep forgetting about," Natasha said sarcastically as she gave Jean a side-eye.
With that, Natasha was already halfway across the field, ready to put her new toys to the test. She charged at a training dummy with a predatory grin, the gauntlets lighting up in a flicker of electricity. The punch she threw was devastating. The dummy, which had survived dozens of blows before, was immediately obliterated, sent flying backward as though it had been caught in an explosion. Sparks flew everywhere.
Harry, Beckendorf, and Jean blinked, mouths agape for a split second.
"Well," Beckendorf said, his voice filled with approval, "I think we've officially crossed into ridiculous territory."
Jim, who had been observing from Harry's wrist, jumped into the conversation. "I TOLD YOU! BOOM—kaboom, zap, POW! It's like ten times better than anything I've ever done! And I've done some serious chaos in my day!"
Natasha returned to them, her grin wide. "Yeah, I think I can get used to this." She clenched her fists, the gauntlets gleaming in the fading light. "You know, I don't know if I'm ready for how much trouble I'm about to cause."
"Just don't blow up the training field, okay?" Jean said, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm not the one blowing stuff up," Natasha shot back, already slipping back into the sass she was so good at. "But I can't promise anything."
Harry grinned, shaking his head. "Well, at least it'll be interesting from here on out."
And with that, Natasha, armed with her new gauntlets, walked off toward the next sparring session—her smile practically glowing with excitement. The children of Ares? Well, they'd just learned a valuable lesson: never underestimate a 10-year-old Black Widow with super-powered fists.
—
The sun had barely dipped below the horizon when Natasha Romanoff appeared, practically vibrating with energy. She walked toward Harry like a lion stalking its prey, the faint breeze tugging at her dark hair, but it didn't seem to faze her. No, she was here for one thing: a rematch.
"Hey, Harry," she called out, voice smooth, laced with challenge. "I'm thinking it's time for round two."
Harry, lounging lazily on a nearby bench with his feet up, didn't look up immediately. He was enjoying the view, the fading sunlight casting a golden glow on the training grounds. He'd been anticipating a nice, quiet evening. That was before Natasha—who, let's be honest, was always ready to throw down—showed up.
"Round two, huh?" Harry finally shifted his gaze toward her, eyebrows raised. "You sure? Last time didn't go too well for you."
Natasha shrugged, her lips twitching into a smirk. "Sure it did. I got a few good hits in. Besides, I've been training. You might want to bring more than that fancy little wand of yours this time."
"Oh, it's not just the wand," Harry said, popping his knuckles with exaggerated flair. "But fine. If you want a challenge, I'll give you one."
Jean, who had been leaning against a nearby pillar with a knowing smile, called out from the sidelines, "Don't get cocky, Harry. You barely won last time."
"Barely?" Harry said, grinning as he flashed a wink at Natasha. "Come on, Jean. I think we both know who the real winner was."
Natasha ignored the teasing and eyed Harry with a knowing smirk. "Well, I've learned a few tricks of my own. And I want to see if your new tricks can back up all that big talk. I want you to go all in this time. No holding back. Use Jim if you have to."
Harry's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Oh, you're asking for it now."
With a casual flick of his wrist, Harry summoned Jim, his ever-vocal and ever-annoying sentient weapon. Jim, who had been lounging lazily in his sheath (probably working on some existential crisis), sprang to life immediately.
"Did you say, me? THE Jim? Oh, baby, I am so ready for this!" Jim said in a voice that practically vibrated with excitement. "You want full-on superhero mode? You got it, my friend! Let's make this fight an action movie!"
Harry grinned and shook his head. "Alright, Jim. Time to show Natasha what happens when you go full Monkey King."
With a grand, almost theatrical flourish, Jim expanded from his usual compact form into the legendary Riyu Jingu Bang, a gleaming, golden staff that shimmered with raw power. It stretched impossibly long, twisting and growing like a snake coming out of its shell. As the staff exploded into its full size, Harry's clothing morphed to match—his casual attire vanishing in a flash of light to be replaced by crimson and gold armor. The set was an eclectic mix of Asgardian design—lots of sharp edges and regal flourishes—and the iconic style of Sun Wukong's own Monkey King armor.
The chestplate shimmered with the image of a fiery phoenix, wings unfurling across his chest like something out of a battle movie. The armor radiated power, but also had that "I'm about to kick your ass in style" vibe.
"You see that, Natasha?" Harry asked, glancing over his shoulder with a cocky grin. "That's me seriously not holding back."
Jim, now in full form, let out a whoop that could probably be heard in the next zip code. "Hell yeah! Time to make this fight spicy, baby! BANG-BANG, WHO'S READY FOR THE BANG?!"
Natasha wasn't fazed. If anything, she looked even more excited, her smile turning into a full-on grin. "Nice armor, Harry. But let's see if it can actually hold up under pressure."
And then she was off, moving like a blur—impossibly fast. The air itself seemed to warp as she darted toward him, throwing a flurry of punches that Harry barely had time to track. He dodged one, sidestepped another, but she was already on him—her foot aimed straight at his ribs.
"Nice try," Harry said, grinning through the chaos, and brought the Riyu Jingu Bang up in a smooth arc, blocking her foot with a metallic clang. The power behind her kick wasn't enough to throw him off, but it sent a jolt up his arm, reminding him that, yes, Natasha could still pack a punch.
Jim, meanwhile, was having an absolute meltdown of excitement. "BOOM! POW! ZING! Look at that, look at that! Natasha Romanoff—watch out, girl, this is a real fight!"
"Yeah, yeah, keep it down, Jim," Harry muttered. "She's fast."
And fast, she was. Natasha dropped to the ground in a roll, shooting a leg out to sweep Harry off his feet. But Harry wasn't so easily taken down. He spun in mid-air, flipping out of the way, his staff twirling around him like a blur of gold.
He landed gracefully, his armor gleaming in the last rays of sunlight. "I'll admit, that was impressive. But it's gonna take more than that to take me down."
Natasha's eyes twinkled as she shifted, preparing for her next move. "I'm just getting started," she said, flashing a smirk before charging again.
Harry laughed, spinning the staff with precision and ease, each strike so fast that the air whistled with the force of it. He was like a Dragon Ball Z character come to life—each move faster than the last, each strike with the power to level buildings. Natasha blocked one strike, but Harry followed up immediately with a strike to her ribs that sent her flying back a few feet.
"Whoa, okay," she said, clearly impressed, but not backing down. "Maybe I underestimated the new you."
Harry cocked his head, a teasing glint in his eye. "Just a little, huh? I mean, you're not bad, but you're up against the Monkey King now. What's that? You didn't hear? I'm the Monkey King. And I don't take it easy on people who challenge me."
Jim, ever the showman, joined in. "BOOM! BAM! ZAP! Whoo! Let's get some kung fu action in here! What? No slow-motion fight scenes? Come on, Harry, you're killing me!"
Meanwhile, Jean, watching from the sidelines, couldn't help but chuckle. "I don't think anyone was expecting this. But you know what? They should have. You've got Monkey King powers now. You've leveled up. Just—don't hurt her too bad, alright? She still has to live with herself after this."
But Natasha? She was loving every second of it. Ducking under another swing of the staff, she spun low, aiming for Harry's legs with another well-timed roundhouse. This time, Harry was ready. He blocked, countered with a boom of force, and sent her stumbling back.
"Alright, Romanoff," he said with a grin that could only be described as "way too cocky." "I've been holding back, but I think it's time to wrap this up."
"Not so fast, Lokison," Natasha called, eyes narrowing as she prepared for another round.
And just like that, they were back at it—two forces of nature clashing, one's laughter echoing in the air, the other's battle cry roaring louder than the wind.
As for Jim, well, he had no intention of letting anyone forget he was the star of the show.
"BOOM! ZING! WHOA, BABY, LET'S BRING THE HOUSE DOWN! This fight is too good, I can't even handle it!"
The world might have been watching, but Harry, Natasha, and Jim? They were all in their own little action movie.
---
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