#but i recently saw the painting and thought: i bet a supervillain would like this

[chatcolat]

Harlem Saints Chapter 2

Nico and Bianca grow up in Italian Harlem with their mom during WWII and form a group of superheros with a bunch of other halfbloods to save the city from monsters. 

There were around three hundred boys in attendance at St. Francis, the Catholic boys’ school on the edge of East Harlem, and only one was black. His name was Hernando Joaquin Vasquez. His father was a poet in Black Harlem as well as a jazz musician who played at the nightclubs where only wealthy white people went. He was pretty famous, even in Little Italy. Joaquin’s mother was Athena, goddess of war and creativity. This little fact was known only to his father, the di Angelos, and Marcella.

Joaquin was not the first Black Harlem kid to attend the mostly Italian school, but he was the only one there now. They had wanted him to play basketball and offered him free tuition. The joke was, Joaquin didn’t play basketball, he wrote novels in and played saxophone in his spare time. He was also Nico’s best and only friend but their relationship was usually confined to the school grounds because neither felt particularly safe in the other’s part of the city.

Fate was a funny thing - something Nico believed in without much effort and something Joaquin said was full of shit. But Nico thought there was no way that of all the schools that could have offered Joaquin a spot, it was the one with another demigod. How could it not be fate when they ended up in the same class every year?

“Coincidence, my friend,” was Joaquin’s reply any time Nico brought it up. “If you start calling every miracle fate, then you give those blind old ladies too much power over you.”

It was the last day of school before summer vacation, the classroom was sweltering and the Tagliocozza brothers were up to their usual antics. Joaquin was reading a magazine while Nico skimmed the recent issue of Captain America. Three years in and it was still his favorite comic. He never missed an issue. Their art teacher was no where to be seen, as usual.

“di Angelo,” Tony Tagliocozza called from the front of the room where he and his brother wrote crude things on the blackboard.

Tony’s stupider clone, Benny, had just finished drawing poor representations of male geneaelia on the board. Nico secretly hoped the teacher would come back now and catch them in the act.

“di Angelo,” Tony repeated, walking down the row of desks towards him. Heads turned to watch his progress. Everyone knew that what would happen: The Tagliocozza’s would make a horrible joke about Maria di Angelo, the unmarried owner of a nice apartment complex having two children with her name, then Nico would punch them. The odds would be uneven, though Nico would hold his own, until Joaquin set down his magazine and stood up to join his friend. At some point a teacher would come in, the boys would laugh and pretend they were playing, and the fighting would halt until another day when the Tagliocozza boys were bored.

“I saw your mother down by Giretti’s last night,” Tony sneered. Giretti’s was the bar near Marcella’s house. It wasn’t necessarily a prostitution den, but that wasn’t to say that morally upstanding women went there. Nico knew for a fact Maria di Angelo had never set foot in such a place.

“You saw wrong, then,” Nico replied. Joaquin was still reading and Benny was still drawing on the board. Nico did not like being in fights because Maria did not like him being in them. Every time he came home with another black eye, he would find her crying later, when she thought no one was watching. It ate at him in a way nothing else could.

“She was with Marco Giretti,” the son of Antonio Giretti, a mobster, and an infamous playboy who was too young to interest the likes of Maria di Angelo anyways.

Nico stuck to Captain America taking on the Nazis. He longed to be a hero from his comics, fighting bad guys and saving people. Nico wanted to be like Steve Rodgers. After all, what was the purpose of being a demigod if all it meant was going to Catholic school and hiding from harpies? Instead of defending the world from fascism, he was stuck in art class, trying not to fight with Tony. It wasn’t the fighting or the glory and fame that he was drawn to, but the whole idea of making the world safe. When Steve Rodgers agreed to undergo an experimental procedure to become a super human, he hadn’t been thinking of what he could do for himself, but what he could do for others.

“Wanna know what she was doing with Marco Giretti, huh di Angelo?” Tony did not like being ignored. Nico was about to tell him to shove off when something outside the classroom window caught his eye. A flash of green and grey feathers - the harpy from yesterday.

“di Angelo, are you hearing me? I said-“

“Not now, Tagliocozza,” he stood up so suddenly, Tony, who had been leaning in right next to him, stumbled back. Joaquin was looking up now, a question in his eyes. Nico jerked his head towards the window and started walking out of the classroom.

“Hey! di Angelo! Where the hell do you think you’re going? Class isn’t changing yet!” Tony called after him. “What? Not you too, Vasquez!”

There had been one time, and only one time, when the harpies had found the school and it had been chaos. Reported as gang violence in the news, the whole auditorium had been wrecked during an assembly. Joaquin and Nico had only barely missed the claws that sought them.

“What is it?” Joaquin asked as he jogged to catch up with his friend.

“Harpy,” Nico replied. He had no clue where he was going, he just knew they needed to get away from other people.

“You’re walking like you have a plan, but you don’t, do you,” Joaquin commented as they reached the stairs at the end of the hall. They were on the third floor.

“Getting to the first floor where we can’t be dragged out a window is step one,” Nico made that decision on the spot.

“Then?”

“You’re the son of Athena, plans are your thing!” Nico was taking the steps two at a time. Despite what he said, he was still thinking over some possible plan. School was too far from Our Lady of Mount Carmel, they could never get there in time. The incense of regular churches was usually enough to keep them from being tracked or sniffed out, but once they had been found, it was useless.

“I feel like being around people is our best bet right now,” Joaquin was in step with him. “Otherwise we’re easy targets.”

Nico shook his head. “Then other people could get hurt.”

“Just trying to come up with a plan, here.” Joaquin sounded irritated. He was brilliant and didn’t like being told he wasn’t.

“I know, keep trying,” he tried to sound encouraging, but fear was starting to build up in his chest. Was it just him, or were monsters becoming more and more common lately? It was like the war in Europe had gotten them all stirred up and ready for trouble on this side of the pond as well.

“Statue of Gabriel in the chapel,” Joaquin almost shouted as they reached the first floor and he pivoted left down the hall to the chapel.

“What about it?” Nico tried not to slip on the recently mopped floor as he followed after him.

“He’s holding a sword.” When realization did not dawn on Nico’s face, Joaquin added, “It’s detachable. Was built separately. We can pull it out and use it.” They were running at this point, or at least as close to it as they could get without arousing the suspicion of the nuns. Even though he couldn’t see one and there were no classrooms in this hallway, the sisters always seemed to know the moment someone switched from a fast walk to a run and the last thing the boys needed was an angry nun.

“Wait. Are you saying… You want to use the sword of Gabriel to kill a harpy?”

“Why is that so hard for you to understand, comic nerd? Obviously I want to use the sword on the harpy!” Joaquin barely kept himself from throwing open the doors to the small chapel adjoining the school. He and Nico peeked inside, then scuttled towards the alcove in the back where the statue of Gabriel was, looking for all the world like an avenging angel, his hallowed face illuminated with chipped paint that had probably applied to the statue long after it was made. In his hand, a sword of black iron stabbed into the devil crouched below him. The devil screamed in silent agony. Nico had never paid the writhing form of the devil near as much attention as the handsome face of Gabriel, but now he noticed how much its red and brown form looked like the Minotaur in the book Maria kept stashed away until story nights.

“Well,” Nico muttered, looking at the fierce-looking sword in the statue. It wasn’t so much a sword as an extra-long knife. The more he looked at it, the less he liked Joaquin’s plan. “Are you going to grab it?”

Joaquin hesitated. “I… something doesn’t seem right.”

There was something off about it, something about the naked black blade in the hands of the angel felt wrong. This was a relic from the Vatican, they knew, but the sword looked the exact opposite of holy. The shadows around them twitched and quivered, like they were being drawn to the sword. What sculptor in their right mind would put such a horrifying thing in the hands of Gabriel?

“Yeah,” Nico agreed. “Something about it… it’s not even a proper sword! There’s no handle or anything.” The blade was naked, no hilt to save the wielders’ hands from the raw power of the metal. But he wanted to grab it anyways. It called to him. He tried to fight against it. Dark magic swords were the sort of bad news he didn’t need in his life right now. He wanted to be Captain America, not a supervillain.

“It makes me feel cold,” Joaquin said, taking a step back. “Maybe this was a bad idea. I remembered it being bigger.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth then the door burst open behind them and the harpy hobbled in, her bird feet clacking on the stone floors. The stench of death rolled off her, filling the church with her foulness. The musty smell of incense was slowly being overpowered by the rank smell of harpy.

Her beady eyes found them, locking first on Joaquin, then Nico, then the statue. It could have been a trick of the dim church light, but Nico swore she looked straight at the sword.

“Hello, little halfbloods,” she cooed. “Why don’t you come over here and make this quick?”

“How about you come over here, and we’ll make it quicker,” Joaquin taunted. Nico shot him a look that clearly asked why are you inviting her over here?

The harpy cackled. “I’m not stupid, son of Athena. Stygian iron isn’t something you play with, boys.”

They glanced at each other. Stygian iron?

“Only those of the Underworld can touch it,” her eyes bored into Nico. He shivered. “So unless one of you is a son of Hades, I wouldn’t get much closer if I were you.”

She smiled revealing sharp, jagged teeth beneath her blood red lips. Nico had seen that color on the models in Bianca’s magazines, but he had a feeling the harpy wasn’t wearing Max Factor.

Nico wished Bianca was here now. It wasn’t that she was fearless – Nico knew her better than that – it was that she handled the pressure of her fear much better than he did. When she was scared, she used it to fuel her actions. Nico’s fear usually fueled him to turn and run. But Joaquin wasn’t backing down, so he couldn’t either. Besides, they had backed themselves into a corner. The only way out was through a harpy.

“I’m getting impatient, boys. I have a quota to fill. Zeus doesn’t want a bunch of you running around and causing havoc in the New World.” She snapped her teeth together a few times, like a bird snapping its beak, but when she did it, it sounded less like clack clack and more like it’s time for lunch.

She took a few steps forward. Joaquin tensed. Nico could see in his eyes he was searching for a way out of this.

She took another cautious step, her eyes fixed on the sword. She really didn’t like that thing, which made Nico like it all the more.

“When she charges, dive right,” Joaquin hissed. Nico barely had time to understand what he said when the harpy lifted her wings and flew straight towards them, not really flying as much as gliding towards them. Joaquin dove left, ducking under a pew. Nico, however, had already made up his mind. Faster than he knew possible, he turned and ripped the sword from Gabriel’s hands. He felt all the warmth drain from his body. The blood coursing through his veins felt slower, colder, turning to ice.

The harpy barely had time to scream, her feet clacking on the stones as she tried to slow herself down. One of her claws raked across his chest as she tried to stop herself, to back away from the sword.  Too late, she crashed into Nico, the sword coming down on one of her wings. She screeched. Her cries of agony bounced off the walls of the church. And she was gone. It wasn’t like when Bianca killed the weird dog things last month. That had dissolved into dust. This was more like the sword absorbed the harpy – like it ate her. Nico staggered back, blood seeping over his uniform. Maria would not approve.

“What the hell man,” Joaquin was shaken, coming around the pew, his wide eyes fixed on Nico.

Nico had no response. He tried to take a step, but the world seemed disconnected. It spun one way and he spun another. The sword clattered from his hands as he pitched forward. Joaquin caught him before he smacked his head against the unforgiving floor of the chapel.

“Nico, Nico can you hear me?” He tried to nod, but just keeping his eyes open was a struggle. He had never felt this tired before. He was so tired he felt sick. And cold. It didn’t feel like May, it felt like the dead of January when fuel for the heaters ran out. It was like all the energy had drained out of him. Moving his eyelids up and down took so much effort, it gave him vertigo.

“Nico!” Joaquin’s voice sounded terrified.

“Nico!” Another voice screamed. He knew that voice, but it was so hard to place it right now. He forced his eyes open again, but they wouldn’t focus.

“Bianca! There was a harpy. He grabbed the sword from Gabriel and it – I don’t know, the harpy just disappeared or something, and now, and now,” Joaquin was crying. Nico thought it was weird, but then he realized, I’m dying.

Dying might be a nice change. No more Tagliocozza brothers. No one cursing Italians under their breath whenever he, Maria, and Bianca left East Harlem. No more of this war and no more rationing. No more going to bed hungry, dreaming of being full again. No more lying in confession. No more hiding from monsters and mobsters. No more afraid.

No, he thought. Don’t think that way. You don’t want to die. Because dying meant no more of Maria’s comforting hugs. No more running with Bianca through the streets. No more playing marbles with Joaquin during recess. And no more Captain America. He could never grow up and join the army like Steve Rodgers. He could never help people.

I will not die.

“Here, give him some of this.” This voice was completely unfamiliar.

Something warm was pressed into his mouth. It tasted like the grapes fresh from the vines of his grandfather’s vineyard back in Italy. He hadn’t thought about them in years, but all the comfort of warm summer days, lounging under the grapevines with Bianca came back to him then. He felt strength return to his limbs. His fingers and toes tingled as the feeling he never realized he had lost returned. The pain in his chest dulled, thankfully, but he could still feel the skin there knitting back together.  

“Not too much! Too much might start to kill him all over again!” The voice from earlier shouted, the accent sounded weird to him.

He opened his eyes. The light burned so he closed them again.

“Bianca?” He croaked.

“Nico! Nico are you alright? Can you hear me?”

He tried to nod, but it made the nausea come back so he gave up. “I hear you.” Was he speaking English or Italian? He needed to speak English for Joaquin. For the person with the weird accent. He tried to open his eyes again. And again. Until finally it didn’t feel like the light was trying to gauge the balls from their sockets.

Bianca was crouched next to him, holding onto something that looked like a mix between baklava and cake. Joaquin was still supporting his head. Little rivers ran down both their faces. He tried to sit up. Both of them moved to help him.

“Not too fast!” The strange voice from earlier commanded. Now that his senses were returning to him, he could process it more. The voice definitely belonged to a girl, probably closer to his age than Bianca’s. And definitely foreign. Not foreign like an Italian from Harlem, but foreign like the fresh off the boat folks fleeing Europe.

He looked and finally found her, standing behind Bianca so that Nico had to peer around his sister’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of her. She had dark hair in a thick braid down her back and a silver hairband that definitely looked like something girls at Bianca’s school were not allowed to wear, but she did have on a uniform. Her skin was tan. Maybe she was fleeing the campaign in North Africa or the Middle East.

“Who’s she?” he croaked. He no longer felt nauseous.

“This is Zoe Nightshade,” Bianca introduced him. “She’s a follower of Artemis, a Hunter, who transferred to St. Agatha’s last week.” She had never mentioned it before.

Nico tried to keep the hurt from his face, but he could tell Bianca already felt guilty. She hadn’t mentioned another halfblood other than Marcella at school. He had told her the same day he met Joaquin that someone like them had shown up.

“Nice to meet you,” Nico forced out. His throat ached. His mouth ached. Everything ached. But whatever the thing still clutched in Bianca’s hand was, it had helped immensely. His senses were all back. He was awake enough to process some of what had just happened. “Thanks for saving me.”

“Pleasure,” Zoe replied without a drop of sincerity. “We really should be getting back now, Bianca, now that thou know he’s going to be okay. I can’t imagine the matrons being happy to discover us here.”

Bianca hesitated. Her dark brown eyes met Nico’s. “Do you think you’ll be okay? I’ll come get you as soon as school is out.”

Nico nodded as Joaquin helped him to his feet. “I’ll be fine. How did you know to come, anyways?”

Bianca shrugged. “Sibling sense? How did you know when the dog-thing was attacking me?”

He shrugged back as Zoe answered, “Telkhine. It’s called a telkhine.”

Bianca brushed the comment off and asked Nico one more time, “Are you sure you’re okay?” He nodded and Zoe practically dragged her back towards St. Agatha.

As soon as they left, Joaquin spoke up, “I don’t like her.”

“Huh? Bianca?” Nico realized this was the first time the two of them had a chance to meet each other, and what an occasion.

He shook his head. “Zoe Nightshade. Something about her spells trouble.”

Nico looked towards the door his sister had just followed her out of. He still felt a little wobbly. Was his near-death encounter affecting his ability to sense regular danger?

He turned to Joaquin to reply, but the other boy was turned away, looking at the black sword still on the ground, half under one of the pews. Nico couldn’t be sure if the blade itself was writhing or the shadows around it.

“I think that sword tried to kill you, too,” Joaquin said after they had stared at it long enough. So maybe that ruled Hades of the list of possible fathers.

“But it didn’t,” he responded. It made him think of the superheroes in comic books. Weird swords found in a church were definitely up there on the list of things that turned one onto the path of heroism. Or the path of evil. “Should I keep it?”

“Are you crazy?” Joaquin snapped. “It was definitely sucking at you the same way it did the harpy! And even if it wasn’t obviously evil, isn’t stealing from a church a sin or something? Father Ricardo would kick your ass!”

Nico nodded. “We should at least put it back.” But when they turned towards the statue of Gabriel, he already held a sword, this one looking much more like it belonged in his holy hands.

“I think it’s a sign,” Nico confirmed.

“You’re crazy,” Joaquin muttered. “My best friend is crazy.”

Nico di Angelo was not like most boys in East Harlem for a number of reasons. Most boys didn’t get attacked by harpies on the regular. Most boys did not see the triumphant face of the angel Gabriel and feel their heart race. Most boys were not demigods who came back from the dead.

_

ORIGIN STORY. Naturally Nico is a Captain America nerd. He would be. Since MoM isn’t invented... yet ;) He also may have a crush on Steve Rodgers as well as the angel Gabriel.