A closed office. Two familiar women sat inside, late at night, hours after our hero's unfortunate encounter of dunking his balls in boiling water.
The older woman, seated behind a desk, looked exhausted, her round glasses perched on her nose as she flipped through printouts. Her face betrayed irritation as her eyes darted across the lines of text. Meanwhile, the younger woman sat in the "guest" chair, twisting her wedding ring absentmindedly.
"He's gifted," the older woman began, her voice calm but firm. "And newly awakened. The results of the latest semen analysis batches indicate his 'awakening' occurred somewhere between the last two collections of the 'male tax.'" She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes with a weary sigh. "Unexpected."
"And… what exactly are you planning to do with him?" The younger woman's voice held a mix of concern and tension.
"With him? Nothing you should be worried about, my dear," the older woman replied with a sharp smile that made her face appear colder, harsher. "I've told you before—you demonize me unnecessarily."
She continued, her tone mocking but measured. "His mutation is acceptable. No extra arms, no spontaneous combustion, no deadly pinky-waving powers. Everything else? Irrelevant."
"But… will this affect his purity?"
"What about it? He's pure. A healthy body, a fine genetic legacy. Judy's remarkable heritage allowed my brother's seed to grow into an excellent child. Maybe not a genius, as you and Judy might insist, but sharp for his age. Smart, healthy, handsome." Her smile softened, taking on an almost maternal warmth.
"My nephew is a wonderful addition to our family tree. I may have lost my brother long ago, and I was unable to bear children myself, but Tobias? Thanks to… expropriation of the 'male tax,' he's already ensured the future of our line. Now all we need is a proper heir—a well-raised, well-educated girl with the right beliefs. Someone to take over from me when my time is done and continue my vision.
"As for his powers? They're a blessing. The boy has transcended mere humanity and become something greater. Neither I nor our organization share the prejudices of fools like Stryker. That woman is useful only for stirring chaos—murky waters are always better for catching fish. Some profit from her theatrics; others gain access to intriguing technologies. Ironically, I align more with Lehnsherr's ideology than hers, though I don't worship mutants. They're tools—efficient, modern, promising tools—but tools nonetheless. Just like ordinary people or n*gg*rs (😭😭😭) or squint eyes. Oh, don't grimace at me.
"Our organization has evolved, just like my dear nephew. We no longer differentiate between whites, blacks, yellows, or Jews.So let them live, let them be of use to us, let them work for the good of humanity, but I won't put them on the same level as myself, you, or Toby. All the benefits of our family, as long as I'm alive, will be enjoyed only by pure, genuine people." She laughed, light and airy. "An old lady's quirk, you could say."
"I think I understand," the younger woman replied, relaxing slightly. Rarely did her mentor speak so openly—or with such unexpected candor. But still, she worried for the boy.
"I hope so, dear," the older woman said, a note of sincerity creeping in. "But back to the boy and his awakening. Thankfully, we have his genetic material both pre- and post-awakening. That gives us options. Should he die or his body become… irreparably altered, we're covered. Don't frown at me, girl. I wouldn't have survived this long without preparing for failure. Always plan for the worst—if not to benefit from it, then to at least mitigate the damage."
Her voice grew sharper as she pivoted. "Of course, with his powers revealed, we've got new problems…"
"Stryker?"
"Her too. The 'mutant problem' ties together several factions with differing views. Erika Lehnsherr and her sisters take a moderately aggressive pro-mutant stance. They're bitter, stewing in their grievances, and they recruit like-minded outcasts. Stryker, on the other hand, is a rabid mutant-hater—aggressive, radical, and utterly consumed by her fears. She pushes the idea that if all mutants are wiped out, everything will suddenly be better. Whenever I hear her ranting, it always takes me back to my youth..." the woman scoffed.
"She surrounds herself with fanatics and idiots. And unfortunately, she's gained support from plenty of like-minded individuals in various organizations. Fear is her greatest ally. It works wonders for recruitment."
"And Charlene Xavier?"
"Ah, Xavier," the older woman mused, her expression thoughtful. "She's the most complex of the three, in my opinion. Her approach is the most reasonable—an advocate for peaceful coexistence between mutants and humans. Runs a school for 'gifted' children. Officially, it's a boarding school for troubled but promising youth.
"But there's something off about her little recruits. Strange incidents seem to follow them around before they end up in her care. Witnesses' memories get hazy; parents send their kids off either eagerly or with apparent relief, then seem to forget about them altogether.
"Our intel suggests either Xavier herself or someone in her circle is a powerful telepath—capable of reading and implanting thoughts, possibly more. That alone undermines her credibility as a 'peaceful' tool for our use."
The room fell into a contemplative silence before the older woman broke it.
"The boy is exceptionally intelligent for his age. We've all seen it—his reasoning skills, his speech, even as a young child. Whenever I posed as your doctor for 'consultations,' I was impressed by how mature his thoughts were. Still, intelligence doesn't equal wisdom. Tobias may have a sharp mind, but he's idealistic.
"I'd call him a dreamer if he didn't recognize how naive his vision is. Honest politicians, noble generals, responsible citizens… If humanity had such things, neither SHIELD nor Hydra would be necessary. In his perfect world, mutants and supers would serve society officially—trained and supported, not running around in tights punching criminals in back alleys.
"Sweet dreams, but impossible for now." She rubbed her tired eyes, then glanced at her companion with a sly smile—only to be interrupted by a ping from her computer.
With a quick click, she opened a file, her attention drawn entirely to the screen.
"Scheisse," the woman swore under her breath, finishing the playback. "The data's in from our agent at Oscorp. Unfortunately, it got to SHIELD first, and we only received it down the line." She turned her monitor around and replayed the video.
On the screen, a group of girls passed through a security checkpoint one by one. When it was Tobias's turn, he strolled confidently through the scanner. The problem? While the scanner rendered the girls down to their skeletons, Tobias appeared as a dark, featureless silhouette. Even in the infrared spectrum, he seemed to match the ambient temperature—like he wasn't there at all.
"And this is a problem because?" Betty shrugged. "One more mutant, one less—it's not a big deal. So Oscorp notices him, maybe SHIELD too. That's hardly critical."
"No immediate threat, sure," the older woman admitted, "but he's drawn attention. Equipment failure isn't plausible when an entire group passed without issue. He's at the age where mutant abilities tend to manifest, so anyone with half a brain can connect the dots. Oscorp knows. SHIELD knows. Xavier likely knows—how does she always seem to find out the instant some demon grows a second horn?" She let out a bitter chuckle. "Was zwei Menschen wissen, weiß auch das Schwein—'what two people know, the pig will know too.' Who knows where this will leak next? If it gets to Lehnsherr, she'll move mountains to recruit the boy. Xavier? She won't sit idly by either—at minimum, to keep him out of her rival's hands. And Stryker?"
Betty grimaced. "Don't even say it."
"She'll either kill him outright to prevent the 'spawn of hell' from multiplying or lock him in a lab until he's nothing but a husk. Mark my words, Betty. When this goes public, something will happen. And we need to be ready."
"Should we… make him disappear?" Betty looked genuinely concerned. "Change his documents, move him to another city—or even another country? Or put security on him?"
"The last option's a hard no," the woman said firmly. "This whole family setup—this normal life—depends on no one knowing about us. Not even our own people. Only you and I know the full scope. The rest just follow orders, monitoring promising specimens, collecting genetic material, and stockpiling it for the 'Ark' program. Even when some of it gets funneled elsewhere, it's all controlled. Here's what I need you to do tomorrow: quietly organize a mercenary response team. Stay off the radar yourself. As for the evacuation idea—it's worth considering. But moving Judy and the kids won't be easy. It's not just about relocating; everything has to change. Names, records, relationships—an entire overhaul. Emergency plans…"
Betty turned pale. She knew what "emergency plans" meant: a staged kidnapping. The kids would be taken by "criminals" in a ruse so convincing it would leave no loose ends. Judy would be… eliminated as "collateral damage," and Betty's own double would later resurface with a bullet in her skull—a tragic vigilante mother gunned down "while pursuing her children's captors." And the kidnappers themselves? Silenced, permanently.
"We won't resort to that just yet," the woman reassured her. "Though… the boy's going to hate losing his little pet. Oh well. Get the merc team together, Elizabeth. I'll work on a bloodless disappearance plan for the family."
Meanwhile, at roughly the same time, a one-eyed Mr. Black frowned as he read a message from Widowmaker. Tobias was a mutant—and likely hadn't realized it yet. Not ideal. Hell, one of the worst-case scenarios. Mutants always drew chaos like flies to shit, and that was not the kind of future he wanted for his daughter.
And to think Tobias had tested clean. His powers must have activated just in the last month or two. Emotional stress, maybe? It didn't matter anymore.
The boy would attract attention—sooner rather than later. And once people started looking at him, they'd look at his surroundings. His family. Specifically, Penny. Decades of secrecy could unravel in an instant.
He had taken every precaution: visiting them only twice a year, disguising himself, avoiding even a glimpse through the windows. Every trip home was a covert op, every line of communication encrypted and layered with false leads. There wasn't a single photo of him in the house. The lengths he and his wives had gone to fool the girls…
The best defense for his family was complete anonymity. Losing that would be catastrophic. SHIELD already had leaks—Linda's and Wanda's mothers were proof enough. Fury trusted only two people with this: Barton and Romanoff. Anyone else? Too risky.
Recruiting Tobias into SHIELD wasn't an option either. He was too young, and, well… the wrong sex for certain protocols. Even if Fury bent the rules, it'd draw unwanted questions: "Why this boy, Fury? What's so special about him?"
Tobias as Penny's future husband? Not anymore. A shame, considering the effort Fury had put into nudging that relationship along. Still, no big loss. He'd arrange for his family to relocate, and discreetly feed some intel to a certain colonel—or perhaps let the Sisterhood catch wind of it. Hell, maybe both.
Last night, I wasn't thinking about my powers. Nope. All my thoughts were stuck on Spider-Man's. Why no spider? Is he not in this universe? But in the cartoons, he's always fighting Venom. Then again, Venom's not even in the movies—just Goblin and Ock. Or wait, maybe that's just another Marvel timeline? With Marvel, every new idea is a new universe. Like Fury—black here, white there, like some cosmic yin-yang. Whatever. I decided to stop caring. Canon's more of a guide than a rulebook here.
I went to bed determined to start testing my powers tomorrow.
The morning was perfect. I scarfed down breakfast, "borrowed" Mom Betty's lighter (she only smokes occasionally, but today she burned through two cigs before noon), and practically skipped off to school while teasing my little sister.
Today, I was going to commit self-immolation in the boys' bathroom. Mwahaha. Testing starts with the lighter. Small steps, right?
My mood took a hit when I noticed Penny wasn't in class. Her mom had called the teacher to say she wouldn't be attending today—something about family matters. Strange. Usually, she'd have given me a heads-up. Maybe it was something urgent, and she got too busy to text me. Fine, I'll call her closer to lunchtime. Could be they have an event planned later in the day, and she decided to sleep in a bit. If she forgot entirely? Well, I'll pout a bit and forgive her.
I greeted my friends, but I was shocked to see that jerk MJ standing by Petra's desk, chatting her up. What the hell? He used to treat her like Sasuke snubbing Sakura. Guess he needs to copy her homework or something. Then he looked at me—no, he glared at me—with so much smugness it practically oozed out of his eyeballs. Ah. I get it now. Yesterday's misunderstanding with Petra must've gotten back to him, and now this idiot thinks I'm trying to steal Parker away from him. So he's puffing up like a peacock and shaking his feathery ass in her direction.
Go ahead, buddy. Maybe you'll see her as your dream fish or whatever. (1)
Time to go full Saitama mode—not the cool one, but the idiot one. I gave him a blank stare, picked my ear like I wasn't sure which finger I was using, then sniffed the other finger without breaking eye contact. For the finale, I licked it.
Oh, the face he made—priceless. Dude went green like he'd eaten expired sushi. Next to me, Flash and Harry started choking on laughter.
"Tobias, seriously, what's your beef with him?" Flash asked, wiping away tears.
"Because he's a dumbass," I said with a shrug, not even trying to sound thoughtful.
Harry chuckled, and Flash shook his head, muttering, "Had to try," as the bell rang.
Classes went on as usual.
During the break, I ducked into the bathroom to test my fire immunity. I flicked the lighter and ran my hand through the flame. Warm, no discomfort—except it singed the hair on my arm. Noted: don't stick my head in a flamethrower unless I want to cosplay as Vin Diesel—or worse (or better?), the bald guy from Brazzers.
Still, maybe with practice, I can extend this power to my hair too? Xavier's Bald Brigade were all about developing control, weren't they?
The ability's awesome, though. Drop me in the Middle Ages, and I could totally prank the Inquisition. "Behold! The Burning Pole Dance—guaranteed to light up your night!" Heh.
But seriously, I need to figure this out. Does my body absorb energy? Block it? If it's absorption, what's my "container size"? Can I train it? And if it's a barrier, what's the durability? I should test it against kinetic energy too. Maybe drop a brick on my head and see what happens. Nah, bad idea. Imagine someone walking in while I'm smacking myself with a stick—hard to explain that. Worse, if Penny liked the sight of that, I'd have bigger problems.
For now, I'll see what happens during today's training session.
At lunch, Penny called me first, which was both nice and a little bittersweet. Turns out, she and her moms were flying to Europe in just a few hours. They'd managed to snag a last-minute spot in an experimental treatment program for her mother's condition. They had to leave immediately, and the treatment would take about six months. She kept apologizing, but what could I say? Parents are sacred. I told her to go, not to worry, and joked that we'd test our relationship with the long-distance thing. I even teased her about spicing up our video calls. That seemed to cheer her up a bit before she had to hang up and pack.
I'll miss her, though. I'm not mad—it's not like she has a choice. But yeah, it sucks.
I explained the situation to Harry and Flash, who tried to console me in their own ways. Harry gave me a genuine hug, which, for the record, was purely friendly—no undertones here. Flash smirked and said, "Well, you've still got Parker." The little shit clearly knew about yesterday's drama.
Whatever. I hammed it up, wailing about my tragic unrequited love for Petra as I dragged myself dramatically to class. Better to laugh it off than try convincing people I wasn't into her. They wouldn't believe me anyway, so why bother?
Training didn't yield many answers. I let my sparring partners hit me a few times to see how my powers reacted. It felt like a dull slap instead of a punch, but the intensity seemed to increase over time. By the end, it was more like three-quarters of the original force—either they were hitting harder, or my "field" has limits. Hard to tell.
Still don't know what would happen if, say, a shotgun blast hit me. Guess I'll find out someday. Hopefully not anytime soon.
On the way home, Penny called from the plane. I told her to message me once she landed and got settled. We exchanged goofy, lovestruck goodbyes, and when the call ended, the weight of it all hit me again. Feeling restless, I decided to sit in the park for a bit and mope.
As I sat there, enjoying the quiet, I heard a strange hissing sound behind me. I caught a whiff of something odd—chemical, maybe? And then, everything went black.
My last coherent thought? In Japanese, for some reason: "Nanda sore?!!"
(1) A Real Russian MAN dreams of catching a fish bigger than all his buddies on a freezing winter day and celebrating the achievement in a banya (traditional wooden sauna).