Chapter 6: Chapter 6- Getting Information and Discovering Talents
POV- Andy
I was ignoring him. With headphones in and a physics textbook I'd borrowed from the HQ's library, I was trying to understand how the Andy from my memories, from the transference, had been able to set fire to a car causing it to explode. Seeing as he was capable of also exploding a tennis ball, it couldn't be something as simple as triggering a gas explosion, but closer to a molecular explosion, caused by the manipulation and rapid dispersion of molecules.
'If I learn how to manipulate molecules like this, I could start fires or explosions wherever I want, or rip apart objects at a molecular level, no matter the strength of the original material.' Using some paper used for the wrappings in the back of the truck, I sat thinking about how I could use my mental imagery to strengthen my control and power.
Rubbing my palms together as if I were trying to start a fire with a stick, I imagine the air next to the scrap paper, only the size of a pinhead, and I push it as fast as I can over the paper. While this would have caused an issue in the truck before, with my increased control and the small targeted area, there wasn't much risk. Over and over again I form the image. A tiny collection of molecules scraped against those of the paper as quickly as possible. Smoke, a small whiff of smoke seeps from the scrap, indicating my partial success. By the end of this trip, I'm going to set this damn thing alight, or I'll…swear off coffee for three days. With an added consequence I work harder, stopping only when I grew lightheaded, almost passing out, the effort required to concentrate on so many tiny things at once, especially for the first time, was brutal.
A Cheshire grin on my face as I pump my fists silently in excitement. 'I was right, our power isn't simply telekinesis, but molecular manipulation, the possibilities for the future are…daunting, but at least they give me a goal. Direction.'
"Woah kid, how'd you do that?"
"Oh, hey Marcos, I figured I'd use this time to figure out my abilities and I think I've started to. It's molecular manipulation, though mine is solely pulling the molecules apart, dispersion, I think I read somewhere in here, which I've been using physically, to push people away or rip things apart."
"And that caused smoke, because?"
"Friction, duh. What does the Cartel teach people nowadays? I'm essentially rubbing them together really fast to create friction, plus molecular speed increases temperature anyway so…fire."
Dad chose that moment to interrupt, "So if you can push them apart, using the speed and brief friction causes by pushing them away from their opposing surroundings, could Lauren somehow do the opposite, stop the movement of molecules by binding them to a set position, or trapping a person in a compressed wall of air?"
"Potentially, I don't know. I'm not any good at science as you know, I haven't gotten above a C- in it for years. Anyway, it's really hard, but with practice, I should be capable of more, because it seems that intent matters more than comprehension of the science behind it. Perhaps in time, I'll be capable of molecular combustion."
"By combustions, do you mean explosions?" Marcos said, increasingly shocked by the potential of our abilities.
"Well yeah, increasing the pressure within a space until it pops, with enough thermodynamic energy to create an explosion." Leaning on the wall of the truck I shut my eyes, ending my part in the conversation, and taking a nap.
Hearing Marcos complain about a following cop car, I climb behind the stock, dragging Reed with me. If he comes and checks, we'll be back here out of sight. Proven right as the sirens blare through the gap in the door they'd been using to watch him, I call out to Marcos. "You can manipulate light right? Can you divert light away from an area?"
"Yeah, but it's tiring like you were talking about earlier."
"Tough shit, because there's no room back here."
Continuing like in the memories we are checked, cleared and allowed to continue, but I mention that the truck might get pinged if it doesn't go in the direction the guy gave the officer, forcing a 40-minute side trip into our travel plans. Unfortunately, between this and staying the night camping, I can't ignore my father for much longer. As soon as we stopped for the night in a small patch of a woodland camp, I could feel his gaze. "I can feel you staring, what's up?"
Surprised I spoke up, it took a few moments for him to register my words and reply. He begins with Lauren's secret, hoping to build up the communication slowly. "The other day, I found a book in Lauren's room, but when I started reading she spotted me, and ripped two pages from it before returning it to me."
"The one on powerful mutants through history, and the danger they possess, yeah I gave it to her."
"The one from our library?" Marcos butts in.
"Yeah, sorry about the ruined pages, but you can guess why me and Lauren might be sensitive about those pages.
"Because of-" Interrupted by Reed who was tired of feeling left out, Marcos looks guilty, having known something my father didn't.
"But why would famous mutants make either of you sensitive? It doesn't make sense."
"Because our abilities were inherited, and are identical to those of our German Great-grandparents."
"German? But I don't have the x-gene, and my father didn't because-"
"You don't know for sure though, right? And the fact that the Von Struckers from the 50's have identical abilities was a pretty clear indication they were inherited." He stopped, sat down on the floor of the truck, head in his hands, as he tries to make sense of the new information. "You carry the x-gene, it hasn't manifested, and maybe it never will. The truth is that this past week has revealed that you have very little understanding of mutants and their current situation." I could see his frustration grow so I left him in the truck, taking some scraps of paper and continuing the practice, seated next to the fire pit to seem more normal. 'Not that anyone else is here, but it's smarter to be cautious.'
The drive the next day was awkward, Reed still sulking about his family's connection to mutants, or more accurately, the fact he didn't know about it. "Okay we're close, the rest of the way is going to have to be on foot."
Walking up to the building to see every entrance including the back entrance heavily guarded, we knew we weren't getting in that way.
"At least it means they have something worth guarding. Something worth all of this," Reed muttered, again realising that this building. The same that several of his clients had been sent through had disappeared, also held great secrets hurt his pride.
"There's the underground carpark with the gym next to it. If the walls connect, I can break through still." I suggest drawing affirming nods. Walking casually with my hood up, we walk down to the carpark, nodding hello to one of the guards who'd greeted us. Walking up to the familiar wall, I proved my words from two nights ago correct. In less than three seconds the wall was ripped apart, and we move in. Throwing two men telekinetically as we raced to find the hard drives, Marcos screaming at Dad to grab the files while I was on watch, having somehow, the least noticeable powers. 'That's one good thing about my powers I hadn't noticed, they're silent and invisible. Much better for sneaking that Marcos, 'I'm a walking light show please shoot me,' Diaz.' The way back out was actually easier, as the guards had closed all entrances and secured the perimeter to stop the intruder's escape, which gave us empty hallways all the way back to the carpark, where we borrowed a car, having switched the plates, and left.
As Marcos slept in the backseat, Dad looked over at me, "Can I ask you a question?"
"I guess, sure."
"What's it like when you use your powers, because I've seen the way it tires both you and Marcos at times, and not at all at others?"
"That really depends on the ability. For some it's as simple as existing, their physical traits reinforced by the mutation, while for some it requires a little effort, like yelling. You have to put something into it but it's not too bad. The reason we are tired is that Marcos' light manipulation has been trained and focused on simple shining really hot beams of light, and so using the unfamiliar warping and absorption of surrounding light was tiring, while mine is currently a matter of control and effort. More power or more control requires more effort. Trying to grasp only the air the size of a pinhead, is really difficult, and ripping apart buildings too."
"You have to understand Andy, that what you can do can hurt people, and-"
"You think I don't?" I sneer, astounded by his arrogance and negative view of me, his son, whom he's seen make rational decisions again, and again all week. "Shapeshifters can be assassins, teleporters can drop bombs and vanish, Lauren could crush someone into the size of a shoebox, or compress someone's air pipe like Vader. Probably make wind blades if she tried. And yet, we are losing a war, we want no part in."
"But it doesn't have to be a war, we could negotiate."
"Why would they negotiate with us, if they think we are monsters that are on the brink of extinction, determined on the eradication of the human race."
"We could explain-"
"The X-men haven't done that? Do you think those pacifists haven't tried that for over 40 years? There are always those who will be afraid of us, try to control us, own us, use us. There are those that would try to weaponise us, turning us into weapons or simply experiment on us to find a way of sharing traits, for the greater good."
Looking downcast he asked another question so quietly I almost missed it in my growing disgust and fury. "Do you hate me?"
"Haaaa," letting out a deep sigh I hug him briefly, trying not to limit his vision and cause a crash. "No, I don't. You say dumb shit and you were absent these last years when I needed you, but no." Reed's eyes watered and I could feel a sting in my own as I sat back in my seat, slipping headphones on and gazing out the window. 'If I cry, I'll be seen as emotional, and there's no way Marcos is still asleep after all that. I'll have to thank him for letting us talk it out a little.'
Returning home without issue, ditching the old car along with the others in the scrap, too old to have navigation systems that can be traced, and I'd already switched the licence plates in the carpark, Reed was basically hanging off me, positively exuberant that his son didn't hate him. Lauren spotted this and smiled, though the upturned eyebrow asked how this happened.
Replying with a shrug, I mouthed, "He thought I hated him, had a talk." She beamed, running at us and joining us in the hug, whispering thanks into my ear. 'Damn her breath feels nice. No, that's my sister chill the fuck out.' Shaking my head from the conflicting thoughts I break the hug, worried what other reactions my body might have as her body pressed against mine. 'Yet again, I'm reminded that the transferred memories impact how I view people. My god, I need a girlfriend, though everyone hot is like 10-15 years older, which is a little annoying.'
News of Pulse's recovery, thanks to Cait, had helped cement her importance to the MU, as the recovering Kick addict treated her like a guardian angel.
Taking a break to relearn how to play the guitar, something that I'd found relaxing, borrowing one from the storage room used to collect useless or leftover items that people had brought with them. Admittedly, the memories made this much easier, and my fingers slowly picked up the skill, as I sat in the vault where no one goes.
"Nice playing kid, you seemed like a beginner before, but you've definitely got skill."
"Uhh thanks, John. Why're you here?"
"I could hear you the whole time, super hearing. And figured I'd bring you a coffee while you played." Sitting next to me on the same table we'd put Clarisse on during her seizures, he continued talking, no doubt about to lecture me about something. "It's good to see you relaxing, doing something normal. I've heard that you spend most of your time training your abilities, and from what Marcos says, you have incredible powers. But I don't think you should be training this hard; it wears down on you, and if I hadn't seen you playing, I would have suggested you find a hobby to help break things up." Standing up he put his hand on my shoulder, 'Why does everyone do that?' "Working hard is fine, but understand that you don't have to carry the burden alone." Sending him off with a nod and a shrug, I resume playing, then take a sip of the coffee.
*PPSSSHHHRRT*
The coffee, that had been in my mouth and now coated the floor was feral, feeling oily and tasting burnt. "How the fuck did you make a coffee this bad?" Putting aside the motor oil disguised as coffee, I continue playing, if only to distract me from the taste.
POV- John/Thunderbird
Originally, I'd been worried about Andy overworking himself, but seeing him play, and play well, was a surprise. At least he won't end up like me, with nothing but the MU to hold my focus and my time. Though if what he told Marcos was true, the kid was powerful. Extremely powerful, Sage had noted that with enough control, Andy could potentially create the same effect as a nuclear bomb, using fission. I didn't get it, but if what Sage said was true, we needed to protect him. 'We can't afford to lose him, and we certainly can't let him get captured like Pulse.'
Hearing from Pulse about the Hound Program, operated by Trask was a stroke of fortune, as Sage was able to use the information to decrypt the hard drives' files, though it was taking time. The data gathered not only proved Pulse's words, but also provided a list of potential victims, and some of the information on supporters of the program, who funds it, and who supports it politically.
"Trask Industries?" Looking up at Reed, a man I'd grown to accept, and even somewhat trust despite his background, I can feel his surprise.
"Yeah, they're the ones who made the Hounds, why?"
"I think I know who we need to talk to. My father, he worked there for 35 years, so he's got to know something right?"
"Cool, family trip," Andy says, leaning across Sage's chair, not that she seems to mind surprisingly. 'What is it with this family and interrupting conversations?' "I'll tell Lauren and we can finally meet him, maybe he can tell us more about how the hounds were made, and just as importantly, about our family."
"Andy, it's probably better if I go alone, he wasn't a nice man."
"And? He's also a carrier of the X-gene as you now know, maybe there's more to him than you currently know." Every time the kid opens his mouth, whether it's to mock you, explain something or have a casual conversation, he always seems to have the impression that he knows something we don't. 'Drives me and Marcos insane, but everyone else seems fine with it. Sage even being friendlier to him in a week than she was with me within a year.'
"Fine, tell Lauren that you're leaving tomorrow," I state, "I'll need to go find Clarisse."
"Probably wise, the need for moving mutants is only going to grow, especially if Trask and Sentinel Services team up. She'll probably be looking for the road she portalled to unconsciously." With a smile, he turns, bounding out of the room to tell his sister, guitar still in hand.
'Somehow, it's less exhausting tracking and finding a teleporter than stay in a room with that kid. I'm surprised Marcos survived being in the back of the truck with him for several days.'
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