JohnnyZ
patreon
[Life is Good] Chapter 24
🕑 Added 2024-12-24 21:10:01 +0000 UTCThe funeral was rough on everyone. Sandy had been a lively, sociable girl, someone people liked and gravitated toward. Tears flowed freely as they said their goodbyes. The little kids bawled their eyes out, and honestly, the teens and adults weren’t far behind. Storm, who’d practically treated Sandy like her personal protege, stood off to the side, utterly deflated.
And me? I felt guilty. Really guilty. And I wasn’t alone in that—most of the adults carried a similar weight. You could see it in the awkwardness, the stiffness as they bid farewell to the girl. Me, though… after that dream, I couldn’t shake the irrational fear that Sandy would suddenly look at me and say something. I knew it wasn’t going to happen, but the thought still made my skin crawl.
__________________________________________________
The next few days were a mix of heavy thinking, intense training, and the occasional chat with Xavier. Once McCoy had organized her workspace, I was subjected to lab tests as well. Final exams had been postponed until the following week, so my preparation was more of a “review it so I don’t forget” situation. I didn’t exactly abandon socializing, but I cut back a lot. I stuck to the basics: breakfast, lunch, and dinner with the girls, and a couple of hours hanging out after the last meal.
Logan seemed almost impressed during training. He even joked—or maybe not, who knows with that face of his—“Kid, you should’ve shaved your head ages ago. Don’t know how, but it looks like it added a couple of brain cells.” I couldn’t tell if he was joking; his perpetually stoic mug made it impossible to figure out.
Kristi was an absolute rock through all of it. I wasn’t exactly spiraling into depression, but my thoughts were far from cheerful. Meanwhile, my little demoness was like a walking, talking generator of good vibes. Not fiery and wild like Jubes, but sweet, gentle, and full of care.
On the second day, Yuriko unexpectedly joined the training sessions. Unlike Logan, who split his attention among everyone, she focused solely on me.
Yuriko was a mystery. Always nearby, but almost unnoticeable. Silent, with an expression that screamed “I couldn’t care less.” I used to think Wolverine and Sabretooth were the reigning champions of resting bitch face, but Oyama left them in the dust. Her face looked like it was carved out of stone, as if her facial muscles had simply given up on existing.
Talking to her was like a game of charades, except with less excitement. A series of nods, a shake of the head here and there, maybe two words at most, and then she’d just stop acknowledging your existence altogether. Even Jubilee, the queen of endless enthusiasm, had her spirit crushed after a “conversation” with Yuriko. Jubes spent half an hour after that encounter wandering around like a deflated balloon.
Yuriko didn’t hold back during training. Sparring with her was like stepping into a meat grinder. She’d knock me flat, offer a short, concise explanation of where I’d screwed up, and then we’d go again—rinse and repeat for hours. She took over my striking drills too, correcting even the tiniest mistakes I made. On top of my usual strength and flexibility exercises, she added a couple dozen brutal new routines. Honestly, I wouldn’t have survived that regimen without my enhanced abilities.
Through trial and error, we discovered something interesting: if I got completely wiped out, practically on the verge of collapse, then “recharged,” I’d feel significantly better as my energy reserve filled back up. Within a few minutes, my energy levels would rebound to almost normal, though it drained about a sixth of my full reserve.
That breakthrough, combined with the upgrades to my thermal manipulation and energy vision, had leveled me up across the board. My kinetic shield now held up better against Colossus’ hits, with noticeably less sensitivity—probably down by about a third. I could hold my breath for 18 minutes straight now. Hell, I even suspected I could go longer without food since my power fed energy directly into my body, though McCoy advised against testing that. Energy is great, she said, but your body still needs raw materials to work with.
My energy reserve had tripled, judging by recharge times, but I wasn’t satisfied. I ran recharge-drain cycles as often as possible, constantly pushing myself. Every session, I’d fill my reserve until I felt the uncomfortable buzz of oversaturation. The idea of pushing it through the limit crossed my mind, but McCoy talked me out of it.
Experimenting with Beast also revealed an interesting aspect of my thermokinesis: I had two modes. One heated the immediate area, while the other focused on a specific object or person. This explained the burning punches and explosive hits I’d been landing. When I wanted to punch a hole through someone, the heat acted like a laser cutter or a lightsaber. But if I wanted an explosion, the surrounding area would heat up instantly, causing steam explosions from rapid liquid evaporation.
This led McCoy and me to theorize that I might be able to manipulate energy at a distance. With her guidance, I started working on refining my thermokinesis.
Mutant abilities aren’t always easy to control. For most of us, it’s a simple on-off switch—like Colossus, Kitty Pryde, or Quicksilver. Others have abilities that are always active, like regenerative healing, Cyclops’ optic blasts, or Rogue’s life-draining touch. Then there are those whose powers operate on instinct, like Toad, Wind Dancer, or Beast.
But the most dangerous mutants? They’re the ones who have mastery. The Xaviers, the Storms, the Magnetos.
It’s not just their power—it’s the precision they wield it with. Take Professor X, for example. He could confuse you, erase your memories, control your actions, or pull some Lelouch-level “obey me” stunt. Just thinking about telepaths that strong is enough to make my butt cheeks clench like a car crusher. Thank God my abilities make my mind off-limits to their shenanigans.
My goal was to reach that level of control—not just understanding what I could do but knowing exactly how to do it. It’s like learning which specific muscle to flex so you don’t fart but instead create, say, a plane of superheated air a meter away. Or a makeshift lightsaber equivalent.
I wasn’t quite at the “holy shit, that’s amazing” level yet, but I was getting somewhere. For instance, I learned to sustain a high-temperature field. At first, I needed a physical object to anchor the effect, but once it was established, I could maintain it with ease. I also figured out how to control the heat flow. Imagine a sphere with an internal temperature of 1,000 degrees, but the air right outside it feels normal.
Not groundbreaking yet, but it was progress. I could maintain these heat fields up to 11 meters away— at the limit of my current “energy vision” range. Any farther, and the heat would just dissipate.
Alongside playing with heat, I somehow managed to release electricity. And guess what helped me figure it out? Not physics textbooks, which I had tried to bury myself in, nor Hank McCoy’s meticulous explanations about the nature of electricity. Nope, it was Star Wars and Emperor Palpatine. Frustrated as hell after repeated failures at "rational understanding," I jumped out of my chair, chucked the book into the corner, and screamed, "YAFUUUCK! FUCK THIS SHIT!" All while imagining the iconic Sith blasting force lightning from his outstretched hands.
Did I achieve a dramatic cascade of lightning bolts from my fingers? Of course not. Instead, I ended up covered in sparks that fizzled out into the metallic floor. Thankfully, I was in one of Hank’s specially prepped rooms, so no one got hurt. After a few more attempts, I managed to replicate the result, but I still couldn’t control the electricity.
Hank, however, was over the moon about our experiments. Her theories about energy transformation were confirmed: my power apparently absorbed any kind of energy, converted it into some neutral, universal form, and stored it in my "battery." Then, I could transform it back into specific types of energy as needed. She suspected that my "kinetic shield" was a constant energy layer emitted by my body. Before the Stryker facility ordeal, it must have been running on autopilot, likely influenced by my subconscious desire for comfort and safety. That same desire kept the shield from becoming absolute—after all, living life unable to feel, hear, or see anything would be hellishly inconvenient.
Regarding my "energy vision," there were two theories on the table. One was that it was my “sixth sense” that worked as long as I was conscious, while the other was that it worked like an "energy sonar," sending out impulses in short intervals, similar to how bats navigate. Hank leaned toward the first theory but hadn’t ruled out the second.
By Friday evening, Hank wrapped up the lab sessions, promising we’d resume on Monday. She also requested to be left alone over the weekend because she was visiting her husband. Wait for it… Frederick J. Dukes. Yep, Blob. I walked out of the lab feeling like someone had smacked me over the head with a dusty sack of bricks. That pudgy connoisseur of all things furry—married to Hank? Talk about plot twists. What a canon development! I had vaguely heard rumors about him dating outside the usual roster of misfits like Toad, but details were scarce. And here I thought Jubilee would’ve spilled the tea ages ago. Guess not even she can crack the enigmatic silence of Sabretooth’s squad.
Dinner that Friday was, as usual, a pleasant affair with the girls. Post-meal? Kisses and cuddles with Kristi. Saturday brought a visit from my parents and Ginger. After lunch, they all arrived for a few hours, and it was pure bliss. Mom Judy clung to me, ignoring my protests about being fifteen. G screamed like a banshee as she jumped on me, and Mom Betty wrapped things up with some heartfelt maternal hugs. Absolute serotonin overdose. I gave them a quick tour, introduced my new friends, and formally presented Kristi as my girlfriend. Surprisingly, they didn’t grill her like they did Penny. Maybe it was just the time constraint. Mom Betty gave me a curious look, though, and Mom Judy told the "blue one" to keep an eye on me.
My new shaved-head look drew mixed reactions: awe and gasps from the moms and outright cackling from Gigi. Little menace. I’ll get my revenge later. Penny, it seemed, had been worried after the news broadcast, and Mom mentioned she’d be visiting soon with Sophie. We’d finally get to catch up.
I reassured them all that I’d likely get communication devices soon. Since Stryker’s debacle, the mansion’s defenses had significantly improved, and my location was no longer a secret. Soon, I’d be able to stay in touch with family and friends, including Penny. The adults were still deliberating, but Charlene had hinted in our last chat that the decision would likely be favorable. By evening, my family left, leaving me basking in a warm glow of nostalgia.
Later, while lounging in the common room, I was floored yet again. A news segment showed Spider-Girl—in the classic red-and-blue costume—capturing some criminals.
There I sat, eyes wide and jaw practically smashing through the floor. The most intelligent thing I managed to say? "Holy shit! What the fuck!" Jubilee, ever the nosy one, tried to pry details from me, but I brushed her off and staggered to my room. Sleepy time was close anyway, and I was too stunned to discuss it rationally with anyone. Was it Parker, bitten who knows how, or where, or when? Or Gwen Stacy? Or some random nobody? Damn it, Tzeentch, you trickster god—this has your fingerprints all over it.
Shaking my head, I grabbed my textbooks. No use speculating with so little information.
Sunday rolled around, bringing a casual morning of stretches, breakfast, and training. By mid-afternoon, Rogue and I had plans for a date. Kristi had shrugged off the news earlier that week with an amused comment: "Anna-Marie doesn’t have any other candidates, anyway. Who else would survive the first kiss?" She even hinted that she’d be happy if I pursued something romantic with Rogue. However, she firmly declined a group date, nervously fiddling with her tail and mumbling about not wanting to scare people or ruin the mood with the public’s reactions.
So, here we were—Rogue and I walking to a small cafe near a bank. The stares directed at my bald head were annoying as hell. A group of one dude and three giggling girls even made some snide remarks, making me fantasize about introducing them to the Emperor-approved art of public roasting. Rogue calmed me down with a gentle squeeze of my hand, which quelled the fire in my soul.
I was on a date with a lovely girl, about to eat some good food. Screw everyone else… for now. Once I fully embrace the Dark Side, though, the whole city’s going bald! Ku-ku-ku-ku!
Settling into the cafe, we ordered food and… proceeded to actively not talk. We’d already had a somewhat awkward conversation on the way over, mostly about training and the week’s events. Now, things just went silent.
After a couple of minutes, Rogue cracked. In a hesitant, stumbling voice, she started pouring out her life story—childhood, family, her best friend, and that boy. It seemed like she just needed to let it all out. Her words spilled out in a flood of memories, hopes, and heartbreaks. She ended by cursing her powers, confessing her fear of a lifetime of loneliness.
She looked at me, eyes like a kicked puppy, tears threatening to spill.
"Anna," I sighed, "first of all—you’re not going to be alone. I know it sounds cheesy, but you’ve got friends and family. Us—mutants. We love you, we’re your friends, and we need you. That’s just the truth." I smiled at her, a bit sheepishly, and spread my hands. "Now, look. Until recently, all I could do was absorb energy and protect myself from hits. Now I’m manipulating heat and even dabbling in electricity. Our abilities—while not always—can often be developed and controlled. You’re still young, and your powers are new. You just haven’t learned how to rein them in yet."
I paused to let her absorb that. "It’s hard, yeah. Sometimes, it’s just luck; other times, it takes a lot of effort or stress to figure out how to control them. But I believe in you." I gave her a little grin. "I know, it sounds straight out of some teenage drama, but it’s true. And, since both of us decided to get all honest with each other, can I ask you an inappropriate question?"
Judging by her expression, she seemed a little reassured, but she was still stuck in her fears. After hesitating for a couple of seconds, she nodded.
“So, tell me honestly—do you like me?” For me, this was a genuinely important question. I felt sympathy for Rogue, sure, but I didn’t have the same kind of pull toward her that I had for Kristi. She was beautiful and sweet, but nothing beyond that. And I was positive she’d learn to control her powers eventually. If the canon timeline was full of holes and wild inaccuracies about the order of events, at least the powers themselves mostly lined up. But exploiting the fact that I was currently the only guy who wouldn’t drop dead from her hugs? Yeah, that felt scummy. It wouldn’t sit right with me as a person, and even basic logic said it was a bad move. What, I’d tie her to me now when she was cornered and depressed, only for her to leave when she finally mastered her abilities? And what if I got attached by then?
“Toby…” She faltered, avoiding my gaze. “Honestly… you do. But more like a friend. You’re sweet, funny, but, um… too feminine.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Why does that word still get under my skin?
She kept going. “It’s just, I thought… you know… if I never have anyone else…”
“Hold up,” I interrupted, raising a hand. “I get where you’re coming from, and here’s what I’m going to suggest. Let’s stay friends—you’re right, I’m still kind of young for serious relationships anyway. And later, when I’ve grown up and we’ve gotten to know each other better, we can revisit this conversation. I’ll be honest with you too—you’re a very attractive, sweet girl, totally my type. I love hanging out with you, especially when you’re not moping around all sad. I get why that happens, and I don’t judge you for it. So let’s be friends for now, and in the future, we’ll figure out what’s what. And I’ll just put it out there—I wouldn’t say no if we decided to go all grown-up romance mode.”
Then, grinning like Naruto and waggling my nonexistent eyebrows with my shiny bald head, I added, “What do you say?”
She burst into laughter at the ridiculous sight, nodding in agreement. After that… things finally felt normal. We had a relaxed, healthy conversation between two young people. We chatted about all sorts of stuff, cracked jokes (some of which were definitely not PG-rated), and even gossiped about Logan and his never-ending spats with Victoria Creed.
About an hour later, our little hangout session was interrupted by a call on Rogue’s phone. Jean Grey was demanding her immediate return to the school—apparently, Hulk was in town, and Hulk was smashing.
Unfortunately, the call came a bit too late. The moment we stepped out of the cafe, something landed in front of us with that classic superhero landing—knees bent, fist to the ground, dramatic pose and all.
It was a massive, green-skinned woman. With equally massive TITTIES. No Hulk-style purple pants censorship here though, she stood there blinding everyone with her melons and a muffin. Hulk was buck-naked, Hulk was furious, and Hulk was staring straight at us with murder in her eyes.
“Oh, fuck me,” I thought, as she took a step toward us.
