Runaways: Book II

XXII

"God, it feels like a cemetery in here," I stated, shivering, sensing the death.
Hank was cleaning up the lab, surrounded by gray crusted houseplants that hadn't gotten enough water while the mansion was empty.
"Didn't realize death was an emotion," he replied mixing more serum for himself. I had tried to convince him to stop, to just accept everything and take pride in what he was.
He told me it was different because he was undeniably blue and hairy and disgusting.
"Death isn't an emotion; It's the complete lack of energy. It's cold. And dark."
Hank gave the fluorescent chemicals a little stir.
"Don't worry. I'll have the dead plants out of here in a bit."
I leaned back against the blacktopped table and brought my bent arms behind me.
Suddenly, the sound of a vibrating zap and a sharp burn pained my forearm, beside my elbow. I quickly drew my arm back and turned to see that decayed leaves had brushed against the skin that was now red and throbbing.
"Jesus, Hank. What type of plants are these?"
He looked up at me, utterly confused, and answered, "Those are just regular houseplants..."
Then something happened.
The corpse of the plant glowed this golden sort of light, mimicking the sun at high noon. And for a moment it was unbearable to look at. So I held the back of my hand up to my eyes, half-frightened and half-fascinated as to what the hell was going on.
I took my hand away when the light died down. The plant was still there. But something was terribly different.
It was now standing. Vibrantly green. Alive.
"What the..." I stood bewildered, staring at my own hands like they were alien attachments to my body.
"I don't believe it. Did you just...bring that plant back to life?" Hank inquired running over and examining the little aloe plant.
"I don't know..."
He immediately grabbed a piece of paper and began configuring, trying to rationalize. He ran to the bookshelf, lugging out an enormous text on mutant genetics.
"What are your parents' powers?"
I rubbed the back of my neck.
"Uh, well I know my mom was a mutant...but I'm not sure."
"And your dad?"
My mind drew blank again, void of any memory of either of them. I saddened slightly.
"None. He's not a mutant."
Hanks eyes stopped in the center of the page, then slowly crept up to mine in a way that made my stomach uneasy.
"___, mutation is carried in the male gene."
My breathing quickened.
"Hank, what are you saying?"
"I'm saying...your father had to be a mutant. It's the only way you could've inherited your abilities."
My mind contorted, unable to comprehend everything at once. What had just happened? Had I really just brought something back to life? And how could my father be a mutant when his mother had condemned them all her life? I stumbled upon my words.
"He can't...there's no way that..."
Hank walked to me and put his hands on my shoulders,
"Look. You have an extraordinary ability here. You can transfer your energy, your life, into living things and bring them back to life."
All this time I had thought I was destruction. And now here I was, discovering that I was in fact the cure to death. I was suddenly burdened with a power that intimidated me beyond words.
"How did this even happen?"
He shook his head,
"Sometimes our powers will evolve with age."
"Hank, I need...I need to walk outside to try to get some air in my lungs for a second."
I ran out into the corridor, my feet sinking into the carpeted hall. I headed toward the balcony in the common room, looking for fresh oxygen to fill my brain. And when I arrived, Peter was there.
"Peter! I need to—"
He was just looking at the stone beneath us. Silent. I could sense sadness and confusion trickling from his skin.
"I called my mom," he stated, still staring at the ground with glossy eyes.
I rushed to him, cupping my palm gently to the side of his face.
"What's the matter?"
He just looked up at me, and told me with a hesitant tone that told me he wasn't convinced fully of what he was about to say,
"Magneto's my dad."