Chapter 77: Through the Window

"Yea. I'm game. But we have one goal and one rule. We get Daken and then it's over. And no innocents die."

He could still perfectly memorize Blade's almost pitying gaze behind his shades. Aggravating.

"Bronte—"

"None, man. I'm done with all that."

Their eyes on him were starting to feel like hot needles pressed to his skin. Intense. Painful. Which was inhumanely startling considering it damn near took the heat of a star to burn him.

Why were they looking like that? How was he crazy for demanding this? For needing this?

Mr. Knight laughed behind his white mask. Ilyana punched him in the arm as they all stood opposite him, bathed in the industrial rays of the light bulb hanging overhead.

"Mr. Conners you are a warrior—"

"I'm a Mutant Demigod. You're a whole team of heroes stuck to one brain. We got a daywalker, a Mutant Demon-Queen and a spirit of vengeance. Don't play in my face like we don't have the power to set this boundary…. I'm tired, man."

"Then get some sleep." Blade shut the light off, knowing everybody could see just fine.

Bronte's eyes glimmered as they swallowed up the lights leaking in from the stairs to their left. He fought off an irritated growl and left The Abbey. Ilyana called after him but gave no chase.

It felt good. Leaving that is.

Better than being inside.

The mission was over. He had new— pertinent, knowledge. And he needed the run.

Mend took him over but gave him control. His Symbiote skin ate up the winds. As he left the cliff side housing the mansion he leapt, cutting through the clouds. The arcane markings glowing over the black sleekness attracted bolts of lightning that danced inside the bubbling condensation and sent blasts towards the city as he landed.

The sky lit up his trail. He rode the winds. But it was nothing like before. It wasn't him. There was a deafness to it. Like a wall stood between himself and the nature he once knew.

It— nature itself, stared in the stillness of his unmet desires like everyone else. Judging him for such a simple ask. Making him question if he deserved it.

He left the skies, hitting the earth so hard he busted through a manhole cover and sunk into the bile and sludge filled sewers below ground.

Mend filtered through the sludge and gave him clean air as they slithered down the green stream in a blur.

The dirt and grime at high speeds looked like war. The reflective metals glowed like vampiric eyes in shadow. The fluids twisted around him like he was back in the ocean fighting the people of Talocan.

Maybe he was looking where there was nothing.

He exploded out from beneath a manhole cover— now in Harlem. As he rose along the side of an apartment complex his arm stretched out and grabbed an open window behind the metal linework of a fire escape.

He pulled himself inside, landing inside his apartments living room in a silent roll.

The dogs erupted in howls and wagging tails. Brontë threw Mend onto a Husky and greeted the hounds as he approached his fridge and pulled out a beer.

Hit bit the top end off and spit the shards into the trash before walking over to his bed and taking a seat.

He sipped the beer in silence for a few minutes, listening to the music playing from his stereo.

Mos Def- Do it now.

"…(AYO Mos Def) Alright ok— (How ya feel!?) Feelin great! (What ya want!?)— I wanna do it it to death, what's up wit you? (You know my steez.)— True indeed, (Say it loud!)— black and proud.. Ain't no time to hesitate at the gate, DO IT NOW!!"

The song felt so out of place he laughed. The beat was so happy. The lyrics overwhelmingly positive and bright on the hook.

As if he didn't just learn his brother fulfilled a Vampiric evolutionary prophecy that demanded the deaths of thousands…. All after he killed Raze and removed his arm.

All after Sabretooth followed him to an Island full of Vampires and his strung up relative sapped of blood. Then stalked him back to New York. Where he learned his out of control magic killed hundreds. People who weren't fighting. People who couldn't.

But at the same time…..

He got lost in a memory. The last time he heard the song, Laura was telling him he should write down the lyrics and play it everyday to stop his freezing issue.

His phone buzzed on the counter.

Mos Def's animated voice in combination with Busta Rhymes fiery adlibs spoke to his dampened spirits.

"DO IT NOW!"

"Do it now, Bronte!" Mend danced in their canine form. "Do it do it do it do it!" Their head spun as a three foot long tongue twirled and slung spit everywhere.

"Quiet down. And clean that up." Bronte got up off his bed.

He picked up his phone.

Gabbie texted him.

Only a few minutes ag—

"Why are you leaving me on read? Stop being a diva, bro." Another text from her popped up on the phone screen.

He called her suddenly.

Doing it now.

She answered on the first ring.

"Hey!"

"What's good, Gabbie?" Bronte tried to swallow down the lump in his throat.

"I haven't heard your voice in….."

"Yea…." Bronte tried to shake off his guilt. "I just didn't want… you know."

"You gotta feel your feels. I get it. I got lost in highschool life for a while to get away from it too. But you should've called sooner. Let me come over so I can punch you. Mrs. Connors said you have an apartment in Harlem."

"You talk to her?" Bronte questioned as he watched cars blur by outside, tires spinning black snow down to a liquid.

"And YOU don't." Gabbie turned the question into a statement. Her attitude only seemed to rise with age.

"Why, Bronte? I mean I get needing space but…. We're all a family."

Brontë sighed, "You guys almost died…. Because of me. I don't want to be that guy that's making the sacrifice play no one asked for….. but…. Wouldn't I be insane not to?"

"Hey! We brought you into this. When I bumped into you in the stairway that day I could've dislocated your shoulder. I was like eight! You need us."

"Yesssss Bronte. WE need family—" Mend swung their inhumanely long tail around the apartment for the dogs to chase.

Brontë put a finger to Mend's snout and the Symbiote hound sat. Six dogs collided behind.

"Who was that?! Is that another woman? Kind of sounded like a hulking man. If you swing that way I get it. Men are—"

"Aye!" Bronte cut her off.

"My bad. I'm just saying I'm on the verge of telling Mrs. Connors you've become a sex pest. I heard that runs in the family."

"Who the hell told you that?" Bronte questioned.

"Laura's had like more girlfriends than all of you…"

Brontë felt his mouth go dry in light of the laughable new info compared to what the other stories he'd heard today.

"She's…..?"

Gabbie sighed, "You aren't very bright, bro… I mean…. Some of my upperclassmen spread rumors that Cyclops…. ERHM… romantically manipulated her once upon a time. I should scratch his other eye… bastard. Anyway, we've never seen her with a dude, have we?"

"That's because…?"

"Nope! You and Daken were….." Gabbie trailed off.

Bronte's discomfort returned.

"Sorry…"

"You're good." Bronte replied, "All good…."

Gabbie stayed silent for a moment, "So uhhhm….. I might transfer out of the Xavier institute in Massachusetts."

"What? Why?" Bronte questioned.

"Professor Xavier and the others are having a meeting with the Krakoan's. There might be a trade. Skilled Mutants who could better us all head to Krakoa. So more spots are available for kids in training at the Institute. You know…. You don't want to send an already shell shocked sixteen year old to a magical island….. Your magical island."

"I don't know if that's a good idea." Bronte mumbled. Magneto was a figure head on Krakoa. Scarlet Witch said he'd calmed in his age, but Bronte remembered reading about the damage he did to Wolverine. To entire cities.

"Well, how about we discuss it in person? Me and Mrs. Connors were planning a surprise visit but… we don't do surprises." Gabbie awkwardly replied.

"Yea… we don't. But don't." Bronte said, despite how painful it was.

"What? Why?"

"New York isn't safe, Gabbie."

"Nowhere is."

"There's levels, Gabbie….. it's about to get ugly here. And if you come there won't be skilled Mutants able to protect you at all times. Just me…. I'm not what I used to be. He knows that….. or he will soon, and attack."

Brontë didn't have to specify who "He" was.

"So… that's his goal. Finish us off?" Gabbie sniffled.

It made his eyes water, "Nah… I don't think so. I think he's looking to finish off whoever's in the way. He's old. He wants change. He'll do whatever. I'll need to get like that too I think. But you don't need to do that. Live. Have fun. Ask that boy out. If he's on that Cyclops shit take his fingers."

Gabbie laughed in between sniffles, "It's a rumor, dumbass."

"And I'm traumatized. Be safe."

Gabbie paused, "I love you, Bronte."

"Love you too."

He hung up. He hadn't even noticed it.

He raised his hand and looked up at it.

Shaking. Shaking like the earth in a thunderstorm.

Then the earth actually did start shaking.

His eyes lowered.

His muscles went weak— and he fell face first on the floor.

Mend's voice faded like echoes as you exited a deep cave.

Suddenly he was in Egypt. Hovering over a pyramid engulfed in a sandstorm.

A beautiful woman comprised of grey bioluminessence and thunder eyed him casually.

"Hello, Bronte."

"You couldn't wait till I was asleep, Oshtur?"

"I waited till you were done talking with your sister, didn't I? Don't worry, I'm not Bast— here to fight you. Or any beastial future renditions of yourself meant to harden you in your dreams. I only wish to talk."

"Right…."

And so they did.