16 Unexpected Situation

Daily, Asher reveled in the sun's warmth, claiming every spare moment on the sandy beach behind Mount Justice. Two days had passed since his newfound immunity, and pure joy danced in his eyes as he raised a hand for inspection. Almost in a trance, he threw his arms wide, yearning to capture the sun itself.

The fresh breeze, the balmy air – everything was perfect. The cerulean sky stretched above, punctuated by the sun's brilliant glow. Though tempted to linger in the sun's embrace, Asher knew it was time to explore his new ability. 'Blood manipulation,' he murmured, focusing intently. Eyes closed, he felt the gentle breeze caress his skin and, deeper within, the slow pulse of blood through his veins. With increasing concentration, he pushed for control, attempting to quicken the flow, to elicit some response. But silence.

'How did I manage it before?' Asher thought, his mind rewinding to the triggering event. A sudden realization struck him. Extending a single claw, he drew a bead of dark red blood from his opposite arm. His senses flared – the blood was inert the moment it left his body. Yet, an undeniable feeling thrummed within him – he could do more.

Crimson trickled down Asher's forearm, a morbid bracelet that snaked towards his index finger. As the last drop reached the tip, it hesitated, a single, echoing drip reverberating in his mind. It wasn't just sound; it was a call, a plea. In a heartbeat, Asher answered.

The descent stopped. Not a slow deceleration, but an abrupt halt. Gravity seemed to bend to his will. He wasn't just seeing the blood; he was the blood, suspended mid-air in defiance of physics. With a thought, the crimson morsel reversed course, a silent echo of its earlier fall. It orbited his hand, a dark satellite tethered by an invisible thread.

The feeling was primal, instinctive, like a forgotten language his body suddenly remembered. It was in his blood, quite literally. A jolt snapped him out of his trance. The wind whispered across his exposed flesh, and a strange sensation prickled his skin. The wound hadn't closed. He focused, and a horrifying realization dawned. He was keeping it open, the dead blood acting as a barrier against his own healing.

'Wait a minute,' a spark ignited in his mind. Could he control the dead blood of others too? The question hung heavy, but dwelling on it wouldn't provide answers. He needed to master this newfound control first.

The sun above had shifted it's position, the clouds have changed from white to orange and the sky has lost its natural blue, now with orange hue's.

Meanwhile on the sandy beach, two giant crystalline hands 2 meter in size, hovered behind Asher Eclipse, a teenager sculpted by the gods, shimmered under the unnatural light. Hair the color of a nebula swirled around his head, contrasting with his piercing blood-red eyes. A sharp jawline and a smattering of cross earrings added a touch of rebellion to his flawless, caramel-toned skin. A perfect specimen with a mischievous glint in his eyes, Asher reveled in the twilight spectacle.

With a mere thought, a crimson tide surged from the sand, coalescing into a humanoid form. It solidified like a glistening ruby, its movements echoing Asher's with chilling precision. He wielded this blood construct like an extension of himself, his face alight with the thrill of absolute control. Time seemed to melt away as he played with his macabre creation.

Across the beach, Superboy, older and seemingly wiser of the two, scanned the horizon with his supersight. A jolt of surprise, laced with a bitter tinge of jealousy, coursed through him. He'd arrived to find Asher engrossed in this gruesome display. "It doesn't matter," he muttered, forcing a sigh as he approached Asher, stopping at a respectful distance.

Asher's face, previously lit by playful concentration, remained obscured by the blood construct. A childish grin, unseen by Superboy, stretched across his lips. 'Apologise,' Superboy mentally prodded himself, waiting patiently for Asher to acknowledge him. But five minutes stretched into an eternity. "Asher!" he finally barked, shattering the focused silence.

A jolt ripped Asher from his focused state. The two colossal, crystalline blood hands and the humanoid construct whipped around in unison, homing in on the source of the sound. With an almost sentient awareness, they surged protectively in front of Asher, effectively forming a crimson barrier. Superboy, his senses on high alert, reacted instinctively, mirroring their defensive stance. Blinded by the very constructs he commanded, Asher reached out with his mind, a skill he was only beginning to grasp. He sent a tendril of his blood outward, feeling the world through its viscosity, a technique that bypassed his limited vision.

Recognition dawned on him – it was Superboy. With a mental command, he dissolved the blood guardians, the constructs collapsing like punctured blood-filled balloons. The once-pristine sand beneath them became a glistening crimson puddle, its vastness shocking in the fading light. Superboy couldn't tear his gaze from the scene. The sheer volume of blood spoke of a tremendous exertion, and he noticed with a pang of concern that Asher's wound was still open. But as if in response to Asher's silent command, the spent blood clinging to his injury dissolved, and the gash began to knit itself closed as quickly as Superboy had registered it.

Asher, his focus now solely on Superboy, finally spoke. "What's the matter, Superboy?" he rumbled, his voice a low vibration. Superboy shuffled awkwardly, a hint of shyness creeping into his posture. "It's Conner Kent," he mumbled, barely audible. Asher gave a curt nod, his intense gaze unwavering. The weight of that stare spurred Conner to abandon his timidity. "Look," he blurted out, "I'm sorry about the way I acted before. It wasn't fair of me. I got angry for no good reason and ended up starting a fight. I don't want you to be alone, Asher. We're both in the same boat, aren't we? Neither of us has a clue who we are or why we exist. But, if you're willing, maybe we can try again? Start fresh?"

Conner had spent countless nights wrestling with his conscience after discovering Asher's true nature. Sleep often evaded him, replaced by vivid nightmares. He'd tried to put himself in Asher's shoes. How would he have reacted in that situation? The memory of nearly killing his own rescuers at Cadmus Labs flickered in his mind. They hadn't held his actions against him. So, by what right could he judge Asher, who was simply acting out of self-preservation? Perhaps, Conner thought, understanding could be a bridge between them, a way to forge a connection despite their murky pasts.

Asher pondered his next words with a contemplative frown, his thoughts a tumultuous sea. He harbored no deep-seated animosity towards Superboy; the young hero was still finding his footing, wrestling with the fiery tempest of his emotions. Yet, it was the seasoned members, those who had dedicated their lives to mastering their skills but chose to ignore simple facts and advice, that ignited Asher's ire. Sensing his temper flaring, he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, the air filling his lungs like a tranquil breeze. Exhaling slowly, he quelled the storm within, his senses—once wild and untamed—now refined to mimic the mundanity of human perception, a gift from Superman's tutelage.

"You're really bad at offering apologies," Asher stated flatly, his voice tinged with a mix of amusement and exasperation. His eyes, sharp and discerning, settled on the sanguine pool at his feet.

The blood puddle as if it had a mind of it's own,

began its eerie ascent with a slow, deliberate creep, as if waking from a deep slumber. It rose, droplet by droplet, a symphony of crimson beads coalescing into a singular, fluid column. The column twisted and writhed, a macabre dance choreographed by unseen forces, spiraling upwards in a languid, hypnotic motion.

As it climbed, the blood formed intricate patterns in the air, weaving a tapestry of scarlet that shimmered with a sinister beauty. The droplets swirled around the central orb, orbiting it like planets around a sun, each movement precise and deliberate. The orb itself pulsed with a dark vitality, expanding and contracting with a rhythm that mirrored a living heartbeat.

With each pulse, the orb seemed to draw more of the blood into its core, growing ever more vibrant and intense. The swirling droplets spun faster, driven by the orb's insatiable hunger, until they were a blur of red, a whirlwind of liquid life that defied the very laws of nature. And then, as quickly as it had begun, the performance ceased, the blood snapping back into the orb with the finality of a closing curtain, leaving behind only the echo of its eerie ballet that being the size of a golf ball. 

Superboy, his expression a mask of stoic understanding, wasn't taken aback by Asher's blunt honesty. He, too, would struggle to forgive himself in Asher's shoes. As he parted his lips to voice another matter weighing on his heart, Asher's sharp interjection sliced through the air, "I am Asher Eclipse. A pleasure, Conner Kent."

Conner's initial shock quickly dissolved into a heartfelt smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners—a silent vow etched within them. 'I will honor your trust, and you shall never again walk the shadows of solitude,' he silently pledged. "Thank you, Asher, my new little brother," he declared warmly, his voice a soothing balm.

Asher, caught off guard by the sincerity lacing Conner's words, lost his footing. His body gave way, and he tumbled to the ground in a clumsy heap. Conner, witnessing the fall, let out a hearty chuckle, the sound rich and genuine.

---------

Nestled within the mountain's embrace, M'gann, Blue Beetle, Raven, and Beast Boy each engaged in their own pursuits. M'gann was a whirlwind of activity in the kitchen, her culinary magic a mystery to the others. Beast Boy and Blue Beetle shared a moment of mirth, their laughter echoing through the cavernous space. Raven, meanwhile, was ensconced in her literary haven, her eyes scanning the pages of her book, oblivious to the world around her. The camaraderie was palpable, a warm undercurrent to the cool mountain air.

The sudden peal of laughter from the tunnel's mouth piqued their curiosity. It was a sound unfamiliar to the mountain's usual symphony—a joyful note that seemed out of place. As Conner emerged, his laughter ringing out, surprise etched itself on the faces of his companions. Beside him was Asher, an unexpected sight. The pair seemed at ease with one another, a bond formed unbeknownst to the rest.

Conner, with a grin wide and carefree, walked shoulder to shoulder with Asher, who muttered under his breath, a stark contrast to Conner's joviality. They soon became aware of the intense gazes fixed upon them, the scrutiny drawing their attention. As the laughter subsided and Asher's expression settled into one of indifference, they realized they were the focal point of the room.

Asher, poised to exit the scene, was halted by Conner's declaration. "Guys, Asher is essentially my little brother," he announced. Asher, mid-stride, faltered but regained his balance, his glare sharp as he turned to Conner, a retort on his lips. Yet, before he could voice his dissent, M'gann's presence interrupted the moment.

Bounding forward with open arms, M'gann greeted Asher warmly. "That's great, Hi Asher, I am M'gann, I don't know why everyone is angry at you, but I am not, You're family to Conner, and that makes you family to me too." Her words were a welcoming embrace, cutting through any tension. once again, Asher wanted to speak, but somehow his pre speech seems to summon new interruptions.

Beast boy jumped in, "Welcomes to the family Yo!" in a bird form landed on Conner's shoulder, knowing what will happen next if he tried to deny it, Asher just kept quiet, but that did not stop them from speaking.

"You got it all wrong hermano, I was never angry at him, we cool right?" Blue beetle arrived next to the group.

Asher was at a loss, the warmth of their welcome overwhelming his senses. He understood Conner's kinship—they were cut from the same cloth—but these others, why did they extend such kindness? Confusion mingled with an unfamiliar emotion, one he couldn't quite place.

Unbeknownst to him, a faint smile played upon his lips. These new allies had shown him nothing but kindness. M'gann's gentle inquiries at his door, Beast Boy's relentless attempts at humor, Blue Beetle's unwavering friendliness—all gestures he had previously ignored, blinded by self-doubt and solitude. Now, facing them all, a sense of gratitude welled within him. "Thank you, everyone, for welcoming me into your family," he said, his voice a soft murmur of newfound belonging.

(A/N: Dang you guys too long to get to 100, but anyways here is the new chapter, 100 powerstones for new chapter.)

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