&
Location: Warehouse District.
Interactions: No other.
Time: Late evening.
He’d taken his favourite running route, a direct path to Battery Bridge and then hugging the water along River Street until he started to hit Ville Rouge. It was on his return leg that he saw him, and then only by chance. The figure slumped in an alleyway, was temporarily illuminated by the headlights of a passing car, the familiar shape quickly bringing Felix’s jog to a halt even as he overshot the alley. Removing his earphones, he scanned his surroundings and found he was alone on this side of the alley. He was tempted to keep running, but his sense of civic duty took over and he resolved to at least check. If they were already dead, well... he was powerless. But he could at least report it to the police. If they weren’t dead, well then he could be useful in his own unique way.
Checking his surroundings once more, he pulled his hood up, his headband down to cover his lower face and crouched down beside the body. His nose wrinkled at the metallic tang in the air, drawing his attention to the fatally large pool of blood he had entered. The guy, Hispanic looking with visible gang tattoos, was clutching his abdomen and proved unresponsive to a verbal query or a quick shake to the shoulder. Not feeling very optimistic, he nonetheless reached out to tentatively test for a pulse and was pleasantly surprised by the faint throbbing he felt beneath his fingers. Quickly checking the alley once more for any possible spectators and finding none, he lifted up the man’s t-shirt and pressed his hands to the wound. He closed his eyes tight and focused his consciousness on the flesh beneath him.
He quickly focused on finding the larger severed blood vessels and poured his energy into them, cell growth accelerating at a superhuman rate to reconnect the broken veins and arteries. He then searched for organ and muscle damage, feeling his powers flow into the man’s liver and lungs to duplicate cells, knit together the fibres of his intercostal muscles and even smooth over his ribs where the blade had nicked the bone. Fatigue started to hit as Felix retreated back into his own body attempting to fix broken nerves as he went. His eyes opened just in time to see the skin neatly meld back together. There would be bruising, as he had learnt not to spend time fixing smaller capillaries and finer details after a couple of negative reactions his ‘patients’ had on waking up before he’d finished. He felt the stranger stir and quickly stood.
”You’re way too fast, Cerberus..,” came a heavy breath, Connor’s hand moving to wipe droplets glistening upon his forehead. Beside him stood a dog more akin to that of a proud, massive wolf, a fuzzy snout moving to rub against the boy’s shape. They had been friends since Cerberus was first found, a fragile pup, wounded and on death’s doorstep. Such was the case where a relationship between a teenager and his dog grew stronger than steel.
”You’ve gotten so big..,” Connor spoke, a long sigh managing its way past his pale lips. Tenderly combing his claws through Cerberus’ fur, the Variant leaned against an iron-wrought fence, separating him from peacefully running water.
Taking a moment to rest, Connor lowered himself to the grass-covered ground, his canine companion following suit. A lovely evening, indeed, warmth still lingering in every passing breeze. Soon, Connor would be forced to wear jackets, his scrawny body unable to maintain resistance in the face of unforgiving cold.
”It was a good burger, huh?” Connor asked, a small grin stretching itself across his mouth,
”you almost ate mine.., you goof,” the boy’s grin widened, revealing a row of sharp, shark-like teeth. However, if a level of intimidation accompanied the fact, it was soon dispelled by Cerberus, as the dog’s tongue made itself at home against the Variant’s face.
”Love you, too..,” the teen mumbled, wiping a sleeve against his visage.
There was a short pause before an obsidian gaze rose across the lake, Connor’s attention landing on a peculiar scene, which warranted a second glance.
”Isn’t that..?” The boy squinted, leaning forward as if the act would offer a better view. That, however, was not the case.
”Come on,” Connor spoke, rising to his feet before hurrying towards the river bend. Was that Felix? More importantly, was that a body?
Only moments passed, and Connor managed to even the distance, where a clear picture was then painted. It was Felix.., and he was doing something to that body. Was he healing it?
”Mr. Pernass?” The teen called out, halting his stride with Cerberus at his side.
Felix reflexively looked up at hearing his name and instantly regretted the automatic response. There at the end of the alleyway was one of his pupils. Connor. The only other variant he knew personally. He stared at the ghostly teen, suddenly realising what the scene must look like. His scarf had slipped off his face and hood off his head, leaving him completely recognisable as he stood covered in blood over an unmoving body in a dark alley.
Fuck.He had two options. Run and hope he wasn’t caught by his student’s pet wolf and deal with any fallout tomorrow. Stay and try to explain. The awkward moments ticked by but before Felix could make a decision the silence was broken by a gasping breath as stabbing victim beside him woke up.
Fuck.Felix wipes his hands on his running leggings before shoving them into his hoodie pockets.
”Connor,” he said calmly and strongly walking toward his student,
”We should get out of here.” He passed the entrance of the alleyway and led them back towards the more public, well-lit waterside where he sat with a groan onto the grass.
There was not much Connor could consider a skill. He was painfully average in most of what school entailed, he had no physical gifts, and he was, by every measure, a weakling. Indeed, there was little this boy could pat himself on the shoulder, in regards to. Little, but not nothing. He was a painter, and an exceptional artist, someone whose occupation for the future had already been set in stone. The teenager had oftentimes claimed to dream of one day leaving behind a legacy of breathtaking imagery like the legendary Leonardo Davinci, and more humbly, the beloved Bob Ross.
Indeed, Connor lacked the blessing of physical prowess, and his skills with numbers were laughable. Every gathering of school grades left him with Bs and Cs rowing the document, with one obvious exception. He was a painter, and a painter noted details with immaculate acuity. There was no knife in Felix’ hand, the blood on his clothes couldn’t possibly have been the result of spraying veins, and most importantly, Connor was certain to have seen something far more supernatural take place.
The sun had given room for an evening glow, and where the teenager’s eyesight was hampered by light, he saw far better in darkness than the average man. A reasonable trade-off.
”You closed it..,” came a small comment, Connor’s weightless steps bringing him closer towards his teacher with Cerberus vigilantly attentive. The scent of blood trickling into his nose immediately conjured forth a desire to protect.
”That man’s wound,” Connor continued, his unnaturally large, black eyes remaining fixed on Felix,
”you closed it,” the boy finished, his clawed hand shifting to a clenched fist.
”I thought I was the only one..,” Connor breathed, a frown making itself visible on his features.
”I was told.., I was the only one.”
Felix’s face betrayed his pleasant surprise at Connor’s deduction of reality and not an assumption. To be honest, he didn’t know why he’d assumed anything less from the intelligent kid. But on his nighttime excursions, he’d acclimatised to assume the worst…
“Connor…” Felix struggled to find the right words. Conflicted between comforting his student and protecting himself. Maybe he could do both…
He turned to look his student in his large dark eyes.
“You’re right.” He admitted.
“You’re not the only one. I…” Felix’s voice caught in his throat.
“I can heal.” It was hard to say out loud after all this time. He took one of the boy’s atypical hands in his own.
“But you can’t tell anyone what you’ve seen. Can you promise me that?” He was all too aware that his pleading sounded cliché but he couldn’t… he couldn’t go back to being… known.
Clenching his teeth, Connor lowered that obsidian glare to the ground. There was an obvious nature of disgruntled dissatisfaction prevalent upon the boy’s pale face, his ghostly voice leaving nothing but silence in the wake of Felix’ response. Slowly, the teenager turned to face an ever-moving flow of water which harmonically continued to drift past the pair, his expression quietly treading into a small chuckle, which then elevated to laughter. One would be forgiven for deeming the teenager one who had taken leave of sanity, considering such an unorthodox reaction. Indeed, the boy was laughing, his spectral voice dubbing it a verbal string which would perfectly fit the most stereotypical of villains. What could have added a disturbing tint, however, was that within Connor’s ghostly vocals, one could clearly hear a teenaged boy, more likely auditioning him for a role in horror.
His hand once touched, felt like sleek, silk-coated bone, those dark claws easily mistaken for polished spikes.
”Yeah.., not every Monster wants to be in the centre of attention,” Connor stated, his demeanour oddly shifted. However, it was not too terribly difficult to deduce his innermost thoughts. He was not alone, and that’s what mattered. Whatever proceeded to transpire from here on out, at least he had seen it. At least he knew that there were others like him close by, and not only on the television screen. Offering Felix a razor-toothed grin, Connor once more found himself chuckling, unable to stifle himself.
”Yeah, dude, I won’t tell anyone that Jesus is here. Would be too ironic..,” he stated, winking at the man,
”coming from me.”
Felix couldn’t lie and say that Connor’s laughing wasn’t disturbing given the situation but wasn’t comforted by it stopping either. When the teen Variant spoke Felix’s heartstrings were torn. He had hoped that being another visible variant could possibly help Connor in some way. He’d naively failed to consider that his own powers may cause the boy further pain in contrasting both their physical visibility and perceived usefulness.
His relief at Connor’s agreement to secrecy was palpable but short-lived as the Messiah comparison was made. He forced a laugh but his mirth failed to reach his eyes.
“I wouldn’t go that far. Don’t expect me to walk across that,” he gestured at the body of water before them,
“and you’re too young for me to go turning your water into wine.” He turned to give a genuine smile at the boy this time,
“and anyway if I die there’s no coming back. You’d have to do that right?” He was unsure whether his comment was tasteful but was relishing being able to talk openly with another human being about his abilities.
”Heh, that’d be a useful ability..,” Connor commented, turning his eyes once more towards the river. With a small grunt, the boy sat beside his teacher, seeing how Cerberus made himself comfortable, a large lupine head dropping onto its owner’s lap in the pursuit of relaxation.
Offering his professor a smirk, the ghostly teen proceeded to shake his head,
”I don’t like wine, Mr Pernass,” he stated, a small bout of silence following before Connor pitched his second verse.
”...I prefer whisky,” he confessed, that otherwise menacing grin, drawn somewhat endearing.
”Don’t tell mom, though,” the Variant raised a claw,
”she’d be really disappointed in me. I mean.., she loves wine.”Where many, if not most Variants were quite sensitive about their nature, Connor dove head-first into the darkness which was his own.
”Have you read my file, Mr Pernass?” The little ‘Monster’ joked. His powers were public knowledge, considering how he had signed them up with N.O.V.A, and they were clearly displayed in his personal documents afforded schools, doctors, and other venues.
”I just need a few more and I can reenact ‘Thriller’. I don’t know if being a zombie will net you any social security, though.” The boy finished, following along the joke, wholeheartedly.
His student’s open candidness wasn’t a surprise but was oddly refreshing in this otherwise tense situation for Felix. He couldn’t help but laugh out loud at Connor’s whiskey confession, the guffaw carrying across the water. Of course, he had a professional concern about a 16-year-old of his drinking whiskey, but to be honest that was the least of his concerns and most likely even Connor’s. He didn’t even know if alcohol had the same effects on Connor’s body as his own… His outburst stemmed more from the ridiculousness of the whole conversation!
He regarded his student with fresh eyes, seeing a genuinely carefree and childish aspect to what many called a monster. Felix nodded. Of course, he’d read Connor’s file. Much detailed information about his powers was redacted with only information deemed relevant for professionals to know included, mostly about his physiology, intelligence and aversion to sunlight. But there was enough there for his teacher to have a clear idea about his abilities. Felix had often found himself defending Connor in the staff lounge against anti-Variant comments and had been the first (and only) volunteer to accommodate the youngster in his classroom during his preparation period when somewhere was needed for the ‘little monster’ during sports class.
And yet here he was joking about turning his geography teacher undead to re-enact Thriller. This kid was a treasure.
“Well, I already know the moves. So that’s one less thing for you to worry about.” he replied with a wink. He turned to look at his student once more and asked the question that he’d mulled over for a couple of months now.
“How are you doing?” he asked, inwardly cringing at the awkwardness of the question. He was a great teacher but always struggled with the pastoral side of his role. Yet here he couldn’t help but reach out and possibly provide something, anything, that he wished he’d had as a child.
Tilting his head at the statement slung his way, Connor turned his attention towards Cerberus, his claws tenderly combing their way through the Wolf Dog’s grey fur. It was an understandable question, especially considering Felix’ position. He was a teacher and one of the only faculty members at Connor’s school who afforded the Monster Boy equal measure respect and affection. Something many of the other professors left vacant.
A small, tender smile bridged itself across Connor’s lips, the teenager’s point of focus shifting from the fuzzy beast on his lap, towards Felix himself.
”Thank you for asking, Mr Pernass.” Connor began, those sharp digits absentmindedly providing comfort for Cerberus, where the canine silently laid.
”And, I’m alright,” the little ‘Monster’ continued, offering his professor a playful, shark-like grin.
”I mean, I won’t stop being me just cause’ I decide to get offended by what people say,” he shrugged.
”No matter what happens, I’ll always be a Monster, and I wouldn’t have it any other way,” the teenager stated, determination leaking through that otherwise playful demeanour.
”Besides, I’m represented in Disney movies like.., way more than any other Variant. Sometimes I even have a happy ending,” came a giggle.
Despite everything, Connor appeared sure of himself, and not averse to who he saw in the mirror each and every day.
”There’s no one able to make me feel bad over who I am, Mr. Pernass,” the boy’s expression revealed a genuine smile, warm and confident.
”And it only proves that those who decide to hang out with me, are real friends.” Connor finished, his embrace around Cerberus tightening for a moment, before he once more relaxed.
”The world’s as colourful as you decide to make it, right?” The ironically colourless boy explained, followed by a small chuckle.
The elder figure was left in awe of his companion’s self-assurance, confidence and general outlook. He honestly couldn’t comprehend how the kid maintained such a positive character despite everything the world put up against him. Suddenly, the teacher who had set out to comfort his students found himself on the receiving end of his own intentions, roles reversed. He was being comforted by his student.
“Damn Connor,” he admitted,
“I only wish I’d been half as certain as you at your age…” Then maybe none of ‘it’ would have happened. He sighed looking down at his bloodstained hands,
“my powers aren't as great as you might think...” Felix blinked back a tear and cleared his throat, determined not to think about the past.
He promptly stood up, lending his student a hand.
”Come on,” he smiled,
”let’s get home. Hopefully, we won’t run into any more… ‘distractions’.” Whilst he was fully aware that Connor was more than capable of looking after himself if he encountered any trouble, and realistically there was little Felix could actually do, so he fought his instincts and happily let the boy walk home alone.
”See you tomorrow!” he shouted before re-inserting his earphones and starting his run home once more.
