Old Department Building
The old department building stood as a relic of a forgotten time, its paint peeling, its windows boarded up, its very presence a testament to the decay of the surrounding neighborhood. Inside, The room was a testament to their struggle, the single flickering bulb casting long, dancing shadows that emphasized the peeling wallpaper and the sparse, worn furniture. Dust motes, like tiny, restless spirits, swirled in the weak light, highlighting the sparseness of their belongings. Michael's mother, Cordelia, a woman of 74 years still appearing younger due to her latent mutant genes, her face a map of worry and resilience, sat at the worn wooden table, her hands clasped tightly, a silent prayer for her children's safety.
Click
The door to the place is heard opening, and Cordelia put on a smile on her face, suspecting it to be her two sons but to her surprise...
Cordelia: My god... Michael! (She exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise and relief, a mixture of emotions flickering across her face.) W-What are you doing here?
Michael stepped further into the room, a warm smile spreading across his face, a genuine smile that reached his eyes.
Michael: Isn't it obvious? I came to check up on you and the boys. (He paused, his gaze sweeping over the worn furniture and the makeshift card game scattered on the floor.) And to see how you're all holding up. Really holding up.
His mother's smile was a bittersweet mix of joy and worry. She reached out, her hand gently cupping his cheek, her touch warm and familiar, a comforting weight he had missed.
Cordelia: We're... we're managing, (she said, her voice a little strained, a subtle tremor betraying her facade of strength.) It's good to see you, Michael. It's been too long.
Michael: (He nodded, his eyes filled with concern, searching her face for any signs of hidden pain.) I know, Mom. I'm sorry. Things have been… complicated.
She sighed, her gaze drifting towards the boarded-up windows, a silent acknowledgment of their precarious situation.
Cordelia: Complicated is an understatement. But I understand. You've always been one to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.
Michael: Heh. Just trying to do what I can, (He spoke, his voice low, a hint of weariness in its tone.) So, How are the boys? Are they… are they okay?
Cordelia: They're teenagers, (she chuckled, a hint of weariness in her voice, but a genuine warmth in her eyes.) Which means they're a mix of chaos and hormones. But yes, they're alright. They miss you, though. They ask about you all the time.
Michael: I miss them too, (Michael said, his voice filled with genuine affection.) And you, Mom. I worry about you, especially here. (He gestured around the room, the peeling paint and the boarded-up windows a stark reminder of their circumstances.) This place… it's not safe.
Cordelia: We make do, (She said, her voice firm, a quiet strength radiating from her.) We always have. Besides, (she added, a hint of mischief in her eyes,) we have each other. And we have our… unique family trait to keep us a little safer.
Michael raised an eyebrow, a slight smile playing on his lips, a shared understanding passing between them.
Michael: Still relying on your abilities, huh?
Cordelia: Yeah, here and there when the time's right, (she said, her smile widening, a playful glint in her eyes.) Especially when the neighborhood gets a little… rough.
Michael: Mom, (Michael began, his voice low and gentle, the smile fading from his face.) I need to talk to you about something important.
Cordelia's eyes, a faded blue, met his, a flicker of apprehension in their depths, a mother's intuition sensing trouble.
Cordelia: What is it, Michael? You're worrying me.
Michael: Its's about the... incident at the supermarket, (he said, choosing his words carefully, knowing how sensitive the subject was.)
Cordelia's shoulders slumped, the weight of their situation pressing down on her. "Oh, that," she sighed, a weary sound.
Cordelia: I didn't mean to, Michael. But the boys were hungry, and... well, you know how things have been.
Michael: I know, Mom, (He reassured her, his heart aching for her struggle.) But you can't keep doing things like that. It's too risky. You could get caught.
Cordelia: What else can I do? (she asked, her voice laced with desperation, the unspoken question hanging heavy in the air.) I've tried everything. The jobs are scarce, and the money we get barely covers the rent. I'm doing my best, Michael.
Michael: know you are, (he said, reaching across the table to take her hand, his touch a silent promise.) And you don't have to worry anymore.
Cordelia's brow furrowed, a flicker of hope mixed with suspicion in her eyes.
Cordelia: What do you mean?
Michael: I made an arrangement, (he explained,) with someone who can help us. Someone who can take care of the bills, make sure you and the boys have everything you need.
Cordelia: Who? (She asked, her voice sharp with suspicion, her eyes searching his for any sign of deception.) Who is this someone?
Michael: His name is Viktor Storm, (Michael said, watching her reaction, bracing himself for her inevitable resistance.)
Cordelia's eyes widened, a flicker of fear crossing her face, a chilling recognition of a dangerous name.
Cordelia: Viktor Storm? That man from the Archive? Michael, no! You can't trust him!
Michael: Mom, please, (Michael pleaded, his voice laced with desperation.) He's helping us. He's wiping my record, and he'll provide for you and the boys.
Cordelia: That man doesn't do anything without expecting something in return, (Cordelia said, her voice trembling, her eyes filled with a mother's fear.) What did he ask you to do, Michael? What did you agree to?
Michael: It doesn't matter, (Michael said, trying to reassure her, even though he knew he was lying.) It's done. And it's for you, for all of us.
Cordelia shook her head, her eyes filled with a mother's fierce protectiveness.
Cordelia: I don't want his help, Michael. I don't want you to be involved with him. We'll manage. We always do.
Michael: Mom, please, (Michael said, his voice laced with desperation.) We can't keep living like this. You're working yourself to the bone, and the boys are going without. This is our chance to have a better life.
Cordelia's eyes flashed, and for a moment, Michael saw a flicker of something strange, something powerful, beneath the surface of her worry. The air around her shimmered slightly, a faint blue glow emanating from her hands, a subtle display of the power she kept hidden.
Cordelia: I said no, Michael, (she said, her voice firm, the blue light fading, her resolve unwavering.) We'll find another way. We always do.
Michael sighed, knowing he couldn't argue with her stubbornness, her fierce independence.
Michael: Mom, just let me help. Please.
Cordelia: You are helping, Michael, (Cordelia said, her voice softening, her eyes filled with love.) Just by being here, by being yourself. That's all I need.
A moment of silence settled between them, the only sound the faint hum of the flickering bulb, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.
Michael: Mom, (he began again, a hint of exasperation in his voice.) You're being unreasonable. You have to let me help.
Cordelia: And you have to stop trying to mother me, Michael, (She replied, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, a playful glint in her eyes.) I'm still your mother, you know.
Before Michael could respond, the door creaked open, and the two teenage boys, Ben and Leo, burst into the room, their faces flushed with excitement, their youthful energy filling the space.
"Michael!" Ben exclaimed, his eyes wide with surprise, a wide grin stretching across his face. "You're here!"
"What's up, big bro?" Leo asked, grinning, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
Michael: Hey, guys, (Michael said, a smile spreading across his face, a genuine warmth filling his heart.)
Michael: How's the card game going?
Ben: Totally AWESOME! Here look– (he held up a handful of cards, his eyes filled with triumph.) I beat everyone on the fourth day for these babies.
Michael: Wow. (He looked at the cards.) Is that a omega tier Warlock?
Ben: Yep! Got it from this big bald doofus, he had the best cards yet still lost! I guess I really am the best.
Leo: No, you're not, (he protested, playfully shoving his brother, a mock frown on his face.) I am.
The boys' laughter filled the room, momentarily dispelling the tension between Michael and his mother, their youthful energy a welcome distraction. They gathered around the table, the boys excitedly telling Michael about their game, their voices overlapping, their energy infectious. Cordelia watched them, a soft smile on her face, her eyes filled with a mother's love, a quiet pride in her children.
The hour passed quickly, filled with laughter and stories, a brief respite from their harsh reality. Michael felt a sense of peace he hadn't felt in a long time, a feeling of belonging, a reminder of what he was fighting for.
Then, a knock echoed through the room, a sharp, authoritative sound, shattering the fragile peace. The boys fell silent, their eyes wide with apprehension, their laughter replaced with a nervous tension. Cordelia's face grew pale, her eyes filled with a mother's fear.
Michael: That'll be them, (Michael said, his voice low, a sense of resignation in his tone)
Michael sighed, his heart heavy. He kissed his siblings goodbye, promising to visit again soon, a promise he wasn't sure he could keep. He got into the waiting car, the sleek black vehicle a stark contrast to the dilapidated surroundings. As the car pulled away, he looked back at his family, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and fear. He knew that his life was irrevocably intertwined with the Stygian Archive, and he wasn't sure what the future held.
The Archive - Rex's Quarters
Rex stretched out on his bunk, a contented sigh escaping his lips. The small, spartan room was a far cry from the cramped cell he'd occupied for the past few years, but it was a welcome change nonetheless. He glanced around, taking in the bare walls, the single window with its reinforced glass, the small desk with its built-in monitor. It wasn't much, but it was his.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, worn photograph. It was a picture of him and his daughter, Lily, taken at a local park. Lily, with her bright smile and mischievous eyes, was the spitting image of her mother. A pang of guilt shot through him as he remembered the events that had led to his imprisonment. A botched robbery, a desperate attempt to provide for his family, had landed him in the Stygian Archive, branded a criminal, separated from the ones he loved.
He traced Lily's face with his thumb, his heart aching with longing. He hadn't seen her in years, hadn't heard her voice, hadn't felt the warmth of her embrace. The thought of her, growing up without him, filled him with a deep sense of regret.
Suddenly, the door slid open with a hiss, startling him. Kyle stood in the doorway, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Well, well, well," Kyle said, his voice laced with amusement. "Look at you, all sentimental and whatnot."
Rex quickly shoved the photograph back into his pocket, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
Rex: What do you want, Kyle? (he grumbled, his voice gruff.)
Kyle: Just checking on my favorite teammate, (kyle said, sauntering into the room.) Making sure you're not getting too soft on us.
Rex: Soft? (he scoffed.) Me? Please. I'm as hard as they come.
Kyle: Yeah, right, you were practically crying over that photo.
Rex: I was not! (He protested, his voice rising.)
Kyle: Oh, really? Then what were those glistening drops on your cheeks?
Rex: Sweat obviously.
Kyle laughed, a hearty, genuine sound that filled the small room.
Kyle: Alright, (he said, his laughter subsiding.) So, (he leaning against the wall, his arms crossed,) what's the story, Rex? What landed you in this hellhole?
Rex hesitated, his gaze fixed on the photograph.
Rex: It's a long story, (he said, his voice low.)
Kyle: Well i got nowhere to go and you seem yo be the same so... talk, (Kyle said, his voice gentle.)
Rex sighed, his shoulders slumping.
Rex: It was a robbery, (he said, his voice filled with shame.) A jewelry store. I needed the money. Lily's mother... she was sick. Needed expensive medication.
Kyle: And? (He prompted.)
Rex: It went wrong, (Rex said, his voice cracking.) The cops showed up. There was a shootout. I... I hurt someone.
Kyle: Hurt? (Kyle asked, his voice sharp.)
Rex: No, (he said, his eyes filled with regret.) Killed. I killed him.
A heavy silence fell between them, the weight of Rex's confession hanging in the air.
"I didn't mean to," Rex said, his voice barely a whisper. "It was an accident. But it doesn't matter. I took a life. I deserve to be here."
Kyle nodded, his expression grim. "We all do," he said, his voice low. "We all have our demons."
He pushed himself off the wall, his gaze meeting Rex's. "But we're here now," he said, his voice firm. "And we're going to make the most of it. We're going to do some good. We're going to be heroes."
Rex looked at him, his eyes filled with a flicker of hope. "Heroes, huh?" he said, a small smile playing on his lips. "Maybe you're right.
Kyle turned to leave, but paused at the doorway.
Kyle: But seriously, Rex, (he said, his voice softening,) it's okay to miss them. We all do.
Rex nodded, his throat tight with emotion.
Rex: Yeah, (he whispered.) I know.
Kyle left, the door sliding shut behind him. Rex sat on the bunk, the photograph clutched in his hand. He looked at Lily's smiling face, his heart filled with a bittersweet mix of love and regret. He had made mistakes, but he was determined to make things right. He would do whatever it took to get back to his daughter, to be the father she deserved.