Chapter Eight:
"People things," Natasha muttered into his ear, disgusted. Steve watched B's reluctance to even touch the couch with pity. B touched it, fascinated how his finger sank into the leather. Then, he tried his whole hand, his fascination only increasing. Steve chuckled, and the boy jumped, moving to lie down on the couch. He saw B wince slightly at the sudden movement, but he didn't try to get back up.
"It's going to be really hard to break that kind of 'Master-Slave' mindset," Clint said. Steve turned, going to the coffee machine and began to brew himself a pot of coffee. He had a feeling he was going to need something like that today. "Ten years of conditioning. If he's been there for ten years, then he started when he was six."
"Uh, am I the only one who saw those huge fangs?!" Tony asked, his tone bewildered and interested. "Because that is something to talk about. I mean, they came out of his gums! Like an actual vampire!"
"Actually," Bruce cut in. "His DNA results shows differently. I've seen those kind of physical mutations before, but that was egg splicing and adding the extra commodities that the scientist desires before the embryo is born."
"That isn't what happened here?" Steve asked, listening to the coffee drizzle softly into the thermal-glass pot. The strong aroma of the drink beginning to permeate the air.
"No. It's. . . a bit different. When I took his blood, I. . . I didn't recognize the blood type."
Steve frowned, "What?"
"That's not possible," Natasha said.
"That's–That's what I thought," Bruce said, sounding a little excited. "Until I realized that he doesn't have a human blood type. It was feline."
"Feline?" Steve repeated, shocked. The pot behind him beeped twice in succession. He glanced over at B, who was sleeping silently. He exhaled, but didn't wake up.
Steve grabbed the pot, pouring himself a cup. "Well, it was more of a mix of both, which is why I couldn't identify it. I traced it back, and. . . well. . ." Bruce trailed off, taking a breath, and Steve took a sip of his coffee. "He's part Snow Leopard."
Steve nearly choked, setting the cup down with a sharp 'clink!' against the marble countertop. He quickly looked at B, who merely turned in his sleep, unmoved. "That's not possible!" Tony exclaimed. "To make physical changes to him, they'd have to add or subtract chromosomes from his DNA. To do that after he was born. . . they'd have to change the genetic makeup of every single cell in his body! That's impractical!"
"I know," Bruce agreed. "But. . . well, here he is. I do have a theory. He has a form of. . . cancer."
"Cancer?" Steve repeated, his eyes widening. "Is he gonna die?"
"Yes, and no, he won't, I think. But, it's. . . well it, uh," He heard the scientist sigh. "It's was intentionally administered to him. Someone gave him this. . . cancer, and kept him under close watch to see how he would react."
"I don't understand," Clint said, just as confused as Steve was. "He has cancer?"
"Yes. Kind of. It's a non-fatal type of cancer ― I think. I looks like he was periodically injected with the cells of this snow leopard. Usually, the body would immediately reject something like that, but something must've went wrong along the way because instead of rejecting it, his body assimilated the cells. Cancer cells usually grow in a few place and continue to build up, kind of like a clog in a sink drain. That's where you get tumors from, right? But, with B, hi–his cells, these animal cells, when they entered his system, they began to spread out, creating deformities all over his body. It's almost as if he's a walking, talking tumor ― and he hasn't died."
Bruce let out a shocked laugh. "It's fascinating, really. He has no human cells ― no natural, original cells ― in his body. And-And when his body finally finished 'evening' everything out, when he became completely infected with this cancer, he began to develop different, ah, physical deformities. That's where his fangs come in. I, honestly, wouldn't be surprised if he had other abilities he hasn't discovered or didn't tell us."
"So. . . they genetically mutated his DNA without splicing his embryo," Tony said, with an equal amount of wonder. "That. . . that's amazing."
"That's terrifying," Natasha corrected. "And, it sounds painful."
"Oh, it must've been," Bruce agreed. "That kind of regrowth on a cellular level must've taken months. If a single thing had gone wrong, if his body began to reject the cells instead, his body would practically tear itself in half. He would've died in minutes. It's a miracle he's alive."
Steve scoffed, miracle was an understatement. "Is there anyway to turn him back?" Clint asked curiously. "In case his body does try to turn on him?"
"Probably not. The time and effort it would take to rewrite the DNA of trillions of cells, it's not worth it. And, it probably won't change him. His body is long since adjusted." He paused, "You know, he probably had it done when he was a kid. I mean, when you're smaller, you have fewer cells to change and your body is still developing. It would probably be too dangerous to try when you're older. Size and weight probably have a say in it too. If he was a small, scrawny kid, he'd be perfect for this type of experiment."
"Tony," Steve spoke up, "Did you happen to find out where he was from?"
"Uh, no," Tony frowned. "I've looked all over Hell's Kitchen and other areas around it. Nobody reported a black male child missing in-between 2003 or 2004 with a name starting with 'B' and a single mother with the name Nichelle."
"Don't seclude it to just the east coast. Look all over the country."
"Okay," Tony said with a tired huff. Steve could hear the distinct, quick typing of keys before he spoke again. "Uh. . . okay. Fifty matches. Anyone wanna dumb it down?"
"Look in low-income areas," Bruce said. "And cold cases. Those would be key breeding grounds for anyone to come and snatch a kid."
"Hmm. . ." Tony murmured. "Okay, how's this: Nichelle Williams, East Palo Alto, California. She reported a six-year-old Blue Williams missing in 2004. She claimed that he was being taken care of by a neighbour and wasn't there when she returned home from work?"
"Any witnesses?" Natasha asked.
"No. But, there was reports of a. . . screaming girl? Huh. . ." Steve heard him type again, "Huh. . . that's. . . strange. . ."
"What's 'strange'?" Bruce asked.
"There were no little girls reported missing in that week ― or that month. How did he hear a little girl?"
A chill swept over Steve, "Someone baited him to come out."
"And it looks like he isn't the only one," Tony said. "There are reports all over the country of missing kids reported that were associated with hearing a girl scream."
"Nobody connected it?" Natasha asked. "That's pretty specific."
"No, uh, most cases were with low-income families and across state lines. They probably didn't have the money to do so. And, those who did. . . they didn't last long."
"What happened?" Steve asked.
"Uh. . . 'Man dies of heart attack'. 'Family of two drive off of cliff'. 'Drive-by shooting kills three'." Steve felt his stomach twist. "Someone, uh, really didn't want this going out."
"This is sick," Clint growled and Steve rubbed the bridge of his nose. He tried to imagine dozens of other children like Blue, all of them scared and flinching and making actual dog-whines whenever something hurt.
"Keep looking into it, Tony," Steve ordered, taking a sip of his coffee. "Bruce, I need you to make sure he's stable physically. I don't want him having strokes on me. Nat and Clint, I want you two to look into his 'Master'. Look into dog-fighting rings in Hell's Kitchen. Find anyone that fit his description ― tall, dark eyes and hair, and rugged appearance. If you find something, bring it to me first so I can show Blue. I don't want anything getting out. If his actual Master suspects something, he'll try to get out of the city. We can't let that happen."
"Got it, Captain," Natasha said, jokingly.
"We'll continue questioning when he wakes up," Steve said, downing the rest of his steaming coffee quickly. "He looks like he hasn't slept in weeks."
"I agree," Clint said. "I'll message you if we find anything." He heard a beep, signalling Clint had turned his earpiece off.
Steve set his cup down, and walked over to the couch where Blue was sleeping quietly. He was curled up on the couch, his mouth slightly parted and drool slipping between his lips. Steve chuckled, picking up a blanket and draping it over the boy.
Blue snuggled into it, and ― much to Steve's surprise ― purred. It was a low rumble, and came from deep in his throat, but it was loud ― or at least loud enough for Tony to hear.
"Oh, my god. Did he just purr?" He asked, and laughed loudly.
Steve rolled his eyes and turned off his earpiece. He left his room, "JARVIS, can you notify me when Blue wakes up?"
"Blue, sir?" The A.I. replied, not recognizing the name.
"The boy sleeping in the lounge. His name is Blue ― add him to your. . . contacts, or however that works."
"Noted, sir," the A.I. responded. "And, I will tell you when he awakens." Steve muttered a 'thank you', before going into his room.
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Three cheers for B.S. science, everyone!
Honestly, correct me if I'm wrong with any of that cancer stuff - I did some research for it, but Biology isn't my strongest point (which is wild bc I love science :c). I'll make changed accordingly when the chapter goes out. Thanks!
I'll see y'all next time, and remember...
Don't melt~!
- Happyritas OOO
