Earth 216

Eight Months and Thirty Days After Invasion

"Aren't you two adorable." Blood continued to rush to Roy's head as he hung upside down, gently swinging his body back and forth. He had been with Tori and Rayne for a couple hours that day; they had been idly spending their time with each other and ignoring pretty much everything else for a while now.

The park was one of Rayne's favorite places. It was usually like a barren wasteland given that people were too scared to come out of their homes, and due to the fact that broken pipes reached out like giant, dangerous fun-time accidents waiting to happen. Roy quite liked it, and apparently carnival acrobats had no problems dodging sharp objects. It was a win-win.

Tori and his supposedly lovely girlfriend (Roy had to take his word for it, she didn't talk much) were currently dancing on top of the monkey bars, spinning each other around and dipping and doo-da-ing. Roy was more than convinced they were just showing off. No one had fancy footsteps like that just because!

"I'm bored," he complained when no one answered him, scrunching his face up when it began to feel weird.

"Put your feet on the ground before you lose brain cells," Rayne demanded in her quiet voice, hugging Tori tighter as they turned.

"I don't take orders from mice," Roy hissed jokingly, snapping his jaw together a few times before lowering himself to the ground as instructed. Tori rolled his eyes and gave a snort.

"Can't lose something you don't have."

Roy's jaw hung open in mock hurt. It quickly turned into a grin as he saw Rayne smile. "Okay, ouch," he said, "If I wanted to talk to Jamie, I wouldn't've come here with you guys. Now get down here you big, fabulous, muscular guy – you're supposed to be teaching me how to fight."

"I hate when you say weird stuff like that," Tori grumbled, obviously discomforted by Roy's words. Nevertheless he stopped his movements and broke away from Rayne, gently slipping down until his feet rested on the woodchips.

Roy shrugged. "What? Fandral's a hunk, and you look just like him, ergo; you are also a hunk." Tori grimaced. "You're hunky!" Roy insisted, looking to Rayne for support.

"He's hunky, right?" She merely shrugged shyly, slipping between the bars to stand next to him. Roy scoffed and shook his head. "Don't shrug at me! You're dating him for Christ sake. You're dating a hunk! An Asgardian hunk!"

Tori's face was bright red. "Can you please stop?" He shouted, tugging at the collar of his jacket.

Roy smirked. "If it's hot in here, it's because of you." Tori groaned loudly and turned away, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Come on," he gave in, waving his hand for Roy to follow. They walked to a grassy area, Tori still refusing to meet Roy's enthused gaze.

Since Roy couldn't really use magic without draining himself of life (a fun little thing Roy liked to NOT think about), it was decided that he should be taught how to fight. Which sucked, because he had never needed actual combat skills before, and training was, in his own words, "haaaaaard." Yes, he had complained the first day like a child. He was, mostly, over that now, but some might say his attitude still needed a little tweaking.

Tori wasn't supposed to be the one training him. Ideally, Jamie would be the one putting up with his shit and dishing it right back. But since her brother was still busy being a comatose zombie, Roy was left to select someone else to be babysat by. At the moment of choosing he had wanted Clint – wouldn't it have been totally rad to learn to shoot like that, and then when he got back home he could shoot magic arrows? But Clint wasn't in the conference room for some reason, and he hadn't been signed up for a patrol. Roy's next pick was Sasha Ferris – THE VANISHER. But, seeing as most of Sasha's skills included being, well, invisible – Roy figured he had better not.

It would have been cool to be trained by Fandral, or Cap, or even the Winter Soldier, but they were front runners in the grand scheme of it all, so he was denied that option. At that point Roy figured it was less 'who do you want to be trained by so you don't use your magic and die' and more 'who do we have left to stick you with? Not you? Well, I can't. How about you? No? Too bad.' When it came down to it, Roy was just hoping not to be trained by Shay. She was one scary woman. Most of the time, Roy figured Sasha was scared of her, too.

So when Tori stepped forward and openly volunteered to train him in the mystical arts of sword throwing and some kind of Asgardian mumbo jumbo he still didn't understand (maybe he should stop tuning people out when he doesn't care about what they're saying?) it was a real surprise. Low and behold the younger Asgardian merely wanted an excuse to see his girlfriend more, which made training more of a secondary thing. Surprisingly, everything had turned out just fine.

Except one very, very obvious thing: Roy couldn't wield a sword for his life. Tori had spent hours lecturing Roy on safety and Asgardian principles and techniques and arts and a load of bullshit that went in one ear and right out the other. The whole time Roy nodded his head idly, not his best performance, but Tori bought the whole thing seeds and all. Sure, Roy was a smart guy, which was why he focused on more important stuff. Like those magnetic fields above them, supposedly keeping an entire invasion out, and how more than one thing about it tugged at his brain. He spent most of always thinking about it, but he didn't know who to confide in. Sure, a week had passed, but it wasn't like they were all chums. The air was still filled with awkwardness – or so he had been told. Roy had a really bad time telling when things were awkward, especially if it was his fault.

So, because Tori trained under Fandral and Fandral had that epic sword Fiomegander (Roy had dyslexia, another fun thing to deal with when learning about the totally easy Asgardian language), Roy had to also be trained with a sword. A rather heavy one, mind you. No, he wasn't weak. No, he didn't skip arm day. But standing there, both hands clasped round old, stinky metal, his arms began to shake.

"Hold it higher," Tori instructed, standing in front of him in the right pose. He looked like a white knight. He was mister do-good that would save the day. He was like mister oh-so-perfect-look-at-me Grant Rogers who steals girls and flaunts the fact that he's Captain America's son to everybody who will listen, no matter if they care or not or have heard it 10,000 times before, or – OHMYGOD—have grown up with the dumbass kid –

"Uh, Roy?" He blinked. The sword was buried two feet into the ground and Roy's hands where still clasped around the hilt, his arms straining as they pushed it further in. He quickly let go, giving a breathy laugh and dusting himself off.

"Wow, look at that! Good work, everybody. I'd say that's enough for today." His breaths came out ragged as he smiled innocently, trying to tug the sword out but giving up after minimal effort.

"We just started," Tori pointed out, his own sword point digging into the ground as he leaned casually on it. Roy waved him aside and began to walk away but the world was starting to spin again to so he sat down, clutching at his chest as it rose and fell with vigor. Am I dying? He briefly wondered, watching as one very concerned Asgardian came into his view and knelt down by him.

"Are you that out of shape, or did something happen?" Tori asked, looking behind him at Rayne who, probably smartly, stood a few paces back.

"I saved him!" Roy exclaimed, surprising them both as they flinched. Roy's hand came up to rub at his forehead. "Whoo, it's hot in here, mind taking a few steps back?" He asked with another breathily laugh, fading quickly as he sucked in a breath. Tori looked completely lost, confused, and a bit scared. Roy would have laughed – loudly – if he wasn't also scared. What the hell was going on?

"I saved him." He couldn't stop thinking about Grant. Dead Grant. Dead, younger brother of Jamie Rogers, Grant. He was alive now, because of Roy. How much life did Roy use up?

"Yea, Grant's alive. You saved him. He's okay now." Roy shook his head, letting out a harsh wheeze of a laugh. He didn't care if the poor bastard was alright; his mind was still being selfish. He felt bad for it – right?

"No, I saved him." Roy let out a laugh, turning his gaze to look up at the huddled masses above, where the bright sky should have been. "Why would I do that?" He asked with a smile, closing his eyes as it widened and he leaned further back.

"What do you mean why? You saved him. You did the right thing." Tori placed a hand on Roy's shoulder to steady him and keep him from toppling over. His voice was cautious and concerned.

"For who?" Roy's eyes snapped open and he sprung forward, further scaring Tori and Rayne who looked like she was about to turn and flee at any second. "I hate that kid!" The smile never left his face. His mind felt whoozy, like it was filled with a mixture of laughing gas and helium, and he would float away any second, laughing madly until the day he died.

"I hate him," his laughter blurred his words as tears sprung from his eyes, falling casually down his paled face. "Did I do it for Jamie? Did I do it for Carly? The world may never know!"

Tori licked his lips, watching Roy with unease. "Who's Carly?" He wondered. Roy didn't say anything. At the mention of her name his harsh laughter stopped and his breaths became normal again, almost as if he realized what he had said and how crazy he had become. His eyes darkened as he stood up and waved Tori off.

"She's no one." He shook his head. "She's not no one; she's someone. It doesn't matter. What does matter is gravity." Rayne came up behind Tori and grabbed his hand, gently squeezing it.

"Is he okay?" She whispered, her dark eyes trained on his movements as he began to walk away. Tori shrugged his shoulders and kissed her hair.

"Roy, are you okay?" He asked, tugging Rayne to catch up with him after he had collected the swords and trailed Roy a few feet behind.

"Never better!" He yelled back, hiding his face in all its unsmiling greatness. It wasn't the first lie he had told here. He wasn't the first person to tell that lie here. He was freaking out – that's what it had been. He had had a freak out. An anxiety attack. A Panic attack.

None of it was right. His wiring must have been off. Roy Strange didn't have anxiety, and he sure as hell didn't panic. Okay, so that second part was a tiny lie. Maybe he, possibly – occasionally—had a small panic or two. But he never would outwardly show it. That defeated the whole façade of Roy Strange, almighty Warlock, being the coolest guy around. He clutched at his heart as he continued to walk away, fear gripping it like something that grips stuff really hard. It was a hard grip. He was pretty scared.

"Are you sure?" Tori asked, and Roy took a deep breath, spinning around with a big grin and shooting finger guns.

"Just keeping you on your toes!" He winked, pulling a face and turning once again. "So, tell me about this gravity."

Tori shared a look with Rayne, rubbing his face before shaking his head. "I don't understand. What about it?"

Roy stopped. Sometimes it was easy to forget people weren't as smart as him. Maybe they were just as smart, maybe they just weren't attentive. Maybe they didn't ask enough questions. Questions were good. Fun. Dangerous. Roy liked dangerous.

He jumped up and down a few times, flapping his arms like a bird. "Come on, join me." He continued to do so for quite a while, running around and testing different places and flapping his arms.

"Roy…are you sure you're oaky?" Tori asked as Rayne tried not to smile. He rolled his eyes.

"Stop asking me that and jump!" Reluctantly they gave in, hopping a little in their place hoping to appease him. When Roy was satisfied he stopped jumping and so they did as well, Tori raising a hand to scratch at his tousled hair.

"I keep giving everyone a chance to come to their own conclusions, but they never do. I thought you being an Asgardian meant you were supposed to be better than us puny mortals." Roy complained, folding his arms across his chest and scratching at his shirt. The extra clothes they kept getting really weren't the best fitting…or best looking. Roy would have been offended if he didn't think there were more important problems than fashion – which was saying a lot because if you're going to kick ass, you don't want to be wearing an orange polo three sizes too big. You'd only make that mistake once.

"Well, enlighten us, then." Tori suggested, growing rather irritated. Rayne peeked her head over his shoulder.

"Besides, he's only half Asgardian. He probably picked up on our stupid gene." Roy smirked at her, and Tori rose an eyebrow, his lips pursing.

"You're a really bad influence, you know that?" Roy winked at him. "Now go on, tell us what's wrong with the gravity."

"Yes! There is something wrong with it. I'm proud of you." Roy spun and jumped again, pointing up to the sky to direct their attention. "Those magnetic fields keeping the Stingers out are a lot stronger than the Earth's magnetic fields. You said that one Magneto chick put them up, which is fine and all. But, I mean, how did you handle the gravity problems that occurred? Gravity would be all wonky after a magnetic field that strong is put up. But, it feels totally normal."

Tori laughed, causing Roy to frown. Had he missed something? His brain seemed to be slipping a lot recently. "Gravity was really weird after she put the fields up. But we were ready for it; that was the plan all along. We had already set up gravity simulators across the globe to go on when she put the fields up. That way, nothing went too, er, 'wonky'."

Roy continued to frown as Tori smiled. "That it? It went perfectly as planned? Nothing didn't work or anything like that?"

Tori frowned. "Well…yea. Why?"

"How many simulators did you put up?"

"Hundreds. Why?" Roy couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"And they all worked?" He asked, looking around like he was the stupid one. "Just like that, and nobody asked any questions?"

Tori nodded slowly. "They all worked, the math was careful." Roy let out an aggravated groan.

"But they shouldn't have had the math – don't you get it? How did they know what calculations to use if she hadn't even put the fields up yet?"

He shrugged. "Yea, what's so wrong with a little bit of luck?"

Roy pursed his lips, shaking his head disappointedly. "I don't believe in luck."

Grant was still unconscious. As the days passed he just lay there, groaning inaudibly and twitching as he slept. Jamie hadn't let go of his hand for hours. This was how she spent her days now, grasping tightly onto him and casting her dull eyes onto his duller flesh, unbelieving that he was alive. He looked like he was dying, not healing. She was constantly reassured by people that she didn't even know the names of, which proved to be less than comforting.

Sasha and Shay visited every day. Their faces were blurred within all the others'. Roy still hadn't stopped in, but Jamie hardly noticed. She hardly noticed anything anymore. She barely ate, she didn't speak, and the clothes she came into this world with had only been changed last night after she realized how disgusting they smelled. She felt bad, for being such a mess. It wasn't her. She scolded herself every second of every day to get up off her lazy ass and help out, but then she would look down at her brother and cave again. She would brush back his hair and kiss his forehead and let the tears fall and sink deeper into her muggy pit of despair.

She didn't notice much anymore, but when James Barnes came walking through that door and sat next to her, she froze. She hadn't talked to him since the truth came out and Grant…went away. Died. Bit the dust.

He let out a gentle sigh, facing Grant as he slept. "He looks…" His voice trailed off and Jamie hummed.

"He looks dead," she finished for him, biting her lip and gripping Grant's hand harder. Bucky's shoulders slumped beside her.

"But he's not," he spoke flatly, his voice calm and gentle. Jamie nodded. A brief silence filled the room. It wasn't awkward or forced and Jamie respected that.

"I've been scared to come visit." Bucky admitted, playing with the edge of the cot idly. "I can't help but feel this is slightly my fault."

"It's not!" Jamie was quick to defend him, turning to him with wide eyes. "I got too caught up in things; I made it awkward for everyone. This is my fault." She smiled lightly when Bucky opened his mouth. "Please, don't defend me. I know I did this. True, Grant shouldn't have been an idiot and wandered off, but… You look just like him."

"Like your father." Jamie nodded, her eyes tracing his face like it was practice, running over his stubble filled jaw and long hair with such weird familiarity that Bucky felt saddened. He cleared his throat. "That's actually, partly, why I came here. I was wondering if we could talk."

"About my father?" Jamie asked, shaking her head. "I don't remember much about him."

His heart fell. He let out a shaky breath, trying not to break the smile on his face. "So I suppose you don't remember much about Cecelia, either?" Jamie's eyes fell.

"Grant has Steve's healing factor, but it doesn't seem to be working." Her thumb grazed over Grant's grey knuckles, her other hand coming up to wipe a tear away from her face. Bucky stood up, hating himself for even asking.

"I'm sorry. Your brother is here, like this, and I have the audacity to ask you about a dead woman who you can't even remember." He gave Jamie's shoulder a light squeeze and turned to walk away.

"They both died when I was six." Bucky immediately sat down. His warm blue eyes comforted her in the most painful of ways. Jamie didn't like to think about her parents, especially her father. She grew up with the world telling her that he was a bad man, but with Steve saying he wasn't. Jamie would have loved to believe anything that came out of Steve's mouth, but people had a habit of arguing with him and seeing things the other way. To be honest, Jamie never knew what kind of man her father was. All she knew was that – "We lived somewhere in Russia. It was cold all the time but we were safe there. Or, he thought we were. I guess the world didn't like his that much. Steve came to visit and I had been locked in the closet. He found Ceceilia with her throat slit in the bathtub and his body in the living room. His head is still missing – some sick bastard must have taken it as a trophy."

Bucky could say nothing. He had been hoping for some cute childhood memories, not this terror of a story. Jamie shrugged her shoulders. "Steve took me in and raised me as my own. I was too young to really remember my parents, but old enough to know that Steve wasn't my dad. Grant and the others hadn't been born yet so he told the Avengers that he and Sharon adopted me. I grew up knowing that the truth was dangerous. That being the daughter of a terrorist made me a terrorist, too, in the sick eyes of the big, bad world. It doesn't matter who my father was or what he did. Kids should be innocent, but I wasn't. I was guilty of some crime I could never come to understand."

"I'm sorry." Bucky's mouth was dry. Jamie was so calm about the whole ordeal, but somehow Bucky knew it wasn't because she was still in shock. No, Jamie was just like this, noble, quiet, real. She offered him a small smile.

"No, I'm sorry. I can't give you what you're looking for." Her gaze panned out, her eyes searching for something neither of them could see. When she spoke again, her voice was soft. "I remember traces of them. Warm smiles, kind eyes. I remember being cold and being okay with it because I had two loving parents. I don't remember terrorism or crazy nights when he would have nightmares. But that's what people told me happened, that's how they convinced me that he wasn't a safe person. And Cecelia was his prisoner."

Bucky's jaw set, hard. "I loved Cecelia with all my heart," he gasped out, feeling tears begin to rise in his eyes. Jamie focused on him with soft blue eyes – exact replicas of his own.

"Then tell me; are you a terrorist?"

Silence filled the room. Everything was bright, unfortunately. The long windows let in enough light until it stretched to every corner and nothing was left out. Clint just wanted to be left out. Bright things were happy. He was not a happy man.

This was not a happy occasion. She's dying. His head hung in perpetual anguish, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought the urge to punch until his hands were broken. He leaned against the wall, pressed his hot forehead against it, forced himself to breathe deeply.

When it had first happened, when she had first gone down, Clint had never left her side. As the invasion got worse, he held her hand tighter. He didn't want to leave her, but he had to. He had to because it was never supposed to be her. She was stronger than he, stronger than Cap and Stark and all the stray Mutants combined. But she had been one of the first to fall.

So he had gone out with a suicide vengeance. Because maybe, just maybe, he could land himself the cot next to hers and they could dream together again, like they used to when everything was simpler. But he just couldn't seem to die.

He felt like he was constantly letting her down. He visited her less, each day staying closer and closer to the doorway so he could turn and just walk away. He hated seeing the disappointment on her face. He didn't hold her hand anymore, scared the she would pull away, didn't kiss her forehead or share his thoughts because; what if she didn't want to hear what came out of his lying mouth?

But he missed her. Missed the feeling of her skin on his. Missed her judging looks and their inside jokes. He missed the way her laugh sounded, the way her hair shone more vibrant than the whole autumn season. He missed holding her hand.

So he gave in. He stood up from his stoop just past the doorway and made it to her cot. He pulled the chair close and sat down, hesitantly reaching for her.

He fell asleep holding Natasha's limp hand.

Why the World Sucks: The Truth Through the Eyes of Phineas M. Lehnsherr

Entry 1,472

Hey, sis. We don't talk much anymore. The world is a suckier place because of it. I'm sorry I upset you, but that's the way the world works sometimes.

I miss your smiling face.

I miss your kind words.

Just talk to me.

- Phineas. (I love you)

Steve had been looking for Bucky for hours. It was beginning to worry him, especially since they were due for a patrol soon and Bucky wasn't in his room sleeping. Steve had checked everywhere that Bucky would have rationally been, but no one had seen him anywhere. Disappearing was not an uncommon thing around here, but it usually didn't mean very good things.

It wasn't uncommon for Bucky to have nightmares when he slept. He would often be found sitting in front of a big window, looking out over the expansive broken cityscape. Steve would usually be called to help him reorientate himself, especially given the fact that they really didn't need the threat of the Winter Soldier on top of everything that was going on. Bucky technically wasn't fully stable yet, and they had no idea of what might set him off. He had proven to be a huge help during all of this, but Steve could tell everyone was still a bit weary.

So it was to Steve's surprise when he found Bucky talking to Jamie in the dark room they had decided to store Grant in while he tried to heal. They were just sitting, Jamie holding Grant's hand as Bucky leaned against the bed, his eyes drooping lazily and the ghost of a smile hinting on his lips. Steve was relieved to see him that way. By now everyone knew about the weird situation of Jamie being the Bucky's daughter and not Steve's, but Bucky had felt so awkward about it that he refused to talk to her. He wanted to say sorry, but Steve told him that it wasn't his fault. Bucky thought everything was his fault. It made Steve angry, but then he just felt sad.

"Buck," Steve said calmly as he leaned in the doorway. Bucky looked up from Jamie to meet Steve's gaze and Jamie turned her attention to him as well, slightly catching Steve off-guard. Blue eyes weren't an uncommon thing. Lots of people had them. Bucky had them, Steve had them, Jamie seemed to have them too – the exact same shade and shape as Bucky's, as it happened to be. A small smile erupted onto his face.

"You can still catch a few hours before we go out," he hinted to his friend, watching as Bucky smiled sheepishly and nodded.

"I guess I just got carried away." Steve felt like he had been stabbed. It was the happiest stab wound he would ever receive and he welcomed it with open arms. Bucky didn't get carried away. He hid himself away and barely opened up to Steve. He looked at Jamie, smiling warmly at her and wanting to just crush her in a hug and thank her. He wouldn't ask what they had talked about, that seemed too private.

Instead, he nodded his head to Grant. "And he's?"

She smiled up at him, looking to Bucky and then to her brother, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "He's alive." Steve nodded and comfortableness washed around the room. Jamie returned the nod and smiled down at the unconscious body, nodding to herself in some sort of reassurance.

Bucky stood up to leave. Jamie turned to say goodbye when Grant's chest heaved and his eyes snapped open. They all watched, astonished, as color seemed to ooze into his skin, painting him until he was the young man he used to be. His eyes looked around wildly until they focused on Jamie was hurried to grab onto him, exclaiming as he began to breathe and smile vaguely.

Bucky looked to Steve and they walked over together, coming to stand by the edge of the cot. Grant briefly ran his eyes over Steve, and his gaze stopped when he saw Bucky. The power in his weak eyes was enough to make Bucky turn away. He left the room without another word, which seemed to satisfy Grant who returned his attention to his now crying older sister.

"Hey," his voice was week and screechy, skipping a few notes as he lay his head back into the pillows. Steve watched with interest, a mixture of feelings running through his heart as Jamie scoffed through her tears.

"You idiot," she cried, "I fucking told you not to come."

Edie was doing worse for wear. Between being furious at her brother for hating their father – who did nothing wrong – and now having random spasm attacks during the night; she pretty much hated life.

Why the World Sucks: The Truth Through the Eyes of Eden R. Lehnsherr

Entry 1

Everything hurts and my brother has to be added to the growing list of everybody who has betrayed me.

She didn't talk to him much anymore. She continuously scrolled through his entries as he did his own thing, debating whether or not she should disobey him and read his locked ones. 'I put a lock and password on them to keep you out.' It was funny, really, that he would think she wouldn't know his password.

She didn't hate her brother. She was hurt, undeniably so, but she could never hate him. Not when he was the one single person out there who still cared for her. But Edie knew she could never get past his words. Erik Lehnsherr was no murder. He had been a saint. He had sacrificed himself for the good of his people.

Phin had been raised to support his kind. Their father would have been so disappointed. You can't blame Phin for this, Dad, she thought, closing her eyes through the pain to pray to her father. He can never understand because he isn't one of us. His gene stayed dormant, his mind became closed and he forgot what it means to be Mutant and he learned to be ordinary. Her eyes opened, casting sideways to where Phineas' laptop lay within her reach.

Maybe she had been unfair. If it really wasn't Phin's fault for – dare she say hatting? – their father, then Edie was the only one left who could make him see the truth. If his mind was clouded, then she would clear it. Erik Lehnsherr was a hero, and Edie would make sure he believed that with every fiber of his body before she died. Which didn't leave her a lot of time. Edie wasn't a stupid girl, she knew enough to tell when her life began slipping away about a week ago. She would have a lot of convincing to do, but first she would need to see when it all began. She reached for the laptop. It took no time at all.

Why the World Sucks: The Truth Through the Eyes of Phineas M. Lehnsherr

Entry 1

So I guess this is a new thing. The world kinda sucks. Like, majorly. But I can't tell anyone about it because no one would believe me.

I'm Magneto's son. You think that's a fun thing to say? I hate being the son of a terrorist. My father strikes fear into people's hearts and calls it necessity. Calls it fair. Just. He's a joke.

I turned 16 today. Still no powers. Dad kept looking at me, with this weird hopefulness in his eyes. Hate to break it to you; I've got a dormant X-gene. As the hours passed on and nothing happened, he got more and more disappointed. I could see it in his face. He's never looked at me like he looks at Edie. They idolize each other.

She's only eight. It's not like she knows any better. I've known about my father for a while now. Probably since I was twelve and we started to realize that my powers weren't coming through. I think that was a fear of my father's for a long time after she was born. What if the great Magneto had two disappointments for a legacy? Normal children were usually gifts from God himself to a Mutant.

Dad would have just thrown us out. I'm a little amazed I'm still here, if I'm being honest. I think he hasn't kicked me out yet because Edie seems to like me a real lot. And I have Mom's eyes. Edie has Dad's eyes. Edie has Dad's everything.

Her powers came through when she was five. It made Dad ecstatic. Never mind me, the worthless son; his precious baby girl could make quarters float. Even before she was born, when Dad found out he was having a daughter, he instantly loved her more.

I don't hate you, Edie. I resent you. But it's not your fault life is like this. I think as you grow up you'll come to find that it's quite unfair. I want to tell you the truth. The stories of what he's done. What he calls justice. But you're only eight, and I don't know what would be more damaging to you – letting you idolize this monster forever or break the news too soon and have him turn on you. I don't ever want to see him look at you like he looks at me. Like I'm worthless.

I'm normal, why can't he just let me go? Why can't Mom still be alive so she can take me away? I'm not scared of him – that would be stupid. I won't let him scare me. I won't ever give him the satisfaction.

You hear that, Dad? I'm not scared of you. And I never will be.

The walk home had been pretty silent. Tori and Roy had taken Rayne back to the safe house and not much else had been spoken since. Between Roy's little outburst earlier – as it turns out, no one really believed he was fine – and Roy's little anger management freak-out about the gravity, neither boy had a thing to say.

Tori was on his skateboard a good block ahead of Roy, both swords strapped to his back. Everything Tori did seemed effortless. Roy wondered if that came with being part Asgardian, or if the kid just had 'it'.

To be honest, he was still a bit confused about the whole gravity situation. Alarm bells were going off in his head about a lot of other things, too, but Roy figured he had spoken enough for today so he frantically ran around trying to shut them all off. The constant ringing was giving him quite the headache. It make his wish he was part robot so he could just unplug or power down. Ctrl alt delete the past week.

Did he regret coming? Only because he could die at any second. Otherwise, no, not really. Sure, he hadn't quite expected things to fold out the way they did, but he wasn't complaining much. He wished Jamie was in her right mind. He missed her annoying words of wisdom and effortlessly perfect hair. Carly? Well, he tried to just not think about her. He figured she got in quite a lot of trouble with her pops, but he doubted she thought about him on a regular basis. Which really sucked. Roy wasn't even friend zoned. Carly jus straight up didn't like him. Talk about a blow to the ego.

He hadn't been watching where he was walking. He bumped right into Tori's back and pushed him forward on his skateboard. He rolled away a couple of feet as Roy grew alert, watchful for any Stinger that might have snuck through. He saw nothing.

"Tori?" Roy scratched his head. There was a flicker of light off to his right and he raced to catche glimpse of it but it disappeared before he could fully turn his head.

"They're sending another portal," Tori whispered, his face absolutely horrified. There was commotion above them on the other side of the magnetic fields. Roy grinned for a fraction of a second.

"Isn't that good?" Tori spun on him.

"Why do you think we closed it so fast the first time? Why do you think I can't just ask Heimdall to open the Bifrost and send Einherjar?" Roy was dumbfounded.

"Uh, half of that made sense?" He shrugged his shoulders as another flash of light went off in the sky. Tori bristled.

"Those creatures know what it is. They can sense the opening and they fight harder to get through. A portal like that, they swarm at it. If it opens here, it must open somewhere else, right? It's just another doorway to another planet they can invade. Thankfully whoever's on your side is sending it below the fields. The Bifrost would have to go through the fields, right through where they're all waiting. It would be the galaxy's biggest fish barrel. If that happens…" Tori trailed off, and Roy felt his skin pale three shades.

"Right," he squeaked, "portal, bad. That's all you had to say."

Tori wasn't in the mood for jokes. "We have to get Jace. He's the only one who has closed a portal before."

Roy nodded, pushing him forward. "Well, then give me the skateboard! You're the son of Fandral—run!" Tori nodded and took off, Roy barely having the chance to blink.

"Hah, cool," Roy grinned, examining the board before slowly trailing after. Flashes of light erupted all around him – he wanted nothing more than to be ecstatic. This could be the way home. This could be reinforcements. This could be any number of things, but they had to make sure it never happened.

A full-fledged portal opened in front of Roy and he swerved to the side, watching at it closed and reopened a few feet away. The sky was going crazy.

"It's like Chicken Little up in here," Roy snorted, momentarily forgetting that he was alone. He swallowed thickly, letting a slow breath out. There was no way Tori would get Jace and find the portal on time. It needed to be closed, and it needed to be closed now.

"Someone please find my body before those nasty things do," he whispered, closing his fists and chasing after the line of portals opening before him. He eagerly tapped his foot, drawing every ounce of strength he could muster from his body. He often heard of people wanting to die a heroic death, but, if he was being perfectly honest; it didn't feel like being heroic was worth dying for.

Almost as if he knew it was going to be the right one, a new portal opened directly in front of him and he opened his arms with it. With an excruciating yell Roy closed his hands in a snapping motion, watching as it flickered out of existence and Roy's unconscious body fell forward into a puddle of gross apocalypse water.