Finally, college exams are over and I can restart writing and updating my fanfictions. Sad thing is that next chapter is the last one...
(9 months later)
After an intense training session with a small group of Inhumans, Melinda was guiding Skye to hers and Phil's bunk, so that the girl could take a shower. Phil was most likely working in the office, and PJ would be sleeping in their room, in his crib. Phil Jr. was two-months-old and was a very calm baby, allowing his parents to be able to divide their time between work and family. They now permanently lived at The Cocoon, which also housed a few Inhumans that had no family or friends; all the others trained at the facility but lived a somewhat normal life outside the settlement.
Stark was now the new Director of SHIELD as Fury had been dismissed from his duties; he was now chasing after the remnants of HYDRA, to completely get rid of them. Well, he was also secretly building up the agency from scratch because seventy years of history cannot be wiped out just like that, not to mention that the front-line defender of SHIELD was Captain America, who made it clear that he wouldn't give up the fight. SHEILD needed to exist. The accords had been accepted and were now mandatory (for the Inhumans as well), and people all around the world were demanding to know how the governments were dealing with the Inhumans outbreak (someone people called it the Utterance of the Destiny and claimed that the end of the world was near). Despite all the changes that were happening, the Stark and Phil were still good friends.
Phil left SHIELD to fully dedicate himself to the Inhumans and he asked in a favor from Stark. He knew that Phil would fight for to keep his family safe, so he conceded the request. Stark Industries remodeled and equipped the entire Cocoon facility, creating proper training rooms and bunker rooms (some Inhumans had to live there), even providing them with an AI system, HELEN, which would help Phil and Rosalind handle things around The Cocoon. The two of them had created and led an independent and publicly-known agency that would only deal with Inhumans, the Superhuman Tactical Activities Response Squad – STARS, for short. Their main goals were to recruit, train, neutralize, contain or counter any superhuman threats around the world.
Whilst Phil and Rosalind handled the bureaucratic part, being Rosalind mainly in charge of controlling the agency's public matters and Phil of the internal affairs, Melinda and Banks handled the practical tasks; Banks led teams to pick up Inhumans from a bit everywhere across the globe and Melinda trained them. The four of the worked as a well-oiled machine and they all pulled in the same direction as they shared the same concerns and ideals.
"I'll run you a bath," Melinda said. "Don't wake PJ."
"Hi," Skye whispered, tiptoeing to press a kiss on her sleeping brother's forehead. "You're lucky, you know? All you do is eat and sleep. I have to train with mom and she makes me work hard. I know I have to work hard, but still…"
"C'mon, water's lukewarm," her mother called from the bathroom that was attached to the bunk room.
Skye skipped the few steps to the bathroom and quickly stripped off her clothes and entered the bathtub. Phil walked in the bunk, bringing a baby bottle with him. Hearing Skye and Melinda's voice coming from the bathroom, he gently opened the door and peeked inside.
"Banks says he might have a potential Inhuman case."
Melinda nodded, "I'll meet him after I finish bathing Skye."
"Alright. I'll be feeding PJ, so when that monkey is all washed up, I can get her a snack."
"Peanut butter sandwich, dad," Skye requested.
Phil smiled, "Noted."
Skye was washed and dressed in no time, and while Melinda went to look for Banks, Phil left PJ in his crib and went to the kitchen, to prepare a snack for Skye. The girl stayed with her little brother, lying face down in bed, making him smile by shaking his rattle toy. When PJ began to cry, Skye looked for his pacifier, put it in his mouth and quietly watched him, knowing that it wouldn't take long for him to fall back asleep.
The girl rolled over in bed, thinking of the frightening tale the boys had been telling her earlier, about a man who didn't make it to The Cocoon because he transformed into a monster and killed all the Inhumans he met along the way.
"HELEN?"
"Yes, Ms. Skye?" the AI's robotic voice answered.
"Is Lash really real?"
The AI responded, "Lash is an urban myth, therefore, not real."
"Are you sure?" the girl insisted.
"Positive."
Phil walked in the room and picked up his son in arms, "Sandwich's ready, Skye."
She lazily slid off bed and walked to the kitchen, her father following her suit, carrying his baby boy in arms.
"Are you alright?" Melinda asked as soon as the agents left the car.
Banks stopped, one foot inside the car, the other already touching the concrete floor, "Yes. Why do you ask?"
"You seem tense."
"I'm sorry if the idea of parents locking their teenage daughter in a garden shed because she's an Inhuman makes me a little tense," he said, shutting the door.
"I know when things are about children are harder, but this girl will need our support, so don't let on that you're upset."
The man sighed and ordered his men to walk to the house's front door, "I can't help it."
"I know." He looked back at Melinda, puzzled. "Rosalind's pregnant and you're worried."
"You sensed it?"
Melinda rolled her eyes, "Women's instinct, I suppose. My Inhuman powers don't go to that extent. And, if it matters anything to you, I think you're going to be a good father."
"Thank you. Now, let's focus on work again?"
"Of course."
While his agents arrested the parents, Banks walked to the garden shed and cracked the gray steel door open. It had no handle on the inside, and, on the wall, there was a ten-digit keypad with a red light snapping on and off. Other than the red light, there was only darkness. There was a faint background hum of a refrigerator. With the help of his flashlight, he started looking around at the small room. It had a reddish Persian-style rug on the floor, was ten foot a side, seven foot high, gabled ceiling rising to ten foot, a squared skylight on the ceiling, glimpsing only of the cloudy sky and the branch of the high tree.
"Hello? Anyone?" he called softly.
He noticed the dresser with a TV on top of it and the metal-framed bed with a rumpled bed sheet and a blanket at the foot of the bed. There was also a wardrobe with slatted louver doors on the corner of the room, a round dining table and a fold-up chair. That was the kitchen area, he realized. There was a small kitchen cabinet and a dish rack: two each of big and small white plates, bowls, tumblers, knives, forks, spoons (one with a melted handle), a scissors, can opener, serrated knife, wooden spoon, spatula, a basic stove (with folded rags on its handle, for pot holders), one frying pan and one saucepan. And, then there was the small refrigerator (with some books stacked on top) and a tiny trash by its side.
A bath with a single small towel over the side was placed at the other corner of the room. A toilet that didn't have a lid was right next to it, a sink, with a single worn toothbrush, toothpaste, dish soap, a broken comb, folded rags for washcloths.
A thud came from the wardrobe. Banks looked back at the agents and told them to stand by.
"Hello?" he tried again. "My name is Agent Banks and I'm with the Superhuman Tactical Activities Response Squad. Can you step out of the closet please?"
No response. Melinda then walked in the room, slowly, quietly.
"Raina," she gently called. "My name is Melinda May. I work with Agent Banks. I'm an Inhuman, just like you. Tell me, how are alright?"
"Yes," a tiny voice replied.
Banks stepped back and allowed Melinda to stand in front of the wardrobe. She could distinguish the silhouette of the teenager through the slatted louvers but couldn't tell much about her just yet.
"You've underwent a process called –"
"Terrigenesis," Raina told her. "I know. My grandmother told me the tales of the blue angels and how we are one of them."
"What else did she tell you?"
"That I'd be an angel, not some gnarled freak covered in thorns," she grumbled. "Even my parents locked me in here because they're ashamed of how I look."
"I'm sure you're making a making out of a molehill."
"You don't know how I look like."
"There's anything in this world that can surprise anymore." Melinda sighed, "Can you step outside, please?"
Raina eased the door of the wardrobe open and stepped out. She was wearing a hooded jacket, but upon looking at Melinda she removed the hoodie, revealing the black barbs that protruded from her head and face. She had no hair, her hands were clawed and her eyes golden, the pupils dark and big, resembling a feline's.
"You think I look hideous," Raina stated. "But nothing you say or think can put me down. I'm a survivor."
"I know you are. And you're too good to pity yourself."
"I know isolation, pain."
Melinda took a seat on the fold-up chair, "So do I. Think these powers didn't take some getting used to? Do you think that I didn't encounter adversities in my life? It took me a while to adjust, but once I realized my purpose, everything made sense. These gifts are deeply layered for people like us. Now I can go anywhere find our people, bring them together, help them."
"Well, what was the good in finding me?" the teenager sighed, sitting at the edge of the bed. "Because if I have a use, I don't know it."
"Yet. I will be your guide. People like us have to live differently, but it doesn't mean it can't be an amazing world. You know, I have a husband, human. We have two children; one is Inhuman, the other a hybrid. Things don't have to be bad for us just because we're different. So, do you let us help you?"
Raina covered her head with the hoodie again and walked to the door.