Chapter Forty-One:
Tyron had his hands outstretched as Rashaad dribbled the ball back and forth. "C'mon, take a shot," he teased the boy who frowned and then ducked under his arm, and aimed for the basket.
Tyron was fast, moving down and hitting the ball away just before it reached the rim. It bounced a few feet before rolling out of the court. Rashaad ran to go get it shot a stink eye at Tyron.
"This ain't fair," he mumbled. "You're tall."
"Want me to go easier?" Tyron asked and Rashaad huffed, shaking his head. He came back on the court and Tyron defended, his arms blocking Rashaad's movement. "C'mon, there's always a way out," Tyron said, watching the boy as the gears began to twist in his head. "Think."
After a minute, he moved. He feigned right and pushed his way under Tyron's arm. Then, he aimed up his sights with the basket and shot. It landed, teetering around the rim before conceding and falling in.
"Aye!" Tyron grinned, slapping him on the back before he could grab the ball. "Nice work, kid."
"Thanks!" Tyron smiled and held his hand out.
"Let's take a break. Ya want food?" Rashaad nodded, and Tyron tossed the ball into the basket on the other side of the room. The simulation was over and Tyron pried the headset off his head.
"Lemme text Tony an' tell 'im wha' I think, then we can go up an' eat." Rashaad agreed and jumped off the couch to go to his bedroom. Tyron continued to text the billionaire his results.
To Tony from Tyron: 'the graphics gave me a headache,' he wrote. 'but it's realistic so cool.'
To Tyron from Tony: 'What about the layout? How did it feel?'
To Tony from Tyron: 'well... it felt like a real court and the physics were tight. it didnt lag or anything so is that good?'
To Tyron from Tony: 'Fine for now. I'll get more info later. Thanks, kid.'
To Tony from Tyron: 'np.'
Tyron put the translucent phone away and Rashaad came from his room. While they were in the simulation, he decided to wear athletic clothes, just to make it look realistic. Now, he was back to his huge shirt with a company name Tyron didn't recognize and baggy sweatpants. They definitely had to be washed soon — they had began to smell.
"Ya good?" He nodded and Tyron stood, "Cool. C'mon," he walked to the elevator and a minute later, it came.
Tyron and Rashaad rode it to the penthouse and he stepped out to go to the kitchen. "So... What do ya want?" He asked. He was pretty sure Tony had whatever Rashaad would think up, but this was proven wrong. He asked for pancakes. Fresh pancakes.
"Pancakes?" Tyron frowned, crossing his arms and Rashaad nodded eagerly. Tyron sighed, "Okay, fine, fine." He went to the pantry to gather the materials and brought it to the counter. Rashaad sat across a from him, practically bouncing in his seat as Tyron stirred.
A few months had passed since the rally. Nobody wanted to keep the campaign going, not after what happened in New York. After the attack, Congress decided to revise the bill, saying that only people eighteen or older had to be registered. Anyone younger who had a criminal record was also to be registered too.
Tyron had to admit, this helped a little, but it also made him nervous. It was like setting a timer on his life. Tyron turned seventeen a few months ago, and after that, he would only have so much more time to live without fear of being taken away and imprisoned, despite living with Tony and the rest of the Avengers.
His classmates weren't helping this anxiety much either. Peter and Ned were being really supportive, although Ned was a little hurt he didn't tell him sooner. Michelle was being helpful in her own way, since she had an inkling of the things Tyron was going through at the moment. The teachers were also trying to be as supportive as they could, but they were a bit uneasy around him, and Tyron really couldn't blame them. They were indoctrinated with the belief that all mutants are evil. When they are Tyron, a hard-working kid who wasn't trying to sell drugs or rob a bank, they were a bit confused.
With the exception of those people, everyone else was trying to make Tyron's life hell. Someone scrawled 'MUTIE' in bold black ink on his locker. Someone else tried to trip him during lunch. They whispered about him, would throw their trash at him if he wasn't being careful, and tried to get him in trouble.
Tyron knew his stay in Midtown High was precarious. The only reason he chose the school was because of it's security, and Baron wouldn't suspect him going to a white school. Usually, you'd have to test into this schools, but Tony made a few arrangements so he got in despite not being at the same level of everyone else.
Tyron tried his best to stay well-behaved, especially after the Rally, just in case the administration decided to kick him out. He stayed caught up in his work, which was probably the hardest thing to do, but Peter helped him. And, most of all, he didn't show his mutation. If he tried to blend in, despite everyone knowing that he was a mutant, then nobody would try to get him kicked out.
Tyron let out a sigh and began to flip the pancakes on the stovetop. They were a golden crispy brown and Rashaad clapped eagerly. "Uh-huh, yeah, clap all ya want. S'a good thin' m'nice, kid." He muttered, putting it on a plate before pouring the rest of the batter.
Rashaad reached over to touch the pancakes, but Tyron slapped his hand away. "What are you two doing?" Steve asked, coming down the hall. He was in sweats and a white tee shirt, which had been soaked through.
"Pancakes for Rashaad," Tyron said, flipping the other and letting it sizzle.
Steve rose an eyebrow. "I thought you hated cooking. Didn't you say it smelt like garbage?"
"Yeah. It does. Still does," Tyron said, scraping the bottom of the pancake off the pan and sliding it onto the plate. "Eat up, kid."
Tyron moved and put the pan in the sink, spraying cold water on it and watching it sizzle as it cooled down. Steve stepped over as he wiped it clean before sticking it in the dishwasher. "So... I was thinking," Steve began.
"Really?" Tyron said, and Steve rolled his eyes.
"You're taking too much after Tony," He mumbled and Tyron laughed, then reached into one of the drawers across the counter labelled, 'FOR TYRON', and picked up a small rusty metal pan.
He took a bite and looked at Steve, waiting for him to continue. "Right, so, I was wondering. . . what's your real name?" Tyron blinked, and Steve continued. "From what I know about transgender, at least what Tony and the others explained, you were born a girl, but you decided to be a boy ― which is perfectly fine, I don't mind that. I was just curious what your given name was? I mean, it can't have always been Tyron, right?"
"Why?" Tyron asked, suddenly suspicious.
"No reason," Steve replied. "I was just curious. You don't have to answer if you don't want to, I wouldn't look at you different if you did ― I'd never do that ― but I was just thinking. . . I mean, if we wanted to open up more to each other, maybe you would tell me your name?"
Tyron frowned, taking another bite out of the pan, obviously stalling. Steve wasn't making him say anything, and Tyron really didn't want to say anything, but the Avengers were his family now, and he did want to be more transparent with them. What did Dr. Bek say again? "Scratching the surface"? He wanted to be able to share things with them, he'd be living with them for a while now.
"Why do I smell pancakes?" Tony said as he walked through the door into the kitchen. Then, he glanced at what was left on Rashaad's plate and grinned at him. "Didn't save me any?" He teased, messing with the younger boy's hair. Rashaad tried not to smile and gave a tough look, but Tyron could see it shining through and chuckled.
"I made pancakes for 'im," he explained, just putting the rest of the ingredients away and closing the door. "Sorry, jus' missed out."
"Don't worry about it," Tony shrugged, and sat at the barstool counter. "So, you said the simulator was. . ." he took out his phone and glanced at it. "'Overstimulating but realistic'?"
"What simulator?" Steve asked looking between Tyron and Tony.
"Jus' a device Tony made," Tyron said. "S'like that VR headset, but a lot smaller, but it's more condensed 'cause of it. Maybe make th' screen wider?" He suggested to Tony, who nodded, and began to type it on his phone. "And, the lightin' did look a little buggy, now tha' I think 'bout it. Th' shadows didn't look right in some places."
"Yeah, that might be the automated shadowing program that I have. It's not usually accurate which might cause a few bugs like that. I'll have to refine the program," Tony said, as he typed. "Anything else?"
Tyron shrugged, "Not that I can think of. Wha' do ya think, kid?" He looked at Rashaad to turned to Tony and gave two big thumbs up. Tony grinned and nudged him playfully.
"Thanks kiddo," He said sincerely. "That helps. Maybe, the next program will be flying? Or dragon fighting?" At the sound of the mythological creature, Rashaad beamed, nodding eagerly. "Flying it is!" Rashaad pouted and frowned pointedly at Tony, who only laughed in response.
Tyron smiled and shook his head, taking another few bites of his food. "You didn't answer my question, Tyron," Steve said and Tyron looked up, cheeks full of metal.
"Right!" He said and finished eating, "Sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck, and looked away, a bit embarrassed. "S'Tatyanna."
"Who's Tatyanna?" Tony asked.
"M'given name," Tyron said and then shrugged. "But, nobody really knows m'by tha' anymore."
"It's a pretty name," Steve said and Tyron nodded.
"I know. I might name m'kid tha', if I have kids," He shrugged. "Anythin' else? I was hopin' to stop by th' court down in Queens? Now that Zion an' Baron's out, s'a lot safer on th' streets."
This was true. It wasn't hard to find illegal weaponry, drugs, and other things of contraband on both of their estates. Even though Zion allegedly bought all his businesses and buildings legally, they were still seized and the dealers we arrested.
"Sure, go ahead," Tony said and Tyron grinned, glancing at Rashaad.
"Ya comin'? He asked the younger boy who smirked and nodded. Tyron knew he wouldn't come out on the court to play, he wasn't very athletic in that sense, but he did like to watch Tyron play, and Tyron didn't want to leave him out all together.
"I think I'll come too," Steve said and Tyron rose an eyebrow. "What?"
"Change first," he scolded and Steve rolled his eyes. "Meet us 'ere in 'bout twenty minutes, then we all can head out." Tyron turned to Tony and rose an eyebrow, "Don' s'pose ya wanna come too?"
Tony scoffed, shaking his head. "Please! Last time I went was already bad enough! I'll stay here, maybe send a drone after you to see how the games' going."
Tyron laughed and gave a quick nod, then he grabbed Rashaad's empty plate, rinsed it, and placed it in the dishwasher. "C'mon, 'Shaad," He said, waving the boy over. "I'll see ya down 'ere in twenty, Steve." He made his way to the elevator and stepped inside.
Steve waited until the doors closed before he spoke. "He's changed a lot since we first found him," he noted.
"A lot happened. It's been nearly a year," Tony shrugged and stretched. "Besides, wouldn't it be more worrying if he didn't change in a year's time? I mean, a year ago, he would never agree to seeing a shrink."
"A year ago, he'd never tell us his name," Steve agreed and Tony nodded, standing straight. "Let me go get ready. Tyron doesn't lie when he says to be here in twenty minutes."
Tony chuckled and stood, "Have fun playing ― what does he call it? ― 'B-Ball'." Steve laughed and Tony waved as he left the kitchen.