MTL NOVEL Chapter 46: Chapter 46: "Family Glow and Father’s Light"
The gym's shadowed stillness exhaled a faint creak of rusted beams and worn mats, Jade's steady flame a quiet hum as Jake sat on the bench, the Mask resting beside him. Its faint green glow pulsed soft in the dimness, Jen's silhouette a green anchor by the door—firm, warm, a tether he didn't lean on but felt all the same. Jade sat cross-legged on the mat, her green skin catching the dim light—steady, not flaring, just there—watching her sister with a mix of curiosity and care, her hand brushing the younger girl's arm. The new girl—small, green-skinned, eyes wide with his own manic light—curled beside her, chaos-streaked fur fading, Jen's murmur—"You're leading, Jake—both of 'em now"—settling into his chest like a weight he'd sparked and now held. "Light," he muttered, voice low, the word tasting real—his kids, Jen's kids, flares he'd lit and now had to guide.
Flatbush wasn't trembling tonight—the air hung soft and thick, green and emerald pulses dimmed across the skyline, leaving the gym a quiet haven in the city's bruised sprawl. Beyond the boarded windows, Church Avenue stretched silent—brownstones loomed like weary watchers, their stoops bare, streetlights casting faint pools of sodium over the chaos-scarred pavement. The younger girl shifted, her small hand brushing Jake's knee—not grabbing, just resting—a spark syncing with his own, her glow pulsing faint—steady, not wild—just there, a hum he recognized—his chaos, hers, Jade's—simmering low.
He didn't rush—no chaos, no flare—just leaned back, hands loose on the bench, glancing at Jade sidelong. "Alright," he said, voice rough but soft, watching them both—Jade steady, her sister fragile—his kids, his echoes. "You're aiming—moving it now. She's with us—another spark. What's her green saying?" Jade tilted her head, her jaw tightening—a flicker of Jen's resolve, his wildness tempered—her hands flexing, the green glow pulsing faint, then brighter, like she was tuning it. "Soft," she said, voice steady, not a kid's lilt but something forged—Jen's grit, his fire—her eyes flicking to her sister. "Buzzing low—still off, but gentle. Like she's waiting—watching too."
The gym's hush pressed in—weights racked crookedly along the walls, the punching bag sagging in the corner, Flatbush's quiet a cocoon around them. He shifted, settling onto the mat beside them—the younger girl curling closer, her glow pulsing faint, weaving through her skin like threads caught in a breeze—watching her with those eyes—his eyes—sharp and green, daring him to stay. "Waiting," he said, voice quieter now, tasting the hum—Jade and her sister, his daughters, not just flares but guides, echoing his chaos with purpose. "For what—us?"
Jade nodded, slow, her hand brushing her sister's—not grabbing, just resting—a spark syncing with his own, the chaos steadying—not wild, not loud—just there, a hum she held like a thread. "Yeah," she said, voice low, deliberate—Jen's law, his wildness, finding rhythm—her eyes narrowing as she tracked it. "Feels off—wrong, but soft. Like she's caught—waiting for us to move it. Been watching—listening—since she woke." She paused, her hand edging closer—brushing his—a spark he hadn't asked for but couldn't dodge now.
The younger girl stirred—small, green-skinned, eyes blinking open—sharp, green, like Jade's, like his—chaos caught in her frame, pulsing faint—a quiet flare waking slow—not wild, not loud—just there, reaching up, her hand brushing Jake's—not grabbing, just resting—warm, real, a spark syncing with his own. "Soft," she said again, voice faint, not a kid's lilt but something fragile—Jen's warmth, his chaos, finding a thread—her eyes flicking to Jade—sharp, green, steady—Jen's steel, his wildness, daring them to stay.
Jen stepped closer from the doorway, her heat brushing them, a quiet smile breaking through—grit and warmth, a steady edge cutting through—settling onto the mat beside them—not pushing, just there—her hand resting on Jake's shoulder, her other brushing the girl's hair—steady, warm, a tether in the dark. "She's got your touch," she said, voice a murmur, glancing at the girl—past the green, the chaos, to the kid with his eyes, her fire, daring them to stay. "Jade's guiding—she's following. You're leading, Jake—both of 'em now."
He exhaled, slow and sharp, the weight settling—Jade and her sister, his kids, not just chaos but a why, a hum he'd sparked and now tuned—reaching out, guiding Jade's hand—not pushing—just there—steadying her grip—moving slow, not rushing—just guiding, Jade beside him, Jen at his side—the girl's green fading, quiet now—his chaos, hers, steadying under their touch. "Alright," he said, voice rough but steady—meeting their gazes—past the green, the chaos, to the kids who'd dared him to stay—watching Jade settle beside her sister—her glow dimmed—quiet, not broken—just there, resting. "You're aiming—moving it. Guess I'm here—showing you how—both of you."
The gym's quiet wrapped them—weights racked crookedly, the punching bag still, Flatbush's hush pressing in like a held breath—Jade's hand brushing his—not grabbing, just resting—warm, real, a spark syncing with his own—the girl's hand brushing his other—not pushing—just there—soft, fragile, a hum he'd sparked and now held—Jen's hand on his shoulder—not pressing—just there—steady, warm, a tether in the dark—She-Hulk's fire, a quiet strength cutting through—grit and warmth, a steady edge daring him to stay.
The Mask hummed, low and smug: "Twenty-six and counting, kid. The sparks are glowing—gonna lead 'em?" He stood, the gym a sanctuary of quiet ruin and glowing shadows, Flatbush a battlefield of green and emerald—his kids, his chaos, simmering low—She-Hulk's fire—the world trembled under his legacy. Thanos loomed, SHIELD hunted, and the X-Men watched. He gripped the Mask, grin sharp as a steady spark—Jade beside him, her sister in his arms—his kids, his why—"Time to nurture the flame."