MTL NOVEL Chapter 48: Chapter 48: "Street Test and Growing Light"
The gym's shadowed hush carried a faint creak of rusted beams as Jake stood, brushing dust from his jeans, the Mask a quiet weight in his pocket. Jen lingered near the door, her green silhouette steady in the dimness—warm, solid, a presence he didn't cling to but couldn't overlook. Jade rose beside him, her green skin catching the faint glow, her posture calm—her hand hovering near her sisters', a bond weaving between them. The two younger girls—small, green-skinned, eyes wide with his own restless spark—shifted on the mat, their chaos-streaks faded, tiny hands brushing his legs—sparks he'd lit and now cradled. "Test," he muttered, voice low, the word tasting firm—his kids, Jen's kids, lights he'd sparked and now had to guide.
Flatbush lay quiet tonight—the air thick and still, green pulses faint across the skyline, leaving Church Avenue a hushed thread in the city's worn tapestry. Beyond the gym's boarded windows, brownstones stood silent, their stoops empty, streetlights spilling soft pools of light over cracked pavement. Jade tilted her head, catching a sound—a low rumble, not chaos, not thunder—just a murmur threading through the stillness. "Hear that?" she said, voice steady, edged with Jen's grit, his fire simmering beneath—her eyes flicking to the window, then back to him, daring him to move.
He nodded, slow—hands sliding into his pockets—listening—the rumble pulsed faint, weaving through the night—not wild, not an explosion—just a hum, steady and growing, tugging at the quiet. "Yeah," he said, voice rough but soft—glancing at her, then the girls—Jade firm, her sisters fragile—his kids, his echoes—his why. "Something's out there—moving. What's your green saying?" Jade's hands flexed, a faint glow shimmering—her sisters mirroring her, tiny palms pulsing soft—her gaze sharpening as she tuned it, a hum syncing with his own.
"Buzzing," she said, voice low—her eyes narrowing—Jen's resolve in her tone—his wildness threading through—"Low—close—like it's waiting—pushing up slow." The older sister—the eight-year-old—shifted, her voice a whisper—fragile, warm—"Close"—her hand brushing Jake's knee—Jen's strength, his chaos—finding a thread—the younger—the six-year-old—curled tighter, her voice softer—"Close"—her hand brushing his other—Jen's warmth, his spark—finding a rhythm.
Jen stepped closer—her heat brushing them—her smile faint but steady—grit cutting through—kneeling beside them—her hand settling on Jake's shoulder—solid, a quiet anchor—her other brushing the younger girl's hair—Jen's resolve, his fire—guiding without pushing—"They're feeling it," she said, voice a murmur—glancing at Jake—her eyes steady—Jen's steel, his wildness—daring him to lead—"Something's out there—calling 'em. You're guiding—show 'em how."
He exhaled—sharp and slow—the weight settling—Jade and her sisters—his kids—not just chaos but a hum—a why he'd sparked and now tuned—standing—moving slow—not rushing—just guiding—Jade beside him—her sisters in his arms—not heavy—not wild—just there—Jen rising—her boots a soft echo—following—not leading—just there—his kids—his why—"Alright," he said—voice rough but steady—stepping toward the door—"Let's find it—move it—together—what's it waiting for?"
The air hung thick—Flatbush's quiet stretched—brownstones casting long shadows across Church Avenue—the gym's glow fading behind them as they stepped onto the pavement—Jade matching his stride—her sisters curling closer—small hands brushing his chest—Jen's steps a quiet rhythm—not pushing—just there—the rumble pulsing louder—not wild—not loud—just steady—weaving through the block—a hum threading through the dark—drawing them toward a narrow alley—green tendrils curling faint from a storm drain—pulsing soft—not an explosion—just a shimmer—alive—calling.
They stopped—Jake crouching—the tendrils pulsed stronger—green—sharp—threading up from the drain—curling around a rusted grate—not snapping—not tearing—just shifting—pushing slow—a shape beneath—Jen kneeling beside him—her heat brushing them—Jade crouching—her hand hovering—her green glow pulsing—syncing with the tendrils—her sisters shifting in his arms—small hands brushing his—warm—a hum syncing with his own—"Feel it?" he said—voice low—meeting Jade's gaze—Jen's steel, his wildness—daring him to stay—Jen's hand brushing his shoulder—not pushing—just there—steady—warm—a tether in the dark—her eyes flicking to the grate—Jen's resolve—his fire—guiding without rushing—just there.
Jade's eyes narrowed—her glow steadying—"Yeah," she said—voice low—Jen's grit—his fire—finding a tune—"Feels off—wrong—but soft—like it's caught—waiting—pushing up—watching us." The older sister whispered—"Up"—her voice fragile—Jen's warmth—his chaos—finding a thread—the younger echoed—"Up"—her voice softer—Jen's steel—his spark—finding rhythm—Jake nodded—slow—the weight settling—Jade and her sisters—his kids—not just chaos—an echo—a hum he'd sparked and now tuned—reaching out—guiding Jade's hand—not pushing—just there—easing the grate aside—the tendrils pulsing stronger—green—sharp—threading up—a shape beneath—not wild—not loud—just there—a figure—small—green-skinned—eyes blinking open—sharp—green—like Jade's—like his—chaos caught in her frame—pulsing faint—a girl—younger—maybe five—waking slow—tangled in his green—another spark—his kid—not just Jade—not just her sisters—but another—waiting.
Jen's breath caught—her heat brushing them—her smile faint—grit and warmth—her hand tightening on his shoulder—Jen's steel—his wildness—daring him to stay—"Another," she said—voice a murmur—glancing at Jake—her eyes steady—Jen's resolve—his fire—guiding without pushing—just there—"Ours—your chaos—my strength—been quiet—waiting too." Jade's hand brushed the new girl—her glow syncing—steadying—the chaos softening—her sisters shifting—small hands brushing Jake's—not pushing—just there—warm—real—sparks syncing with his own—Jade's eyes flicking to Jake—Jen's steel—his wildness—daring him to lead—"She's like us—waiting—what's next?"
He exhaled—slow—the weight settling—Jade—her sisters—now another—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—easing her grip—lifting the new girl—small—fragile—her glow fading—quiet now—his chaos—hers—steadying under their touch—Jade beside him—her sisters in his arms—Jen at his side—his kids—his why—"Next," he said—voice rough but steady—meeting their gazes—Jen's steel—his wildness—daring him to stay—"We move it—aim it—together—you're my lights—guess I'm your guide too."
Flatbush's quiet stretched—brownstones casting long shadows—the gym's glow a faint heartbeat—Jade steady—her sisters fragile—Jen's hand on his shoulder—warm—a tether—he stood—the alley a sanctuary of quiet ruin and glowing tendrils—his kids—his chaos—simmering low—She-Hulk's strength—grit cutting through—the world trembled under his legacy—Thanos loomed—SHIELD hunted—the X-Men watched—he gripped the Mask—grinning sharp—Jade beside him—her sisters in his arms—his kids—his why—"Time to guide the light."