Last But Not Least

~Prologue~

Stay with me...

***

Donald Davenport ran around the lab, flustered and exhausted as he attempted to keep the youngest of the three bionic superhumans' vitals steady, for he'd been unstable since he was born. The little boy was never conscious, and he would constantly stop breathing or skip a heartbeat or his blood pressure would plummet, leaving Donald afraid and flustered as he tried everything in his power to save the boy.

It was a different story, the little boys past. He was born abnormally small but the doctors were too blind to notice how out of hand it soon got. Donald took the boy home with him and he gave him bionics, something the little boy was keen to master.

Unfortunately, Donald noticed how mentally ill the boy became, until the point where his life was hanging by a thread, that could easily snap at any moment. He was never conscious and to ensure his safety, Donald kept him in his capsule, where he could monitor the boys every movements and heart rate, just to keep the boy alive.

"Daddy?" Donald turned in surprise to see his daughter subject B or Bree, he decided to name her standing beside him, tugging at his pant leg. She was looking directly at him with her big brown eyes and the concern and confusion in her expression was completely visible, as she shifted her vision from her father to her little brother in the capsule.

Donald crouched to his knees to become eye level with his three year old daughter, holding her hand in his as he cleared his throat, hoping to finish helping his son. "Yes princess?"

"What's wrong with him?" She asked, her voice fragile as she stared at the unconscious little boy in a capsule at the end of the room. She pointed to him, her stubby finger showing where he was as she stared at him, her mind unable to comprehend why he was hurt.

"Oh, well he's just sleeping." Donald was quick to answer, a fake smile plastered on his face as he stood up, still holding his little girls hand in his.

"But daddy, he's been sleeping for-" she stopped to count, letting go of her fathers hand to use her fingers. "-five days!" She exclaimed, holding up seven fingers. Although her math was wonky, her concern was charming and adorable, as she stared helplessly at her little brothers pale complexion.

Donald sighed, walking Bree over to the play room (which he built for more space in the cramped lab), much to her dissaproval. "Yeah, honey. It might be hard for you to understand at your age but he's just..." He paused, picking his words carefully as he stared into his daughters eyes. "... sick. He'll be better soon."

Bree's face lit up and she squealed in excitement, her high pitched voice echoing throughout the lab. She hugged Donald's leg tightly and he smiled as he saw his daughters happiness towards the good health of his little boy.

"I can't wait to finally meet him!" Bree exclaimed, running further into the big room. "We'll be best friends!"

Donald smiled to himself and wiped the sweat from his forehead, combing his hair out of his face as he returned to his sons state, fragile and on the verge of breaking.

A ding was sounded and the elevator door opened, revealing an unhappy Douglas Davenport, Donald's brother, who sauntered into the room, his face a mixture of confusion and despair as his brain worked overtime to resolve the issue eating him alive.

Donald looked to his brother as soon as he heard footsteps and his face lit up ever so slightly as he rushed to his brother, his mind unable to resolve his giant problem, the one keeping his son alive.

"Douglas!" Donald breathed, looking at Douglas helplessly as he steered his brother to his laptop, which he stored the information about his kids, but more importantly his youngest sons heart rate or any abnormal activity in his vitals. "I need your help."