Big City Hero UNOFFICIAL BOOK TWO

Chapter Ten: Falling.

At this exact moment, I don't feel like a superhero. I feel more like I'm seven again and just got grounded because I took a running leap off the top of the staircase. Don't judge, I was trying to play superhero and I took it a bit far.

And all because my Uncle Max decided that three in the morning was not a good time to conduct a precise experiment with a limited amount of Charlie's blood. Now I must wait. And I am not in the mood to wait.

I was wide awake, way too hyped up to fall asleep, laying on my uncle's worn-out couch and trying to pass the time. I could hear Uncle Max snoring away in his room, rattling the random pictures on the randomly painted walls of his home.

Okay, I may have over-exaggerated his snoring, because he doesn't actually snore but with super hearing, he may as well have been. And speaking about over-exaggerating things about Uncle Max, remember when I said that he has a potbelly? Let's just pretend that I said he has a panbelly. Not an actual, potbelly. Just a little thick around the middle.

You're probably wondering why I'm even here in the first place. Well, you see, Uncle Max used to work at HQ as a scientist. As a result, he knows all. Don't ask how he knows, he just does. It's probably that scientist brain of his deducing everyone's secret identities. In any case, HQ still uses him for special projects, like this one.

I glanced at the time and sighed. It was a little after four and even though it can be considered morning, according to Uncle Max morning doesn't happen until the sun actually rose. Meanwhile, I must lay here and be quiet.

That lasted about ten seconds.

Restless, I jumped to my feet and turned on a dim light so I could have a proper snoop around his rather bland living room.

On one horrendous green wall were several pictures of a young twenty-something-year-old Uncle Max with a very pregnant woman standing next to him, both of them wore beaming smiles. It wasn't hard to guess that they were excited to start a family.

In the next picture, she was caught mid-laugh, her blondish brown hair was in a messy horsetail. Blue paint was on the tip of her freckled nose and splattered all over her clothes. I smiled, practically hearing her laughter.

My smile soon turned to a frown because nestled in a black frame was a fuzzy picture. It wasn't like the others, it wasn't an ecstatic Uncle Max holding his newborn son or a picture of all of them together. It was Uncle Max, sad and withdrawn, holding a crying baby in a dark hospital room. There wasn't even a trace of a smile on his face.

"What happened?" I whispered to myself, raising my hand and touching the cold glass.

"She died giving birth to him."

I jerked back with a gasp and spun around to find Uncle Max standing behind me. "Your wife?"

He nodded his head. "And his little sister."

I looked back at the picture, my frown increasing. "Twins. Like Ben and me?"

There was a second of hesitation before a shaky breath was sucked in. "Yeah, like you and your brother."

"What happened to him?"

When Uncle Max didn't respond, I turned back around and frowned at him, barely able to see his face clearly in the dull light. "Did your son die, too?" I asked.

"No," he said, his voice cracked. He shook his head slightly and sighed deeply. "I tried to keep him. I really tried. But every time I saw him, I was reminded of what I lost and not what I gained. I gave him up soon after that picture was taken."