Genes and Tech

Shapeshifting Death

November 16th, 1965 3:00 pm

"Tony, I'm sorry," I tell him- no, plead- as he stares at me with a stricken look. "You deserve someone better than a girl who keeps standing you up, and I can't be that person no matter how hard I try. I don't deserve a person as perfect as you," I end, tears in my eyes before turning away and running to my dad's car. I'm sorry, Tony Rydinger.

Entering the car, Dad gives me a sorrowful look before pulling out of the parking space and driving out onto the road. "I'm sorry, Violet. This is the only way to protect him."

"I know, Dad," I answer before looking out the window to watch as we drive past everything. "How's everything at home?" At the mention of home, Dad grimaces, tightening his hold on the steering wheel slightly. Don't worry, he didn't leave dents. He didn't tighten his hold that much.

"Jack Jack is loving his superpowers a little too much," he murmurs before turning onto our street. Well, I can't see why he wouldn't be. He can shift his body even to the atomic level, so he can make his skin a substance that bursts into flames at the contact of oxygen, give himself abilities like mine or Dash's by adjusting his DNA, or simply transforming himself into an iron statue.

Good thing is, he can't maintain it for long. After about five minutes Jack Jack gets tired and he can't keep the shift up. Of course, five minutes is all the four year old needs to cause chaos. "Oh dear," I murmur as we finally pull into our driveway. "I hope Mom hasn't gone crazy." I leave the car and run inside, not surprised to see Mom using her elastic ability to keep what looks like two Dashes apart.

"Violet!" Mom calls out, her eyes glinting with anger as the two boys continue to try attacking each other. All over the house is a mess, looking like a tornado ran through it and I have to climb over and under many obstacles before I get to the group. When I finally make it, I nod to her and Mom puts one down, letting me put a force field around him.

"Alright," Mom growls, sighing afterwards and brushing some of her hair behind her ear. "Dash, how old are you?"

"Thirteen," Dash groans before sitting on the couch.

"How old is Jack-Jack?"

"Four." Dash folds his arms, scowling at the space in front of him.

"Dash, how much control did you have over your powers at his age?"

"Not much."

"And what is it I say about Jack-Jack mimicking other people's powers?"

"'It's encouraged', 'Let him gain better control of his powers', 'Leave him alone,'" Dash answers, sinking further into the couch.

"Yet what happens every time Jack-Jack starts mimicking your superspeed, Dash?"

The room is silent, Dash reluctant to answer until I release Jack-Jack for a whole half second, letting the angry four year old sprint up to attack the thirteen year old, scaring Dash. "I pick a fight with him, there!" Dash answers, terrified of the four year old who's finally starting to calm down. "Could you stop interrogating me now?" Mom nods slowly and Dash speeds out of there and I hold Jack Jack in place until he is fully calm. Then, Jack Jack turns back into his normal, little, red-headed self now panting from exhaustion. "Six minute record! I'm so proud of ya, little guy," Mom cheers as I take down my force field, the little boy sticking his tongue out at me.

"I've been pwacticing, Mama," Jack Jack answers, holding his hands up to her as Mom picks him up.

"That's my boy," she congratulates yet again, doing the Mom thing as she uses her elastic ability to maneuver around the chaos and head into the kitchen.