Humans: Book IV

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Shaw's hands are radiating. Light as red as fire. As red as blood. I gasp for air, trying to slow my reeling head, trying to steady myself after losing so much energy. The red draws closer. His burning hand presses against my forehead, cooking my skin.

He's trying to take more. He's trying to suck what's left out of me until I'm dead. Until we're dead. My voice finds a fragment of strength.

"Hank! The cuffs!"

Hank's already hurtling toward us, barreling over equipment. The entire lab is drowning in red light, metal walls vibrating from all the chaos. The pain breaks suddenly, relief crashing over my head. My blurred vision focuses. Hank got the power-neutralizing cuffs on Shaw.

But his hands are still glowing. Brighter. Brighter. So much red. All I can see and feel is red. It's suffocating. I'm made of wax. I feel as if I could melt at any second.

The metal cuffs snap in half and disintegrate into metal shards. A blast of energy sends Hank flying across the room. Shaw looks down at his hands, astonished, then over at me, doubled over on the floor. He bears his teeth in a satisfied grin, taking his time as he saunters over to me. Is this the way it ends? Would every path I could've taken lead me here?

Is this destiny?

Both of his hands grab either side of my head. I feel the life inside of me screaming for help, help I can't give. The energy is draining. All of the cells in my body are shutting down, running on empty. It won't be long now. I try to push Shaw away. It comes out as a pathetic poke to his chest that makes him laugh. It won't be long...

The piercing crash of metal fills my ears. Shaw's hands pull away from my skin, my body already infinitely cooler than before. I see the shine of a metal tray gleaming in Peter's hand. He hit Shaw over the head. He's panting, standing in a hospital gown, sweat beading above his brow. There's barely any volume in his voice as he mutters to Shaw, "You're...an asshat."

Peter collapses to the floor, chest heaving as he falls unconscious again. Shaw is distracted just long enough for Hank to tackle him to the floor, skull pressed into the linoleum. He repeats to Shaw, "He's right. You're an asshat."

Shaw flings Hank off his back in a final burst of energy. He quickly grabs Destiny, who's still unconscious in the chair. His eyes scour the room, searching for a way out. He inevitably makes his own exit with a blast of stolen energy, destroying the wall and running, breaking his way into a car and driving as fast as he can.

Hank flinches forward at first, to follow him, but then looks at Peter and me on the floor. He huffs at the trail of car exhaust drifting further and further away and then kneels down beside us.

"Peter..." I whisper, "Is he okay?"

Hank presses two fingers to Peter's neck, checking his pulse. "He's alright. He needs to rest though." He picks up Peter with the ease of paper and lays him back into the hospital bed. He turns back to me, "I need to examine you."

I cough. I try to get up onto my feet, but every joint and every fiber of me feels like it could crumble at any moment. Hank catches me before I fall back down again.

"No." My voice is an outline. Empty and frail. "I need to stop Shaw."

"__, look at yourself..."

He sets me down in the chair Destiny was in. I see myself in the reflection of the metal tray abandoned at my feet. My skin is gray. My cheeks and eyes are hollow, face sunken. Everything is shaking. I can hear the wheeze of my lungs as I struggle to breathe. The world is numb. I can't sense anything. Not even Peter. Whatever energy is left in me in the bare minimum.

And it can only last so long.

"Then I'm going to get help," I mumble, looking at Peter's hair strewn across his pillow.
Something glimmers on the floor. The Nazi coin, dropped as Shaw made his escape, body surging with my power. "And I know just the mutant for the job."

Chapter Dedication:

Special shoutout to Descendants4eVeRLoVe for this awesome calligraphy quotes from the Freaks series!