Robert gestured toward the screen, where Captain America was giving a statement to reporters outside the demolished AIM facility. “What ‘bout bein’ an Avenger, huh? You got the power fer it.”

Duncan let out a sharp laugh. “I’m not sure that’s what I want, Dad.”

Robert leaned forward, his expression serious. “Then dedicate yerself to somethin’ ya do want. Be the best at it. You’ve got the potential.”

Marcy nodded, her tone encouraging. “Yer one of the most powerful people we know, Duncan.”

“The most powerful,” Robert corrected, pointing a finger at him.

“Don’t let that go to waste,” Marcy added earnestly.

Duncan threw his hands up in exasperation. “I don't want to be no fuckin’ superhero”

Marcy frowned, giving him a disapproving look. “Language, Duncan.”

Duncan stared at them both, his jaw tightening. “Look, I went to college, alright? I got a job. Isn’t that enough?”

“You’re doin’ great, son,” Robert admitted. “But maybe you're wastin' some potential there.”

“You’re a powerful man,” Marcy added, her eyes serious. “You can do so much more.”

Duncan folded his arms across his chest, his voice sharper now. “Question is, should I?”

Robert nodded firmly. “Maybe you should. You gotta prove yerself, son. Send Captain America an email or somethin’. Let ‘im know you’re ready.” He chuckled a bit. “Ask fer an Avengers interview.”

Duncan burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Are y’all insane? Cap has absolutely no time fer some random mutant!”

Marcy raised an eyebrow. “Young man—”

“Yes, I mean mutant! Like he’s just sittin’ around answerin’ emails from mutants who wanna be Avengers.”

Robert’s voice grew sterner. “Then get outta yer way. Show you care. Show ya can be proactive.”

Duncan sighed, rubbing his temples. “What if I don’t want to be an Avenger?”

“Don’t tell me ya wanna be an X-Man,” Marcy said, her voice suddenly suspicious.

“I didn’t say that,” Duncan shot back. “I said I didn’t want to be an Avenger.”

Robert’s gaze softened slightly, though his tone was still firm. “Duncan, the Avengers fight fer all of us.”

“The X-Men?” Marcy interjected, shaking her head. “They’re too….” She sighs. “Lost their way. Became obsessed. Now it’s all ‘bout equity and whatnot.”

Duncan smirked faintly. “I actually agree with that, believe it or not. We mutants shouldn’t be equal. We’re better. Not through violence, obviously, but through our skills.”

Robert groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Y’all mutants have it easy. Y’all don’t know what it’s like to go to prison every mornin’, bein’ a regular guy. Afraid of these vile criminals.”

“And afraid some mad villain’s gonna come along and release ’em all,” Marcy added, her voice tinged with genuine fear. “Kill us all.”

“The things we saw,” Robert muttered, shaking his head.

“It’s an ugly world out there, Duncan,” Marcy said, her voice quieter now.

Duncan shrugged, his tone nonchalant. “It’s an ugly world ‘cause people have all the incentives to do this kinda shit.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Robert’s eyes narrowed. “And you ain’t exactly stoppin’ ’em, are ya?”

Duncan’s voice turned colder. “It’s not my problem. I have other problems.”

Robert sighed heavily, his disappointment palpable. Marcy reached over to pat his arm, her expression conflicted. Duncan stared back at them both, his face set in a mixture of defiance and quiet guilt. The room fell into a heavy silence, the hum of the TV the only sound between them.

In the glow of the screen, the divide between them felt wider than ever.

The TV’s soft hum filled the room, but the earlier news segment about the Avengers had faded into background noise. The tension in the small living room had shifted from mild disapproval to something heavier, more familiar—a dance the family had rehearsed countless times but never quite perfected. Duncan sat back in the armchair, his long legs stretched out, his arms crossed over his chest. His parents, Robert and Marcy, exchanged glances from their spots on the couch and recliner, their expressions a mix of exasperation and concern.

“Nobody’s tellin’ ya to be a superhero,” Marcy said finally, her voice calm but pointed.

Duncan raised an eyebrow, his tone dipping into sarcasm. “Don’t think ya should be one either?”

Robert leaned forward in his recliner, resting his hands on his knees. His hazel eyes narrowed slightly as he considered his words. “We’re just sayin’... we ain’t sure you’re even ready for somethin’ like that. Yer a lil’ immature, Duncan.”

Duncan straightened in his chair, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “Maybe, maybe I’m a lil’ immature—at least in some regards,” he said, his voice defensive but measured. “But that don’t mean I’m immature in every department.”

Robert shrugged, his tone blunt. “Yer in most things. But that’s ’cause yer young. You’ll grow outta it.”

Duncan ran a hand through his dark brown hair, frustration flashing across his face. “So what are y’all sayin’? Ya want me to be a hero then?”

Marcy sighed, folding her hands in her lap. “All we’re sayin’ is ya have a lot of potential. Maybe bein’ a financial analyst or economist isn’t what yer best suited fer.”

Duncan leaned forward, his voice sharper now. “Which is a fair assessment, given my powers. But I’m choosin’ not to be a hero.”

“It’s a choice,” Robert said, sitting back in his recliner. “But I’ll tell ya this—I personally would try to do more if I had powers. And I’m sure yer mother would too.”

Duncan smirked, shaking his head. “Well, too bad y’all have no powers.”

The room fell into an uneasy silence. The flickering TV cast soft shadows over their faces as they all sat there, the weight of the moment pressing down like the Texas heat.

Marcy broke the silence, her voice softer now. “Ya don’t need powers to be a good man, Duncan.”

Robert nodded in agreement. “Not at all. Ya can help people and be happy, even if ya don’t have powers.”

Duncan rubbed his temples, his voice dropping to a quieter tone. “Yeah, sure. But not everyone’s callin’ is to serve. I mean, unless it's ‘bout freedom of course.”

Robert let out a groan, leaning his head back against the recliner. “And there he goes with the freedom talk,” he muttered, his voice tinged with both frustration and reluctant amusement.

Marcy raised an eyebrow at Duncan. “Not everythin’ is books and ideals, son. There’s more to life than all that theorizing you like to do.”

Duncan rolled his eyes, standing up abruptly. “Alright, well, good talk. But I gotta go. I’ve got work tomorrow, so I’m headin’ back to Dallas. I’ll just fly there.”

“Son—” Marcy started, her voice tinged with concern.

“Nope,” Duncan interrupted, holding up a hand. “I’m flyin’. Don’t argue.”

Marcy sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Just be safe out there, alright?”

“Be careful,” Robert added, his tone gruff. “And don’t break anythin’.”

Duncan smirked, his frustration giving way to a faint glimmer of amusement. “Oh yeah, don’t worry.”

With that, he turned and floated up toward his room, the soft hum of his plasmatic aura barely audible as he ascended the stairs. The thud of his door closing signaled his departure, leaving Robert and Marcy alone in the living room.

Marcy turned toward her husband, her brow furrowing slightly. “He’s stubborn like you, Bob.”

Robert let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “He’s worse than my dad sometimes.”

Marcy smiled faintly, resting her head against the back of the couch. “That he is.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their conversation lingering. Marcy’s eyes flicked toward the muted TV, where a commercial was playing, but her thoughts were far from the screen.

“You think he’ll ever figure it out?” she asked softly.

Robert didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on a distant point in the room. Finally, he shrugged, his tone gruff but tinged with reluctant hope. “He’s got time. He’s young. And he’s smarter than he lets on, even if he’s too damn stubborn to admit it.”

Marcy nodded, her voice quiet. “Let’s just hope he stays safe out there.”

The hum of the TV filled the room again, and for a moment, the two of them sat together in the comfortable, familiar silence of a long marriage. Upstairs, Duncan packed his things, the conversation with his parents echoing in his mind. He shook his head, muttering to himself as he zipped up his bag.

“Stubborn? Maybe. But at least I know what I’m about,” he said under his breath, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

A few moments later, the faint sound of a window sliding open drifted through the house. In the living room, Robert and Marcy exchanged a knowing glance, but neither said a word. Outside, the soft glow of plasmatic energy lit up the night as Duncan shot off into the Texas sky, the warm air rushing past him as he left Midland behind once again.