Golden light bathes the steel-walled bedroom as I push more energy into my palms, watching the glow pulse between my fingers like a captured star. Christmas Eve in an underground bunker wasn't exactly how I pictured spending the holidays, but, I'll get to spend the Holidays this year with someone I love.
"Come on," I mutter to myself, focusing harder until the light intensifies. "Just a little more control..."
It's been a week since we arrived at Masters' bunker house, and I've spent most of that time either learning to shoot or figuring out these new aspects of my powers. The golden energy flows through my hands in waves now, controlled and contained where before it would have exploded outward in a lust-inducing tsunami.
I've finally learned how to insulate myself from the effects… mostly. When I'm alone like this, I can keep the horniness at bay, channel the energy without turning into a mindless sex demon. It's only when I touch Ellie directly that my control slips away completely. It seems touch makes it more potent on both ends.
Ellie's been gone for about an hour now, out getting food supplies. She wasn't exactly thrilled about leaving me alone, even briefly, but it's nice that she seems to trust Masters enough to watch over me. The symbiote makes for a perfect disguise when she goes out, just another face in the crowd instead of a blonde bombshell who might be recognized alongside a missing college student.
I push myself harder, concentrating on intensifying the glow. The golden light around my hands brightens, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat. That's when I feel it, a sharp twinge behind my eyes.
"Weird," I mutter, but I don't stop.
Instead, I lean into the pain, curious. The energy flows stronger, the light growing more intense, and the pain increases in perfect correlation. It starts as a dull pressure at my temples but quickly sharpens into something more insistent. I grit my teeth, determined to push through it.
My hands are practically miniature suns now, casting harsh shadows across the steel walls of our bunker bedroom. The pain intensifies, spreading from my temples inward, like something's trying to push its way out of my skull from the inside.
"Nnngh," I groan, sweat beading on my forehead.
The pressure builds until it feels like my brain is being squeezed in a vice. My vision starts to blur around the edges, but I refuse to stop. This has to mean something. Maybe this is what Lileth was talking about, pushing through the pain.
It feels like someone's taken an ice pick to my skull, digging deeper with each pulse of energy. The light from my hands is almost blinding now, filling the entire room with golden radiance. My breath comes in ragged gasps as I push harder, determined to break through whatever barrier is causing this agony.
Just as the pain becomes truly unbearable, right at the threshold where I might actually pass out, the door swings open. Masters stands silhouetted in the doorway.
I immediately drop my hands, cutting off the flow of energy. The golden light vanishes instantly, plunging the room back into normal lighting. The relief is immediate, the stabbing pain in my head disappearing as quickly as it came.
I'm left panting, drenched in sweat, my t-shirt clinging to my chest like I just ran a marathon.
"Jesus, kid," Masters says, wrinkling her nose. "I could feel your pheromones from out there. The whole hallway reeks of it."
"Sorry," I manage between breaths, wiping my forehead with the back of my arm.
Masters steps into the room, studying me with narrowed eyes. "You were grunting like you were in pain. You alright?"
I let out a deep sigh, my shoulders slumping. "I don't know, Sensei. I was trying to push past this barrier with my powers, but it felt like someone was driving railroad spikes into my skull."
Masters takes a step back, waving her hand in front of her face. "I'd come in there and help if I could, but I think if I stay much longer I'll turn into a horny monkey with all these pheromones you're pumping out."
A small laugh escapes me despite my exhaustion. "Yeah, I get it."
"Why don't you take a break?" She gestures toward the door with her chin. "You look like you're about to pass out anyway."
I nod, suddenly aware of how drained I feel. The energy work has left me completely spent, like I've been running on a treadmill for hours.
"I'll be out here if you want to hang out when all this shit dissipates," she adds, already backing toward the door.
I nod again, grateful for the space. The door clicks shut, and immediately a crushing wave of dread washes over me. The distraction of practice is gone, and all that's left is the hollow feeling in my chest, the constant awareness that Norma is still out there somewhere.
Dragging myself to the bathroom, I strip off my sweat-soaked clothes and step under the shower's hot spray. The water beats against my skin, washing away the physical evidence of my training but doing nothing for the heaviness in my mind.
After toweling off and changing into fresh clothes, I wander into the living room. Masters is sprawled on one of the recliners, feet propped up on the coffee table. I take the chair opposite her, careful to keep some distance between us in case any lingering pheromones are still clinging to me.
The news is playing on the massive flat screen mounted to the wall. A familiar headline scrolls across the bottom: "TONI STARK PICTURED WITH MIMMY."
"Mimmy?" I squint at the screen, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar name.
Masters snorts, not taking her eyes off the TV. "She'll always be Puff to me."
"Oh?" The realization hits me as I see the image, a woman in flashy jewelry with the signature "Puff Mommy" chain around her neck. Thats the female Diddy. "Oh god, Iron Woman has a picture with her too?"
"I guess so," Masters laughs, shaking her head at the absurdity of it all.
"Jesus, that's brutal."
Masters nods, her expression completely casual. "Puff may be a monster, but she was always a good client."
"What?" I straighten in my chair, staring at her with disbelief.
Masters shrugs, her eyes still on the screen. "She always paid well and on time. Professional courtesy goes a long way in my business."
"You worked for her?" The question tumbles out before I can stop it, my voice rising an octave.
"Kid, I've worked for much worse people than her." Masters finally turns to look at me, her expression unreadable. "The mercenary business isn't exactly filled with saints."
"Oh..." I sink back into my chair, processing this new information. "I guess that makes sense..."
She shifts, crossing one leg over the other as she settles more comfortably in her seat. "I remember when I got a call from one of Puff's contacts. I was still pretty new on the scene back then." A nostalgic smile plays at the corners of her mouth. "She hired me to kill Tupac and Biggie."
"You're shitting me." I lean forward, sure I've misheard.
"Nope." Masters says it so matter-of-factly she might as well be discussing the weather. "Very easy jobs. Really great money early on too." She takes a sip from her mug, continuing casually, "She ended up connecting me with someone who led me to do hits for Hydra."
I stare at her, trying to reconcile my martial arts professor with this casual admission of multiple assassinations. "Sensei, you're a bad person," I finally manage, shaking my head.
She shrugs, completely unbothered. "Oh well."
Despite everything, I can't help but chuckle a little.
"I can't help but laugh at her casual dismissal of morality. "Well, regardless," I say, "I'll help you out if you ever need it."
Masters looks up at me, a genuine smile cracking through her hardened exterior. "Oh yeah?" she says with a laugh that somehow manages to be both dismissive and appreciative at the same time.
"Of course," I respond, straightening up in my chair. "I'm loyal to my friends."
Her smile fades slightly, replaced by something more serious. "That's a good trait, Shane," she says, her voice unusually gentle. "But be careful who you make friends with. Most assassins don't usually throw away one of their best-paying clients to keep their star pupils safe."
The weight of her words hangs in the air between us. It takes me a moment to process what she's really saying, that she chose me over Norma.
"I..." I start, unsure how to respond to this unexpected show of loyalty. "Thank you."
Masters lets out a long, heavy sigh that seems to deflate her entire body. She runs a hand through her short hair and fixes me with a stern look.
"I don't want your thanks, kid," she says, pushing herself up from her chair.
She crosses the room with purposeful strides, approaching a wall panel I hadn't noticed before. Her fingers dance across a hidden keypad, and a section of the wall slides open to reveal a safe. She punches in another code, pulls the heavy door open, and reaches inside.
When she turns around, she's holding something bulky wrapped in black cloth. She walks back and tosses it onto the table in front of me with a soft thud. The cloth falls away slightly, revealing a familiar flash of blue.
My heart stops.
"Is that...?" I reach forward with trembling fingers and pull the cloth away completely.
My suit lies there, the black and red fabric gleaming under the bunker lights. The Golden mask stares up at me, empty eyes somehow still full of possibility. It's pristine, perfect, not a tear or bloodstain in sight.
"Norma destroyed these," I whisper, not quite a question, more a statement of disbelief.
"No shit," Masters says, crossing her arms. "I had Zelinsky remake your suit."
"Fuck…" I run my fingers over the fabric. It's exactly how it was before.
"When I met you, kid," Masters says, her voice softening almost imperceptibly, "you were the happiest person alive. Overconfident and excited to see the world."
I swallow hard, memories of that eager, naive version of myself feeling like they belong to someone else entirely. "Yeah."
"Shane," she says, leaning against the table, "I think you'd make a great hero, and I don't think you should give up on your dream."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I stare at the suit, at this symbol of everything I wanted before Norma took it all away.
"I'm not sure I'm a good match for being a hero," I say quietly, unable to meet her eyes. "I treated it like a game, and I paid the price."
Masters scoffs, the sound harsh in the quiet room. "You jumped into the deep end with a month's worth of martial arts training and the power to teleport. While yes, you might have learned from the best teacher in the entire world…" she smirks slightly "no one could possibly expect you to become the best superhero overnight, kid."
"I don't even know if I want to help people anymore," I whisper, the admission feeling like a betrayal of my former self.
Masters shakes her head firmly. "Nah, don't give me that shit, Shane. Even if you were misguided, I saw your eyes when you trained with me. I saw how you lit up talking about saving people. That doesn't just disappear."
I stare at the suit in my hands, at the golden mask that once represented everything I wanted to be. It still looks so damn cool, so perfect, exactly how I imagined a superhero should look. Something stirs in my chest, a faint echo of that old excitement.
"Ellie might go ballistic," I sigh, already imagining her reaction.
Masters' expression softens. "Ellie loves you, Shane. She doesn't want to lose you, but she also wouldn't want you to lose yourself."
A strange feeling washes over me as I stare at the suit in my hands. Something shifts inside my chest, not the hollow emptiness that's been my constant companion since Norma, but something warmer. Something familiar.
My lips curl upward of their own accord, spreading into a smile that feels almost foreign on my face.
For the first time in while, I feel a tiny spark ignite inside me. Not happiness exactly, but something adjacent to it.
"I'll think about it."