Once again Bruce was at Cadmus, and after a week of not being there to work, it was starting to feel like this place he’d spent more time in than anywhere but his own home was not for him. Through the metal halls in his casual clothes alongside Doc Samson, they lingered by a view window into the Genetic Engineering Department. A few folk in PPE went about with a number of samples. Bruce saw Betty but knew she could not see him with the brighter lights in her lab. In most places these windows would be a security hazard, but here they were to promote internal openness.

A recorder sticking out of his pocket, Samson asked, [color=fee226]“What was your mother like?”[/color]

Bruce took a breath. [color=AF7AC5]“I mean, she had her problems but I always loved her. She liked thrift, liked to buy things. She always have some kind of fixation like snowmen or owls, then the house would be full of little statues, oven mitts, hand towels, napkin holders.  Looking back I think it might have been about control. She raised me, she tended the house...that was all she could do so she did it to her satisfaction. I was meaner to her than I should have been. Once she tried to get me to take a nap and I wasn’t having it. I kicked her in the face. I still haven’t forgotten the look she gave me. I made her cry one Christmas. I got something that was genuinely thoughtful but I told her...”[/color] Bruce paused, his breathing going heavier. Doc Samson waited, keeping a close eye. Bruce finally emitted a rattle from his chest. [color=AF7AC5]“I never realized, I was just saying the same things he was. We were in it together and I just...”[/color]

Samson gave Bruce a moment, and then another. But he did speak up. [color=fee226]“When we’re in trouble, sometimes we trouble the ones most likely to help us, or the ones already helping us. Because they’re the ones most likely to see it, hear it, do something. You were crying for help.”[/color]

Bruce shook his head. [color=AF7AC5]“I don’t...I don’t like the idea of being just like my dad.”[/color]

Samson nodded. [color=fee226]“We humans are our nature and our nurture. You are part him, part your mother, and you were formed in response to him, your mother, your friends...all your experiences.”[/color] Bruce saw Betty there, turning out of sight for a moment only to return a few moments later with a new sample. [color=fee226]“If you see the ways in which you are similar you can process, reconcile, and perhaps begin to change, I think. You’re recognizing it and questioning it. You’re already standing on better foundation, and maybe from here you can build something.”[/color] There was more silence. [color=fee226]“What was your father like?”[/color]

Bruce’s fists were clenched. [color=AF7AC5]“He was...a tiny man, one the inside. He pleasured in being bigger, in dragging others down. He never had a nice word to say to anyone in my house. He’d compare others favorably, when watching TV. ‘Damn, that kid’s already an actor, you can’t even look me in the eyes when you speak Bruce.’ Calling me weak. He didn’t hit us, he didn’t need to. He made the environment hostile enough.”[/color]

[color=fee226]“And what happened? On...that day.”[/color]

Bruce’s tension alleviated. He rubbed his eyes even though there were no tears. [color=AF7AC5]“I don’t know, I don’t remember. Attendance records said I went to school. Betty said I went home as normal. I must have made food for myself. Because…they were just there, lying on the ground for two days. My room was upstairs so I had to have walked past them, but I didn’t do anything.”[/color]

Samson had a long exhale. [color=fee226]“Your dad didn’t say anything?”[/color]

Bruce shuddered, but shook his head, dry words stating, [color=AF7AC5]“N-no. Not specifically. We’ve never talked about it.”[/color]

Samson brushed his chin. [color=fee226]“I have my ideas, but what do you think happened?”[/color]

[color=AF7AC5]“I...they argued. They fell down the stairs. Dad hurt his head and his legs, mom...didn’t make it. Maybe because my dad was suffering from a concussion or something, and mom was already dead, I just...let them be. Let myself not have parents for a minute. Let my dad suffer under the weight of his own sins for a time. Betty...she told me a few years later that for those two days...that was when she felt I was happiest.”[/color]

[color=fee226]“Happy? Even with...”[/color]

Shaking his head, Bruce ran a hand across his brow. [color=AF7AC5]“Like I said, I don’t remember.”[/color]

There was a sigh. Bruce could glean its pity. [color=fee226]“And from there you would go into community college instead of high school?”[/color]

Another shake of the head. [color=AF7AC5]“No, I tried high school but the bullying was getting worse. Betty was making herself a target by helping me. I looked into other options and went to community college instead, which got me on the fast track to...here.”[/color]

[color=fee226]“Right. And why here? Why Cadmus?”[/color]

Bruce managed a smile. [color=AF7AC5]“I mean, it’s too good to be true, right? Betty keeps saying that everyone here can make a difference. We can appeal to people with a lot of power in this country and make direct change. They aren’t motivated by capital here. I mean, the Emitter was meant to be tech to end nuclear war. Betty’s trying to find safe and ethical ways to help people discovering their mutant powers. Dr. Sterns, well, I’m not sure it’s close to feasible, but gamma mutation can open some interesting doors in transhumanism. Maybe it could serve as alternate treatments for the differently abled or...”[/color]

His mouth opened, but Samson shook his head, no words coming out. [color=fee226]“Come with me for a second, Bruce.”[/color]

The two stepped out of the Genetic Engineering wing and went through the facility. A few minutes, a few staircases, a door or two later and Bruce realized exactly where they were headed. A maintenance door took them into the desert sun. This time he could see where his Gamma Emitter stuck from the stone, the camera still untouched and dustier.

[color=fee226]“Here’s where it happened. You almost died.”[/color] Samson said, moving in closer, studying Bruce intently. But Bruce didn’t mind him, hands in his jean pockets as he paced, scanning the dust and dirt. And traces of beer bottle or motorcycle was gone by now The marks in the desert dirt had long blown over by now.

[color=AF7AC5]“Yeah, but...I’m still here.”[/color] He once again saw flashes of the infernal, but they were like a distant nightmare now.

Samson took a deep breath, nodding. Clicking off of the recorder, he concluded, [color=fee226]“That’ll do for the psyche evaluation, but I did have one more question, before we go. Completely off the record. Right now, would you say you’re happy?”[/color]

Bruce blinked, genuinely off guard. His mouth floundered for a bit until he decided to let it be still so his mind could make up the distance. He was disappointed that for all the data and research, his experiment had utterly failed, and his soon to be Team Leader was a bit of a nutjob, but he believed in what Betty had said that there work in Cadmus really mattered. And Betty, his best friend for so long a time, had now become more than a friend. They had a date scheduled for the weekend. He’d only been to church once, and the warmth he felt there was something he wasn’t ready to turn away from. He’d bumped into Rick just before then, who’d just been dumped out onto the street despite his felony offenses, and managed to make a connection with that kid who’d been abandoned by everyone. He’d only just met Leonard Samson, but he felt like he was a nice guy and a worthy practitioner, if atypical. And...he was going to see his father later. That was enough to fill him with anxiety, but he didn’t want the shadow to still hang over him. He wasn’t going to invite him back into his life, but he could tell him he’s forgiven him. That he’s not going to hold him to the horrible things he’s said and done, even though they will stick with Bruce likely forever. That forgiveness was for himself, not for his father.

Through his glasses, he met Samson’s eyes. He nodded. [color=AF7AC5]“Yeah. More than I’ve ever been.”[/color][hr][color=AF7AC5]“Dad? I’m coming in.”[/color]

The smell of mold immediately greeted him. The entryway was littered with bags from fast food places and grocery stores with pathways dug up between them. Bruce’s heart leapt as he saw something move, uncertain if it were insect or rodent. It was only a small home, but even if most of the kitchen was relatively clean compared to the rest of the house, the living area was possessed with the bulk of the foulness. A folding bed rested in front of a large TV with a computer tower to its side. Under the blankets, torso propped up, hair and beard overgrown and littered with bits of food, Brian Banner didn’t even pretend to hide his disdain. [color=b55d00]“I don’t have any chairs.”[/color]

In front of the bed, he saw one, an electric wheelchair caked with its own residue. [color=AF7AC5]“I’ll stand.”[/color] Navigating his way through the refuse, he remarked, [color=AF7AC5]“I’m pretty sure you can pay for home care, housekeepers.”[/color]

Brian’s eyes didn’t bother to hide his contempt. [color=b55d00]“I do when I have a Zoom call, or when someone important is coming over, not that it’s happened yet.”[/color] Bruce almost laughed, the barb bouncing off his calloused surface. He felt not anxiety but relief, knowing how little this man meant to him now. [color=b55d00]“You come here for a fucking reason? It’s a long flight, and if you’re here to beg for money I could give less of shit.”[/color]

[color=AF7AC5]“I work here. I’m a military contractor. Can’t say much else.”[/color] Bruce was surprised to see a mild wonder on his face, if only for a moment.

[color=b55d00]“Well if you care so much, you can clean up. Otherwise say your piece and let me get back to my shows.”[/color]

Bruce stepped as close as he could, hands in his pockets. [color=AF7AC5]“I won’t be long, I just want to say that, well, I forgive you.”[/color] Brian, his eyes wandering to his paused television, stopped dead, slowly turning back to face Bruce. [color=AF7AC5]“I won’t come back here or contact you again, but what’s done is done. I’m not going to let it hang over me.”[/color]

[color=b55d00]“You...forgive [i]me[/i]?[/color] Bruce gave a light shrug, his face kept placid.

Despite his outward bluster, he could feel his arms start to tremble, shoving the deeper into his pockets. [color=AF7AC5]“You’re w-welcome.”[/color] Brian reached up to the frame of his bed, grabbing a plastic cup. Wrenching his arm, he flung it, liquid splashing as it fell apart in the air, Bruce ducking aside. It was never going to hit him, liquid splashing on the wall and into the garbage along with green chunks that shouldn’t have been there. [color=b55d00]“You’re [i]fucking[/i] forgiving [b]MEEEEEEEE[/B]?![/color] As he scrambled around, looking for something else to throw, Bruce panicked, ducking past a wall into the kitchen. [color=b55d00]“Don’t run from me! Look at me! Look at [b]this[/b]!”[/color] His voice cracked, and Bruce heard the flip of a blanket. [color=b55d00]“Fucking look!”[/color] Bruce’s heart was pounding, his hands were shaking, but despite himself he followed his father’s command and looked.

Underneath the blanket Brian wore a pair of shorts. The bones in his legs bent at slightly awkward angles relative to the knee. They were pale and cold, scar tissue wrapped around like bracelets, both legs mottled in sores. From fungus or bedsores Bruce didn’t know. [color=b55d00]“Forgive me? YOU DID THIS! YOU DID THIS. YOU [i]RUINED[/i] MEEEEEE!”[/COLOR] When Bruce tore his eyes from his father’s legs, he met his wild eyes, spittle dripping into his beard from bared teeth. [color=b55d00]“What’s the matter?”[/color] His voice dripped with false sympathy, like the concerned parent he never was. [color=b55d00]“You forgowt? Little baby doesn’t remember?”[/color] Brian raised his hand, looking around before smashing it into the drywall, forming a hole, red running from his fist.[hr]Bruce had remembered but he only just now realized that he did. It was like he was watching someone else from in their eyes. He’d come home from school to see his mother Rebecca at the bottom of the stairs. Her neck was at an odd angle, but she was alive, somehow. She twitched, eyes pleading for help, arm spasming. Bruce felt a weight in his chest, as though he already knew it had been over for her. Brian started down the stairs, swearing up a storm. Bruce dropped his backpack and ran to block him. Brian yelled for him to get out of the way, trying to duck around his smaller son, sticking a leg in between the guard rails and trying to step around. Bruce punched out, hitting his father on the heel and making him slip. He landed painfully on his knee, bumping his head against the wall on the other side. Bruce climbed onto the railing and leapt down, grabbing Brian’s leg, dropping his 70- pound weight directly on it. Brian was screaming, then he passed out. He next saw him conscious a minute later. He had waited until he could look into his eyes and see the fear as he dropped down onto the other leg, carefully placed in between the guardrails. His face hurt, because-[hr][color=b55d00]“And you were [i][b]smiling[/b][/i]. You were enjoying it. Why, because I yelled at you sometimes? There’s a devil inside you! Always has been! I kept you in check. You think I’m a monster? You’re the fucking monster Bruce! [B]YOU[/B].”[/COLOR] He had his finger jabbed and Bruce wanted to snap it off. His father had tears of rage in his eyes and so did Bruce. [color=b55d00]“You ruined my life! I could have been CEO but now I’m just on the board in a fucking pity position! I’m living in my own shit because of you! And [i]you[/i] say you forgive [i]me[/i]? Fucking kill yourself! Or bring me a gun and I can have the pleasure of doing it myself! Don’t fucking run from me!”[/color] But Bruce was already gone.