Marvel: Father of Superheroes

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*****

Eric touched his face, giving it two light pats. Mike had restored his face to its original appearance, and it felt far more comfortable tha

Eric touched his face, giving it two light pats.

Mike had restored his face to its original appearance, and it felt far more comfortable that way.

After putting his suitcase away, Eric crooked a finger toward the doorway. At the instant the door opened, a small figure, who had been about to turn and flee, was pulled right in front of him by his power.

"I didn't see anything! I have no idea where the present is!"

Gwen covered her face with both hands.

Eric lightly flicked her forehead, watching her eyes dart around suspiciously. It reminded him of a young Charles.

Unable to hold back a smile, he said, "Long time no see. Did you prepare a Christmas gift for me?"

Gwen proudly lifted her chin. "Of course I did!"

Although Eric rarely came home, she still made sure to prepare something for him.

Eric affectionately pinched her nose.

Even when he wasn't around, Mike and Gwen acted as if he had never left at all.

The red envelopes hidden under the pillow, the gift boxes placed on the cabinet, and the always tidy room—every time he returned, his heart was filled with warmth.

Holding Gwen's hand, he led her downstairs. Seeing Mike busy in the kitchen, Eric rolled up his sleeves to help, only for Mike to glance back in disdain. "Out. You planning to blow up the kitchen again?"

Hearing that, Eric's cheeks flushed, and he lightly scratched at his face.

He remembered clearly—on the day he awakened his powers and had just begun to control them—he had pinned Mike down onto the sofa, declaring he would cook lunch as thanks for all the guidance Mike had given him.

Using his abilities, he manipulated the kitchen utensils, ready to put on a grand "magical" cooking show.

But while controlling the knife to chop vegetables and simultaneously turning on the stove, he misjudged the force, slicing a chunk out of the cutting board.

Startled, he lost control, and the pots and pans he was manipulating began to fly wildly around the kitchen.

And then… well, that was the end of it.

From that day forward, any time he stepped into the kitchen, he became a figure of suspicion—and Mike outright banned him from going near open flames.

"Brother!"

Gwen came up behind Eric, tugged his hand, and stuck her tongue out at Mike. "Don't mind Dad. Let's go play chess!"

"Chess?"

Eric paused, then smiled. "Sure."

It had been ages since he'd last played.

The two siblings headed off to play, while Mike continued preparing dinner. Compared to the noise and chaos outside, their home was warm and peaceful.

Before long, dinner was ready.

Smelling the aroma of the dishes, Eric glanced at Gwen, who sat frowning in deep thought, clutching a chess piece. He coughed lightly. "Alright, I surrender."

"Huh?" Gwen stared in surprise. "But you were about to win."

She had just asked him to give her a few moves, and he refused—so why suddenly surrender now?

Eric pointed toward the dining table. "I'm going to eat."

Gwen: "…"

So, the reason you surrendered wasn't my brilliant chess skills, nor brotherly kindness… it was just Dad's dinner?

Watching Eric walk away, she placed her piece on the board.

Checkmate!

"Sigh!"

Gwen sighed in boredom, packed up the chess set, and hurried to the dining table.

"Aunt Raven isn't coming?" she asked curiously when she saw Mike and Eric already starting to eat.

"She can't. Something came up at the school."

Today's terrorist attack had left many children uneasy, so the teachers were all staying behind.

"Oh."

Gwen nodded, placing a rib in Eric's bowl. Seeing Mike's gaze, she added a piece of vegetable to his.

Mike: "…"

"Giggle!"

Gwen laughed happily.

This Christmas Eve was destined to be anything but peaceful.

The cities that had been attacked were still on high alert.

The president had been killed live on camera—a first in history—and with multiple cities hit by dozens of coordinated attacks, the full impact of these events was only beginning to unfold.

In this crisis, the vice president demonstrated strong leadership and decisive action, gaining considerable public support.

New heroes had emerged during the attacks, saving countless lives and earning cheers as the world's newest superheroes.

The Avengers were still respected and celebrated.

But they felt no joy.

"We could have stopped this," Pietro said bitterly. "If it weren't for those people who suddenly appeared and blocked us, we would have—"

Steve patted Pietro's shoulder. "This is the battlefield. There's no 'if,' only results."

Whatever the outcome, they had to accept it.

"I'll find out who those people were," Tony said calmly.

"Everyone," Bruce interjected, "let's try to look at the bright side. At least the attacks are over, we achieved final victory, and we stopped the chaos from spreading. Isn't that something?"

The group fell silent, then nodded.

He was right.

The result was still good—it just wasn't what they had hoped for.

"What about Strucker?" Barton asked. "That guy was a menace."

"He's gone." Tony pulled up a surveillance feed. "This is footage from New York. He turned himself into an Extremis soldier."

In the footage, Strucker was fighting someone—until his opponent beheaded him.

With a wave of Tony's hand, the virtual display vanished.

"So, all the Extremis soldiers involved in the attacks, along with the Mandarin and Strucker, are gone?" Natasha asked for confirmation.

"Yes," Steve nodded.

"But who exactly were those people? Where did they come from?" Pietro asked curiously.

Having so many superpowered individuals appear at once was, in itself, suspicious.

They exchanged glances, none able to answer.

Seeing the heavy mood, Pietro leaned back in his chair and said lightly, "At least they seemed to be on our side. That's a good thing, right?"

"No."

Steve shook his head, hesitating. "I can't shake the feeling something's off about them."

It wasn't just the people—something about the entire incident felt faintly sinister.

Tony nodded. "I feel the same."

After a pause, he glanced at Pietro and Wanda, smiling. "Alright, enough gloom. It's Christmas Eve, and this chapter's over. We should celebrate."

They were still kids—there was no need to burden them. As for the investigation, he would continue it quietly.

At his words, smiles returned to their faces.

(End of Chapter)