Marvel: Genes of Power

Chapter 009: Legal Status

"Kid, are you kidding me?" Howard stammered, his voice laced with disbelief.

The idea of escaping from a Nazi concentration camp was nearly unfathomable. Only the most resourceful and cunning individuals could pull off such a feat, and even then, the odds were abysmal. Howard couldn't help but study the boy more closely. Smair's youthful face was far from ordinary, his piercing gaze holding a depth that seemed to defy his age.

Even the bravest agents wouldn't dare to dream of walking out of one of those hellholes alive. Yet here was this child, wearing the unmistakable tattoo of a Nazi concentration camp survivor on his arm. It wasn't something anyone would fake, certainly not for a joke. The branding wasn't merely inked—it was a cruel emblem of torment, a mark of survival against impossible odds.

"I don't think I'm joking," Smair said coldly, his tone carrying a gravity that could silence even the most skeptical critic. Without warning, he plucked the cigar from Howard's lips and held its burning tip against the center of his palm.

Howard's eyes widened in horror. "What are you doing, kid? Are you insane?" His voice trembled, unable to process what was unfolding before him.

Smair didn't flinch. The cigar's burning ember hissed for a brief moment, and then he casually rubbed his hand together, extinguishing the heat as if it were nothing more than an afterthought. The ashes scattered from his palm, leaving no mark or injury behind. Smair then extended his other hand, his fingers glowing faintly as a small, fiery red orb of energy materialized at his fingertips.

Howard could only watch as Smair pressed the glowing orb into the remnants of the cigar. Within seconds, the cigar ignited into an intense, white-hot flame before disintegrating into ash right in front of his eyes.

The fiery display was so mesmerizing that Howard momentarily forgot to breathe. This was no parlor trick. This boy—no, this anomaly—was demonstrating abilities that defied every law of physics and biology that Howard understood. His scientist's brain raced, simultaneously exhilarated and terrified by what he had just witnessed.

The silence between them lingered, heavy with tension, until Smair broke it. "Well, Howard? What do you think?" His voice carried a subtle warning, as if daring the older man to challenge him.

Howard swallowed hard, trying to regain some composure. "Alright, kid, I get it. You're not someone I want to mess with. So, what do you want from me?"

Smair smirked, the faintest flicker of amusement crossing his face. "First of all, I'm not just some kid. I have a name. It's Smair. And what I want is simple: I need a legal identity in the United States. Do you know how long it took me to fly here from Europe? Over half a month." His words were casual, but the revelation struck Howard like a thunderbolt.

"You flew here? As in, through the air?" Howard's voice cracked as he repeated the statement, his disbelief reaching new heights.

Smair floated about ten centimeters off the ground, hovering effortlessly. "Does this answer your question?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Howard ran a hand through his hair, feeling a headache beginning to form. "Alright, alright. I'll help you get an identity. But... is that all you need?"

"No," Smair replied, his voice turning serious. "I want to follow you. For now, at least. Until I figure out what I want to do next."

Howard's stomach sank. Having this kid—this walking, talking force of nature—following him around sounded like a recipe for disaster. "Do I have a choice in this?" he asked weakly.

"What do you think?" Smair countered, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

"Fine," Howard muttered, defeated. "But don't expect me to go easy on you if you start causing trouble. If you cross the line, I'll have no choice but to kick you out."

Smair rolled his eyes. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Howard sighed and led Smair to a nearby lounge, where he picked up the phone and made a few calls. With his connections and wealth, arranging a legal identity for Smair was a simple task. Within an hour, it was done.

"Alright, it's settled," Howard said, hanging up the phone. "You're now legally my adopted son. Which means you'll have to call me 'Dad.'" He smirked, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

Smair shot him a withering look. "Don't push your luck, old man."

Howard chuckled nervously, sensing that it was best not to press the issue. But his curiosity got the better of him. "So, Smair, where do your powers come from? You said something about an X-Gene earlier?"

"Yes," Smair replied, his tone matter-of-fact. "The X-Gene is a genetic mutation. It's what separates mutants like me from ordinary humans. Think of it as the next step in human evolution, similar to how Homo sapiens replaced Neanderthals. Only about 1% of the population has the X-Gene, and even fewer actually manifest abilities. Most mutations only awaken under extreme emotional stress—fear, anger, joy, you name it."

Howard stroked his chin, his scientific curiosity reignited. "So, what about me? Do you think I might have this X-Gene?"

Smair shrugged. "Let's find out." He plucked a single strand of Howard's hair, earning a yelp of protest.

"Ow! You could've just asked!" Howard complained, rubbing his scalp.

Ignoring him, Smair held the hair between his fingers, a faint glow surrounding it. Moments later, a mechanical voice echoed in Smair's mind.

[Ding. Testing complete. No X-Gene detected.]

Smair dropped the hair and looked at Howard. "Sorry to disappoint, but you're as ordinary as they come."

Howard's shoulders slumped. "Figures. Just my luck."

Smair smirked. "Don't feel too bad. If everyone had powers, they wouldn't be special."

Howard muttered something under his breath about the unfairness of life.

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