He’s in the middle of chemistry when he feels a sudden drain in his energy. He begins to droop immediately, face smashing alarmingly close to the lab equipment on the table. He can’t help the pained yell that follows.
“What is going on here?” Mr Lui asks, torn between concern and confusion.
“I don’t know,” he answers through gritted teeth, a strangely empty sensation of pulling going down his spine. He’s never felt anything like this before, doesn’t have a frame of reference for what it might be.
Except… maybe he does know.
“New York,” he tries to mumble, but his face in general does not seem to want to cooperate with him. Not that such a statement would have explained much.
Luckily, it doesn’t have to.
“Teachers,” says Principle Henao, voice somehow carefully mild over the school’s PA system, “I apologize for the interruption, but please turn on your televisions at this time.” She repeats the sentence again, no offers of explanation, no opportunities for disobedience. Homeroom period, when announcements are made and TVs play Channel One–the high school equivalent of a news station–had just ended ten minutes ago. The request, then, is both strange and unproblematic.
What the TVs are showing, is strange and problematic.
All the TVs in school are connected to a central monitor in the main office. Usually set to play only Channel One and the occasional video announcement, now it must be set to an actual news channel.
On the screen a bright red banner reading BREAKING NEWS is at the top; below it footage of what looks to be… some kind of war zone. Rubble and explosions and fast paced everything, details too shaky and indistinct to make out. But the captions say that it’s New York; Manhattan, to be specific.
His aunt works in Manhattan.
His lab partner, the only one to have heard his attempt to speak earlier looks at him sharply. His other classmates stare entranced at the screen. Even Mr Lui, torn between concern at a possibly unwell student and the sheer horrifying devastation on screen, can’t help the unconscious turn of his head.
The draining sensation grows stronger, as if someone is desperately pulling on the other end.
Ostensibly, he and his aunt have equal, complementary shares in their magic. It’s how Gemini witches are supposed to function. But she had never had full access to their magic until he discovered his ability. And Pollux was always more powerful than Castor.
He can hardly hear himself breathe, much less pay attention to what the news reporters are saying on the TV. But something dangerous is going down in New York, and his aunt works in Manhattan.
Go, he thinks to himself, to his magic, to their magic, to her. Go.
Then he lets go.
In the future, when asked about what he was doing during the Avengers’ debut in the Battle of New York, all he will say is that he was in chemistry class. He will not add that he passed out, had to be brought to the hospital, and woke up three days later in perfect health with the doctors and his dad relieved but extremely confused as to what happened to him.
His aunt’s story is much cooler, anyway.
A/N: Hahaha, the Ode to 11010201 take on the first Avengers movie. No, R does not get recruited into the Avengers Initiative, because the supernatural world has been trying to keep their existence on the down low. Basically, though, she was fueling a giant ass semi-sentient force field around her company’s building with the help of Zim’s share of their magic.
If you cannot tell, I’ve been reading some MCU fic lately.
I don’t think I’ll continue this, really, it was just a passing idea.