Chapter 32: Robert Drake & Matt Murdock
Please 🙏 Give Powerstones i Believe we can break through to 5th Position
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Inside the armored vehicle of Vought International, Ashley sat across from the young boy, her demeanor calm and composed, though there was an edge to her gaze.
Robert Drake, the boy sitting across from her, still looked confused and anxious, his body tense after the events that had led him here.
"So," Ashley began, her voice cutting through the thick silence in the vehicle, "what's your name, kid?"
"Robert," the boy mumbled, his eyes flicking up to meet hers briefly before darting back down to his hands. "Robert Drake."
Ashley raised an eyebrow and leaned back in her seat, tapping her fingers lightly on the armrest. "And tell me, Robert, when did you start losing control like that?"
Robert shifted uneasily in his seat, his voice hesitant. "It was… on the bus," he began. "There were a bunch of people on it, and this guy started yelling at me for… I don't even remember why. I just got really upset, and suddenly, the temperature dropped. Everyone started freaking out. The windows frosted over, and the air felt… cold, like, really cold."
Ashley nodded, her expression unchanged. "Classic case," she muttered more to herself than to him.
Then, louder, she said, "You're probably a mutant."
Robert blinked, not fully comprehending. "A mutant?"
"Yeah," Ashley said flatly, "a mutant. People born with the X-gene. Sometimes it manifests when you're a kid, sometimes later—usually in stressful situations like what happened with you on that bus."
Robert sat quietly, digesting this information. His thoughts raced, unsure what to make of everything. "So… what does that mean?"
Ashley shrugged, her tone casual. "It means you're one of the many people who got lucky with the gene lottery. You can freeze things, and now you have us interested in what you can do."
The boy frowned. "But… I didn't ask for any of this."
Ashley looked at him, her gaze sharp. "Doesn't matter if you asked for it or not. This is your life now, Robert. You can either deal with it or let it ruin you."
Robert flinched at her blunt words, still grappling with the enormity of the situation. "But I don't even know how to control it… I could hurt someone…"
"Then you better learn fast," Ashley cut in. "I can help with that, but at the end of the day, it's up to you to figure it out. I've seen plenty of people like you—you're not special in that regard."
Robert was silent again, his eyes looking out the window, lost in thought.
After a few moments, Ashley's voice broke the quiet once more. "Look, kid, this isn't some fairy tale. You're not a hero yet, and you're not some victim either. You're a mutant with dangerous powers, and that comes with consequences. So stop feeling sorry for yourself, and start thinking about how you're going to handle it."
Her words hit hard, but there was no softness in her tone. Just the reality of the situation laid bare.
As the vehicle neared Vought Tower, Robert remained deep in thought.
He still didn't fully understand what was happening, but Ashley had made one thing clear—whether he liked it or not, he had to learn to control his powers.
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Matt Murdock walked beside his father, Jack Murdock, his small hand holding tightly onto his father's.
It had been a good night. Jack had won his boxing match, and now the two of them were heading home.
The air was crisp, and despite the lingering exhaustion of the fight, Jack was in good spirits.
"You see that, kid? I told you, the old man still has it," Jack said with a smile, looking down at his son.
Matt beamed up at him. "You were great, Dad. I knew you'd win."
They stopped at the curb, waiting for the light to change so they could cross.
A truck bearing the name "Vought Pharmaceuticals" rumbled down the street, its engine growling as it neared the intersection.
Just then, a speeding car came out of nowhere, careening toward the truck.
"Look out!" Jack shouted, pulling Matt back instinctively.
The car slammed into the truck's container with a horrific crunch, metal screeching and bending.
The impact sent the truck tipping over, and in the chaos, a barrel was launched into the air, spinning uncontrollably as it hurtled toward an old man standing nearby.
Matt didn't think—he acted. "Watch out!" he cried, shoving the old man out of the way.
The man stumbled to safety, but Matt was not so lucky.
He turned just in time to see the barrel crashing to the ground with a deafening bang.
The barrel's contents sprayed everywhere, and before Matt could react, a wave of searing pain washed over him. "Ahh!" he screamed, clutching his face as the chemical—lithium aluminum hydride—splashed across his eyes and skin, burning, literally, the compound reacting with moisture.
His vision was already blurring, darkness creeping into the edges of his sight.
"Matt!" Jack's voice was frantic as he moved toward his son, but then something else hit Matt hard—a metal case from the truck.
It struck his head, knocking him to the ground.
Matt's head smacked against the pavement with a sickening thud, and he felt his consciousness slipping.
The case, which had flung open mid-air, spilled two glass tubes filled with a strange purple liquid.
One of the tubes shattered upon impact, its contents spilling onto Matt's bleeding head wound.
For a moment, small arcs of lightning danced through the air, unnoticed by anyone in the chaos, as the purple liquid mixed with the reducing agent already burning Matt's eyes.
Matt's ears were ringing, the world around him reduced to a distant blur of noise and pain.
He felt the liquid seep into his wound, the burning intensifying, and suddenly everything seemed to electrify.
The second tube rolled across the ground, smashing apart near the pool of spilled chemicals.
A metallic sign on the bottom of the case was exposed, the words stamped in bold: Caution: Mixture Contains Hazardous Amounts of Uranium Dioxide and Thorium Sulfate.
Matt lay on the ground, his body twitching involuntarily as the strange mixture coursed through him.
His father was yelling, but the sound seemed so far away.
He felt lightning again, though not in the air—inside him, surging through his veins.
Then, everything went black.
Jack knelt beside him, cradling his son's limp body. "Matt, Matt, stay with me, kid!"
His voice was thick with panic, tears welling up in his eyes as he looked at his boy's face, black from the chemicals.
"Somebody, help!" he cried desperately.
But all Matt could hear was the echo of his father's voice, growing fainter as the darkness swallowed him whole.
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