Chapter 68: Born Day

Brontë took the train to out of Harlem and into Manhattan in silence. They traveled through the concrete jungle of New York in shadow and sun. Diving deep into the subways underground full of giant rats, glowing eyes and gangs only soothed out of mischief by the performers.

Above ground, he looked down at the packed traffic and sidewalks— only letting his eyes leave the cluttered streets when a powered individual flew overhead as casually as the planes coming in and out of the airport in the Bronx.

A woman in a red and yellow spider costume with webbed pits. Maybe Ghost-Spider had a character change?

A man flying in a red cloak that moved as if it had a mind of its own as it spun and twisted him through the labyrinth of skyscrapers and train tracks.

A literal Angel…. Flanked by a teleporting Demon.

There wasn't much quite like New York.

When the bus stopped and spit Bronte back out onto the streets of Manhattan, he hit the ground moving. He hit the ground fresh. Not feeling entirely good or bad… or at least any worse than usual. Just…. Fresh. New day, same ingredients.

Same frame of mind. Same clusters of blank faces that spiked his paranoia. The tall white men with blonde hair looked like Sabretooth in his peripherals.

The taxi drivers held firebombs and anti-mutant signage as they sped past him on the streets.

The honks of cars that penetrated the safe embrace of his headphones sounded like high pitched howls. Lupine sentinels calling for a hunt.

"Fuck…" Bronte reached up for his headphones and tapped them until the volume was loud enough to give him a headache.

Better than swinging on an old man walking his dog behind him.

The walk went that way for the rest of its short duration. A dozen street signs. A dozen more adverts shining on storefronts. Even more dudes trying to sell cd's.

And then, like a shining beacon of technological advancement, the Baxter building loomed.

A tower of glass reflecting the sunlight at double the brightness somehow. A massive insignia of the number Four rested at its peak. Silver framing gleaming like pristine liquid metal. He could feel the heat wafting off of it. It wasn't normal heat. Sure there was reflected sunlight it in its warmth and sweetness. But there was also something harsher. Something that stuck to his skin like slime if it was physically adjacent to lava.

"Let's get into it…" Bronte stuck his hands deeper in his pockets and approached the Baxter building.

Stepping inside felt like seeing it for the first time outside. Bright. Advanced. Scientific.

"I need to get back into school…." Bronte thought as white lab-coated scientists and students rushed around the main floor with materials and carts full of items named with things he couldn't even pronounce.

"Hi…. Are you lost, sir?" The lady at the front desk raised her voice as she leaned over her desk to speak to him. Her gelled brown hair was just as reflective as the buildings surface.

Brontë headed over, sliding off his headphones until they rested around his neck.

"Hey, I'm here for Reed Richards."

The front desk worker gave one of those forced— but irritated, smiles, "Hehe…. Isn't everyone? I'm afraid if you don't have an appointment—…."

She trailed off as a star fell from one of the higher floors and landed behind Bronte.

Brontë continued to eyeball her, "I think that's for me. I'll catch you later, ma'am." Bronte knocked on the desk and turned to face the glowing beacon everyone was drawn to.

He stood like a biblically accurate Arc-angel. All fire and heat and lights that burned the eyes like solar flares on steroids. Somehow though, everything wasn't melting.

Brontë wondered if he ever had that kind of control to be a flame that didn't burn.

He also wondered if the flaming man would say something pretentious and god-like as he descended over Bronte.

His jaw clenched repeatedly.

"I thought you'd be taller…. Actually nevermind they said you're a lot like dear old claw daddy. Let me retry that. ERHM….. I thought you'd be shorter… and smellier? What is that? Versace Eros? Basic to be honest…"

The flaming man hit the ground soundlessly and his superheated aura faded in the blink of an eye. Leaving only a slim blue suit that outlined his athletic frame.

Suddenly Bronte was faced with a young man not much older than himself. Handsome— square jaw and mischievous blue eyes. His blonde hair was faded at the sides and full of styling gel— somehow unburned. He had that perfect surfers tan.

He reached out to shake Bronte's left hand.

"Johnny Storm. You're a quiet one."

"You gonna compare that to Wolverine too?" Bronte took his hand.

"Oh dear…. Daddy issues? I love that in women but….. I don't know about the other way." He playfully scratched his head in thought, winking at the front desk lady behind them.

"Find out." Bronte wasn't one to initiate a threat….. never-mind, he absolutely was. Johnny was poking him. But it shouldn't have been so alarming. His adrenaline flooded his limbs and hyperfocused his senses. All on the flaming man. His left arm vibrated like an engine revving before a race.

Johnny grinned, "That's the plan, muscle-man….."

The people surrounding them began backing away.

Brontë noticed the bottom of his peripherals brighten as if a lamp was turned on at his feet.

"Everyone talks about your dad….. but I think your mom is far more interesting. And hot— no offense."

Brontë looked down at their hands, gripping with growing strength as their muscles tensed and veins bulged like coiled bands.

Johnny's hand had embraced a full flame. It dripped and spread like slime over Bronte's hand. Blue windy sparks and electrical droplets bounced off his hand and evaporated into the air.

"Storm doesn't like my fire….. you don't seem bothered."

"I'm not Storm. I'm not Wolverine. I'm me. Now did y'all ask me to come here to discuss them or me. Cause I'll get the f—."

"Neither. Johnny's just an idiot more often than he's a scientist."

"Scientific Adventurer!" Johnny corrected.

Brontë looked up as the woman descended, floating on transparent violet disks beneath her feet. They bent the light in a way that made objects change shape on the other sides.

She hit the ground as Johnny and Brontë disconnected hands. There was similarity between her and Johnny. She was lithe and pretty and pale in the same way Johnny was tall and athletic and handsome. They were both comfortably seated in American beauty standards.

Even as they both looked troubled with their furrowed blonde eyebrows and dark blue eyes.

She looked worried the second she looked at Johnny.

He held his hands up. Both on fire. Right and left. Bronte didn't notice the other hand was heated.

"That's a problem…. The last one hated fire. That's a serious problem." Johnny commented.

"So is that…" The woman pointed at Bronte's arm.

"What..?" Bronte followed her eyes down to his left arm.

Nothing but the sleeve of his Moto jacket with dozens of stiched on brand logos and insignias.

He looked back up at them both. "What?"

"My name is Sue Storm. Please come with us, immediately."

Brontë raised an eyebrow at her.

"Please."

Despite his unease, he continued. Actually, it was more so because of his unease. It felt… unnatural. Born from somewhere outside himself.

They quickly left the main floor full of watchful eyes in an elevator that carried them up a hundred floors on invisible wires in mere minutes.

All around them, beyond the see through reinforced glass he watched security guards and scientists shuffle across the many boardwalks and intersections like ants in a colony. Up and up until it suddenly stopped and their awkward silence was replaced by footfall and mechanical hums.

"This way." Sue led them forward. "On the way up as you saw we're spearheading quite a number of think tanks and projects across multiple areas of science as a whole. We're collaborating with Stark Industries and just recently helped buy out and merge Hammer tech to boost our mechanical division."

"But where we function best is with what comes from beyond the stars…" Johnny winked twice.

Sue sighed as she led them down a long white hall.

"Yes. We are a space faring team before anything else. And that's why we're glad you came to us despite…. Well, not knowing us. You've essentially caught a bug."

Bronte's left arm flew to the side, yanking him across the hall and smashing into the left-most wall. The metal caved around his arm.

"What the…?" Bronte pushed himself off the wall and studied his hands. Still nothing.

"Case in point." Sue calmly said as she pushed open the doors, giving way to a huge operating room with test tubes, labs, half finished tech and a man with arms longer than anacondas.

"Sounds like our guest arrived." The man commented as his arms slithered through the room.

Once they were back at normal length at his sides he left his work to greet them.

He didn't look like Sue or Johnny but Bronte remembered his face on the billboard.

Full brown beard. Grey streaked chestnut brown hair. Tall and slender. Perceptive eyes that made Bronte's skin itch.

"It's good to meet you, Bronte. As I'm sure you know, I'm Reed Richards, the spearheading act of this whole existence. Beside my wife of course."

Brontë nodded, "What's goin on?"

Reed sighed, "Quite a lot from what I've heard. You bested quite the monarch last year….. and revived a living island."

"Yea not for nothing."

Reed nodded.

"We're so sorry for your loss, Bronte. If you ever need to talk, we're here." Sue added.

"I'm good... thank you, though."

Reed coughed, awkwardly trying to change the vibes of the conversation, "So…. You said you came for a check up."

Brontë shrugged, "Yea…. Someone said I need to get out more."

"I think that means bars….. not—"

Sue punched her brother in the arm.

"That's good." Reed nodded, "Very good. As my wife said….. you may have…. Contracted something amidst your war last year."

Bronte's face twisted up in confusion, "I don't get diseases. Only one sword can cut me."

Reed smiled, "That may be the case for earth based materials…. But what we're referring to is many stars apart from us. But it likes earth. Its inhabitants interact with us frequently. Especially those of us…. That are alone. Much like themselves."

They all watched Bronte as if he'd suddenly realized what they were referring to.

"Yea not ringing a bell."

Reed laughed faintly, "That's fine. All in due time. For now, how about that check up?"

Brontë nodded and the fantastic…. Three, led him to one of the operating tables where he sat and watched them work.

They kept their distance. Even Reed, as he placed heartbeat monitors and measuring tapes all over Bronte, he did so from dozens of feet away.

"So, Bronte. What have you been up to? Hank said you've been recruited by the X-Men more times than anyone….. and Shield…. And some covert ops teams. Sounds like you should have work set out for you for centuries….. and your assumed long lived nature should make that joke a reality." Reed asked.

Sue looked daggers into him as she read Bronte's vitals on a screen on the other side of the room.

"I'm sticking to myself for now. Trynna get paid without seeing people die. I did what I was supposed to."

"So…. You live as just a man now?" Reed asked.

"I ain't say all that." Bronte side eyed him. "I'm just solo."

Reed nodded, "Solitude can be as vexing as it is torturous. Any sleepless nights? Dreams you're going places you don't remember? Waking up elsewhere from your bed?"

Brontë looked over at him from across the room. His stretched arms hovered around Bronte.

"You're asking if I've been sleep walking."

"I know you have."

"Is that a symptom of the space herpes I caught?" Bronte continued looking at his hands.

"Yes. Just keep your eyes on your hands and you're welcome to call it whatever you want." Reed replied.

"So how about your sisters. Are you still in contact?"

"They're busy." Bronte dismissed the question aimed to get him to talk more.

"Probably not as busy as you though..." Johnny whispered.

"Can it, Johnny. Your work here is done. So please, let us work without extra tension."

"His work was trying to burn me? Don't y'all know who I am?" Bronte questioned.

"Your left arm…. And the whole of your body is fireproof. But your right arm in theory…. Should've been extremely weak to fire. It was more of a hope really. One based in theory….. then again theory can only take us so far." Reed itched the hair on his chin as he studied Bronte.

"Bronte, did you ever question how your entire arm grew back?" Sue questioned.

"Yea man, wounds from a Muramasa Blade don't heal…. Much less regenerate entirely." Johnny said as he leaned against the far wall in front of Bronte.

Brontë just looked at his arm, "I didn't even….. I just woke up and had it. Now that I think about I was without an arm for less than an hour. Nobody said anything…. Too much was going on. Wait what are you saying this arm ain't mine?"

Reed looked over to Sue.

"Honey, pull up the past labs and diagnostics of previous Klyntar Hosts." Reed requested.

"Klyntar... wait…" Bronte knew that word. He knew that species.

"Don't call me honey on the job, honey." Sue winked at him and began clicking away at an eye pad.

Suddenly she held out the tablet and a holographic screen bloomed, hovering over them all in the massive room.

Various bodies with notes and imagery filled the space. Brontë read the names.

"Deadpool/Venom…Spider-Man/Venom….. Ghost-Spider/Phantom….. Mac Gargan/ Scorpion/Venom….. Eddie Brock/Venom…. Cletus Cassidy/Carnage …. Green Goblin/Carnage … Donna Diego/Scream …Scott Washington/ Lasher."

Beside each body was a unique and liquid slime that slithered and stretched across the bodies like a living goo. Brontë knew it well.

It clung to the skin and spread, sinking hooks and needles into the nervous system and brain were it nestled and transformed. Some of the outlines of bodies within the hologram glowed. Others were cracked and covered in spikes.

Suddenly another human body layout was added.

"Bronte Connors/Raze."

Brontë jumped out of his seat, "This a joke or something? The fuck you got his name up there for? He's dead!"

"Bronte, emotional distress can cause flares and corruption phases in the Symbiote bonded to you—"

"Don't touch me, man! Tell me what the—" Bronte swatted away Reed's outstretched arm as it reached for him.

Reed circled back and moved to coil around Bronte.

"I SAID DONT TOUCH US!" Bronte roared as his right arm transformed and the dark blue— almost black, liquid skin spread into the Symbiote suit from before.

Darker. More imposing. Blue designs and arcane lettering swirled. Sometimes moving like liquid over the hard muscular surface. Other times flowing through the bulging veins like arcs of lightning. Or tearing up his chest like flames. Bladed sections of bone— or extra teeth, jutted from his elbows and knees.

His snout split open and spit blue flames like a dragon. His dreads transformed into dozens of snakes with fanged mouths.

"Woahhhh there Smaug, be easy…." Johnny turned up the heat and sent a plasma blast of flames at Bronte— who was now taken over by the Symbiote.

After a few seconds Johnny stopped the onslaught.

Brontë remained under the Symbiotes control, eyeballing Johnny as their skin steamed.

They let out a burp of smoke.

"Man that is horrifying…."

"Wait!"

"RAGHHHH!"

"Oh my Galactus!" Johnny screamed as the Symbiote began chasing him down on all fours through the lab.

"Fireproof…" Johnny said as he flew towards the ceiling.

"I remember this room! You won't dissect us. You won't hurt us!" The Symbiote monster lunged up the walls and spit a sliver of ice at Johnny, who watched it melt in his face with pure horror.

"What the hell…. An Elemental Symbiote?"

"You won't Mend what has been broken in Bronte. I WILL. WE WILL BE SAF—"

"Enough!" Sue announced as she shaped a force-field dome over Bronte in his Symbiote form.

They raged. Spinning and clawing at the translucent construct as it shrunk and forced them into a crouching position.

"Mend…? Hmmmm." Reed calmly stated as he wrote something in his notes.

"You think it's a name?" She asked as force fields and energetic outbursts intertwined at the tips of her fingers in the form of tiny airy explosions.

"Isn't that kind of against the usual motif? Mend doesn't sound really menacing." Johnny added.

"That's good." Reed approached the feral Symbiote, rising on infinitely stretching legs until they were face to face dozens of feet up the northern wall.

"Mend..."

"RAAAAAAGH!!!" The monster sent their wolfish head smashing into the force field in Reed's direction.

"Mend we are not here to hurt Bronte."

"LIES! I remember you! What you've done to the others…. Reed…. You are a Symbiote Hunter! You are the scourge of our kind right beside KNULL himself!"

Reed shook his head, "That's wrong."

"YOU HURT THEM!"

"Did you know they came to hurt us? My people? Spider-Man was weeks from dying out when we found Venom bonded to him. Ghost-Spider almost never recovered from the mental trauma of becoming Phantom. Many of them were corrupted. They stopped being Symbiotes and became parasites."

Mend growled.

"You're an individual, Mend. I'm referring to them and only them for their actions. Not you. I'm not sure of what you are quite frankly. You're breaking all the rules of your kind."

"You know nothing of our kind."

"Perhaps. I'm a student of the stars. So please, allow me to learn. What is it you are Mend?" As Reed asked the question, he waved a hand back at Sue storm down below.

The force field faded.

Mend growled faintly and stood up on raised heels, sticking to the walls perfectly fine. Mend's monstrous form streamlined. The previously hulking muscle mass shrunk down to Bronte's physique. The snakes spiraling from his head twisted down into cornrowed grooves. The elbow and knee blades sunk beneath the skin. Even the fanged mouth disappeared.

"We…. I… am a healer. Brontë must be healed. He is weak now… we can be strong. Together. Family. Brontë needs family."

Reed nodded and held out a hand, "Then you may stay... as family."

Mend took a step forward and shook his hand,….. backwards.

"You don't interact with humans much, do you?" Reed questioned.

Mend shook his head, "I prefer puppies…. And other cute fragile things in need."

"Right….. may we ask you some questions?"

"No needles….. or test tubes…. Or—"

"We got it. To be honest with you I wasn't looking forward to taking samples of you or Brontë anyway. Our plate is full… and a Mutant Demi-God being added would….. shatter the plate entirely. Much less a…. Mystic Symbiote?"

Mend let go of his hand and leapt off the wall, landing back on the operating table soundlessly. "You may ask questions. AFTER we get nutrients. The human body requires nutrients to survive! WE must survive. Brontë doesn't eat. WE must eat."

Sue and Reed looked at Johnny suddenly.

"You're kidding right? I almost got digested by magic slime and now I'm buying it pizza?" Johnny whined.

Mend nodded, "Meat lovers pizza…..two of them. Chop chop fire boy."

Sue tried to hide her smile.

"I'm not going because you said fire boy…. For the record." Johnny took off in a blaze of plasma flame.

Twenty minutes later and they were all sitting in the operating room with three finished pizzas, casually conversing.

Mend was no more. Brontë remained.

They'd went over the basics quite simply. Brontë was disoriented, but he'd seen it.

When he first entered the Baxter building. Mend transformed, leaving his right arm massive and bladed with black and blue skin. The moment Bronte looked down to see what Sue and Johnny had found, it was gone.

And then inside the operating room. When he attacked Johnny and had to be restrained by Sue.

All the way to now.

Reed had given him the rundown.

"The leading theory is simple. Your brother…. Raze. He was a Symbiote hybrid. A Klyntar Mutate. The Life Foundation used the last vestiges of research they conducted with Scream, Venom, Lasher Phage and Scorn and struck gold…. With the help of Romulus. Raze was their final product in a sense. Not a suit, but an individual lifeform spliced with compatible Mutant genes and animal urges."

They went silent.

"Keep going." Bronte didn't come here for no reason. Not anymore.

"You see…. Symbiotes reproduce asexually. Often without knowing themselves when they're doing it. Venom dropped off his offspring inside the bloodstream of a serial killer. Corrupted at birth. Scream sent her offspring into a grisly stomach wound she dealt to Ghost-Spider in the midst of helping Spider-Man."

"And you…. You got Mend…." Sue started.

"Right before Raze was killed by Daken." Bronte finished.

"A last ditch effort to truly save you in what must've been a rather hellish moment."

"So your right arm…. Is your nephew?" Johnny said.

"It won't make the most sense to…. Most people. But the Klyntar race reproduces and interacts very differently from us as a whole. All in all, you should feel some semblance of happiness, Bronte. Your brother lives on, in you." Reed pointed to Bronte as he also sat on the floor, leaned up against a cabinet below his counter.

Brontë looked down at his hand. It felt bizzare.

"But what about everything you just said? Spider-Man almost died….. Ghost-Spider almost went insane…?" Bronte questioned as he sat on the floor, leaned up against the operating table.

"Those symbiotes were corrupted. The Klyntar are a very impressionable race. It's what makes their symbiotic natures so well working. For example. All earthbound Symbiotes stem from Venom. Venom's first host was Deadpool— a mentally unstable mercenary with a love for blades. Every Symbiote now has those same traits. Think of it as a bloodline— everchanging and constantly evolving. Every child is stronger than their parent and based off the first host."

"My…. Mend's first host was me." Bronte added.

"And you are a Hero from what we've heard. You took down Omega Red. Two particularly deadly Wendigo's. You saved New York twice. Fought an Army of Lupines. Restructured Wakanda's clan system and killed Romulus. All while you are barely old enough to drink. These traits are being instilled into Mend every day he's bonded to you. And better yet, Mend has a mission of their own. It could fight off whatever corruptive aspects are brought on by your depression."

"I'm not depressed. And I didn't kill Romulus. That was Daken…"

"Right….." Johnny mumbled.

Brontë looked around at everyone. "What you secretly test my emotional wavelengths on some machine I don't know about?"

"No… we looked outside." Reed sounded almost sad.

Brontë felt his chest tighten.

"New York hasn't had a blizzard in years. It hasn't had any weather uptick at all really. Even with you here, working your music everyday. Brontë you haven't been able to use your Elemental powers since you got here, have you?" Sue questioned.

Bronte's jaw flexed against his brown skin repeatedly. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration and sighed.

"No….. I just…. It won't work. I don't feel it."

Reed nodded, "We assume it's a mental block. Some mutants have them purposefully put in place by telepaths to stop their powers from overcoming them. Yours has come due to trauma. In a rather prophetic way, Mend says they're here to fix you. They can use magic. Maybe in time yours will return."

"What if they don't?" Johnny asked.

"That is the question. We'd need to understand more of the Symbiote. Like its parent, Raze, Mend is a Mutate of its original species. But even more so, it's now based in magic. It seems to have Wind-Rider ancestry just as Brontë does now. That's beyond my territory. Aliens, sure. Magical aliens….. Id suggest meeting with Doctor Strange and Nightcrawler. Or even Ilyana Rasputin. What does she go by now?"

"Magik." Sue answered.

Brontë suddenly got up.

Everyone followed, "What's the matter?"

"We still have more to discuss regarding how to maintain symbiosis and avoiding corruption." Reed added.

"You owe me thirty dollars for that pizza." Johnny started.

"Come on, Goldilocks. You been up since birth and I live in the projects. I know you ain't about to bug out over pizza." Bronte said as he padded his pockets to make sure he didn't leave anything before heading out.

Reed and Sue looked at him like concerned parents.

"What, man? I'll take Mend for walks and make sure he eats."

"The Klyntar species is without human concepts of gender or biological sex." Reed interrupted.

"Mend does literally all of those things for you. Brontë their goal is to fix you. If you refuse help, you refuse to let them… mend you. That could lead to corruption." Sue explained.

"You went through a lot as a teenager. You are not well, Bronte. You need hel—"

"What I NEED…." Bronte growled as his eyes watered. He collected himself just barely as he ran a hand through his dreads, "What I need… is to not be sent running all across New York to beg at different Scientists and Magic-Man's doorsteps for a handout. What I need is to not go where I'll be reminded of how weak and how much of a drop out I am. What I need…. Is alone time. Time away from all this…."

The Fantastic Three didn't have much of a rebuttal to that.

"I won't front. I appreciate everything you all have done so far. You didn't have to. You helped me understand what all this is. I owe you. But I also owe this to myself. Im out."

Brontë left with no resistance. His headphones were on at full volume before he even left the door.

The streets were still crowded to hell. Nothing out of the norm. Nothing to relax his nerves either. Everyone felt like they had a weapon in their coats. Feline slits in their eyes. Wolfish claws tearing through the front of their timberland boots.

Impulsively Bronte turned and entered an alleyway. Homeless people lined the walls, all hooded and sleeping deeply as if the sun didn't hang high in the winter sky.

Snow clung to their coats and buried the trash in neat piles of white.

Brontë trudged through, trying his best to compartmentalize the days events for when he got back to his apartment.

Mend had other ideas in mind.

His right arm straightened as if electrocuted and an eye opened in his palm. Suddenly he could see the world upside down behind himself.

One of the homeless people he'd passed got up with with a purring growl and stretched. Even upside down, with the sky casting clear light from below, he could see how massive the man— Mutant, was.

Yellow eyes glimmered from the shadows inside the hood. Clicking claws sent sparks flying from his hands.

"Happy birthday, kiddo….hehe."