Tales from Krakoa, part 5
A/N: Warning for brief mention of suicide.
Antonio wiped the sweat off his forehead. The fans in the garage did little to help with the Arizona heat. The car he was working on was old and filthy. It had been sitting in a garage for over a decade while the elderly owner dithered about selling it even though he couldn’t drive anymore.
Now that it had been sold, the new owner wanted it gone over with a fine-toothed comb. It had been towed here yesterday and he’d been going over it in between all the other appointments they had scheduled. Even with three of them working, there was always more to do. One of the main problems he’d found had been mice had chewed on some of the wires and built a nest in the hood.
By the end of the day, he thought he’d made some progress towards getting it running again. He washed his hands thoroughly before clocking out and saying good-bye to his coworkers. He’d been working here for five months and while he was polite to his fellow mechanics, he knew they considered him stand-offish. There had been a few trips to a bar together on Friday nights and he’d bought a round a few times just to create some good will but his heart wasn’t in it.
He’d told a careful half-truth about being sick for a very long time when he was younger and still feeling tired a lot. They seemed to accept it but he still felt like Pete and Tom didn’t particularly like him even if they were polite about it. Tony was just grateful for a job and did his best not to ruffle any feathers.
Today, he needed to run some errands before he could retreat to the silence of his tiny apartment. He picked up some groceries, mailed a package to his sister back in Texas, and then picked up a refill of his medication from the pharmacy.
Finally back home, he collapsed onto the ratty couch and stared at the ceiling. His body ached but nothing like it had before M-Day. Hunger finally roused him to shuffle off the couch and heat up some left-over pizza. Maybe tomorrow he would try and cook something instead of relying on fast food and leftovers.
Turning on the TV while he ate, he sat through the usual news of various disasters, scandals, and economic problems while only half-listening. Until his attention was caught by a familiar name in the news these days.
“The mutant nation of Krakoa announced today that it’s expanding its roll-out of new medicines into five more countries. Demand for the revolutionary drugs has skyrocketed as their success in treating a wide variety of illnesses has been widely reported. Spokesperson Emma Frost said…”
Sourly, he turned the channel to a rerun of “Seinfeld.” There was far too much about mutants in the media lately. He’d heard the derogatory comments from Pete and Tom about those “freaks” and their evil agenda to destroy humanity. Keeping his head down and ignoring them was the best strategy. Mutants were not his problem anymore.
By the time the week-end rolled around, he succeeded in getting the old car to run again and the owner had clapped him on the back and congratulated him on a job well done. He was glad to see it gone so he could focus on easier jobs but mostly he was glad to have two whole days to rest and do nothing.
He spent Saturday resting, surfing the Internet, and watching old movies. The only time he left the apartment was to retrieve his mail from the box in the lobby. He tossed the thin pile on the table and decided to look at it later. Supper was a can of soup and a sandwich. As he ate at the tiny table, he pulled the mail towards him and thumbed through it. It was the usual mix of bills and ads except for one envelope with his name and address handwritten on the front. There was no information about the sender on the front so he flipped it over.
The envelope had been sealed with a label that read, “Mutant Liason, Krakoa.” He stared at it in horrified bewilderment. Why the hell was the mutant nation sending him mail? He didn’t want to open it. His first instinct was to tear it into tiny pieces and then set those pieces on fire. But after sitting there for several minutes and taking several deep breaths, Tony managed to calm down.
It was probably nothing. He wasn’t a mutant anymore. They’d probably just made a mistake sending it to him. Someone hadn’t updated their files or something. Any remaining appetite had fled. He poured out the last few drops of the soup and wrapped up the half-a-sandwich to eat later. Leaving the envelope on the table, he tried to put it out of his mind. Watching TV was no hope, he couldn’t concentrate on anything. He found himself pacing around the narrow confines of his apartment, completely unsettled until he knew he was going to have to open it and see what it said.
Ripping it open, he pulled out a single sheet of paper and scanned it in disbelief. It almost read like a form letter except that his name was there and whoever sent it knew he wasn’t a mutant anymore.
“To Antonio Delgado, we wish to inform you that under Krakoan law, you are considered a citizen with all the rights granted to every other Krakoan citizen. You are invited to visit the island at your convenience. We know that your powers were lost on M-Day. However, there may be a way to restore them if you choose.
We look forward to hearing from you. A representative is available to speak with you at any day or time. Simply call…”
Methodically, he ripped the letter into confetti and swept it all into the trash. Instead of anger, there was just a numb feeling like he’d been submerged in cold water. What the hell was this? What made anyone think he wanted his powers back or that he wanted to visit their little island sanctuary? He wasn’t a mutant anymore and he never wanted to be one ever again. He just had to hope that when he didn’t answer, they would drop the whole matter and not try to contact him again.
That hope was dashed the following Saturday. He’d had a busy week at work and throwing himself into his job had helped him forget about the terrible letter. Now he was relaxing on the weekend when there was a knock on the door. As soon as he looked through the keyhole, he knew why they were there.
There were two young people at his door. One was a smiling young woman with glowing eyes. The other was bundled up in a hoodie despite the heat but Tony could see that his face looked gray and oddly wrinkled. Cold dread filled him at the thought of his neighbors seeing these two and wondering about him.
“Go away. Not interested!” He yelled through the closed door. The girl frowned slightly.
“Mr. Delgado? We only need a minute of your time. It’s important.” She sounded so earnest and deep down, he knew if he turned them down, they would just send someone else. Krakoan society seemed far too possessive over anyone it considered a mutant to leave him alone. Maybe if he let them in, he could persuade them he wasn’t worth their time. He yanked open the door.
“Get in. You have five minutes and this better be good.”
Both young mutants shuffled in, a little less certain in the face of his anger. But the young woman still smiled at him cautiously.
“I’m Marisol Alvarez and this is Angelo Espinosa. If you prefer, we can explain the situation in Spanish?”
“English is fine. You’re wasting your time. I’m not a mutant anymore.”
“We know. But there’s a hate group tracking down any mutants they can find, even ones who lost their powers. We’re here to warn you and to offer you a place on Krakoa.”
“Someone might be after me so you come here and draw attention to me? That doesn’t seem like a very smart plan.” They were probably lying to him to make him dependent on them. The damn letter hadn’t mentioned any threats. Although, he hadn’t finished reading it before he’d destroyed it. But shouldn’t that have been in the beginning?
“We have people monitoring the area right now. It should be fine. We’re not forcing anyone to go. We just wanted to make you aware of the threat.”
“Great. Thanks. You can both leave now.”
“If that’s what you want we’ll go but I just want to add that we can give you back your powers if you want them.”
“Do you know what my powers were? Is there some file on me somewhere? If so, you should know that my powers were the worst and losing them was the best thing that ever happened to me. So if you think offering me some kind of mutant healing is going to appeal to me, you’re dead wrong.”
“Um, your file said your mutant power was acidic hemoglobin.”
“Yeah, and do either of you understand what that means? It means my blood turned to acid when it was exposed to oxygen. Every tiny cut hurt like hell and made me dangerous to everyone around me. My useless mutant ability only existed to cause me pain. M-Day was the best day of my life even though I almost died because of it. And you think I want that back? Are you crazy?”
“I get that some mutant powers are more difficult than others but it’s about pride and unity as a people…”
“Cut the crap. I’m not a super genius like some of those mutants on your island but I’m not stupid either. A mutation is a random occurrence that may or may not be beneficial. I’ve read every book I can find about it. Saying that everyone who shares one specific genetic trait should stick together and segregate themselves is racist bullshit. It’s all random.”
“Krakoa has helped a lot of people who had nowhere else to go.” Angelo hadn’t spoken before but now he pushed back his hood and glared at Tony. It was obvious from his gray, sagging skin that he was a mutant who couldn’t hide like Tony could and he felt bad for him for a moment but then shook his head.
“Good for them. I have some place to go. This place may be small but it’s mine. Being a mutant was the reason my family had to leave Cuba. It’s the reason I thought about killing myself every day for years. If I got my powers back somehow, I would finally go through with it. The only help I need is being left alone.”
Marisol’s glowing eyes seemed to get brighter. She looked sad and then nodded.
“Alright, I believe you. We won’t bother you again but can we leave a card? It has a number you can call just in case you do find yourself in trouble. We just want to help.”
“Fine.” He supposed taking the card wouldn’t be so bad and it would get them off his back. Marisol took a plain white card out of her pocket and placed it on the coffee table. It had a phone number typed on it with no other identifying feature so even if someone saw it they wouldn’t know what it was. They both muttered half-hearted goodbyes as he ushered them out the door.
Once he was sure they were gone, he sank onto the couch and simply sat with his head in his hands. So many emotions were welling up in him over this little encounter. There was so much more he could have told them. He could have talked about the fear and guilt he’d felt as his family fled Cuba on a tiny boat with no guarantee they would reach the coast of Florida. It was his fault they had to run.
He could have told them about the time he was visiting his sister years later. His three-year-old nephew was coloring on scrap paper. Tony had picked up one of his drawings only to cut himself on the edge of the paper. The pain had been immediate as had the panic as he watched a single drop of blood land on the table, inches from little Pedro’s hand and begin to burn into the wood.
He could have told them about M-Day when the Scarlet Witch had neutralized his powers along with countless others. Some component in his blood had disappeared leaving him to pass out in public, seizing and instantly anemic. His heart had actually stopped and bystanders had performed CPR on him successfully.
He’d woken up in the hospital, disoriented and so weak he could barely think. It had taken months of care and physical therapy before he’d been well enough to be released and still to this day, he felt weak and tired all of the time. Something had been taken from him, something he never wanted or needed, but his current weak state was still preferable to being a constant danger to everyone around him.
Sometimes he missed Cuba and the familiarity of Havana’s sights and sounds. His father had been a car mechanic and working on classic cars alongside his papa had given him the experience he needed to take some classes and get certified which led him to his current job.
Everything in his life since he was twelve, had been dictated by his horrible mutant powers. Where he lived, how he lived, what he wore, even who he interacted with had been shadowed by the real threat of his powers hurting someone even more than they hurt him. The thought of his powers returning made him want to vomit.
His life now wasn’t great but at least he felt free. Deep down, he could appreciate the mutants concern for him. It was touching for them to have his back even if he wasn’t one of them anymore. But there had to be other depowered mutants who were happy to be rid of them. He couldn’t be the only one.
Sighing, Tony tucked the card away in his wallet and went back to lie down on the couch. Hopefully, that would be the last time he had to be reminded of his past. There was only the future now.
A/N: I figured there had to be mutants with terrible powers who would be happier without them so this story rose from there. Marisol Alverez is an OC, of course. While not important to the story, I wanted to add that her power is a low-level empathy so she could tell Tony wasn’t lying about wanting to kill himself rather than get his powers back. She may or may not appear again in future chapters.