A young New Yorker finds himself in over his head after finding a symbiote that changes him in unexpected ways.

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Chapter 8 The First Family
8

Sunlight spills through the blinds in narrow lines, painting the floor in gold slats I don’t feel like moving through. My bed is warm. Safe. Quiet.

And I don’t have to go to school today since it’s Saturday.

No whispers in the hall.

No gym class nightmares.

No pretending I’m someone else for six straight hours.

…But also no job.

I stare at the ceiling.

I definitely lost that. Pretty sure ghosting your shift after a full-body mutation isn’t covered by sick leave.

So now I have a symbiote, a fake identity, and zero productivity.

I exhale, rubbing my eyes.

Today should be a rest day. But it feels more like waiting for something to go wrong.

And I hate that I might be right.

Mom’s probably in bed which means I’ve got the house to myself basically…

My phone buzzes on the pillow next to me I reach over grabbing it hesitantly.

Unknown caller?

I sit up in bed fast enough that the blanket tangles around my legs. The phone buzzes once more in my hand, still vibrating as if mocking me, like it knows this isn’t going to be just another lazy Saturday.

“Hello?”

“Arin. It’s Claire.”

My spine straightens immediately. “Oh—sorry. I didn’t know it was you. Did—did you get in touch with whoever you were talking about?”

“Yeah. I tried calling your mom first, but she didn’t answer. Is she asleep?”

I glance toward her bedroom door—closed, silent. “Yeah. Probably till the afternoon.”

“Okay. I’ll call her again then.”

“Wait—wait,” I say quickly, standing now, pacing the room. “You can talk to just me. I mean… it’s me this is about, right?”

There’s a pause on the other end. Claire’s voice comes back steadier, but lower.

“They want to see you in person. As soon as possible.”

My mouth goes dry. “Okay… where do I go?”

Another pause.

“Arin… your mom’s gonna need to be there.”

I feel the weight of those words settle like bricks in my stomach.

“Okay,” I say softly, eyes dropping to the floor. “I’ll wake her.”

“Are we in trouble?” the symbiote asks, quiet but curious. Almost hopeful.

“I don’t know yet,” I whisper.

But I’m about to find out.

A little while later…

The car ride had been mostly quiet—just the occasional bump of tires over potholes and the low thrum of tension neither of us wanted to name.

But when we pull up and I see where we are, my stomach does a full flip.

“…Is that the Baxter Building?”

Next to me, Mom folds her arms slowly, squinting up at the tower like she’s wondering the same thing.

“Yep,” Claire says, stepping out of the car and turning to meet us on the sidewalk. She offers a small smile. “Hey, Danielle. Hey, Arin—or… your mom said it’s Elisa now?”

“Uhh… yeah,” I say, tugging at the hem of my hoodie. I blush for some reason I don’t fully understand.

My mom puts a hand on my shoulder but keeps her eyes on the skyscraper. “Claire… why are we here?”

“To see a genius who might actually be able to help,” Claire replies.

I blink.

“Wait… you don’t mean—like—you know the Fantastic Four?! Are you serious?!”

Claire lifts a brow, amused. “I don’t know them personally. But… a friend of a friend.”

My mom frowns, her fingers tightening slightly on my shoulder. “Okay, so this is really serious, then. If they want to see this… right? That’s not bad, is it?”

Claire doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, she holds the building’s entrance open for us. “Let’s go find out.”

I stare up at the building as we walk in, neck craned so far back I nearly fall over.

“Holy crap,” I whisper. “They’re like… the heroes. Right next to the Avengers. And the X-Men.”

I run a hand through my hair—immediately regretting it when I realize how sweaty my palms are. “I should be more worried about the symbiote thing, I know that… but right now the idea of meeting them is… it’s a lot.”

Beside me, my mom gives me a soft, sideways look. “You okay?”

“I don’t know,” I admit.

“We are not afraid,” the voice murmurs inside me. “We are curious. What do geniuses taste like?”

“Absolutely not,” I mutter under my breath.

“What?” Danielle asks.

“Nothing.”

“We do require brains to survive.”

The words slither into my mind with terrifying calm.

“Without it, you may start… deteriorating.”

My heart nearly seizes in my chest.

What??! I shout back internally, panic spiking like ice water down my spine. “You’re— you’re joking, right? RIGHT?!”

Silence.

Not the usual smug pause. Not even a hint of a snicker.

Just nothing.

I gulp hard, legs suddenly feeling like they’re made of static.

Claire turns to us with the kind of calm you only get from years of patching up bullet wounds and superheroes.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “They’re scientists first. They’re not here to judge you. Just… help.”

“Help or dissect,” I whisper.

Harper and Luca are nowhere near this level of stress. I almost miss them.

I tighten my hoodie, squeeze my eyes shut for a second, and take a breath.

“Okay,” I say. “Let’s go meet the smartest people on the planet and pray they don’t have a symbiote vacuum.”

Claire smirks. “That’s surprisingly specific.”

“You don’t know what they have in here.”

My mom notices me lagging and puts a gentle hand on my back. “You alright, sweetheart?”

I nod. “Yeah. Just, uh… nervous.”

Claire steps up to the front desk like she’s done it a hundred times before.

“We’re here to see a Reed—”

“Richards?” the man behind the desk says smoothly, barely looking up from his terminal. “Of course.”

He glances at the screen, types something, then raises an eyebrow. “Name?”

“Claire Temple,” she says, calm and professional, “and… guests.”

He nods barely acknowledging us more than necessary.

“Thirty-first floor,” he says, pointing toward a sleek glass elevator nearby. “The button’s the big four.”

Of course it is.

I look over at Mom, who’s trying very hard not to look like she’s questioning every life choice that led her to this moment. She’s doing a good job. Kind of.

Claire starts walking, and we follow. The elevator opens with a soft ding, cool and silent and way too futuristic.

I stare at the panel and sure enough—there’s one gleaming chrome button in the shape of a 4.

“Of course it’s dramatic,” I mutter, pressing it.

“We like the drama,” the symbiote hums. “Elevated. Elegant. Is he smart enough to fix us, do you think? Or will he become our next meal?”

“SHUT. UP.”

I smile weakly as the elevator begins to rise—faster than normal, like it’s ignoring gravity entirely.

“Still just nervous?” my mom asks gently.

“Yeah,” I say.

But it’s more than that.

This isn’t just a meeting.

It might be the first step toward going back to normal…

Or the moment I find out that ‘normal’ is already gone for good.

“Be on your best behavior,” Mom says quietly, smoothing her blouse like it’ll help her nerves any more than mine.

“Yeah, of course,” I say automatically, eyes fixed on the elevator doors.

She adds, after a beat, “And try to make sure it is too.”

I blink. “Wait—that’s not what you meant the first time?” I turn to her, shocked. “What would I even do?!”

She gives me the most mom look imaginable. “Elisa, I’ve raised you for seventeen years. I know that look you get.”

I open my mouth, then close it. Okay, fair.

Ding.

The elevator doors open with the softest whoosh imaginable.

And there, standing in front of a lab lined with impossible tech, charts full of math I can’t even pretend to understand, and what might be a floating coffee mug suspended in zero-G.

Then Reed Richards himself.

Tall. Composed. Eyes already scanning us like he’s reading every atom.

“Claire,” he says, voice calm, analytical, but not unfriendly. “You brought her.”

His gaze flicks to me, then pauses—not judgmental. Just… fascinated.

“Uh… hi,” I manage as we step out of the elevator, my voice cracking ever so slightly. Nailed it.

Reed Richards is already moving—or at least, parts of him are. His torso stays by a console across the room, but his neck and head stretch forward. His face hovers a few feet in front of me, blinking.

And then—

One of his eyes zooms in and I mean like literally his eye separate from his head moves closer as it focuses directly on my face.

“Ew,” I whisper, involuntarily taking a step back.

From the side, a voice cuts in—calm, amused, and unmistakably done with Reed’s nonsense.

“Reed, we talked about that. It creeps people out.”

I turn toward the sound and see her stepping out from behind a lab partition—calm, collected, and glowing just slightly with that she could kill me with a thought but she’s nice about it energy.

Sue Storm. The Invisible Woman.

I feel my knees lock.

“Oh great,” I whisper. “There’s more of them.”

Sue smiles warmly, though her eyes are sharp. “You must be Elisa.”

I nod mutely.

Somehow, meeting the stretchy genius wasn’t the most overwhelming part of this day.

Sue steps closer, her smile easy, but her gaze analytical in that mom-with-laser-vision kind of way. I’d call it comforting if it didn’t also make me want to evaporate through the floor.

“I’m Sue. Don’t worry, we’re not here to poke or prod—unless Reed gets carried away, in which case I’ll make him invisible and lock him in a closet for ten minutes.”

“That only happened once,” Reed’s head calls from across the room, now retracting back to his body like a tape measure. “And technically, that was a controlled environment.”

“You built a closet with locks on the inside.”

“For me.”

Sue rolls her eyes, then turns back to me, far gentler. “You okay, Elisa?”

“I… yeah.”

Lying. Immediately lying. My hands are clenched in my hoodie and I’m 99% sure my heartbeat could power a small generator.

“She’s a little overwhelmed,” Claire cuts in gently. “It’s been… a long week.”

My mom nods tightly from beside me. She hasn’t let go of my arm since we walked in.

Reed steps forward now that his full body is back where it belongs, his tone shifting from curious to serious. “Claire briefed us on the situation. A symbiote of unknown origin—bonded under extreme stress. I’ve scanned the satellite footage. The biomass signature is consistent with the Klyntar species.”

My mouth goes dry. “Klyntar?”

“That’s what they call themselves,” Sue says softly. “Symbiotes. That’s… not the first one on Earth.”

I nod. “I know. I’ve read stuff—Venom, Carnage…”

Reed clasps his hands behind his back. “We’d like to run a few non-invasive scans. Nothing painful. We want to help you understand what you’re bonded to—and if the bond is permanent.”

I glance at my mom.

She gives me a small nod.

“Okay,” I say. “But I’m not getting in a tube or anything.”

Sue smiles. “No tubes. Just questions. And maybe a fancy chair.”

The voice in my head perks up.

“Do we get a chair that moves? Maybe something with lasers?”

This is awkward and stressful for more reasons than you’d think.

There’s the whole symbiote attached to my nervous system thing. The looming possibility that I’m permanently fused with a sentient alien who’s both naive and deeply fascinated by the concept of violence. The presence of two of the most brilliant people on the planet studying me like I’m equal parts science project and endangered species.

All of that? Manageable. Well not really but I’m making a point.

The real problem is that the Invisible Woman—Sue freaking Storm—is standing about three feet away from me, smiling gently and making eye contact like she doesn’t know she was my first-ever crush.

My actual first-ever crush.

Twelve-year-old me would be dying.
Present me is dying.

My cheeks are on fire and I’m hyper-aware of everything—my voice, my posture, the way I say “uh” too much.

I can feel the symbiote stirring, curious.

“Your temperature has increased. Are we threatened?”

No. Not threatened.

“Then why is your heart rate elevated? You are flushed. Are we ill?”

No, I just—

“Is it the blonde one? You keep looking at her.”

Oh my god shut up.

“Should we attempt to impress her? We can grow another arm.”

Shut. Up.

Sue turns, catching my gaze again. “You’re doing great, by the way. Most people are terrified of Reed’s scan room. And it used to have a tube, so you lucked out.”

I laugh a little too loud. “Hah, yeah! Tubes! Worst.”

Claire gives me a sideways glance like she knows something.

Reed’s already setting up his equipment across the lab, but Sue leans in just a bit.

“You sure you’re okay?”

I nod—too fast. “Y-yeah. Totally fine. Not nervous. Just meeting one of the most iconic women in modern history, who, you know, saved the world a bunch of times and also looks… fine. I mean good. Great. Heroic. Wow.”

Sue blinks.

My mom slowly turns her head toward me, eyes narrowing like she’s rewriting the last thirty seconds.

Claire snorts.

“We like her,” it whispers.

Okay no more talking for me, I think, eyes glued to the floor like I might fall through it and escape this reality. Sue offers a polite, slightly amused smile and steps back toward Reed, who—thank god—is more focused on data than my social meltdown.

Reed gestures to a sleek silver platform surrounded by a semicircle of blinking machines and hovering panels. It looks weirdly like a dentist’s chair and a spaceship had a baby.

“We’ve dealt with a few symbiotes before,” he says, voice crisp, professional. “The process shouldn’t be a problem—given the length of the connection.”

“Good,” I say a little too fast. “Great. The process being… removing it, right?”

He nods once. “Yes. Just a few scans and we should be able to get started.”

I feel my heart skip a beat.

“They’re going to try and take me away,” the voice whispers—no humor this time. Just quiet fear.

“You said we’d be safe.”

“I—” I think quickly, but I don’t know what to say. I did say that. And I meant it. But I didn’t think this would come this fast.

“You okay, sweetheart?” my mom asks softly from behind me.

I nod again, stiffly.

But inside, the storm’s already building. Not panic exactly, but this tangled knot of fear, guilt, and—

“We don’t want to go.”

“You don’t want us.”

“But we are you. Aren’t we?”

And that—

That question sits like a weight in my chest as I step toward the scanning platform.

Don’t worry, I think firmly, trying to sound braver than I feel. I told you—even if we get separated, I won’t let Alchemax get you. Besides… these are the good guys.

The symbiote doesn’t answer, but I feel it settle, pulling back just enough to let me breathe on my own. Trusting me.

Or trying to.

I sit still as Reed activates the scanner—lights flash in a rhythm across the semicircle around me, casting glows that shift from blue to green to violet. The platform hums beneath me like it’s tuned to the exact frequency of stress. But the machine never touches me. No needles. No tubes. No pain.

Then It’s over.

Just like that.

I blink, half-expecting to feel something… leave.

But everything’s still here. Still me.

Reed steps away from the console, removing his glasses and examining the readings with a low, thoughtful hum. Sue leans in, glancing at the tablet he’s holding. She says something under her breath—too quiet to hear.

But her face…

Her face tightens. Not shocked. Not angry. Just… concerned.

And that might be worse.

I shift slightly in the seat. My fingers twitch.

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

Neither of them answer right away.

Claire and My Mom are still talking off to the side—calm, unaware.

This nightmare’s finally almost over, I think.

But my stomach’s already sinking.

Something’s not right.

And Sue’s glance flicks to me again, full of something guarded.

Protective.

Pitying.

I swallow hard.

“…Reed?” I ask again, more quiet this time. “What did it say?”

He finally looks up.

And his expression isn’t the kind that comes with easy answers.

I watch Reed walk away, tablet in hand, his voice low as he starts speaking to my mom and Claire.

Sue doesn’t follow.

Instead, she moves closer to me—slower than before. Her arms are crossed, not like she’s guarding herself, but like she’s bracing me.

She kneels slightly to be eye level.

And hesitates.

That one pause says more than words could.

My throat tightens before she even speaks. I feel the tear slip down my cheek—hot, unwanted, loud somehow in the silence.

“I…” I say quietly. “It told me the bond was permanent. It was right, wasn’t it?”

Sue’s face softens. “I’m sorry.”

I swallow hard, but it sticks in my throat.

Sue rests a hand gently on the edge of the platform.

“It’s not following the same trajectory we’ve seen in other symbiotes,” she explains. “Normally, permanent bonding takes weeks, even months—usually only when the host and symbiote begin to share a fused identity. But from what Claire told us…”

She shakes her head.

“You and it aren’t even close to that. It shouldn’t be possible. But the scan showed something else.”

She hesitates again.

“There’s… overlap now. Cellular. Neural. Your nervous systems are almost entirely interwoven.”

I blink fast, wiping at my face with my sleeve.

“So… I’m stuck with it. Forever.”

Sue doesn’t lie.

She just nods, her expression gentle but steady.

“I won’t sugarcoat it. We haven’t seen this before. But… it’s part of you now, Elisa. And removing it… it’s just not possible.”

I stare at the floor, the lights, anywhere but Sue’s face.

“What about…” I swallow. It hurts more to say it than I expected.

“What about me being a girl? Can you fix that?”

Her expression—so steady, so composed—falters.

That tiny shift in her eyes is all the answer I need, but she still tries to give it gently.

“The symbiote…” she says slowly, like she’s carefully picking every word, “its healing process—it’s constantly active. Regenerative. Protective. If we attempted to reverse any of the changes, it would read that as trauma. And undo it.”

She takes a breath, steady, quiet.

“Whatever it did… this is what your body considers correct now.”

I feel my whole chest cave in.

The tears are already falling, hot and steady, and I don’t even bother to hide them.

“So I’m stuck as a girl,” I whisper, “I’m stuck with an alien monster in me… with a high chance of losing control, maybe hurting people, and I don’t even get to look like me anymore—”

The words crumble in my mouth, lost in a sob.

Sue doesn’t speak right away. She just stays close, her hand hovering like she wants to reach out but knows better than to make it worse with a touch I didn’t ask for.

Behind her, I hear my mom’s voice, soft and confused but I don’t turn around.

Inside, the symbiote is quiet.

But I feel it.

A low, mournful hum.

Not guilt. Not pity.

Just… sadness.

Like somehow, it understands what it’s taken from me.

I don’t even remember moving—just the sound of my shoes hitting the floor, the lights blurring past, Claire calling my name, my mom’s voice—

None of it matters.

Not now.

Not after hearing that.

I run into the elevator I slam the button and the doors open like they know I can’t stay in there a second longer. I realize it’s not the same one we used to get up here but I don’t care I just click the only button on the wall.

No one stops me.

No one can.

The ride up is silent, just the humming of my own heartbeat echoing in my ears, and the voice in my head.

“You hate us.”

I don’t answer.

I can’t.

Not with my voice caught in my throat and the pain rising sharp behind my ribs.

The doors open, and the cool wind of open sky hits me in the face like a slap.

I step out.

The rooftop is high. Higher than anything else around it. It’s almost serene—quiet, beautiful, surreal. Like the whole city is laid out just for me. Every blinking light. Every window. Every rooftop below, stretching for miles.

I walk slowly to the edge.

Look down.

It’s not about falling. Not really. It’s just…

I feel like I already have.

Like I’m halfway between who I was and something I never asked to be, and no one—not Claire, not my Mom, not even they—can fix that.

“You said we’d be safe.”

“You said we’d figure it out together.”

The wind catches in my hair. My eyes sting from more than just the tears now.

I wrap my arms around myself.

Whisper.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can.”

The voice is quiet.

Not pleading.

Not demanding.

Just… sure.

“You already are.”

The wind tugs at me as I reach the edge, cold and sharp, whispering through the strands of my hair like it’s trying to say something the world can’t.

I don’t move from the edge.

I don’t dare.

Below me, the whole city breathes. Lives. Goes on.

And I can’t tell if I still belong to it.

For a moment, there’s no sound except my heartbeat and the subtle rush of blood in my ears.

Then—soft. From inside me.

“We didn’t know it would do this to you.”

It’s quiet, not the usual chatter or curiosity. Not a morbid joke. Not a sinister suggestion.

Just a voice.

“We didn’t know what would be lost.”

I close my eyes.

“But you still did it.”

“We were scared. Alone. We thought you were strong. And you were.”

I grip the edge of the roof tighter.

“That doesn’t make this okay.”

“We know.”

The honesty in that small phrase hurts more than anger would have.

“I lost everything.” My voice cracks, but I don’t stop. “I don’t look like me, I don’t feel like me, and I can’t even fix it because of you.”

Silence again.

The wind pushes harder, stinging my eyes.

“We were in pain when we found you. We thought we were healing.”

“You didn’t ask,” I whisper.

“We couldn’t.”

A beat.

“But we would have.”

I let that sit. Let it burn.

“You made me into someone I’m not.”

“Or someone you could be.” A pause. “Someone we need to be.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know who that even is.”

“Neither do we.”

That hits different.

Not threatening.

Not even sad.

Just… true.

“But we can find out. Together.”

The voice is quiet. Hesitant.

Then, softer than ever:

“Do you still want us?”

I stand there, tears streaking down my face, arms still wrapped around my chest like I can hold myself together just a little longer.

“I don’t know,” I say. “But I don’t want to be alone either.”

“If I’m gonna be stuck like this…” I whisper, the wind tugging at every inch of me, the weight of everything I’ve lost still tight in my chest, “…stuck with you…”

I step further on the edge—so close the balls of my feet kiss open air.

“I might as well enjoy it.”

And I step off.

Not fall. Not leap.

Just… let go.

The moment my foot leaves the rooftop, the wind swallows me whole.

For a heartbeat, it’s quiet—weightless. The world slows, my stomach lurching with that brief drop that feels like dying, or flying.

I close my eyes.

And then—

FWSSHHT.

The suit bursts from my skin like a wave, wrapping around me in red and black tendrils, hugging every limb with perfect, terrifying precision.

My eyes snap open—now behind the mask—as I reach out instinctively.

Thwip—KRAK!

A thick webline rockets from my palm and anchors hard to the nearest building, yanking me sideways with all the momentum I’ve built in that freefall.

My body swings.

Hard.

Fast.

Wild.

My breath catches in my throat—not in fear, but in thrill.

The city lights blur past me, windows glowing like fireflies. I arc upward, flipping once, then again, the suit shifting with every movement like it wants this—like it’s built for this.

“YES,” the voice roars inside me, not violent, not dark—just pure, unfiltered exhilaration.
“THIS is what we’re meant to do!”

And for the first time—

I don’t disagree.

The fear isn’t gone. The grief still lingers.

But flying like this?

It’s freedom.

It’s mine.

And maybe—just maybe—this body, this life, this thing I never asked for…

Can be more than just something I survived.

It can be something I own.

The elevator doors slammed shut before any of them could catch Elisa—Claire calling her name, Danielle nearly dropping her bag as she lunged after her daughter.

“Where’d she go?” Claire demanded, turning to Reed and Sue.

“The elevator—the roof,” Reed mutters.

“Oh my god.” Danielle’s voice broke as she turned on her heel, eyes wide. “You don’t think—We need to—I need to go to her!”

“She’s okay,” Sue said quietly, though her own expression wasn’t confident.

Danielle spun toward her. “What do you mean okay?! She just found out her life’s been hijacked and now—”

FWSSHHT—THWIP—WHOOSH.

They all froze. A streak of red and black blurred past the high-rise windows, arcing against the golden skyline.

Danielle gasped and stumbled closer to the glass. “Did you see—what was that—oh my god, what the hell is she doing?!”

Claire didn’t answer. Neither did Reed. No one had to. The shape in the air was unmistakable.

The masked figure twisted through the sky with a grace that was still learning itself—arms out, catching air, legs flaring with each wild swing. Every move looked like it could go wrong, and yet didn’t.

Reed’s expression tightened. “It seems… keeping Alchemax from finding her might be harder than expected.”

Sue glanced at him. “Not just Alchemax. There’s always someone watching. Especially when someone flies off a rooftop in full symbiote form.”

Danielle pressed a hand to her mouth. Her daughter—her child—was out there, swinging like a ghost across the skyline.

And the worst part?

Somewhere in her heart, she wasn’t sure if Elisa was running away…

…or finally setting herself free.

End of chapter 8