Marvel: Shadow Monarch

The motel room felt smaller with all three of them sitting in it, though that might have been due to Jeff's continued growth. The land shark sat in front of them like an oversized house dog, his tongue lolling out in what could only be described as a perpetual grin.

His stubby legs were folded beneath his bulk, and his tail occasionally thumped against the floor with enough force to rattle the cheap furniture.

Grandma Murphy shook her head slowly, still processing what she'd learned over the past hour. "I still don't understand how I didn't find Jeff before. A creature this size doesn't exactly hide well."

Anna shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the bed. They'd given Grandma Murphy a heavily edited version of their story—mutant abilities, government facility, escape—but nothing about the killings or the true extent of what they'd endured.

Even the sanitized version had been difficult to tell.

Grandma Murphy's sharp eyes moved between Lucien and Anna, taking in details that most people would miss.

The way Anna kept her hands carefully positioned to avoid skin contact. The controlled stillness in Lucien's posture that spoke of someone always ready for danger. The haunted quality that clung to both of them despite their youth.

"You kids have gone through a lot," she said quietly, her voice carrying a gentleness that hadn't been there during their previous interactions. "I felt something was off on the very first day, but I could tell you were in need of help. So I helped."

Jeff seemed to sense the shift in mood and waddled over to nuzzle against Grandma Murphy's leg. She laughed despite herself, reaching down to pat his fin. "Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy?"

Jeff's grin somehow managed to become even wider, his tail thumping with increased enthusiasm against the floor.

"I helped out with a mission," Lucien said, deciding to address the obvious question before it was asked. "Government work. A situation that needed someone with my particular skills. In return, I was given a house and some money."

Grandma Murphy nodded, though her expression suggested she understood there was much more to the story than he was telling. "So you two are gonna move out, huh? You didn't even stay for a week. It's a shame."

Lucien decided to mess with her, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Why, Granny? We grew on you or something?"

Grandma Murphy reached over and slapped his arm with surprising speed and force. "Nah, I was enjoying the cheap labor."

All three of them smiled at that, the tension in the room easing slightly.

"Granny, I'd like to give you some money," Lucien said, his tone becoming more serious. "For everything you've done for us. The room, the work, not asking too many questions."

Grandma Murphy's expression hardened slightly. "I'm glad that you thought of that, but if you think that I'm here because of the money, you're utterly wrong."

She paused, her gaze growing distant. "I'm here because of my memories with my late husband. This place, these rooms, that old coffee machine that breaks down every other day—Harold built all of it with his own hands. Every creaky floorboard and leaky pipe has a story."

Neither Lucien nor Anna believed that money wasn't at least part of the equation. Living expenses were a reality regardless of sentimental attachment.

"It's alright," Anna said gently. "But having more doesn't hurt, right? We're not trying to insult you."

"We just want to help," Lucien added. "Consider it payment for services rendered."

Grandma Murphy's eyes narrowed with amusement. "Aren't you brats underestimating me a bit too much?"

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone—something they'd barely noticed before but now recognized as the latest Samsung S29 Ultra, a device that cost more than most people made in a month.

"Wait," she said, typing something into the device with surprising dexterity for someone her age. When she turned the screen toward them, both teenagers went silent.

The bank account balance showed several million dollars.

Grandma Murphy smirked at their shocked expressions. "Want some money?"

Lucien stared at the number, trying to process what he was seeing. "How?"

"Harold wasn't just a handyman, sweetie. He was a handyman who bought real estate in Queens back when it was cheap and held onto it for forty years. This little gas station? It's sitting on property worth more than most people's houses." She slipped the phone back into her pocket.

"I keep this place running because I want to, not because I have to."

Anna found her voice first. "Then why live like this? Why work so hard when you could retire anywhere?"

"Because this is home," Grandma Murphy said simply.

"Money can't buy memories, and it can't replace the life Harold and I built here. Besides, what would I do with myself in some fancy retirement community? Play bingo with a bunch of rich widows who complain about their yacht maintenance?"

Lucien shook his head, still processing the revelation. "You let us work for room and board when you're sitting on millions?"

"You needed purpose as much as you needed shelter," she replied. "Charity makes people feel helpless. Work makes them feel useful. I gave you what you needed, not what you thought you wanted."

"If you've got so much money and don't want to leave this place, then why not modify it?" Lucien asked. "Update the facilities, expand the business, make it more comfortable?"

Grandma Murphy's expression grew firm. "Harold built this place with his own hands. Every nail, every board, every fixture was chosen by him. I have no intention of changing anything about it until the day I die."

"Even the coffee machine?" Anna asked with a small smile.

"Especially that damn coffee machine. Harold spent three weeks researching which one to buy, drove two hundred miles to get it at the best price, and installed it himself even though the instructions were in Italian." Grandma Murphy's eyes grew soft with memory. "It breaks down because it's older than you are, but it still makes coffee the way he liked it."

They spent the next hour in comfortable conversation, sharing stories and memories that felt strangely normal given everything they'd been through. Jeff provided entertainment by attempting to perform tricks that his bulk made impossible, resulting in several minor collisions with furniture.

Eventually, the time came to pack their few belongings. Neither Lucien nor Anna had accumulated much during their stay—a few changes of clothes from Grandma Murphy's charity donations, some basic toiletries, and the memories of their first real respite since escaping the facility.

Jeff posed a unique logistical challenge. At his current size, hiding him in public would be impossible, and transporting him across the city required creativity.

Grandma Murphy provided a large wooden crate that had once held industrial coffee supplies, along with enough blankets to make it comfortable.

"This feels wrong," Anna said as they prepared to load Jeff into the makeshift transport. "Like we're shipping furniture."

Jeff seemed perfectly content with the arrangement, settling into the crate. His tail wagged against the wooden sides, creating a rhythmic thumping sound.

"He's tougher than he looks," Lucien said, securing the crate's lid with air holes for ventilation. "And it's not like we can walk him through Manhattan on a leash."

The goodbye with Grandma Murphy was more emotional than any of them had expected. She hugged Anna carefully, mindful of her power, and gave Lucien a firm handshake that conveyed more than words could.

"You take care of each other," she said, her voice gruff with suppressed emotion. "And if you ever need a place to lay low again, this old motel will be here."

"Thank you," Anna said, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. "For everything."

"Thank you for reminding me that this place still has purpose," Grandma Murphy replied. "Now get going before I change my mind about not taking your money."

The ride to Manhattan was surreal. The taxi driver kept glancing in his rearview mirror at the large wooden crate in his back seat but wisely chose not to ask questions when Lucien handed him double the fare upfront.

As they crossed into the city proper, the landscape changed dramatically. Gone were the suburban stretches and highway rest stops, replaced by towering buildings and endless streams of people. 

Meridian Towers rose before them like a monolith of glass and steel, its surface reflecting the afternoon sun in brilliant flashes.

The building was impressive even by Manhattan standards—forty-five floors of luxury apartments that catered to people who considered a million-dollar view a basic necessity.

Anna stared up at the structure, her mouth slightly open. "We have an apartment here?"

Lucien grinned, enjoying her reaction. "We do indeed."

The lobby was exactly what he'd expected—marble floors, abstract art that probably cost more than most cars, and a doorman who looked like he'd been hired as much for intimidation as customer service.

The man's eyes tracked to the wooden crate with professional interest but said nothing when Lucien presented the keycard.

The elevator ride to the twenty-eighth floor was silent except for occasional muffled sounds from Jeff's crate.

When the doors opened, they found themselves in a hallway that looked more like a hotel than an apartment building—thick carpeting, subtle lighting, and the kind of quiet that only came with serious money.

Apartment 2A was at the end of the hall, corner unit as promised. Lucien slid the keycard into the electronic lock, hearing the satisfying click of disengagement.

As they approached the door, wooden crate balanced carefully between them, Anna looked around the hallway with obvious nervousness. "This feels like a different world."

"It is," Lucien agreed, reaching for the door handle.

Just as his hand touched the metal, a voice spoke from behind them.

"You guys shifting here?"

.....

POWER STONE GOAL: 700 ( 1 Extra Chapter)

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