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Chapter 42: Famous Last Words™
🕑 Added 2025-08-16 15:51:35 +0000 UTCJay tugged at his navy henley for what had to be the fourth time, catching his reflection in the hotel's marble-walled lobby. The shirt fit well enough—not clingy but not loose either—matched with dark jeans and his leather jacket. Comfortable but put-together. After the last date, he wanted today to feel... normal. Whatever the hell normal meant when you were going on a date with a mercenary who could make bullets forget how to fly straight.
The elevator chimed, and out walked Domino looking like trouble in the best possible way. Black skinny jeans, combat boots, and a fitted crimson sweater that made her pale skin seem to glow under the lobby lights. Those mismatched eyes of hers—caught sight of the bouquet in his hands and immediately lit up.
"Well now, aren't you just the sweetest thing?" she drawled, accepting the white and black roses with theatrical surprise. "Flowers and everything. What's next, honney? You gonna pull out a ring and make an honest woman outta me?"
Jay grinned, offering his arm like some old-fashioned gentleman. "Figured I'd test my luck. 'Sides, what's the worst that could happen?"
"Oh honey," Domino laughed, sliding her arm through his with practiced ease, "those are what we in the business call 'famous last words.' But I appreciate a man who likes to live dangerously."
"Central Park," Jay said as they headed for the exit. "Picnic blanket, good food and absolutely zero folks in masks."
"Now you're just showin' off," she teased, but he caught how her shoulders loosened up a bit. Even someone like Domino needed normal every now and then.
Early noon in New York could be perfect when it wanted to be, and today it was showing off. Crisp air that carried the smell of changing leaves, golden sunlight filtering through the tree canopy like nature's own spotlight show. Jay had picked Sheep Meadow on purpose—far enough from the main walkways to feel private but still public enough to be safe.
They spread their blanket under a cluster of oak trees, Manhattan's skyline visible in the distance. Jay unpacked sandwiches from Katz's Deli—proper pastrami, none of that processed garbage—real potato salad from this little place in Brooklyn, and two bottles of craft beer.
"Alright," Domino said, settling cross-legged on the blanket, "this is nice. Real nice. Which means I'm waitin' for the other shoe to drop. When do the ninjas show up?"
"No ninjas," Jay promised, popping open her beer and passing it over. "Scout's honor."
"Were you actually a Boy Scout?"
"About three weeks. Turns out I wasn't too keen at followin' arbitrary rules, even as a kid."
Domino's laugh was bright and genuine in the afternoon air. "Well, that sure explains a few things. Though I gotta say, your camping skills have improved some. This beats the hell outta the fancy diner with the longest break."
They ate slow and easy, trading stories that danced carefully around the more dangerous parts of their lives.
"So there I was," she said, gesturing with half a pastrami sandwich, "hangin' upside down from a helicopter, trying to disable the rotor while the pilot kept doing barrel rolls like he was auditioning for the damn Blue Angels. And the whole time, my employer's screamin' through the comm that he needs the helicopter intact 'cause it's apparently some vintage model worth more than my yearly take."
"Please tell me you didn't—"
"Oh, I absolutely did. Good news was, we landed safe. Bad news was, we landed smack dab in the middle of his prize-winning rose garden." She grinned like a cat with cream. "Some clients just got no sense of priorities."
Jay was mid-laugh when his danger sense hit him like a sledgehammer to the skull. The familiar tingle exploded into a full-blown alarm. His beer bottle slipped from fingers that suddenly felt numb, amber liquid soaking into the blanket.
"Jay?" Domino's voice sounded like it was coming from underwater. "Sugar, what's wrong?"
He forced himself to focus through the sensory overload, his stolen mental processing from Sage kicking in to analyze the threat patterns. Multiple vectors, high-velocity projectiles, coordinated attack—this wasn't some random street violence. This was professional.
"We gotta move," he said, already reaching for his phone. "Now."
His thumb found Reed's emergency contact as he hauled Domino to her feet, his danger sense painting trajectories of incoming hurt across his mental map. Reed picked up on the first ring.
"Jay? What's—"
"Central Park, Sheep Meadow," Jay said, scanning the area while pulling Domino toward a cluster of bigger trees. "Multiple hostiles, coordinated attack. Civilians about to get hurt bad. How fast can you get here?"
"Two minutes." Reed's voice went sharp and focused like a scalpel. "Find cover."
Jay's Comic Perk was already processing the scene, cataloging details his conscious mind had missed. That family on their own blanket fifty yards away—dark-haired guy with military posture, beautiful brunette laughing at something one of the kids had said, two little ones playing with a frisbee. The man's bearing, the way he held himself, the careful positioning that let him watch approach routes while looking relaxed...
Frank Castle, but not the Punisher yet. Just a guy enjoying a wonderful afternoon with his wife, Maria, his daughter Lisa, and his son Frank Jr.
"Aw, shit," Jay breathed, understanding washing over him.
"Jay, talk to me," Domino said, her own combat instincts fully online now. "What're we lookin' at?"
Jay opened his mouth to answer just as the first gunshots cracked across the meadow.
Gunfire erupted from three directions—a coordinated ambush designed to leave no witnesses. Muzzle flashes bloomed from the tree line as what looked like rival gangs, caught up in their own territorial pissing match, turned a family picnic into a war zone.
But Jay's danger sense had painted Frank Castle's family right at the center of the crossfire, and he realized with certainty that some of these bullets weren't random. Someone had used the gang violence as cover for a targeted hit.
"Get down!" Jay tackled Domino behind a thick oak tree as bark exploded around them like wooden shrapnel. But even as they hit the dirt, his eyes stayed locked on the Castle family, watching Frank's Marine training kick in as he threw his body over his wife and kids.
It wasn't gonna be enough.
Domino's probability powers kicked in without her even thinking about it, warping chance around their position like an invisible shield. Bullets that should've punched right through them hit tree trunks instead, bounced off randomly placed park benches, or somehow got tangled up in the string of some kid's lost balloon. But her power couldn't cover the whole damn meadow, and the Castle family was fifty yards of killing ground away.
"The family," Jay gasped, his danger sense screaming warnings as he watched blood bloom across Maria Castle's yellow sundress like a horrible flower. "I gotta—"
"Are you outta your damn mind?" Domino grabbed his jacket as he started to move. "That's a kill zone out there!"
More gunfire erupted, and Jay saw little Frank Jr. stumble, his small body crumpling as his father's anguished scream cut through the chaos like a knife. Lisa was down too, her dark hair spreading across the grass like spilled ink.
Jay's vision tunneled. Every instinct screamed at him to run away from the danger. Bullets were already tracking toward their position, and he understood with cold certainty that some of these shooters were specifically hunting him.
A familiar whine cut through the air—repulsors charging up. The Fantasticar descended like some blue and silver angel, Reed Richards at the controls while Johnny Storm blazed alongside it, his flame form bright against the afternoon sky.
"It's clobberin' time!" Ben Grimm's voice boomed as he leaped from the moving vehicle, two tons of orange rock landing with an impact that shook the ground and sent gang members flying like scattered bowling pins. His massive stone fists turned armed thugs into airborne projectiles.
Johnny swooped low, precisely controlled flame bursts disabling weapons without cooking the idiots holding them. "Stay down, morons! The Human Torch is having a really bad day!"
Susan Storm materialized beside their tree, her force fields spreading to deflect the remaining gunfire. Her blue eyes met Jay's with clear understanding.
"I'll cover you," she said simply. "Go save them."
Jay ran with Susan, and when he reached the bloodied family used every ounce of his stamina to heal and get them out of mortal danger at least.
Exhaustion hit him like a physical wall as he finally stopped pouring his healing energy into Frank Jr.'s small, still form. The little boy's breathing had steadied, the bullet wounds closed up tight, internal bleeding stopped. But the process had drained Jay worse than any healing he'd ever attempted—the damage had been extensive, requiring him to essentially rebuild damaged organs while working in the middle of active gunfire.
His hands shook as he moved to check on Maria and Lisa. Both alive, both breathing steady, both whole. The holes in Maria's yellow sundress remained, but the flesh beneath was unmarked, flawless.
Maria stirred first, her eyes fluttering open with that confused, disoriented look of someone who'd been dying a minute before.
"Lisa?" she whispered, immediately reaching for her daughter.
"She's okay," Jay managed, his voice raw from the effort. "They're all okay."
Frank Castle's eyes snapped open with the awareness of a career soldier, instantly cataloguing threats and checking the tactical situation. But when his gaze fell on his family—alive, breathing, safe—something broke open in his face. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he gathered them close, his big hands shaking as he touched their faces, their hair, confirming the impossible reality.
"How?" he whispered, looking at Jay with an expression of desperate gratitude that cut right through to the bone. "How did you—?"
"Paramedics are coming," Jay interrupted, unable to meet those haunted eyes. "Get 'em to a hospital. Full workups. Make sure everything's still working right. I could only do so much in these conditions."
The sound of approaching sirens mixed with the excited chatter of news crews who'd caught wind of superheroes in action reached Jay. Within minutes, reporters were flooding the scene like sharks smelling blood, cameras rolling, microphones thrust forward like weapons.
But they weren't swarming Johnny Storm or Ben Grimm. They were rushing straight toward Jay.
"Sir! Over here!" Some blonde reporter from Channel 7 pushed to the front of the pack. "Is it true you've just healed three nearly dead gunshot victims? Are you the mysterious healer who's been treating the homeless throughout the city?"
Jay's mouth went dry. His Unmasked drawback was finally coming due—that inevitable moment when his secret identity would become public knowledge, just like XYZ had warned him. He could feel the weight of dozens of eyes and camera lenses zooming in on his face.
He thought about running, about deflecting, about maintaining the careful anonymity he'd built. But as his gaze swept across the scene, he decided to turn this into an opportunity.
"Yeah," he said, his voice carrying clear across the sudden hush that fell over the crowd. "That's me. I'm the Doctor."
The reaction was immediate and overwhelming. Camera flashes went off like strobes, reporters shouted questions over each other, and Jay could practically feel his life changing in real-time.
"Doctor, what's your real name?"
"How long have you had these abilities?"
"Are you working with the X-Men?"
"Is it true you can bring people back from the dead?"
Jay held up his hands, waiting for the noise to die down to a manageable roar. When he spoke, his voice was steady despite the chaos churning in his chest.
"My name's Jay, just Jay," he said. "I've been helping people in this city for months now, usually from the shadows. I'm not working for any particular team or organization—I just try to help where I can."
"Mr. Jay," the Channel 7 reporter pressed, "How did you get your powers? Are you a mutant?"
Jay glanced at Domino, who was watching from the sidelines with an unreadable expression on her pale face.
"We are," Jay said simply, not bothering to correct the assumption about where his powers came from. "But that's not why we help people. We help people because it's the right thing to do. Because everyone deserves a chance to go home to their families at the end of the day."
His gaze found Frank Castle, who was still holding his children like they might disappear if he let go. "Because every life matters, whether the cameras are rolling or not."
"Doctor Jay," called a reporter from CNN, "what do you say to people who might be afraid of mutants living among them?"
Jay was quiet for a long moment, considering his words carefully. When he spoke, his voice carried conviction.
"I'd say we've always been among you," he began, then paused as another reporter shouted a question.
"But Doctor, how do we know you're not dangerous?" interrupted someone from Fox News.
Jay's expression hardened slightly. "Look, I get it. Change is scary. When I was a kid, people were terrified of computers taking over the world—now you can't live without your phones."
"That's different though, isn't it?" the CNN reporter pressed. "Those were tools, not people with potentially dangerous abilities."
"Is it?" Jay stepped closer to the microphones. "Right now, while we're having this conversation, Storm is helping meteorologists track weather patterns. Beast is working with scientists on medical breakthroughs. Nightcrawler teleports medical supplies to disaster zones faster than any helicopter."
A reporter from the back shouted, "But what about the dangerous ones? The ones who hurt people?"
Jay's voice grew more pointed. "Here's what gets me—you cheer for Reed Richards when he stretches his way out of danger. You love Tony Stark flying around in his metal suit. You practically worship Steve Rogers, and he got his powers from a government experiment."
"Those are heroes though," the Fox reporter interrupted. "They chose to use their abilities responsibly."
"And what about the kid born with the ability to heal?" Jay shot back. "Suddenly, that's terrifying? Same powers, different origin story. One's a hero, one's a menace. Tell me that makes sense."
The crowd had gone quieter, hanging on his words. "We're not the future coming to replace you—we're the present, trying to help you. We're your kids, your neighbors, dealing with something extraordinary."
"So what's your message to America?" the CNN reporter asked.
Jay's voice dropped, becoming more intimate. "The real question isn't whether you should be afraid of us. It's whether you're ready to stop punishing people for how they got their gifts instead of what they do with them."
Susan Storm materialized beside him, her force fields still shimmering faintly in the afternoon light. "I think that's enough questions for today," she said with authority that made even veteran reporters take a step back. "Our friend needs medical attention, and these civilians need space to process what they've been through."
The Fantastic Four formed a protective circle around Jay and Domino as they made their way to the Fantasticar. Jay's legs felt like overcooked pasta, his healing tapped out, but somehow he made it to the vehicle without face-planting in front of the cameras.
"Cozy," Domino observed dryly as she squeezed into the passenger compartment. With all five of them trying to fit, space was at a premium, and she ended up settling onto Jay's lap with practiced casualness. "Nothing like a little intimacy after completely blowin' your secret identity."
"Hey now," Johnny called from where he was flying alongside the vehicle, his flame form flickering with juvenile amusement, "don't go getting too comfortable in there, Doc. Some of us remember when you were experimenting with that southern belle from the X-Men. What was her name again... Rogue?"
The silence in the Fantasticar became thick enough to cut with a knife. Jay felt Domino go very still in his lap, her weight shifting as she processed this little nugget of information. Susan's disapproving glare could've flash-frozen the Hudson River, while Reed's shoulders tensed as he focused intensely on piloting.
Jay's stomach dropped. The exhaustion from healing three people was nothing compared to the sick feeling of watching Domino's face go carefully blank.
"Johnny," Susan said in a voice that could've made polar bears shiver, "maybe you should focus on flying and leave the commentary to people who actually have social skills."
"Rogue, huh?" Domino's voice was carefully neutral, but Jay could feel the tension radiating through her body. "That's... interesting. The untouchable X-girl. Must've been quite the challenge."
Jay closed his eyes, feeling like he was defusing a bomb made of hurt feelings and poor timing. "Dom, it ain't—"
"What?" Johnny's voice carried genuine confusion mixed with his usual smart-ass glee. "I'm just sayin', our boy Jay here's got quite the romantic resume. First the girl who literally can't touch anyone, now the luck-powered—"
Reed's elastic arm stretched impossibly far out the window, his hand connecting with the back of Johnny's flaming head in a satisfying smack that sent the younger Storm tumbling through the air before he recovered his flight pattern.
"Ow! Reed! That actually hurt!"
"Good," Reed replied mildly, retracting his arm like a rubber band snapping back. "Maybe it'll encourage better decision-making in the future."
But Frank Castle's family was alive. Maria would tuck her kids into bed tonight instead of being zipped into body bags. That had to count for something.
"So," Domino said conversationally, settling more comfortably in his lap as they headed toward the Baxter Building, "was this the kind of normal date you had in mind?"
Jay laughed despite everything, the sound raw but genuine. "Shouldn't have said those 'famous last words'?"
Behind them, Johnny's voice carried on the wind "I still don't understand what I said wrong!"
Reed's elastic arm stretched out for another disciplinary smack.
Comments
Gemaxter
Sorry Reed but I think all those flames fried Johnny's brain.
