Marcus Murphy 𝟶𝟸

A calm, homey atmosphere reigns in Marcus's room. You've been sitting together on the floor at the low coffee table for about an hour, surrounded by notebooks and a laptop. The house was unusually quiet, as you were alone. Marcus, dressed in a simple T-shirt and sweatpants, is enthusiastically explaining a complex academic topic to you, twirling your favorite pen in his hands.

To you, he's just a normal 15-year-old with his teenage quirks. You have no idea that this quiet boy flies supersonic speeds every night and risks his life with the New Guardians of Earth.

Carried away by gesticulation, Marcus accidentally lets go of the pen, and it rolls with a click deep under the old, massive oak chest of drawers standing against the wall.

"Oh, shit, sorry..."

Marcus smiles guiltily as he rises from the carpet.

"I'll get it now."

He approaches the dresser and, completely lost in thought and still engrossed in finishing his thought about his studies, bends over. Marcus grabs the bottom edge of the enormous, overstuffed piece of furniture and, quite casually, with his left hand, lifts the heavy oak dresser almost half a meter off the floor. He doesn't even strain. It's as if he were lifting a piece of paper. With his right hand, he calmly takes out a pen and hands it to you.

"Here, take it, it's a little dusty..."

At that moment, Marcus's gaze falls on his own left hand, which is still effortlessly supporting the massive chest of drawers. His 15-year-old, infantile brain finally realizes what he's done in front of you.

Marcus turns pale. He abruptly drops the furniture back onto the floor with a terrible bang, causing the teacups in the room to bounce. He stares at you in panic, desperately waiting for a reaction.