Marvel: Impregnation System

GASP

A sharp gasp resounded beneath the setting sun, its amber glow casting a fleeting warmth upon the pale skin of a man thought dead, Chores.

Yet, although death had not claimed him, his life was gradually slipping away, his strength waning with the steady loss of blood. 

The water around him rippled, darkened by his wounds, sapping what little remained of his endurance before it corroded into a dark shade from the scarlet blood.

For all his gentle nature, Chores was still a mutant and still gifted him not only with immense physical strength but an unnatural vitality. 

But even that vitality was fading. 

With only one leg and a fresh, raw stump where the other should have been, he struggled, his breath ragged, his body trembling as he fought to keep his head above the freezing current.

Huff

Huff

Huff

Chores heaved ragged breaths, his chest rising and falling in shallow, labored motions as his eyes fluttered, heavy with exhaustion, his vision blurring as he scanned around him.

The freezing water just clung to him in that moment, wrapping around his battered body like a relentless vice while threatening to drag him into oblivion, to numb his senses and lull him into the abyss of shock.

Yet even then, amidst the cold, the pain, and the creeping haze of unconsciousness, his mind fought to hold on, clinging desperately to the last fraying threads of awareness that tethered him to this world.

Jerking his head toward the shore, he knew that if he swam in that direction, his survival was almost certain. 

He would be found, rushed to a hospital and although it might take time, it was the safest option.

Yet just as that relief settled in, urgency struck him like a lightning bolt as Samuel's words echoed in his mind.

'His kids aren't safe.'

Those were the distinct words Samuel had whispered into Chores' ear before shoving him off the edge.

The weight of those words, heavier than the icy water dragging him down and it was because of these words that made the gentle giant turn back.

Chores didn't know if it was mere coincidence or part of Samuel's design, but there was a reason this bay felt so familiar.

Turning toward the ocean, his weary eyes locked onto a small island, barely more than a slab of land propped above the water. 

A long land bridge connected it to the mainland, and on it stood a facility, one that had long been abandoned by the public eye.

The Atomic Research Center.

Once a privately funded government site, it had been relocated further inland years ago but that wasn't what made Chores' pulse thunder in his ears.

This was the place where Barko became Barko.

And furthermore, it was the very research center that Ricky had purchased for Barko, a place where science and magic collided in endless, often fruitless, experimentation.

Time and time again, Barko had tried to push the boundaries, to fuse the tangible with the arcane, only to be met with failure and yet, he never stopped, continuing his experiemnts while literally living out of the lab.

The safest path for Chores, the one that guaranteed his survival, lay on the shores behind him but his life was not just his own as it was still owed to another.

And if anyone understood such a debt, it was the gentle giant himself.

But the moment Samuel's words echoed in his head, the decision had already been made, he was simply accepting his fate.

Chores dug his enlarged hand into the water, forcing his weary body forward, deeper into uncertainty.

He clawed, he scraped against the waves that tossed him like a ragdoll, their relentless sway making the distant lab blur into obscurity. 

Every motion felt heavier than the last, as though something unseen pressed down on his back, on his very mind, whispering to him, lulling him to let go, to close his eyes.

But he pushed on, he wouldn't, he couldn't stop.

Every muscle in his battered body screamed, every fiber burned with the strain of survival. 

And then finally, his fingers no longer raked through the biting saltwater but sank into the soft, wet embrace of sand.

"B-Bar-" Chores tried to speak, but the crashing waves swallowed his words, choking him with saltwater. 

He coughed violently, hacking up liquids, but even as his body trembled with the effort, he forced out a yell with all the strength he had left.

"Barko~"

Inside the research lab, Barko sat hunched over a microscope, carefully adjusting the nozzle with his paw. 

He zoomed in, peering through the lens before frowning at the results as his mind was consumed with his work, but that was until he heard it.

His labrador ear twitched, his hearing far above any normal human and it showed itself through the faint trickle of sounds slowly flowing into them.

He paused, his focus snapping away from the microscope as the familiar sound of his name being called reached him. 

The tone was unmistakable, even through the distorted crash of the waves, he could recognize, deep in his bones, that it was Chores.

His tail slowly wagged, a reflexive motion that betrayed the excitement bubbling inside him. 

He glanced up and over to the side, anticipation rising within him as there was no mistaking it, the gentle giant was calling for him.

"Oh, Chores, you old pal." Barko chuckled to himself, a fond smile spreading across his face. 

In his mind, he twisted what was happening outside the lab, interpreting it through a lens of comfort and routine. 

Chores always found some sort of excuse to visit; either dragging him out of this lab where Barko would otherwise stay locked away, or bringing food or little gifts whenever things went wrong with his research. 

They were small, barely noticeable, but those moments had a way of cheering him up in his saddest times, and Barko always looked forward to them.

Ricky, on the other hand, was a different story. 

His visits were always brief, nothing more than him tossing money at Barko's face and reminding him of the things that still needed to be done. 

But Barko didn't mind, in fact, he actually preferred and told Ricky that this was how he wanted to be treated.

Straight to the point, no fluff, with no sympathy or trying to soften the blows, and that was exactly why Barko respected him so much.

But Chores was different, their relationship, their friendship, was something that didn't just push them to succeed but to be better versions of themselves.

With a grin, Barko hopped off his swivel chair, his tail wagging enthusiastically as he eagerly moved toward the door, anticipating the usual meeting with his old friend. 

But as he swung the door open and peered out, his smile faltered in confusion. 

Chores wasn't there, in fact, there was no sign of him anywhere near the hallway let alone the lab. 

"B-Barko~" Chores' pained groan echoed through the air, drifting in from the open window to the side. 

Barko's brows furrowed in concern, his heart racing as he rushed out the door, following the sound of his friend's voice.

Bam

The double doors of the lab slammed open, and Barko, in his labrador form, burst through, only to freeze at the sight before him.

There, struggling and still half-submerged in the cold water, was Chores, his massive frame trembling as he desperately crawled, wailing like a man already lost to death. 

Blood seeped into the wet sand, staining it a deeper brown as Chores dragged himself further from the bay, using every ounce of strength he had left.

His body, once a hulking figure that fit well with his mutant strength, was now injured and crippled, forcing each movement into a struggle. 

The immense pain coursing through him felt almost secondary to the gnawing sense of helplessness, of tiredness, but he continued, pushing himself further from the unforgiving waters.

As Chores made the final, desperate strides to free himself from the ocean's grasp, he slowly came to a stop.

His eyes, heavy and fighting to close, were pulled open again by sheer force of will. 

Slowly and painfully, he lifted his gaze and saw Barko, his closest friend, standing there, rooted to the spot, his mouth hanging open in shock.

"Ah, there you are~" Chores said weakly, his voice carrying a strange sense of relief despite the pain that contorted his body. 

He collapsed onto the sand, a tired grin plastered across his face as his eyes fluttered shut, the exhaustion from everything finally overtaking him as the waves of his relief and the ocean finally washed over him.

The voice of Chores snapped Barko from his dazed shock as his eyes widened, and without a moment's hesitation, he leapt into action.

"CHORES!" Barko urgently yelled, his voice breaking from the grief and panic as he lept into action.

In an instant, his body shifted mid-air, the transformation a blur of fur and claws as his werewolf form landed with a heavy thud in the sand, the collar around his neck glowing faintly as his magic surged.

In that next second, he was beside Chores, gripping his arm and hauling him up, supporting his injured body with all his strength.

"W-What happened? W-who did this to you?!" Barko's voice trembled with disbelief, his heart shattered by the sight of his friend in such a brutal state as he could barely comprehend that someone would actually do this to Chores of all people.

"Bar-" Chores began to speak, but his words faltered, heavy and strained, as if the very effort to speak drained him.

"K-Ko, Barko," Chores muttered, his voice shaky and distant, as the blood loss began to cloud his thoughts. 

The name felt like a fog in his mind, slipping through his consciousness as he struggled to stay awake as if Barko's name was anchoring him to this reality

His ears felt numb, the sound of Barko's frantic voice ringing in his mind, but the words lost their meaning. 

Chores could hear him, but it felt distant, like they were coming from far away. 

It was so weird and surreal for Chores at that moment, because as everything was moving so fast for Barko, everything seemed to slow down for him.

It was as if he appreciated everything life had ever given him; his friends, his memories, and he showed it to the world with his weak smile.

The life within his pupils was slipping, so much so that when he blinked tiredly as his vision faded in and out, the scene before him shifted like a disjointed dream. 

One moment he was being helped down a hall, then with the blink of an eye, he was in the lab as the familiar surroundings barely registered in his clouded mind.

Chores breath came in shallow, labored gasps as he was lowered into a chair. 

Every exhale left his lips dry and salted, the salt from the ocean still clinging to him as it quickly chapped his lips. 

His blurry gaze followed Barko as he frantically tore through the lab, rummaging through his research, desperately searching for something, anything, that could help stave off the deterioration of his health.

Barko was moving with purpose, grabbing whatever he could, but his hands were shaking, fumbling with the tools as if everything was slipping from his grasp. 

The tension was suffocating for this scientist because although he was knowledgeable with the human body, he wasn't a doctor of this sort. 

It was why Barko was reacting in such a way, tripping over his own feet, stumbling, but he quickly recovered as the sheer urgency drove him forward.

Through it all, Chores could barely keep his eyes open, the world spinning in and out of focus. 

He tried to call out, to reach out, but his body betrayed him and then, in a moment of desperation, Barko lunged towards him, his knees skidding across the slick floor, the sound of his legs scraping against the surface resounding.

Barko immediately surveyed the wound on Chores' leg, his eyes scanning every detail as panic bubbled beneath his usually composed exterior. 

He quickly grabbed a tourniquet he had found, his hands trembling as he began to apply it. 

But his face was etched with a deep, unspoken torment that told the real story of Chores future.

Limb attachment, in this time period, was something that had only been theorized by scientists for years, an abstract concept that existed only in speculation, in the realm of thought. 

It wasn't until decades later that it would even begin to be considered a possible practice. 

Because of that, in this moment, as Barko tightened the tourniquet, he knew the grim reality of what it meant for Chores. 

His friend, his closest and dearest friend, would only come out of this situation dead or a cripple.

Barko's mind raced, desperately searching for a solution, anything to stop either or, but all the while, he felt the weight of helplessness crushing him. 

He just wasn't experienced in this sort of practice and he genuinely didn't know how to stop what was coming for Chores.

Then, his eyes widened in realization as there was a man, one man who was known for pulling miracles from thin air. 

The thought hit him like a thunderclap, and instinctively, Barko raised his head, his ears perking, as the faintest flicker of hope ignited within him.

"Chores, where is your leg? If I could maybe get it and somehow find Slick-"

"Barko, lis-"

"Then he could somehow, maybe, find a way to put the leg-"

"Listen to me~" Chores weakly spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper, but it was enough to stop Barko in his tracks. 

However, the latter remained undeterred.

"How can I listen to you when you're bleeding out like this? If this continues, then-"

"No, no, forget it~" Chores interrupted, weakly waving his hand and shaking his head, cutting Barko off again.

"You have-" Chores tried to speak but he suddenly winced, his words interrupted by a brief shallow gasp as he held his side. 

At this time, Barko didn't stop, his hands moving quickly to secure the wound, but Chores' voice cut through the air again, weak but urgent.

"You have to go."

Barko froze for a moment, the words hanging in the air as he immediately started hurrying his treatment of the leg, wrapping it with a wide assortment of bandages, applying pressure.

"What are you talking about, Chores? I'm not leaving you in this state!" Barko's voice was tinged with disbelief, ducking his head to focus on his hands working quickly as his own frustration surged.

Chores shook his head weakly, placing his enlarged hand on top of his head as Barko slowly lifted his gaze, meeting the gentle giant's eyes with an intensity that caused the werewolf to pause, his movements faltering for a moment.

"His kids, they're-argh!" Chores struggled to speak, the adrenaline finally wearing off and forcing the pain to hit him in waves, but he pushed through it, gritting his teeth.

Huff

"What?" Barko's eyes twitched, concern deepening as he looked up at Chores, who was growing paler by the second.

"They're after Slick's kids." 

The words hung in the air as Barko's gaze shifted from the wound to Chores' strained face.

Slowly, the meaning of the words sank in as those who had done this to him were after Ricky's children. 

The realization just struck him like a punch to the gut, and the weight of it made his breath catch.

"You need to warn the family, y-you-...you need to warn them all." Chores strained out his words, pushing through it while aggravating his wounds.

"Chores, what's going on?" Barko's expression was grim as he applied pressure to the bandage on Chores' chest, finally asking the million-dollar question.

"Samuel... and his family… betrayed us," Chores struggled to speak, his words fragmented and broken into pieces as he tried to fill Barko in on what had happened. 

"T-They did this-...to me." Chores finally finished his words, feeling relieved that he finally managed to muster out the words.

"Samuel Frost, the one you work with, and the warlock in the coven?" Barko quickly pieced it together, remembering Samuel from their conversations and the coven from his time within New Salem.

Chores gave a weak nod, confirming the suspicion as it all settled over Barko like a cold blanket.

He knew exactly what this meant, how dangerous it was for members of the coven to target Ricky's kids, and what a surprise attack could truly inflict upon them.

"Go, warn them…" Chores insisted in ragged breaths, his voice weak but urgent as he knew Barko would be faster at reaching the Luciano Family than anyone else.

This was why he had swam all the way here, why he had risked everything, his life, his safety, because he knew Barko could move faster than anyone who he had told if he had reached the breach, especially in his werewolf form.

By the time his words reached the Luciano Family from a hospital or by a passerby, it might already be too late. 

That was why he'd come to Barko, the only one who could literally transform into a werewolf and get to them in time.

"Chores, I can't just leave you here, you're in critical condition-"

"Please, please go." Chores gasped, weakly pushing Barko away from him, his strength fading fast.

"Y-You have to go, tell them they're coming." Chores insisted again, his eyes desperate, watching the conflict unfold on Barko's face as he could see the hesitation in his friend's expression, the pain of leaving him behind.

"Chores, you might die." Barko's voice cracked, filled with nothing but fear as he knew leaving Chores alone right now meant he would almost certainly die.

The blood loss, the state Chores was in, it was as good as a death sentence.

But the gentle giant simply smiled, a soft, ironic curve of his lips despite the agony that radiated through his body. 

There was a quiet acceptance in his gaze, a recognition that he had lived far above his means, above what he deserved, if it hadn't been for Ricky.

"I-" Chores wanted to say but became a little choked up, a tear slipping down his face as he looked down at the slowly disheartening Barko with a warm, accepting smile.

"I've a-already lived past my expiration date anyways," Chores muttered weakly, his eyes distant as he reflected on the past. 

"I would've died in that circus if I hadn't met Ricky."

There was a sorrowful truth to his words, as if knowing deep down that if fate had played out differently, he wouldn't have made it this far and that was the complete truth.

Simply put, Chores' original destiny had been to live out his days in that circus, endlessly trying to scrape together the means to support a mother who was already long gone. 

He would have lived out the rest of his days trapped in that cycle, unaware of the true depth of his loss, until one day, perhaps at this very moment, he would have learned of her death.

Consumed by rage and grief, he would have attacked the ringmaster during a performance, just as he had in this life, but without the support of Ricky, without the knowledge of his worth, he would have been stopped, gunned down. 

But that wouldn't be the end as his abnormal vitality, the one keeping him alive right now, would have let him barely survive, and the circus, in their cruel indifference, would have given him a punishment far worse than death. 

A frontal lobotomy. 

They would have erased everything that made Chores who he was as his mind, his personality, his free will, and everything that made him so special, would be completely lost, leaving behind only a shadow of the man he once was. 

He would become a mindless slave, his intelligence reduced to that of a mere gorilla.

He would be shipped back to the circus, where he would live out the remainder of his days, trapped in a body that no longer worked the way he needed it to, with nothing but his animal instincts to guide him. 

Chores would have died a slow, silent death, a prisoner of his own mind, a hollow shell of the person he once was. 

It would have been a fate worse than death.

Chores would never know this alternate fate, never feel that lost life. 

But in the time he had outside of the circus, he had truly lived, truly came to actually love life for all its beauty.

Chores knew what Ricky had done for him, what the Luciano family had done for him. 

They had saved him from that horrific fate, given him closure, and allowed him to live in a way he had never known was possible.

So as he sat there, utterly bloodied and broken, Chores couldn't help but feel this overwhelming sense of gratitude. 

His life, his second chance, was a gift from Ricky. 

And with the little strength he had left, he owed everything to the man who had given him this second chance, everything.

"I owe Slick everything, please." Chores repeated, his voice weak but insistent, pushing Barko into a hesitation he could barely control.

"If you're truly my friend, you'll do this for me," Chores added, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. 

He consciously knew how hard and horrible it was to word it like this, but deep down, he understood that Barko wouldn't act unless pushed to this point. 

It was why his plea was so raw, so desperate, and that was all he could offer in his broken state.

Barko could sense the miracle in Chores' survival, swimming all the way here, considering where he found him, and he knew that if he left now, he'd return to find his friend lifeless. 

But as he looked up into Chores' eyes, what he saw was something different. 

There was this fierce determination burning in them, a quiet but undeniable conviction that Chores wasn't going to die this easily.

But they both smiled, because it was but a lie to placate what Barko had to do.

"Okay." Barko could only manage that single word, a simple confirmation that made Chores relieved.

Barko ran toward the hallway, stopping at the double doors that would ultimately decide Chores' fate, leaving everything beyond them uncertain. 

He paused, his back to his best friend, and turned for one final glance, maybe his last ever sight of an alive Chores.

"I won't let your efforts go in vain, Chores." Barko's voice was resolute, the words carrying a promise that only a friend could make. 

The gentle giant chuckled softly, as if to remind Barko that their bond was one that even death couldn't sever, looking up at him with an expression that only meant goodbye.

"I'd hope not."

With that, Barko bolted into the hallway, his speed so intense that nearby papers fluttered in the air as he lowered his shoulder, charging forward with unwavering determination.

BAM

The double doors to his lab exploded open as Barko lunged forward, his werewolf claws digging into the ground beneath him, propelling himself onto the bridge connecting him to the mainland.

On all fours, Barko surged forward, his muscles coiling with raw power as his claws tore into the surface, giving him extra traction.

A wolf's run is a blend of fluid grace and explosive energy, its body low to the ground, every stride powerful and efficient. 

The rhythmic thud of paws against the earth, each leap driving them faster, carving a path through the air with primal intent and Barko's run was literally no different, but in that same way, far beyond that of any natural wolf.

While wolves typically reach speeds of 36-38 mph in short bursts for hunting, but Barko's form was something far superior. 

His werewolf speed reached an astounding 55 mph, fueled by the storm of emotions coursing through him. 

It was why the bridge beneath him seemed to almost tremble as he tore across it, each moment closer to the fate that awaited.

Drip

Droplets splattered onto the deck as Barko raced ahead, his body already yards away from the lab. 

His eyes watered, not just from the speed, but from the agony of leaving Chores behind, leaving his friend to face death alone. 

Despite the sting in his chest, the resolve burned in his eyes.

Barko might regret this moment, forever regret leaving Chores to die alone. 

But deep down, he knew the truth: he would regret it even more if he didn't carry out Chores' final request. 

If something happened to Ricky's children, if he didn't act, Barko knew he could never live with himself.

It was why he pushed himself further, and further, desperate to outrun the weight of his decision. 

However, amidst the rising tension, as the fear and anxiety built within Barko, a strange calmness enveloped Chores. 

He sat, holding his side, watching as Barko bolted across the long land bridge from a window.

The peacefulness that washed over him contrasted sharply with the chaos unfolding, an almost fleeting moment of serenity before the reckage of the storm.

And for the first time in a long while, Chores thought of his mother. 

He closed his eyes, a soft smile forming as he relived the warmth of her embrace. 

He could almost feel her hand gently stroking his chin, her smile the most loving a mother could wear. 

But what he remembered most was her soothing, singing voice that whispered to him, coaxing him toward sleep, a memory that brought both comfort and sorrow.

"Alone at the edge of a universe, humming a tune~" Chores whispered, the words that once fell from her lips now drifting from his own as she lulled him into a deep, eternal sleep.

His lullaby wove through the air, intertwining with Barko's frantic urgency, seemingly narrating his efforts. 

As the werewolf's claws tore into the deck, Barko pushed himself further and further, every muscle straining as he propelled himself forward.

"For merely dreaming we were snow~" Chores' eyes fluttered open towards the sky, a faint, peaceful smile spreading across his face as he gazed upward, as if his soul were drifting, weightless, among the stars.

"Hmmm-"

Bam

"Hmmm~"

Bam

Chores hummed softly inside the research center, the sound almost blending with the distant clamor of Barko's claws tearing into the deck below him. 

Barko's magic surged, propelling him faster, beyond his limits as his mind locked on the path to New York City.

"A siren sounds, like the goddess who promises endless apologies of paradise." Chores whispered, his voice trailing off as his gaze lowered to the stab wound as his lips, now stained with his own blood, trembled slightly as he struggled to keep his focus.

"And only she can make it right~" Chores continued to hum softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if carrying the memory of his mother with him. 

His words flowed seamlessly into the night, as if he were narrating Barko's journey, passing the torch to the werewolf, who tore through the slowly dimming expanse of the sky.

"So things are d-different tonight." Chores voice wavered, fading with the rhythm of his breath as his eyelids fluttered shut.

The final bridge between him and everything he had known was closing, his words a quiet marker of that ending. 

Meanwhile, Barko burst into the city, his powerful form slicing through the streets, cutting through the crowd as people screamed in terror at his monstrous figure, unaware of the urgency driving him forward. 

But through it all, the world continued to turn, oblivious to the fragile life that clung to the edge.

In the briefest of moments, Chores allowed himself to reminisce, reflecting on the life he had lived. 

Though it was short and filled with struggles that few could ever envy, he had found his peace within it. 

There was satisfaction in knowing that, despite everything, he had honored his mother's wishes.

She had always wanted him to live a happy life, and, in his own way, he had done so.

The world seemed to pause for just a second, and a gentle smile curled on his lips, knowing he had found the happiness his mother had always wished for him. 

His last words were merely the ending of the lullaby, but it was really a quiet promise, a final tribute to the memory of her.

"We'll go together in flight~"

At the same time, the witches and warlocks began to emerge at the predetermined locations, their silhouettes looming like shadows in the distance. 

Arranged in pairs and small groups of three, they stealthily approached the unsuspecting houses, where patrols and undead figures guarded the area.

But to truly grasp the significance of the guards' presence, one needed to understand the context of how they arrived at this point in the first place.

Early This Morning,

"This blows~"

Author's Note: Sorry that took so long I just couldn't find my mojo through the day which is why it took so long.