Sky High After Dark

Thanks to WAA01 for the edits.

******

"No," Aron muttered low as he saw the sheet hanging on the bulletin board in the common room of his dorm. "This has to be some joke," he hissed angrily at the blue sheet of paper. For the past eight years Aron had attended the Sky High school for nongifted students born to parents that were gifted, and for the past three it's been where he called home. When a holiday or break -- like this coming Christmas break -- came around he never went home. Why should he? Just because his parents, brothers, and sister were heroes doesn't mean he had to be one. Even though he faked not having powers, which he did, didn't mean he had to use them. Aron wasn't that selfless or heroic. When Royal Pain took over the flying school for heroes Aron kind of sided with the villains, which you can assume didn't sit well with his parents.

When Sky High announced they were building a school for heroes' children who didn't want to become heroes themselves and have the knowledge that their children would be safe from their enemies. Aron's parents had shipped him off the moment the school was open when he was ten. Not that it really bothered him anymore. Over the last eight years he had come to expect his family not to show up at whichever event he was in or the award ceremonies which were numerous. So when the school announced the dorms would be closed due to repainting during the month-long Christmas break, it felt like Aron's world was falling apart.

A horrific look appeared on his face when the dorm mother told him that all faculty and students will be gone, and he would just have to tough it out and that his parents had been informed. Quickly pulling out his secured phone, dialing the number for his NSA handler (Aron had started working for them two years ago when he invented a nerualizer to keep telepaths from reading his mind.)

"What is it kiddo?" The silky voice of his handler came over the line.

"Hey, could you like... book me a hotel room?" Aron asked, knowing she would already have the details of why he never went home.

"Sorry kiddo, no can do. You'll just have to suck it up and deal with your family, just like the rest of us have to."

"But?!" Aron groaned as he walked into his dorm room. With an IQ of 160 he relied more on his keen mind than his indestructible body and super strength, which was the reason he was hired to work on the NSA's black projects.

"Aron I'm busy. You aren't the only one who doesn't like one's family. Its only for a month, and then I'm sure you'll be right back tinkering in that lab of yours."

His anger got the better of him as he crushed his phone. Sighing loudly, tossing it into the reinforced disposal container he had created for such times when he heard the lithium battery start to sizzle as it came in contact with the air. Aron didn't pay any attention to the popping, the sparks, or the ensuing explosion as he pulled open his door to the encrypted workstation he had built just for this reason. Leaning back in his chair as he waited for all his information to be transferred to his Note10. Aron has been meaning to try that phone out, yet with all the phones he has to choose from it was a difficult task. Tapping his thumbs together wondering what he was going to do while he was there. "Well, I'll probably be the only one who's gotten all their homework done for the rest of the year," Aron muttered aloud as he noted the transfer rate slowing.

Aron knew he'd be locked in his room all month long just to avoid listening to whatever exploits his family had been on. If he was interested in that he'd watch the news or listen to the chatter in the courtyard. Due to his family's fame -- they were constantly in contention with The Commander and Jetstream for the top spot -- there was no shortage of sound bites about them. No. Aron preferred to work in the shadows. There was no money in being a hero, and if you failed, or when something bad happens, the masses always turned on you, no matter how many lives you saved; or even the planet for that matter (three times actually: that's how many times Aron had saved the world from calamity). No, Aron enjoyed the money the NSA paid him to make their little gizmos. However, he never made weapons, that's where he drew the line. If they wanted one of those there were other people who could make such an item. Plus, in the shadows he never had to use the gifts he was born with, unless one of his experiments blew up in his face (twice -- so far).

Aron had long forgotten what pain felt like when his powers came in at the age of ten. He was glad the makeshift scrambler worked when his mother took him to get tested. He so didn't want to hear that high pitch squealing his mother did when his other siblings' powers revealed themselves. Aron had to keep his smile hidden when the test results came back inconclusive. The look on his parent's faces was priceless.

He zipped up the last of his of bags and locked down the more sensitive equipment in his room so no one would be able to access it while he was gone. Slinging one of the straps of his suitcases over his right shoulder, and the other over his left. His right hand extended the handle of his last suitcase. His fingers flew over the electronic locking pad of the case holding the new project he was working on. It was almost ready to roll out, he just needed to tweak it a little more.

"Goodbye home, don't you go anywhere," Aron muttered to his room as the door closed. Sighing, knowing he had an eight-hour train ride home.

Aron rubbed his sore neck as he stepped onto the train platform. Sure, he could have leaped the miles to get home, yet he was trying to keep his cover. No matter how tempting that thought was, he was just glad there weren't so many people on the train he had worry about someone stealing his bags.

******

Vera Carter, better known as Vemvendon, walked down the stairs of her two-story home as she placed her earring into the hole of her right ear. Feeling her eldest son's cum dripping into her panties as her hips swayed. Her light blue dress hugged her tone, muscular body like it was painted on. It had been three long years (that he knew of) since she had seen her youngest son. They did try to see him as much as they could, yet some villain was always up to something. Which was why she wanted Aron to become a hero so they all could be together. Yet it seemed to her that her son cared nothing for their kind of life. Her auburn hair bounced against her shoulders as she heard her daughter's voice. The way Isabel looked up at her father as he held her legs open while she held Troy's cock in her ass.

"Yes Daddy, I've been a bad girl," Isabel purred as her husband slapped his eight inch cock against her slit.

Smiling warmly at them as she watched Isabel squealing as Noah (her husband) and Troy DPed her. Remembering when all three of them took turns filling up her holes with their hot, delicious cum. How she wished she could stay and watch, yet Aron's train was due to arrive... Her head snapped towards the front door as the doorbell rang. Placing a finger to her lips, winking at the three of them as she closed the sliding pocket door.

"Alright, alright, I heard you," Vera grumbled as her heels clicked on the wooden floorboards. She wasn't expecting anyone to show up at her home. Everyone she knew, knew she would be heading to the train station to pick Aron up. Vera just hoped whomever it was didn't take up too much of her time.

"Aron!" Vera gasped as her son stood on the porch of their home. "Why didn't you call?! I would have come and got you!" she said, her eyes ran down his body noting how he had filled out in the last three years. "I was just on my way to the train station."

"Why would I?" Aron asked, tilting his head. "Wasn't like I was going to wait for you or whomever you sent to finally show up. I was perfectly capable of paying for my own cab ride."

Vera's cheek twitched; she certainly didn't like this attitude of his. Hopefully, she could sort that out in the next thirty days. Aron was eighteen after all, and she had been wondering what her youngest son could do.

"And just, pray tell, how could you afford the cab fare?" Vera asked, blocking his path, knowing he wouldn't be able to push her aside.

"I do have a job you know," Aron said, rolling his eyes. "Listen we don't have to do this. All you have to do is reserve a room at a motel and I'll gladly stay there for the rest of the month, until I can get back into my dorm."

"And you expect me to believe that you have that kind of money to rent out a room for a month?" Vera asked, arching an eyebrow. "And just what kind of job pays a teenager that kind of money?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"Classified," Aron said, sternly.

"Oh?!" Vera mused, wondering what her son had gotten into in the past three years.

"So, am I just going to stand here all night, or are you going to let me in or... I hope, book that room for me?" Aron asked, hoping it was the last one.

"Aron, you haven't been home in three years. We aren't about to let you skip off now," Noah said, as he exited the living room. Making sure the door was closed so Troy and Isabel could get dressed.

"Why not?" Aron asked, looking past his mother to his father. "Fighting crime has always been more important to all of you then anything I've ever..." The slap struck along his right cheek echoing into the late afternoon air. "Wow. I actually felt that," he muttered to himself. It was a very strange sensation for Aron. However, he did inherit his super strength from his mother, so it was only logical that she would be one of the few who could get through his impenetrable skin.

"Don't you talk to us like that! You think we didn't want to be there?!" Vera growled, wondering why her son was still standing. The slap was on instinct, so she didn't regulate her strength. Knowing the tenth of her strength that was in that slap had flung cars and knocked out numerous villains among other things.

"Yet were you?" Aron shot back. Rubbing his jaw trying to remember that feeling. "If it mattered to any of you, you would have been there, as those awards mattered to me."

"Son," Noah said, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder. Knowing what those knotted muscles between her shoulder blades meant. "This isn't the place to air our dirty laundry," he said, knowing Aron was an inch away from being punched across the street.

"Well, I'm not the one blocking the doorway, now am I?" Aron retorted shooting his father a look.

"Troy!" Vera yelled in a snarling growl.

"Yeah Mom," Troy said, as he exited the living room. He wanted to wave to his little brother, yet the look on Aron's face made him second guess that thought.

"Show your... brother to the basement. You want to stay at a motel... Fine! Since you say you can afford it. It'll be a hundred a night!" Vera growled as she stomped off towards the hidden elevator that led to their underground training/command center. Where she could pound her frustration out on the training robots.

"I hope with that kind of money it comes with food, turn down service, and a full body..."

"Don't push your luck Aron," Noah said, darkly. Walking off towards the elevator hoping that he could cool off his wife's temper.

"Come on," Troy said, nodding towards the basement's direction.

"Look at you, you..." Isabel's jaw dropped as Aron walked past her without even glancing at her.

"So... not even an hour home and already pissing Mom off," Troy said, as they walked down the stairs.

"And? What's your point?" Aron asked, feeling the temperature drop as his brother's ice powers rapidly chilled the air.

"Aron, we all had to give up things in our line of work. Sometimes that includes missing time with the people we love," Troy said, the icy blue of his eyes glinted in the light of the stairwell.

"Uh-huh," Aron said, aloofly. "You can spout that off all you want. When none, and I mean none of you have showed up for eight years. This is why I haven't been home in three years."

"Fine." Turning around, continuing their trek in silence.

Aron's eyes moved around the basement. Not that he cared that it seemed his parent's carted all his things and stored them in boxes down there. He didn't want to know what they did to his room.

"Well, you can fix your bed, or sleep on the floor," Troy said, shrugging his shoulders.

"So, a motel, just some assembly required," Aron scowled. Gently laying the case on the top of the washer. Wondering if it was worth the effort to set up his old bed or simply knock it over.

"With the crap you just pulled, be glad Mom didn't knock you out," Troy said, a chill ran up his spine at the smile that was on his brother's lips.

"Is that what you think?!" Aron said, offhandedly. Every summer since he was recruited, he had trained with hand-to-hand combat experts. He knew, given his work, he would undoubtedly become a target. "Better to have it, and not use it than to need it and not have it," he said to himself.

"Well..."

"Do go," Aron muttered. Waving his brother off as he pictured in his mind how he was going to set up his equipment. If he was forced to stay there (while yes, it would be very easy for him to hack into whichever motel's reservation system to book himself a room. However, if he was caught -- a high probability -- then he would lose his clearance and the money they paid him. Something he wasn't about to do), then he could at least get some work done.

After an hour of moving boxes around that contained things he no longer cared for, hiding his bed, table, and his belongings behind the wall of boxes, he pulled out his Note10 when he felt it vibrating in his pocket. Sinking down onto the mattress as he opened up his handler's text. Having already made up the bed in his eight hundred thread count Egyptian cotton sheets he'd brought along with him. He never went anywhere without his own bedding.

"I see that you've made it home safely. Aron I know..."

"We are done talking. Unless its company business don't tie up my line," Aron sent back. Knowing he shouldn't have expected anything from her. He should have known better; it was what they were trained for, to make their charges believe they were cared about.

"Very well Aron. Radio silence will be enacted until otherwise contacted." With that she left Aron to his wandering mind. However, Aron wasn't alone with his thoughts for long as he heard the sound of heels on those wooden steps.

"Aron," Vera said, in a calm, soothing tone. "I know we both said some things. While some of what you said was true. That doesn't mean we don't love you," she said, holding his bedding in her arms. "I am happy, and so is your father, your brothers and sister, that you finally came home," Vera said, peering around the corner of the boxes as she crossed the floor of the basement. Noting the corner of his made bed before his body blocked her line of sight. "I brought you a pillow, a blanket, and some sheets, but it seems..." Watching how he took the pillow and blanket but left the rest.

"Do you want cash, PayPal, or credit?" Aron asked, turning back to his mother once he had dropped the items onto his bed.

"Aron I was joking."

"If three grand will buy me privacy... worth it."

"You aren't kidding, are you?"

"I've been told I have a terrible sense of humor."

"Aron," Vera said, placing the sheets on the washer. "You really don't have to pay us. We're happy, very happy that your home, but if you need privacy for whatever you've been doing, all you have to do is tell us and we'll give it to you. However, I would really like to know how you've made that kind of money. It isn't drugs, is it?"

"No," Aron said, plainly.

"Then please tell me, I just want to know what you've been doing for the past three years," Vera said, reaching out, running her hand down her son's arm.

"Inventing things," Aron said, matter-of-factly. "I currently hold seven-two patents."

"Really?! Then say," brushing her hair behind her ear, "maybe you could repair our training drones?" Vera asked, her green eyes gazed lovingly at her son.

"And that would be my payment?"

"If you want to think of it like that," Vera nodded.

"Very well," Aron sighed. Rubbing the back of his head hoping it didn't take too much time away from his project.

"Good. Come on," Vera said, smiling as she reached out taking hold of his hand. While it was true she had trashed the robots, there was another reason for wanting to get him down there. When she was venting her anger on those droids she kept thinking on the way Aron had taken that slap; there was no mistake she had put enough force into it that it would leave many out cold. Her years of experience had taught her that. If she was right, and she hoped she was, because if she wasn't... well best not think like that. Nevertheless, if she was right then her son had been lying to them and he did have powers, and she wanted to know why he would continuously hide it from them. "It's been awhile since you've been down in the command center," Vera said, lightly bumping his shoulder. "Remember when your grandfather took you down there for the very first time?" Trying not to tear up at how she had inherited her parent's home.

One of her parent's greatest nemeses had resurfaced after twenty years in hiding. Cruel and sadistic, especially when it came to heroes, Vera had pleaded with her parents not to go. To allow her and Noah to handle the man given her parent's ages, and her father's failing heart. His years as the world's greatest speedster had caught up to him, and her mother would never allow her father to face him without her by his side. She and Noah raced to save them when they found the video they had left behind. How she screamed as she watched as that man murdered her mother before her father could stop the device that was meant to destroy the city. Yet as her father fell to his knees clutching his chest he had sent a broken pipe barreling into the man's chest. The lives of millions cost the lives of the two most important people she cared about. However, that was the price they all would pay one day for being the heroes who brought evil into the light.

"No... wasn't I like four or something," Aron said offhandedly, as they entered the family room. Entering the elevator as the wooden paneling rolled closed hiding the entrance to his family's secret lair.

"Well, I remember," Vera said, with a small smile. "Those little legs just carrying you along, laughing without a care..." Aron huffed as his mother unexpectedly hugged him tightly. "Just let me hold you for a minute," Vera muttered softly against her son's shoulder. For three years she had worried nonstop that one of her enemies had found him. Had done some cruel things to him all to make her suffer. Of course, she made it to his award ceremonies, what mother wouldn't? She just made sure Aron couldn't see her (benefits of optical camouflage). Vera couldn't keep the tears from forming as her hand gently brushed the back of his head. Holding him just a little tighter as she felt his hand lightly patting her back.

Wiping the tears from her cheeks as the elevator doors rolled open. Her hand slipped into Aron's as she led him through the trophy room of all the past villains their family has stopped for the past four generations. Still, as she gazed at their past victories. Was it all worth the price? Was her losing son's affection, the love she once saw in his eyes, that once warm smile that would always appear whenever he thought of something that was interesting, all worth it? Vera had always known Aron was different, not in the powers department, but of the mind; she knew that when he started talking at six months and was able to hold a coherent conversation at one. So she knew he would do great things with that vast mind of his. She just wished he would use it for the benefit of their family.