The Nenni household sat quietly under the dim glow of a Midland evening, the faint hum of cicadas in the distance. Inside, the tension was palpable as Duncan stood in the living room, his arms crossed and his face unreadable. Marcy paced near the window, glancing nervously between the curtain and the TV, while Robert sat stiffly on the couch, his hands gripping his knees. The news hadn’t been kind—Duncan’s face was everywhere now, his name tied to both the Dallas confrontation with the X-Cutioner and the Arkansas warehouse takedown.
“They got your name, son,” Robert said finally, breaking the silence. “Look at the TV.”
Marcy sighed, shaking her head. “Maybe not in the way we would’ve wished… but well done, Duncan.”
Duncan leaned back against the wall, his gaze distant. “I guess it’s the powers, I reckon. But this ain’t necessarily good.”
Robert tilted his head, his voice steady but cautious. “It means people... well, it means yer work is impactful.”
Duncan shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “Might be, Daddy. Still.”
Marcy turned to face them both, her expression tense. “Do they know our names?”
Duncan’s eyes flicked toward her, his tone calm but grim. “They’ll find out soon enough, Mama.”
Robert exhaled, his jaw tightening. “This means...”
Marcy cut him off, her voice trembling slightly. “It means they can come here.”
Robert straightened, his tone sharp but confident. “Hell, let ’em come. I’ll put ’em all down on the dirt.”
Duncan nodded, his voice tinged with resolve. “Yup, I’ll help. Though I’d rather just break their knees and wrists.”
Marcy shot him a disapproving glare. “Duncan!”
Robert raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “So essentially makin’ ’em suffer fer countless years in unbearable pain and limited mobility? It is a hill of beans to keep em'' alive."
Duncan shook his head, his tone taking on a more analytical edge. “It ain’t a hill of beans, Daddy. It’s ’bout reducin’ the incentives fer committin’ crimes. This includes the physical limitation of the act itself.”
Robert rolled his eyes. “So ya’re concerned with rehabilitatin’ criminals so they can contribute to the economy?”
Duncan nodded, his tone matter-of-fact. “Is there any better reason? Why should we take from the pool of the labor market if we can expand the availability of workers, thus reducin’ costs—”
Marcy raised a hand, cutting him off. “Duncan, come back to earth… you’re veerin’ off-topic again.”
Duncan sighed, waving her off. “Whatever, y’all—”
A sudden loud thud on the door interrupted him, the sound reverberating through the small home like a gunshot. Marcy froze mid-step, her eyes wide as she turned to Robert.
“Robert,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Robert stood slowly, his movements deliberate. “I’ll go.”
Marcy grabbed Duncan’s arm, her grip tight. “Duncan, take care.”
Duncan rolled his eyes, gently pulling free from her grasp. “Meh, whatever. They can’t hurt me anyway.”
Robert approached the door, glancing back at his son one last time. “Are you sure, Duncan?”
Duncan didn’t move, his arms crossed and his tone casual. “Go ahead, Daddy. I’ll handle it.”
Robert opened the door cautiously, revealing a heavily armed squad of Friends of Humanity guards standing in formation just outside the porch. Behind them, the hulking forms of three Sentinels loomed, their glowing eyes fixed on the house. The lead guard, a man with a scar running down his face and a FoH insignia stitched onto his tactical vest, stepped forward.
His voice was sharp and accusatory. “Are you Duncan Nenni?”
Duncan stepped past his father, leaning casually against the doorframe as he looked the man up and down. “Ah, great,” he muttered. “We’ve got ourselves a circus.”
The guard scowled, raising his voice. “You’re a danger to humanity.”
Duncan tilted his head, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Seriously? You’re literally dyin’ on that hill?”
The guard ignored him, his hand inching toward the gun holstered at his side. “You are done, freak.”
Duncan’s smirk widened. “No, I don’t think I am.”
Before the guard could draw his weapon, Duncan moved. His enhanced speed made him a blue blur, his hand darting out to grab the man’s wrist. The guard screamed as Duncan’s grip crushed the gun into useless scrap, his fingers snapping under the pressure.
“ARGH!” the man yelled, falling to his knees as the other guards raised their weapons in panic.
Duncan held up the mangled remains of the gun, his plasma energy flickering faintly around his fingers. “Now, y’all better think twice ’fore ya try somethin’ stupid.”
The Sentinels whirred to life behind them, their massive frames stepping forward ominously as they locked onto Duncan. From inside the house, Marcy’s voice trembled. “Robert… what’s happening?”
“Trouble,” Robert said simply, his eyes never leaving his son.
Duncan turned slightly, his tone calm but firm. “Mama, Daddy, get back inside. This ain’t fer y’all to worry ’bout.”
Robert hesitated but nodded, pulling Marcy back as the door closed behind them. Duncan turned back to the guards and Sentinels, his smirk fading as his expression hardened.
“Alright, boys. Let’s get this over with.”
The battle erupted like a thunderstorm, the whirring and clanking of Sentinels punctuated by the hiss of plasma bolts and the sharp cracks of energy blasts. The Nenni family home, a modest suburban house with a neatly trimmed lawn and a white picket fence, was now ground zero for a full-blown war. Duncan, hovering just above the lawn with his arms glowing faintly blue, stared down the massive machines. Their glowing eyes locked onto him as their metallic voices boomed.
“TARGET IDENTIFIED: MUTANT PRESENCE DETECTED.”
“I ain’t givin’ an inch of my parents’ house to y’all!” Duncan shouted, his voice a mix of anger and determination. “They’re humans, dammit—leave ’em alone!”
The lead Sentinel paused for a moment, its head tilting slightly as it scanned the house. Its voice was cold, emotionless. “ALL INDIVIDUALS HARBORING MUTANTS ARE CLASSIFIED AS COMPLICIT THREATS. TERMINATION AUTHORIZED.”
Duncan clenched his fists, his plasma energy flaring brighter. “Dangerous? What’s so dangerous about me? If y’all weren’t such sore losers and accepted when to have credit denied… we wouldn’t be here! Denti and Creed wouldn’t be in the damn hospital!”
One of the FoH guards behind the Sentinels shouted back, his voice dripping with venom. “You’re done, mutie! This ends here!”
Duncan glared at the man but turned his focus back to the Sentinels as they began to advance. Their massive metal feet crushed the lawn with every step, and their energy cannons whirred to life.
“Argh, fine,” Duncan muttered. He launched himself forward, his plasma trail streaking behind him as he collided with the lead Sentinel. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the air, but Duncan held his ground, grappling with the machine’s massive arm.
The Sentinel swiped at him with its other arm, but Duncan ducked and spun, delivering a plasma-charged punch that dented its chest plate. “This house was costly to buy!” Duncan shouted, his frustration spilling out as he shoved the machine back.
One of the guards sneered. “Then buy another, mutie!”
Duncan’s eyes flared red as he dodged another blast. “Motherfucker, why would we buy somethin’ we already have?” he snapped, firing a volley of plasma bolts at the Sentinel’s energy cannon, causing it to spark and malfunction.
Despite his overwhelming power, the sheer number of enemies made it difficult to maintain the defensive strategy he was employing. The Sentinels kept advancing, firing blasts that Duncan barely managed to deflect. His parents’ house shuddered under the impact of stray shots, windows shattering and siding scorched.
“Dammit, too many…” Duncan muttered, blocking a swipe from another Sentinel. He retaliated by grabbing its arm and using it as leverage to swing himself upward, delivering a crushing blow to its head. The Sentinel’s systems sparked as it toppled backward, but another one stepped forward to take its place.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Then, from above, a voice cut through the chaos—a voice any Texan would recognize. “Needin’ help, partner?”
Duncan glanced up, his eyes widening in surprise. Four figures descended from the sky, their silhouettes framed by the faint glow of the moon. The leader, wearing a green and white costume and a wide-brimmed hat, landed gracefully beside him.
“Holy shit,” Duncan said, blinking. “Texas Twister… and the Rangers!”
Texas Twister tipped his hat with a grin, the wind swirling around him like a protective shield. “We’re here to help, kid. Duncan, right?”
Duncan nodded, still processing the sudden arrival. “Yup. Miss Shootin’ Star.” He glanced at the blonde in the red-and-blue outfit, her twin pistols glowing faintly as she drew them.
Shooting Star smiled warmly. “Then let us help you protect this neighborhood, sugar.”
“Well, I could protect my home alone…” Duncan started, but then sighed. “But, I guess it’s more efficient this way.”
The team didn’t waste time. Firebird, her fiery aura illuminating the battlefield, took to the skies, launching fireballs at the Sentinels and guards. Her attacks melted through the machines’ armor, creating openings for Duncan and the others to exploit.
“Clear the area, Duncan! I’ll handle these clankers!” she shouted.
Meanwhile, Fifty-One, the alien member of the team, moved with calculated precision. The computerized voice emanating from his chest was calm and technical, a stark contrast to the chaos around him. “ASSESSING ENEMY FORCE. INITIATING NEUTRALIZATION PROTOCOL.”
He raised his arms, firing energy beams that short-circuited one Sentinel’s systems. As the machine froze in place, Fifty-One moved to the next target, his movements efficient and precise.
Texas Twister summoned a whirlwind, pulling the guards off their feet and tossing them harmlessly into the air before depositing them in a heap at the edge of the battlefield. “Y’all don’t belong here, boys! Take it as a blessin’ I ain’t lettin’ the kid finish ya off!”
Duncan grinned, his plasma energy flaring as he delivered a crushing blow to another Sentinel. “Thanks fer the backup, Twister.”
Shooting Star, meanwhile, used her pistols to target the guards’ weapons, disarming them with pinpoint accuracy. “We’re here to make sure this neighborhood stays safe, Duncan. You’re doin’ great, but everyone could use a hand now and then.”
The combined efforts of Duncan and the Rangers began to turn the tide. Sentinels fell one by one, their massive frames crumpling to the ground. The guards retreated, their ranks broken and their confidence shattered. But the fight wasn’t over yet—the last Sentinel, larger and more heavily armed than the others, stepped forward, its voice booming.
“TERMINATION PROTOCOL INITIATED. ALL HOSTILES WILL BE NEUTRALIZED.”
The team braced themselves as the machine’s energy cannons powered up, its targeting systems locking onto the house. Duncan’s eyes flared with determination as he stepped forward, his fists glowing brighter than ever.
“Y’all can’t take my home, and you sure as hell can’t take Texas,” he growled, his voice steady as the team prepared for the final assault.
The final Sentinel stood no chance against Duncan Nenni, the so-called Alamo, as he tore into it with unrelenting precision. Plasma energy crackled from his hands as he grabbed the machine by its massive head, ripping it free from its armored shoulders in a shower of sparks and metal fragments. He wasn’t done there—his glowing hands crushed the Sentinel’s head piece by piece, crumbling it as if it were little more than tin foil. The hollow clatter of discarded parts echoed across the battlefield, a stark reminder of his sheer power.
When the last piece hit the ground, Duncan straightened, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths. His glowing eyes scanned the wreckage around him—the mangled Sentinels, the scattered FoH guards groaning in defeat. His jaw clenched as the weight of what had just happened fully set in. “This,” he said, his voice low but sharp, “this is a violation of everythin’ we hold dear. I understand the FoH standin’ fer humanity, but this… this is somethin’ else. What they are—” He gestured broadly to the carnage. “They’re criminals and terrorists.”
Texas Twister, still standing a few feet away, adjusted his wide-brimmed hat and spoke in a calm, measured tone. “Calm down, cowboy.”
Duncan shot him a fiery glance, but his voice remained steady. “Oh, very calm. I’m just insulted, is all. It’s bafflin’, really. Their problem is with mutants like me, yet they’re happy to harass and possibly murder ordinary humans just to make their point. All ’cause of the decisions I took—decisions that don’t involve ’em at all.”
Shooting Star stepped closer, holstering her pistols and resting a hand on his shoulder. “They’re neutralized for now, kid. Don’t worry. Your folks are safe tonight.”
Duncan nodded, but the anger in his voice didn’t fade. “I appreciate the help, Rangers. I really do. But if the FoH comes back again, there won’t be any of ’em standin’. I’m done with second chances.”
Texas Twister’s voice hardened, though his calm demeanor didn’t falter. “Murder is not an option, kid. You don’t wanna go down that road. Trust me.”
Duncan’s eyes flared red for a moment as he stepped closer to Twister, his tone firm. “This is Texas, Mr. Twister. It’s a stand-your-ground state. If they show up again on my family’s property… I’ll stand. And I’ll put ’em in the ground.”
The tension between them hung in the air like a storm cloud until Shooting Star stepped between them, her voice softening the edge. “Alright, alright. Let’s not get into a debate here. Duncan, your family’s safe, and that’s what matters. Let’s focus on that.”
Firebird landed nearby, her fiery aura dimming as she folded her arms. “She’s right, Twister. The kid’s not wrong, though—his family’s a target now. They’ll have to relocate. New names, new lives… FoH doesn’t let go.”
Duncan turned to her, his expression darkening. “Exactly. They’ll always have a target on their backs now. And that’s my fault.”
“Not entirely,” Texas Twister said, his tone softening slightly. “The FoH operates on hate, Duncan. They’ll use any excuse to come after folks like you. This ain’t on you.”
Duncan exhaled sharply, crossing his arms. “Doesn’t change the fact they’ll never stop.”
There was a heavy silence before Texas Twister spoke again. “Well, kid, I reckon you’ll cross that bridge when the time comes. For now, you did good tonight. You kept your folks safe, and you stood your ground. That’s all anyone can ask.”
Duncan nodded slowly, the glow in his hands fading as he allowed himself to relax, if only slightly. “Much obliged fer the help, Rangers. Couldn’t’ve done it this clean without y’all.”
Shooting Star gave him a small smile. “That’s what we’re here for. But, Duncan… if you feel like you can do more, you know we’ve always got an open door.”
Before Duncan could respond, Firebird chimed in. “He’s a mutant, Twister. He knows where to go. The X-Men are better suited to his kind of fight.”
Duncan frowned, looking between the two of them. “Calm down. I ain’t sayin’ no to the Rangers, nor yes to the X-Men. And fer the record, I was never offered to join the X-Men or nothin’.”
Texas Twister chuckled, tipping his hat. “Fair enough. But if you ask me, you’d make one hell of a Ranger, kid.”
Duncan couldn’t help but smirk at the compliment. “Thanks, Mr. Twister. I’ll consider the possibility.”
Twister nodded. “That’s all we ask. Think on it, Duncan. You’ve got potential. Don’t waste it.”
With that, the Rangers began to depart, each offering their own brief farewell. Fifty-One, ever formal, gave a brief bow before his mechanical voice sounded. “MISSION SUCCESSFUL. ASSISTANCE RENDERED. FAREWELL.”
Shooting Star smiled warmly. “Take care of yourself, Duncan. And your folks. They’re lucky to have you.”
Firebird gave him a nod before lifting into the air, her fiery aura reigniting. “Stay safe, kid. And remember—you don’t have to fight alone.”
As the Rangers disappeared into the night, Duncan stood there on the porch of his family’s battered home, watching the horizon. The moonlight caught the faint blue glow of his hands as he clenched them into fists. He exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper.
“The Alamo don’t forget. Not tonight, not ever.”
He turned back toward the house, his mind already racing with plans for the days ahead. This wasn’t over.
Duncan stepped through the broken front door, his shoulders tense but his expression calm. The battle outside had taken its toll, and though he’d managed to fend off the Sentinels and the FoH, the damage was undeniable. The house smelled faintly of scorched wood and ozone, the aftermath of energy blasts leaving blackened marks along the siding and a few shattered windows. He found his parents in the living room, sitting close together on the couch, their faces pale but determined.
“Daddy, Mama?” he called softly.
Marcy was the first to respond, her voice trembling slightly. “We’re here, Duncan.”
Robert stood, his movements deliberate but steady. “Are ya hurt, son?”
Duncan shook his head, brushing a hand over his singed shirt. “Nope. Ahem, the Rangers showed up to help.”
Marcy’s eyebrows shot up. “The Rangers? Really?”
“Yup,” Duncan replied, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.
Robert’s expression softened slightly. “That’s great. Did ya thank ’em? Don’t be arrogant now, Duncan.”
Duncan sighed, managing a small smile. “Yeah, I thanked ’em, Mama. They were helpful, even if I coulda handled it myself.”
Marcy gave him a sharp look. “A little humility wouldn’t kill ya.”
Duncan ignored the jab and glanced around the room. The house was still standing, though parts of it bore the scars of the fight—scorched walls, a broken window frame, and a few overturned pieces of furniture. “The house is… intact, mostly,” he said, nodding toward the damage.
“Well, I’m good at my job, it seems,” he added, a faint grin tugging at his lips.
Robert chuckled. “Not bad at all, son. Not bad at all.”
But the humor faded quickly as Duncan’s expression turned serious. “Y’all can’t stay here, though,” he said firmly. “The FoH will come again, and they probably won’t ever stop.”
Marcy shook her head immediately, her voice rising. “No. This is our house. We bought it. This is where we’ve built our lives.”
“As much as I agree y’all shouldn’t have to leave yer home ’cause of a bunch of mobs,” Duncan said, his tone softening, “I still understand y’all need to be safe.”
Marcy frowned, crossing her arms. “But my job’s here, son. We can’t just up and leave.”
Duncan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Mama, Daddy, listen. I hate sayin’ this, but y’all need to relocate. I know it’s unfair, I know it’s wrong, but I can’t always be here to protect y’all. It’s not safe.”
Marcy hesitated, glancing at Robert. “Well… we do have the funds, Robert. We could buy a house somewhere else.”
Robert frowned deeper. “Where, Marcy? Florida? You wanna move to Florida?”
Duncan shook his head quickly. “I don’t think Florida’s a good idea. Maybe Canada.”
Robert’s face twisted in disapproval. “Have ya lost yer mind, son? We ain’t goin’ to Canada.”
“I ain’t a fan of Canada either, Dad, but that doesn’t mean it ain’t safer right now,” Duncan countered.
Marcy tapped her fingers on the armrest, her expression thoughtful. “We could go to Iowa,” she suggested.
Duncan raised an eyebrow. “Iowa? Why not Arizona?”
“Arizona’s too close, unfortunately,” Robert said with a sigh. “It’d be my second pick, too.”
“Alright,” Marcy said after a long pause. “Iowa. We could move to Des Moines.”
Duncan nodded. “I’ll help y’all. Whatever ya need.”
“We don’t need money, Duncan,” Robert said firmly. “We’re fine. We have funds.”
“I’m not talkin’ ’bout just money, Daddy,” Duncan said, leaning forward. “The house might have some liquidity problems now that it’s been attacked. Midland isn’t usually a target, so the local brokers will remember this. Y’all might struggle to sell it.”
Robert waved him off. “We’re fine, son. We’ve got what we need.”
Marcy added, her voice gentle but firm. “We did this ’cause we love you, Duncan, not ’cause you’d owe us anything.”
Duncan smiled faintly. “I know. I love y’all too. But y’all have to move. Unfortunately—and I hate to say it—Texas ain’t safe right now. You can come back later when things cool down.”
Marcy sighed, leaning into Robert’s shoulder. “We’ll buy a house in Iowa and rent this one. Then, when we’re ready, we can sell the Iowa house and come back here.”
Duncan’s expression brightened slightly. “Good investment plan, Mama. That works. Now let’s find y’all a hotel to stay in for a few days while we figure this out.”
Marcy and Robert exchanged a glance before nodding. “Alright, Duncan,” Robert said. “We’ll pack some things.”
Duncan stood, his expression resolute. “Good. We’ll make this work. I promise.”
As they began to gather their belongings, the faint hum of cicadas returned, filling the silence in the house. Outside, the wreckage of the battle still lingered, but inside, there was a small flicker of hope that, with time, things might just settle down.