Chapter 205: Boom Tube

Once inside, Peter started the engine and made a U-turn, initially driving at a moderate speed. He navigated through several less-trafficked streets with minimal lighting before straightening out and gradually accelerating.

"Jason?" Liv said uncertainly as she noticed they were driving directly toward a dead-end alley.

When it became clear that he had no intention of turning, she grew visibly restless. Just as she was about to grab the steering wheel, Peter pressed a concealed button beneath the dashboard. The car surged forward.

"JASON!" she screamed, watching the concrete wall rush toward them at terrifying speed. She threw her arms over her face. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter noticed the black veins flickering beneath her skin as she fought to control her zombie state.

"Activate the Boom Tube¹," Peter commanded.

A swirling portal materialized directly ahead of them. The car punched through it without slowing down.

Liv kept her face buried in her arms for several more seconds before cautiously lowering them. When she saw that they had not crashed—but were instead driving through an entirely unfamiliar underground passage—her jaw dropped.

"Where are we?" she demanded. "What is this place?"

Peter said nothing. He continued driving until they reached a wide, illuminated cavern. He parked, stepped out, and walked calmly toward the Bat-Computer.

"WOW!" Liv breathed.

She stepped out of the car and took in the entirety of the cave—her eyes widening at the sheer volume of technology, vehicles, and equipment surrounding her. She descended the central staircase slowly, approached the main platform, and looked down at the enormous bat symbol inlaid into the floor.

It only took her a few seconds to connect the pieces.

"Are you him?" she asked, her voice carrying a subtle edge of tension. "The one who appeared on television?"

"Red Hood," Peter confirmed without turning around, his hands already preparing instruments on a nearby table. "Yes. I am."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her tense up and glance subtly toward the exits.

"I do not intend to hurt you," he said evenly. "If I wanted to, we never would have had that conversation at your apartment."

He set the instruments down, guided Liv into a nearby chair, and used a syringe to draw a blood sample. Within minutes, he was analyzing it under a high-powered scanner.

The initial bloodwork revealed nothing overtly harmful. However, the hemoglobin composition, muscle fiber density, nerve conductivity, and several other markers bore a striking resemblance to a particular analysis he already had on file. He retrieved the relevant reports and compared them side by side. The results were nearly identical—except that Liv’s readings were significantly more erratic.

Pushing the analysis further, Peter identified certain characteristics in Liv’s body and blood that overlapped with Meta-Human physiology—but with critical differences. Most notably, Liv did not possess an X-Gene. There was no external compound, no virus, no parasite—nothing that should have turned her into what she was.

What surprised him was the degree of similarity.

He stared at Liv for a long moment, and a strange hypothesis began forming. She could be analogous to Morbius¹—someone exposed to an unknown chemical agent that had granted her abilities without making her truly undead. Morbius was not a real vampire, yet he possessed most of the same capabilities without the traditional weaknesses.

"And?" Liv asked, her voice small. "Is there a possible cure for my... problem?"

"No," Peter said flatly.

Liv’s expression crumbled into a mixture of frustration, bitterness, and crushing sadness.

"There is no cure," he continued, "for someone who is not actually a zombie."

Liv stared at him with wide, demanding eyes.

"Do you know what Meta-Humans are?" he asked.

"No."

"Humans with unique abilities or powers. Spider-Man, Mutants—the correct blanket term is Meta-Human."

"What are you trying to say?" Liv asked slowly. "That I am one of them?"

"No. You do not have the X-Gene, which is the standard prerequisite for Meta-Human status. Unless, of course, you were exposed to an accident that granted you abilities beyond imagination."

"Well, I am sorry to tell you," Liv said dryly, "I have never been inside a nuclear reactor. The most I ever deliberately exposed myself to was some new drug they were pushing at a party on a boat a few months ago."

"Explain."

"A few months ago, I went to a party that a friend had invited me to. That was the first time I had ever drunk that much or done things I would never normally do. I remember trying this new drug—it had something called terragan in it, or terrog... terrigan..."

Peter’s eyebrow rose sharply. There was no known chemical compound that matched that name. The only thing remotely similar was—

His eyes widened. He stared at Liv, rapidly cross-referencing every data point he had collected. He understood now why the Meta-Human data had been similar but not identical. Liv was not a Meta-Human.

She was an Inhuman.

"Terrigen¹," he corrected quietly.

Yes!" Liv exclaimed. "That was it. It was a blue powder that they combined with some kind of strange liquid. The combination produced a dark gas. After I inhaled it... I found some guy on fire—but he was not burning. The ship was in flames. People were running everywhere. There were some strangely shaped stones scattered around the deck. After that... I woke up on a beach. In a body bag. With white streaks in my hair. They told me I had been declared dead. It took me several days to figure out what I had become."

She stared straight ahead with a vacant expression.

Terrigen Crystals from the Inhumans, Peter thought.

I was right. The question is how they ended up on that boat—and who had them. Unfortunately, I cannot investigate the crystals directly; they are lethal to ordinary humans. Liv simply got lucky. What concerns me now is this person who was immune to fire. There is only one individual I know with those characteristics. I will need to investigate further—and ask Liv about her family history.

"Can you heal me?" Liv asked.

"It is complicated," Peter said carefully. "If you were a Meta-Human, I could give you a bracelet that suppresses your powers. But you are a special case. If I neutralize the zombie-like symptoms, numerous other Inhuman characteristics will remain."

"Like what?"

He was silent for several seconds, weighing how much information to share. He decided to give her the truth.

"Sit down," he said. "You are about to learn about two very powerful species."

They sat facing each other. Peter mentally organized his explanation—the fundamental difference between a Meta-Human and an Inhuman.

"Both Meta-Humans and Inhumans begin as ordinary humans," Peter began. "No one can distinguish any of the three species—Human, Meta, or Inhuman—at a glance. For an Inhuman to manifest their powers, they must be exposed to the Terrigen Mist—the gaseous substance you inhaled on that boat. The powers granted to Inhumans are not random. They serve a specific evolutionary purpose."

Liv frowned at that distinction.

"Inhumans share certain baseline abilities," Peter continued. "Superior speed and reflexes compared to ordinary humans. Superior strength. They never seem to tire or become truly exhausted, regardless of their physical appearance—whether they are thin, overweight, or malnourished, their baseline physical capabilities are comparable to Captain America. One of their major vulnerabilities, however, is their heightened senses. A simple cloud of toxic gas that a normal person might survive could be fatal to an Inhuman due to their extreme sensory sensitivity."

He considered mentioning the hereditary disease that plagued the Inhuman bloodline but decided against it. Liv was already under immense pressure. Adding an untreatable genetic condition to the conversation would be counterproductive.

"Another advantage," Peter added, "is their lifespan. Most Inhumans live approximately one hundred and fifty years."

Liv’s eyes went wide.

"The visible aging process slows dramatically around the age of thirty."

She sat in stunned silence for a long moment.

"What I am telling you is merely a summary," Peter said. "There is considerably more."

"I am going to live to one hundred and fifty," Liv repeated slowly, "and I will stop aging at thirty."

"If it makes you feel any better, I should be the one who is worried," Peter said dryly. "I will live to nearly five hundred."

Liv stared at him in disbelief. "Five hundred?!"

"Genetic alterations," he said with a casual shrug. "That is, assuming I do not decide to find a way to become fully immortal."

Liv sat there with enormous eyes, processing the fact that she would outlive virtually everyone she knew.