The past four months had been a painful lesson in patience. Barry had always been a strong guy, but now, he wasn’t just strong—he was a force of nature. A casual handshake could crush bones, a tap on a phone screen shattered it like glass, and sitting in a chair meant leaving behind a pile of splinters.

  So, he had adapted.

  The first few weeks were brutal. His temper flared every time he broke something—his bed, his dining table, another damn smartphone. He stopped counting after replacing the eighth one. The hole in the floor had been patched up, but Barry had given up on traditional furniture entirely. Now, he slept on a Japanese futon in the basement and sat on the floor like a monk.

  But, slowly, he got better.

  Mary visited almost every night, coaching him through exercises to refine his control. She made a game out of it—stacking eggs in his palm to see if he could hold them without cracking, making him shuffle a deck of cards without tearing them in half, even having him carry glasses of water without spilling a drop.

  By the end of the fourth month, Barry could hold a wine glass without turning it into sand. That was progress.

  Tonight was a special occasion—Mary had brought her whole family over for dinner. They were gathered in the backyard, the stone table covered in dishes, the air warm and filled with the scent of grilled steaks and roasted vegetables. The sky was streaked with the last colors of sunset, and fireflies flickered at the edges of the yard.

  Barry leaned back against the thick stone patio, a glass of wine balanced carefully in his steel fingers. Across from him sat Mary, her husband Jimmy, and their two kids—Sarah, sixteen, and Josh, twelve. The whole scene felt… normal. Almost.

  “Alright, I gotta ask,” Jimmy said, cutting into his steak. “What the hell are you gonna do with yourself, Barry?”

  Barry took a sip of wine, setting the glass down with precision. “Same thing I’ve always done—live my life.”

  Jimmy snorted. “Yeah, because that’s working out great for you. What, you gonna keep avoiding people forever? You can’t even sit in a restaurant without breaking a chair.”

  Mary rolled her eyes. “Ignore him, Barry. He thinks every problem has to be fixed right away.”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Hey, I’m just saying,” Jimmy said, holding up his hands. “You’ve got this—what did you call it?—walking tank body, and you’re just… hanging out here? Why not do something with it? Hell, why not talk to the government?”

  Silence settled over the table.

  Barry frowned. “And do what, exactly?”

  Jimmy shrugged. “I dunno. Work with them. Be a soldier. A superhero. Something.” He gestured vaguely. “They’d love to have a guy who’s basically indestructible on their team.”

  Barry stared at his wine glass, running a thick steel thumb along the rim.

  Mary sighed, stabbing her fork into her salad. “Right, because the government has such a great track record with people who are… different.”

  Jimmy gave her a look. “Oh, come on. You think they’d lock him up?”

  “Yes,” Mary said flatly.

  Jimmy scoffed. “They wouldn’t waste a resource like Barry. He’s a one-man army. The military would probably roll out the red carpet for him.”

  Sarah, who had been mostly quiet, suddenly giggled.

  Barry looked up. “What’s funny?”

  She smirked. “The idea that you think the government doesn’t already know about you.”

  Barry narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  Sarah leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. “Come on, Uncle Barry. You woke up in a hospital looking like a metal golem. You think nobody took notes? It’s a miracle the CDC didn’t show up and drag you away.”

  Barry stiffened.

  Mary frowned. “She’s got a point. The second he woke up, there were probably a dozen reports filed on him.”

  Jimmy blinked. “Wait. You really think the government knows?”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Duh. Even if the doctors didn’t report him, the hospital security probably did.” She glanced at Barry. “You did break some stuff, right? Like, hospital beds, chairs, doors?”

  Barry shifted uncomfortably. “…Yeah.”

  Josh, who had been quietly munching on fries, finally spoke up. “Wait, so are we gonna have, like, Men in Black show up at our door?”

  Mary sighed. “No, Josh. But…” She glanced at Barry. “It is something to think about.”

  Barry exhaled slowly, looking up at the darkening sky. “Great. Just great.”

  Jimmy cleared his throat. “Okay, so let’s say the government does know about you. What then? Maybe not talking to them makes you look like a threat. Maybe it’s better to reach out first.”

  Mary shook her head. “Or maybe it just puts a bigger target on his back.”

  Barry pinched the bridge of his nose, the weight of the conversation settling in. He hadn’t thought about it much—hadn’t wanted to think about it. He had been so focused on regaining control over himself that he hadn’t considered the bigger picture.

  But Sarah was right. The hospital had to have reported him.

  Someone out there knew about him.

  The question was—were they watching?

  Barry took another sip of wine, rolling the possibilities around in his mind.

  Did he take the risk and step into the spotlight? Or did he keep his head down and hope nobody came knocking?

  Either way, his life was never going to be normal again.

  And he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.