Drewmore gripped the side of the bed even harder, as yet another coughing fit wracked his body, the bitter taste of iron filling his pallet. The hand on his shoulder gripped him nervously, he turned to the owner of the hand, Thor, his son.

Thor had been genetically engineered to expand his adolescent, because of this ability when Thor was biologically 16 he looked like a 9-year-old, these genetics were implanted within him since at has been proven that children can soak up far more knowledge and are more susceptible to brainwashing than adults.to counter how long it would take to produce these super soldiers, when Thor turned 16 he began aging rapidly to the physical age of 17 in a period of just 4 years, this aspect of his genetics were a sore point for argument among the scientists, as it could irreversibly damage his hormones. Now biologically 20, though physically and mentally 17. Thor had grown to 6’6 foot and was built like a line backer. A body manufactured through countless experiments and procedures to be the ultimate killing machine now tenderly held the shoulder of the man he viewed as family, as his father.

Drewmore was on his deathbed, he knew this. Cold grey eyes glanced up at his son, Thor. He didn’t originally want Thor to see him like this, weak and feeble. But Thor was adamant about staying with him, till death would they part, and it appeared that time would soon be upon them. Drewmore started feeling his body grow increasingly numb, fear began to wash over him, death was an instinctual fear bred into every creature after all, but the hand at his shoulder reassured him. He closed his eyes as the memories of his time with Thor filled his consciousness.

The time they went fishing in the rivers of the amazon, Thor hadn’t learned how to control his strength at that time, so instead of using the expensive rods Drewmore had brought with him, he taught him to swim. It had turned out to be a great exercise for controlling his strength as simply forcing the water back as hard as he could was not a very efficient method, he had to learn finesse and how to push, not force. Soon enough, Thor was swimming around their dingy armed with a sharp stick, determined to spear something whilst Drewmore fished from the boat. Thor had only been 9 at the time, so Drewmore had been rightfully surprised when Thor pulled a small crocodile onto the boat, with a stick jutting out of the modern dinosaur’s head.

Another memory flowed through him, Thor’s first day of school. The boy was only 10 at the time, and was overwhelmed by the amount he didn’t know about the world, every day he ran back to their house with new facts and trivia he learned from geography class about the foreign countries in the world. The sheer size of the world seemed to amaze Thor to no end, so, with the small fortune Drewmore had been given by the government, after they learned of the compound and the various unethical experiments, he promised Thor they would travel the world together. A promise Drewmore fulfilled.

They ventured to the beaches of Hawaii, where they were both taught how to surf by a kind local. The mountains of New Zealand, where Thor found his passion for hiking, he often told Drewmore of the wondrous sights only he witnessed after hiking through the harsh mountains for days on end. To the skies of Chile where they both learned how to sky dive and wing suit, something Thor and Drewmore himself fell in love with, the sheer freedom of flying through the skies was as addictive as a drug.

Drewmore and Thor had ventured the globe, participating in adventure after adventure, soon however, their adventures had to come to an end, Drewmore had never fully recovered from when he shot, he was often ill and was vulnerable to sickness. And so, their travels were concluded after a little under 4 years of travel. Less than 3 months after settling down though, Drewmore’s condition rapidly grew volatile, it didn’t matter what doctor they tried, non could do anything, Drewmore often wondered if the director had put something dangerous in those bullets. Another coughing fit brought Drewmore out of his thoughts.

Breathing gradually turned to gentle wheezing, Drewmore turned to Thor, placing a hand above the one on his shoulder and spoke to the seemingly stoic young man.

“Thor, my boy. My adventure nears its end, but yours has only just begun. I know you’ve forgiven me for what I did in that compound, but I could never forgive myself.” Thor shook his head at him. Drewmore smiled at the young man’s kindness.

“Thor, you are strong, stronger than even you yourself think you are. I have completel and utte-*cough* utter faith in you.” Drewmore stared hard into the eyes of Thor, ignoring the tiredness that tried to force him into an endless slumber

“I have one last piece of advice for you Thor, If the world pushes you down.” Thor spoke up, something he rarely did even around Drewmore, his deep baritone voice reverberating around the room.

“Break its knee caps and use it as a step ladder.” He finished for Drewmore, steely grey eyes beginning to have hints of moisture. Drewmore nodded at him before closing his eyes and letting out one last breath, Thor watched in frozen horror as his chest ceased all movement. Hunching over the body, Thor gave him one last hug, cursing the world for taking away the very last thing he had, and cursing himself for being unable to cry even for the death of his own father.