Endeavour Nikolas Stark is perfectly fine as is.
As a child he had been extraordinary, finding a home among the friendliest of people at Charles Xavier's School For the Gifted, and finding himself Gifted in many ways just beyond the X-Gene in his DN...
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And the war is never won.
Nikolas could not specifically recall the path through the caves, despite the fact that he had to repeat it three times before Yinsen had left him and then another three times solely because his dad was sure he would forget it.
He had, of course, been right.
Nikolas did however recognized quickly however that following the path of dead bodies would lead him to the exit where his father was currently show boating while waiting for his son's arrival. Nikolas had to take his time, relying heavily on the crutches his dad and Yinsen had put together for him to use and despite the weight lifted off of his leg he was still in a tremendous amount of pain that he attempted to push away.
When Nikolas stood behind his dad the older Stark announced loudly, "My turn."
And then his dad stepped out into the sun, blasting fire into the air as he paraded his way through the camp.
This part of their escape had been difficult as Nikolas had calculated the necessary propulsion needed to put his dad in the sky and found their materials lacking. So once his dad had finished blasting the weapons to kingdom come Nikolas stepped into the bright sun.
He almost immediately felt panicked as understandable the situation that he was in was not a welcomed one. Without his long sleeves he would surely burn and that was not anything he ever wanted as the healing takes to long and his skin hurts for what feels like forever.
Nikolas rolled his shoulders nonetheless, willing himself to let his tattoos unfurl as he took deep breaths through the smoke of the raging fire around him. The feeling of the tattoos lifting from his back was welcomed in the chaos and the way that the black ink peeled from his back and formed tall inky black wings brought screams from the still surviving men around him.
Nikolas let the crutches fall from him, beating the wings on his back a few times to give himself just enough lift to get off of the ground and hover. He raised his hands towards the metal covered form of his father, breathing in the smokey air and resisting the urge to cough as he started to lift his hand and father all at once.
It was, of course, not easy.
The suit that they had built weighed hundreds of pounds and with the flame lift that the terrible propulsion system gave it the combined efforts was just barely enough to send Tony Stark into the air with a loud holler of excitement.
Nikolas in turn had to wait for his own escape, as the concentration of lifting his father alongside keeping his wings beating was just enough that he could not bring himself to move from his current location.
Nikolas let out a loud cry, his concentration falling as pain bloomed in his stomach, he did not have to look to know what had happened and without even considering it, his wings started to beat harder, throwing dust and sand into the air as he launched himself into the sky.
It was everything for him to fly through the air in the way that he always had.
It was his favorite gift from his mutation and the one that he most often benefited from. Nikolas loves to fly, though he does not get to as often as he would like for the sole reason that traditional airspaces do not appreciate a winged man flying through.
Nikolas felt tearful as he coasted, the knowledge that he was finally free from the darkness of the cave worked wonderfully against the pain in his stomach and leg that he could feel himself calming with every beat of his beautifully strong wings.
The faint call of Einstein barely caught his attention, the wind roaring past his ears nearly masking the sound of his fathers voice. Nikolas glanced down before suddenly loosing hundreds of feet of height, the pain in his side joined with the distraction of the voice was enough to let him fall.
Nikolas barely caught himself, his wings extending and catching the air just feet above the sand. He slammed into it hard despite his attempts at softening the landing, his dad was at his side in an instant.
"Hey hey hey, Einstein." His dad's hand's hovered over him, but did not touch. "I'm going to turn you over, you've got to work with me."
The doctor could barely react, a high pitched whine passing through his throat as he leaned towards his dad, nonverbally giving the main permission to touch him. With his back pressed into the sand and his wings feeling like heavy weights he laid there feeling impossibly overwhelmed.
"You were amazing Einstein."
His dad's voice broke through the overwhelming chorus in his mind and Nikolas whined again, feeling a sense of appreciation when his dad's head covered the sun from his eyes.
Nikolas noticed the way that his dad was covered in a dark dust. He had lost the suit, it most likely fell apart the moment Nikolas had lost his train of thought after being shot. A hand pressed into his stomach, and the doctor nearly screamed at the touch.
"God- god you're gonna be okay Einstein." Tony's voice was panicked but still soft. A fearful expression in his eyes as he pulled the thin shirt from over his head and pressed it into the bloodied wound, every cry from his son was like a shot to his heart. Tony worked quickly, wrapping the shirt around his son's stomach and lifting Nikolas' left hand to press into it. "I'll hold you and you hold this."
He started to move again, his left arm hooking under his sons knees and his right reaching for his back. He had not expected his son to jerk away as rapidly as he had.
Nikolas nearly screamed, the vocal noise that he made all too similar to a fearful one. "No!" He shouted the word specifically, his left hand falling from the cotton shirt covering his wound as he attempted to put distance between his dad and him.
"Nikolas, buddy you need to speak to me." Tony's hands pressed into his son's shoulders, holding him into the sand in an effort to not have him further injure himself. "It's the wings." Tony spoke in statements, knowing for a sure fact that his son would find the statements easier to understand in this moment than questions of any kind.
"H-hm." It was a melodic grunt, Nikolas moved his head up and down repeatedly pressing it into the sad below him in an attempt to calm down.
Tony watched closely as the inky black feathers started to fade, their shape becoming less distinct before disappearing altogether below the fabric of his short sleeved shirt, the bare few feathers appearing on his neck and just behind his ears.
It was only after Nikolas relaxed did Tony attempt at picking him up again, one hand below his knees, one hand just under his shoulders.
His son was pliable in his arms, calm and loose and ever so silent. Walking through the sand would be a struggle, but Nikolas felt as light as a bird, a strange side effect for the gift of wings. Just like birds, his bones were hollow.
