The warmth of the reunion was shattered by a harsh voice that Reed recognized with immediate dread.
"Well, well. Look at the little professor, soaking up all the attention."
Gary Richards approached through the crowd, and Reed felt his stomach drop like he was falling from a great height. His uncle looked older and more weathered than Reed remembered, wearing an ill-fitting suit that made him appear uncomfortable and out of place among the academic celebration. His expression carried the same mixture of resentment and calculating hostility that Reed remembered from his teenage years, but now there was something else there too. Desperation, maybe, or the kind of bitter frustration that came from watching someone else succeed while you struggled.
"Uncle Gary," Reed managed, his confidence from the graduation ceremony immediately deflating like a punctured balloon. "I... I didn't expect to see you here."
"I bet you didn't," Gary sneered, his eyes taking in the crowd of celebrating graduates and their families with obvious disdain. "All this fancy education, thinking you're better than everyone else. But underneath all those degrees and awards, you're still that scrawny little brat who couldn't fix a carburetor without reading the manual three times."
Mary stepped closer to Reed protectively, her expression growing cold as she looked at her husband. The transformation was startling; the warm, loving woman who had just been celebrating Reed's achievements became a mother bear defending her cub. "Gary, this is Reed's graduation day. Can't you just be happy for him? Can't you be proud of what he's accomplished?"
"Happy?" Gary laughed harshly, the sound carrying across the immediate area and making nearby families turn to stare. "Happy that he's been playing dress-up for four years with money that should have been mine? Happy that he gets to parade around like some kind of genius while the rest of us work real jobs and struggle to pay bills?"
Mary moved even closer to Reed, her hand reaching out to touch his arm in a gesture of comfort and protection. "Gary, please. Not here. Not today."
But Gary's voice was rising, drawing more attention from the people around them. Reed could see professors and other families beginning to notice the commotion, their expressions shifting from polite curiosity to uncomfortable concern.
Enid stepped forward, her nineteen-year-old confidence evident as she watched her father embarrass the family. "Dad, that's enough. You're making a scene at Reed's graduation. He's family, and he's accomplished something incredible here."
"Come on, Dad," Danny added, his seventeen-year-old voice deeper now but still carrying obvious disapproval. "Reed's always been good to us. This isn't right, and you know it."
Hope, at fifteen and old enough to understand the full ugliness of the situation, looked mortified by her father's behavior. "Dad, everyone's staring at us. Reed doesn't deserve this." She moved closer to her mother and Reed, creating a small family barrier between Gary and his target.
"Don't you kids tell me how to talk to your cousin," Gary snapped, but Reed could see that his adult children's obvious disapproval was affecting him more than he'd expected. Gary had always prided himself on being the head of a loving family, and their public criticism was clearly hitting a nerve.
Reed felt the old familiar fear creeping into his chest, the conditioning of years spent under Gary's psychological dominance. Even surrounded by friends and family, even after four years of building confidence and achieving recognition, Gary's presence still had the power to make him feel small and powerless. It was like being transported back to that basement room, listening to Gary's cruel lectures about the worthlessness of intellectual pursuits.
"Here's the thing, boy," Gary continued, stepping closer to Reed in a way that made several nearby graduates uncomfortable. "Next February, you turn twenty-one, which means you get full access to that trust fund. Twelve million dollars, just sitting there waiting for you. Now, I've been taking care of you for seven years, feeding you, housing you, making sure you had everything you needed. I figure you owe me."
Mary's face went pale as she realized what Gary was building toward. "Gary, no. Not here. This isn't the time or place."
"Mom's right, Dad," Enid said firmly, her college-age maturity showing as she refused to back down. "This is beyond embarrassing. Can't we celebrate Reed's achievement like adults instead of airing family drama in front of half of MIT?"
But Gary was beyond caring about his family's embarrassment or the growing number of people staring at their confrontation. Years of resentment and financial desperation had finally boiled over, and he was too far gone to pull back now.
Reed felt his throat constrict, his voice coming out smaller than he intended. "Owe you what?"
"Half. Minimum," Gary said, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper that only Reed and his immediate family could hear. "That money should've been mine anyway. My brother always thought he was too good for the family, too smart to associate with working people. But since he left it all to you, you're gonna share it with the people who actually raised you."
Mary stepped directly between Gary and Reed, her voice sharp with anger and embarrassment. "Gary Richards, you stop this right now. You're making a scene at your nephew's graduation, and you're scaring him. This is not who we are."
"Don't tell me who we are," Gary shot back, but his voice had lost some of its venom as he became aware of his family's united disapproval. "I'm talking about justice here. About family responsibility."
Danny moved to stand beside his mother, his seventeen-year-old frame nearly matching his father's height now, his young face set with determination. "Dad, Reed's been nothing but good to our family. He helped me fix my bike, he tutored Enid through calculus, he fixed Hope's music box when it broke. You can't just demand his money because you think you're entitled to it."
The public nature of the confrontation was clearly weighing on Gary. Reed could see him glancing around at the staring faces, realizing that he was creating exactly the kind of scene that would reflect badly on his family for years to come.
Gary's hand gripped Reed's shoulder hard enough to leave marks through the graduation gown. "Unless you want me to tell everyone here about what a pathetic little weakling you really are. How you used to cry yourself to sleep in my basement because you couldn't handle real work. How you needed your mommy's money to buy your way into college because you sure as hell didn't have the character to earn it."
"That's enough," Mary said sharply, her voice carrying more authority than Reed had ever heard from her before. "Gary, look around you. Look at what you're doing. Your children are ashamed of you right now, and so am I."
Hope was tearing up now, her fifteen-year-old emotions getting the better of her as she watched the confrontation escalate. "Dad, please stop. You're ruining everything. Reed worked so hard for this day, and now you're making it awful."
For a moment, Reed felt himself transported back to that basement room in Springfield, surrounded by the fear and helplessness that had defined his teenage years. The years of academic success, the NASA research grant, the respect of professors and peers, all of it seemed to evaporate under Gary's familiar intimidation tactics. He was that scared, isolated boy again, dependent on a man who despised everything he represented.
But then Reed looked around at the people surrounding him. Professor Williams, who had treated him as an equal since freshman year and trusted him with graduate-level research. Dr. Morrison, who had flown in from Washington to celebrate his achievements and discuss multimillion-dollar projects. Aunt Mary and his cousins, whose faces showed shock and anger at Gary's behavior, whose love and support had sustained him through the darkest periods of his life.
And in the distance, he could see Ben Grimm, who was starting to notice the commotion and beginning to move in their direction with the focused intensity of someone who recognized trouble.
"No," Reed said quietly, but with growing strength. "No, I don't owe you anything."
Gary's grip tightened painfully on Reed's shoulder. "What did you say to me?"
"I said no," Reed repeated, his voice gaining confidence as he straightened to his full height. At twenty, Reed was taller than Gary now, no longer the small boy who could be physically intimidated. "I don't owe you half my trust fund. I don't owe you gratitude for the years of emotional abuse. And I don't owe you respect just because we share DNA."
Gary's face turned red with fury, the calculated cruelty giving way to genuine rage. "You ungrateful little piece of shit. After everything I did for you, everything I sacrificed..."
"You sacrificed nothing," Reed interrupted, his years of suppressed anger finally finding voice. "You told me yourself that you only took me in for the money. You used my trust fund to supplement your income while making me feel worthless for having intellectual gifts you couldn't understand. You turned my grief over losing my parents into a weapon to control me."
Mary's face was streaked with tears now, a mixture of pride in Reed's courage and shame at her husband's behavior. "Gary, please. Think about what you're doing to our family. Think about what our children are seeing right now."
The crowd around them was starting to take notice of the confrontation, but Reed no longer cared who was watching. The scared little boy who had hidden in Gary's basement was gone, replaced by a young man who had learned his own worth through the love and acceptance of people who truly cared about him.
"You tried to destroy my confidence because my success made you feel inadequate," Reed continued, his voice growing stronger with each word. "You forced me to work in your garage not to teach me practical skills, but to humiliate me. You dismissed my father's work as fantasy because you couldn't understand that some people are driven by curiosity rather than resentment."
Gary raised his hand as if to strike Reed, his face contorted with years of barely contained hatred. "You think you're so smart? Let's see how smart you are after I..."
"After you what?" came Ben's voice from directly behind Gary, cold and dangerous in a way Reed had never heard before.
Gary spun around to find Ben Grimm towering over him at six feet three inches and 240 pounds of solid muscle, flanked by Tommy Morrison, Jake Sullivan, and what appeared to be the entire MIT football team. Word had spread quickly across the quad about the confrontation, and every player who could make it had come running. They formed an impressive wall of athletic intimidation, each one easily matching or exceeding Ben's imposing physical presence.
Gary's face went pale as he took in the sheer size of the group facing him. These weren't just college students; they were elite athletes who had spent four years building their bodies into instruments of controlled power. Standing in his wrinkled, ill-fitting suit among these giants, Gary looked exactly like what he was: a bitter middle-aged man way out of his depth.
"Who the hell are you people?" Gary stammered, his earlier bravado evaporating as he realized he was completely outnumbered and outmatched.
"We're Reed's teammates," Ben said pleasantly, but his voice carried an edge that made several onlookers take a step back. "I'm Ben Grimm. This is Tommy Morrison, our quarterback. Jake Sullivan, team captain. And about twenty other guys who have a real problem with people threatening our friend."
"Your friend?" Gary laughed shakily, but the sound came out more like a wheeze. "This scrawny little freak? He couldn't make junior varsity at a middle school."
The entire team shifted forward at the insult, a coordinated movement that was all the more intimidating for being completely unconscious. Reed could feel the protective energy radiating from his friends, and for the first time in his life, he understood what it meant to have people willing to fight for him.
"You're right," Tommy said with deadly calm, his six-foot-four frame casting a shadow over Gary. "Reed doesn't play football. He just revolutionized the entire sport. Every championship we've won, every defensive innovation that's being copied by programs across the country, that all came from his brain."
"Mr. Fantastic here is the smartest person any of us have ever met," Jake added, using Reed's nickname with obvious pride. "He's made us better players, better students, and better men. So when some pathetic loser shows up trying to intimidate him..." He let the threat hang in the air.
Gary's eyes darted around the circle of imposing athletes, looking for an escape route that didn't exist. "This is family business. You don't understand the situation."
"I understand plenty," Ben said, taking a step closer. Gary instinctively backed away and nearly tripped over his own feet. "I understand that Reed's been happier in the four years I've known him than he ever was living with you. I understand that you're here trying to shake down a twenty-year-old for money that isn't yours. And I understand that you just threatened to hit him."
The crowd of students and families around them had grown larger, drawn by the spectacle of MIT's championship football team squaring off against one middle-aged man. Gary's humiliation was becoming increasingly public, and Reed could see panic beginning to set in behind his uncle's eyes.
"Look, maybe we all got off on the wrong foot here," Gary said, trying to summon some diplomatic charm but failing miserably. His voice cracked with nervous energy. "Reed and I, we've had our differences, but family is family, right?"
"Family doesn't treat family like garbage," said Marcus Jones, the team's defensive coordinator who had just arrived. "Reed's told us about how you treated him. Making him work in your garage every weekend, never letting him join any academic programs, constantly tearing him down. That's not family. That's abuse."
More players were still arriving, having heard about the confrontation. Soon Gary was surrounded by what looked like a small army of the most physically imposing students on campus. The psychological effect was devastating; Gary looked like a child who had wandered into a convention of giants.
"Reed saved our entire program," called out David Martin, one of the linebackers. "Without his defensive schemes, we'd still be the laughingstock of college football. Now we're champions, and half of us have NFL scouts calling."
"And you tried to convince him he was worthless," added another player, shaking his head in disgust. "What kind of person does that to a kid?"
Gary's composure was crumbling rapidly. Sweat was beading on his forehead despite the cool May air, and his hands were visibly shaking. "You don't understand. I took care of him when nobody else would. I fed him, housed him, gave him a place to live after his parents died."
"You used him," Ben said flatly. "Reed told me about the trust fund money you skimmed, the way you made him feel guilty for being smart, how you tried to crush every dream he had. That's not taking care of someone. That's exploitation."
The team pressed closer, not threateningly, but with the kind of unity that made their intentions crystal clear. Gary was completely surrounded now, trapped in a circle of young men who had found their voice and their courage through Reed's friendship.
"Here's what's going to happen," Ben continued, his voice deadly quiet. "You're going to walk away from here. You're not going to contact Reed again. You're not going to try to get money from him. And if we hear that you've bothered him or his family in any way, we'll have a problem."
Gary's last vestiges of bravado finally snapped. "You can't threaten me! I'll call the police! I'll sue this whole school! You can't treat me like this!"
The desperation in his voice was pathetic. Here was a man who had spent years bullying a child, suddenly faced with people his own size who weren't impressed by his intimidation tactics. The contrast was stark and humiliating.
"Go ahead and call the police," Jake said with a cold smile. "Tell them you came to your nephew's graduation to demand half his inheritance, then threatened to hit him when he refused. See how that works out for you."
Gary looked around wildly, realizing that dozens of witnesses had seen his behavior. His face was red with humiliation and impotent rage. "This isn't over," he said weakly, but even he seemed to know how hollow the threat sounded.
"Yeah, it is," Tommy said simply. "It's over, and you lost."
When Gary made a desperate lunge toward Reed, apparently thinking he could push through the wall of athletes, Ben stepped into his path and caught the wild swing Gary threw at him. The punch landed solidly on Ben's chest but barely seemed to register on the six-foot-three linebacker.
"Bad idea," Ben said with a mocking smile, not even rubbing where Gary had hit him.
"You son of a bitch!" Gary snarled, swinging again. "Get your hands off me!"
That was all the invitation the team needed. Jake Sullivan moved first, grabbing Gary's left arm. Tommy Morrison took his right. David Martin and Marcus Jones each grabbed a leg. Within seconds, Gary found himself completely immobilized by half a dozen sets of hands.
"Let me go! Let me the hell go!" Gary screamed, thrashing uselessly against the iron grips holding him. "You can't do this to me! I'll have you all arrested!"
"Nah," Ben said conversationally, taking hold of Gary's belt. "I don't think you will."
They carried him across the quad like a piece of unruly luggage, Gary's curses and threats echoing across the campus. "You fucking animals! Put me down! I'll sue every one of you! This is assault!"
But his struggles were completely ineffective against twenty pairs of hands that had spent four years building championship-level strength. The players moved with practiced coordination, as if they'd been planning this maneuver for years instead of improvising it on the spot.
The large dumpster behind the dining hall received its unusual cargo with a satisfying crash and a shower of old food scraps. Gary's landing sent banana peels and coffee grounds flying in all directions.
"Stay there until you learn some manners," Ben called down to him cheerfully. "When you climb out, you walk to your truck and you drive home. And you don't come back."
The team dusted off their hands with the casual efficiency of people who had just completed a routine drill. Several players were grinning openly at Gary's humiliation, while others looked genuinely disgusted that anyone could treat Reed the way Gary had.
"Piece of shit!" Gary's voice echoed from inside the dumpster, muffled by garbage bags. "You think this is over? You have no idea who you're messing with!"
"Yeah, we do," Jake called back. "We're messing with a pathetic loser who tried to shake down his own nephew."
As Gary struggled to extract himself from the garbage, his suit torn and stained with refuse, his dignity in complete tatters, Reed found himself looking at Aunt Mary. Her face had gone through a journey of emotions during the confrontation, from embarrassment to anger to what looked like a terrible realization.
"Twenty-three years," she said quietly, but her voice carried clearly in the stunned silence that followed Gary's humiliation. "Twenty-three years I've been married to that man, and I never really saw him clearly until right now."
Mary's children stood behind her in varying states of shock and understanding. Enid looked angry and ashamed, Danny appeared confused and hurt, while Hope was openly crying at seeing her father revealed as the petty overgrown bully he truly was.
"Mom," Enid said carefully, her nineteen-year-old maturity showing as she tried to process what they'd all witnessed. "We can't go back to how things were. Not after this. Not after seeing how he really treats family."
"No," Mary agreed, her voice growing stronger. "We can't. And we won't."
Danny stepped forward, his seventeen-year-old frame trembling with suppressed emotion. "Dad's been lying to us about Reed this whole time, hasn't he? All those things he said about Reed being ungrateful, about him thinking he was better than us... that was all garbage."
"Your father has issues with anyone who achieves more than he has," Mary said sadly. "I kept hoping he would change, that he would learn to be proud instead of resentful. But today..." She gestured toward the dumpster where Gary was still struggling to climb out. "Today he showed me exactly who he really is."
Gary finally managed to extract himself from the garbage, covered in coffee grounds and food scraps, his expensive suit ruined. He stood there dripping refuse, looking around at the crowd of students and faculty who were staring at him with mixtures of disgust and pity.
"Mary!" he called out desperately, apparently still not understanding how completely he had destroyed his own life. "Mary, we're leaving! Get the kids and let's go!"
But Mary didn't move. Neither did the children. They stood there watching him with expressions that ranged from disappointment to open revulsion.
"I'm not going anywhere with you, Gary," Mary said clearly, her voice carrying across the quad. "And neither are our children. Not after what you just did. Not after what you've apparently been doing to Reed all these years."
Gary's face went through several emotions as the reality of his situation began to sink in. "You can't be serious. Mary, it's me. Your husband. These are our kids."
"You're a bully and an abuser," Mary replied with devastating calm. "I won't let my children think that's what love looks like."
Hope, despite being only fifteen, stepped forward with surprising composure. "Dad, what you did was awful. Reed never hurt our family. He helped us. He fixed my things when they broke, he helped Danny with his projects, he tutored Enid. And you tried to hurt him and steal his money."
"I'm not stealing anything!" Gary shouted, his desperation becoming more obvious with each word. "That money should have been mine! My brother owed me!"
"Your brother didn't owe you anything," Reed said quietly, but his voice carried clearly across the quad. "And neither do I. The only thing I owe is to myself: to never let anyone treat me the way you did ever again."
Gary looked around wildly, seeing his life collapse in real time. His wife and children had publicly rejected him. He was covered in garbage in front of hundreds of witnesses. His nephew, whom he had tried to bully and intimidate, was standing tall and confident, surrounded by friends who would clearly do anything to protect him.
"This isn't over," Gary said again, but this time his voice was barely a whisper. Even he seemed to understand that it was, in fact, completely over.
As Gary stumbled away toward the parking lot, still dripping refuse and muttering threats that no one took seriously, Reed felt something he hadn't experienced since his parents' death: he was part of a family that would fight for him, protect him, and love him unconditionally.
"You okay, Mr. Fantastic?" Ben asked quietly, his protective instincts still on high alert.
"I'm perfect," Reed replied, and for the first time in years, he actually meant it.
The emotional intensity of the confrontation was broken by the approach of several men in expensive suits, their professional demeanor marking them as NFL representatives. They had been waiting respectfully at a distance for the family drama to resolve, but now approached Ben with the focused attention of people conducting serious business.
"Mr. Grimm," said a distinguished man wearing a New England Patriots pin, "I'm sorry to interrupt after all that unpleasantness. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, thanks," Ben replied, then glanced at Reed. "Actually, we're both fine now."
The scout nodded, then turned to Reed with genuine sympathy. "Son, I'm sorry about what happened with your uncle back there. That was completely inappropriate, especially on your graduation day."
Reed waved off the concern with a slight smile. "Don't worry about it. He's been like that my whole life. Today was actually pretty mild compared to some of his greatest hits."
"Still," added the Cowboys scout, shaking his head, "family should be celebrating your achievements, not trying to tear you down. What you've accomplished here is remarkable."
"Thanks, I appreciate that," Reed said simply, clearly wanting to move past the topic. "But really, it's fine. Some people just can't handle other people's success."
The Patriots scout turned back to Ben, his expression shifting to business mode. "Well, if you're both ready, we've been waiting to hear your decision about our offer. The draft is next week, and we need to finalize our plans."
Ben looked around at the assembled scouts from what seemed like half the NFL. Patriots, Giants, 49ers, Cowboys, Broncos, and several others. Each one representing millions of dollars and the chance to live every football player's dream. Just days ago, this decision had seemed impossible.
He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. "I've been thinking about this a lot. Really a lot. And I know this probably isn't what any of you want to hear, but I've made my decision."
The scouts leaned forward expectantly, each clearly hoping to hear their team's name.
"I'm not going to play professional football," Ben announced quietly but firmly.
The silence that followed was deafening. Several scouts exchanged glances, clearly thinking they had misheard.
"I'm sorry," the Patriots scout said carefully. "Did you say you're not playing professional football?"
"That's right," Ben confirmed, his voice gaining strength. "I'm joining the Air Force and pursuing my master's degree in aerospace engineering."
"Ben," the Cowboys scout said, his voice filled with genuine concern, "do you understand what you're walking away from? We're talking about guaranteed money in the millions, a chance to play at the highest level, endorsement deals, a career that could set you up for life."
Ben nodded, and Reed could see that his friend had wrestled with exactly these thoughts. "I know exactly what I'm walking away from. But I also know what I'm walking toward."
"This is about your friend's situation, isn't it?" the Giants scout asked, glancing at Reed. "What happened with his uncle? You don't have to make emotional decisions based on someone else's family drama."
"This has nothing to do with Reed's uncle," Ben said firmly. "This is about Reed, but not the way you think."
Ben looked directly at Reed, and his expression grew thoughtful. "Four years ago, I came here thinking I had my whole life figured out. Play football, get an engineering degree as backup, hope for the NFL. Simple plan."
He paused, organizing his thoughts. "But Reed changed how I see everything. Not because he tried to, but because watching him taught me something I didn't know I was missing."
"And what's that?" the Broncos scout asked, though his tone suggested he was humoring Ben rather than genuinely interested.
"Purpose," Ben said simply. "Real purpose. Reed doesn't just want to understand how things work. He wants to build things that'll change the world. He's designing propulsion systems that could actually take people to Mars. Not might, not maybe, but could. And after four years of helping him think through problems, after seeing how his mind works, after learning even a fraction of what he knows..." Ben trailed off, then looked up with clear eyes. "I realized I want to be part of that. I want to help build the future, not just entertain people on weekends."
The Patriots scout tried a different approach. "Ben, we respect that. But you could do both. Play football for a few years, make enough money to fund whatever research you want to do later. You don't have to choose."
Ben shook his head. "Actually, I do. Because if I go to the NFL, I'll give it everything I have. That's who I am. I don't do anything halfway. But that means I'd spend the next eight to ten years focused on football, and by the time I'm done, Reed will be halfway to Mars and I'll be starting over in a field that's moved on without me."
Reed felt his throat tighten as he listened to Ben's reasoning. His friend had clearly thought this through more thoroughly than anyone realized.
"The Air Force program isn't just about getting a master's degree," Ben continued. "It's about serving my country while learning from some of the best aerospace engineers in the world. It's about being part of something bigger than myself. And when I'm done, Reed and I can work together on projects that actually matter."
"You're talking about throwing away a guaranteed fortune for a maybe," the Cowboys scout said. "What if the space program gets canceled? What if your friend's research doesn't pan out? What if you change your mind in five years?"
Ben smiled at that. "Then I'll figure something else out. But at least I'll know I tried to be part of something important instead of just playing it safe."
The 49ers scout, who had been quiet until now, spoke up. "Ben, I've been doing this for fifteen years, and I've seen a lot of kids make emotional decisions they regret later. Are you absolutely certain this isn't just graduation day sentiment?"
"I've been thinking about this since sophomore year," Ben admitted. "Every time Reed would explain some new concept he was working on, every time I'd see him get excited about solving a problem that could help people, I'd think about what I wanted my life to look like. And it wasn't running into other big guys for a living."
Ben's voice grew stronger as he continued. "Look, I loved playing football here. I loved being part of a team, loved the competition, loved winning championships. But that was college. The NFL is a business, and I don't want my life to be about business. I want it to be about discovery."
The recruiter from Denver made one last attempt. "What if I told you we could work something out? Off-season internships with aerospace companies, flexible scheduling for classes?"
"I'd say thank you, but no," Ben replied without hesitation. "This isn't about finding a compromise. This is about choosing the life I actually want instead of the life everyone expects me to want."
Reed had been watching this entire exchange in amazement. He had known Ben was considering the Air Force option, but hearing his friend articulate his reasoning with such clarity and conviction was overwhelming.
"Ben," Reed said quietly, "are you sure? I mean, really sure? Because if you're doing this because you think I need you here, or because you feel obligated somehow..."
"Reed," Ben interrupted with a grin, "shut up. This isn't about obligation. This is about friendship, but not the way you think. It's not about me sacrificing for you. It's about you showing me what it looks like to actually care about something important."
Ben turned back to the assembled scouts. "I know this isn't what you came here to hear, and I'm sorry you wasted your time. But my decision is final."