Caliban gestured grandly. "This is the Tree-man. Do not pick a fight with him as he is currently sleeping. That would be rude."
Peter gave the man a level glare. "You are eventually going to get tired of saying that."
"Perhaps," Caliban replied with glee, "But today is not that day."
Peter took in the entire place. It was breathtaking in its way. A whole community working together, picking the fruits, cleaning, making new cups and bowls, but all of it centered around a man who was also a tree. The part that got to him was this was all under New York. He wasn't sure where he was exactly, but they'd just been walking distance from what was called the Bowling Green Subway Station, so that would put them somewhere in Lower Manhattan. Somewhere near the financial district.
Peter felt a grin forming on his face at the idea that a man who was also a tree at the center of what was essentially a commune right in the heart of New York's capitalist capital.
He walked closer, dodging around the people who were working. Many of whom called out greetings or gave Caliban friendly nods. One or two even gave Peter a cautious nod that he chose to return.
"Is he… okay?" Peter asked after a while.
Caliban held a hand up and waggled it. "As well as any of us can be like that. His gift turns him into a tree when he sleeps. When he's a tree, he is stuck. Down here at least he is cared for, protected, and not likely to be experimented on compared to how things would have been up top."
"But stuck asleep."
Caliban nodded. "It is almost impossible to awaken him when he is like this. Believe me, we tried when he first came down here. When his power first manifested, he would only grow little branches and roots. He'd go over them with pruning shears and snip them off close to his skin. Except he started falling asleep longer and longer, so the roots and branches had more time to grow."
"He couldn't keep awake?" Peter asked.
"Oh, he tried. All sorts of things. Making people keep waking him while he was out, coffee. Speed. It kept him awake, but eventually he decided he did not like who he was when he was awake for too long and that sleep would work better."
"It's not like he had a choice." Peter replied bitterly.
"We rarely do." Caliban acknowledged.
"What happens when he wakes up now?"
"We try to make him comfortable. His family visits when he's conscious and lucid. We tried to cut him free in the past, but the branches are too much a part of him now. He claimed it was agonizing. So we do what we can for him." Caliban replied quietly.
"I suppose it doesn't hurt that he's feeding everyone else just by existing."
"Caliban admits that the Tree-man gets more attention because of that," Caliban explained. "But even if all he did was exist without giving the Morlocks a key part of their regular diet, we would have cared for him."
"Out of the goodness of your heart." Peter snarked.
Caliban gave him a look and a small smile. "We are Morlocks. Not above grounders."
Peter snorted and dropped to one knee, deliberately putting a hand on one of the larger roots close to the tree.
This time, possibly from the size, possibly from the unfamiliar tree-like physiology, it took Peter's power several seconds to find the power within the massive body. He took the power in a metaphorical hand and it felt like growth. A power meant to grow, not just itself but others. So eager to grow, that it felt a bit like an over enthusiastic dog tugging at its leash. So enthusiastic to do its thing that it didn't leave room for anything else. Peter felt its weight and considered it. Would the Tree-man be happier not sleeping as a tree all the time?
But the man's entire body was a mess. The root structure that had filled this room and the Pandemonium tunnel were all part of him. Peter wasn't sure if he could survive like this if his power were removed. Or if he could even be freed from the tree and have the power removed afterwards. If the Tree-man were no longer a Tree-man, what would happen to everyone else his power was feeding then, though?
Peter was starting to wonder if maybe he hadn't been happier in blissful ignorance when he didn't know about powers or the Morlocks. Above ground, there had barely been anyone with any kind of superhuman abilities. There were a few in the public eye. The ones who had started wearing colorful costumes during WWII, a handful of older teams like Front Line during the Cold War and their Russian counterparts. More recently, there were those Avengers and X-men.
But not random people just walking around on the street.
No wonder I never saw them above ground.
Peter snorted.
They were all hiding down here.
"Are you alright?" Caliban asked in a concerned tone and Peter noted that he was now hefting a bag of Tree-man fruit.
"Just thinking." Peter replied, rising back to his feet. "Why do you have–?"
Caliban smiled. "We are visiting Nimueh next. And it is a bit past lunch."
"That explains nothing."