Chapter 8 — Non-Contact Spontaneous Combustion.
"What's there to think about? He just brought along a kid, didn't he? That kid couldn't possibly—"
The pink-haired man called Baker stopped mid-sentence, because the white man raised a hand, gesturing for him to stop talking.
"You've heard of the Superpower Kid, right? Townsend Harris High School," the white man said calmly.
"Oh, yeah. I've heard of him." Another subordinate of the white man, a crew-cut man, nodded.
"That Superpower Kid is a freshman—so about fourteen years old. And the kid who was following behind Cullen just now looked about the same age. Add that to the fact that Cullen dared to bring up quitting right in front of me. What does that make you think of?" The white man stared coldly at Baker with his intact left eye.
"As expected of the boss," the crew-cut man said in sudden realization. "That kid found that freak called the Superpower Kid to back him up!"
The Superpower Kid's name was well-known in the area. Even people who didn't attend Townsend Harris High School had heard about him to some extent.
"My choice avoided the possibility of us getting into serious trouble. Do you still question my decision now?" The white man said lightly. "I've been around for over a decade. The reason I was noticed by those above and put in charge of you lot isn't anything else—it's because this works better than yours."
He pointed at his head.
"If you don't know how to read the situation, sooner or later you'll suffer for it, Baker."
"Boss, you're just scared," Baker said.
"When it's time to be ruthless, you have to be ruthless. When it's time to back off, you have to back off!" The white man slammed his fist hard against the armrest of the wooden chair.
Baker lifted his head and met the white man's gaze. "That Superpower Kid isn't as godlike as the rumors say. I heard from people at his school—he can just make matches float and slowly bend iron wire with his mind. If you're scared, I'll get someone to beat him up."
---
One week later.
Over the past week, Ivan and Cullen had become friends. Cullen was very happy, saying that freedom felt amazing, and he even brought a pile of snacks to Ivan's dorm.
When Ivan asked what Cullen planned to do next, Cullen admitted he felt a bit lost. After leaving the gang, he stayed home every day, barely getting by on the small amount of money he had saved up.
So Ivan gave him an idea—growing things.
Ivan said he wanted to partner up with Cullen and start a small farm, planting crops in Cullen's yard.
This wasn't a spur-of-the-moment idea. Ivan had tested it—his psionic energy could make plants grow at extreme speeds.
That afternoon after school, Ivan was walking toward the gym.
As he walked, he thought about the drawing he had done in visual arts class earlier that day. Drawing was one way to improve imagination, and Ivan believed that the manifestation of psionic energy relied on strong imagination as its foundation.
He had chosen visual arts as part of his schedule precisely because he wanted to train his imagination as much as possible.
Just as Ivan was walking and meditating, a burst of cheering erupted nearby. When he opened his eyes, he saw Angel not far ahead, showing off his powers and earning the admiration of several girls.
"Am I the best or what, Ellie?" Angel asked a blonde girl.
"Of course!"
"I bet if the school held a stone-skipping contest, I'd be the champion," Angel said cheerfully. He had just skipped a small stone beautifully across a puddle by the roadside.
Naturally, with the help of his powers.
"Sunny, I'm going to show you a new trick today." Angel took out a match. "Non-contact spontaneous combustion. I can make this match burn without striking it on the box!"
"Oh! Darling, you have to show us!"
The girls stopped walking. Angel stood there, his expression turning serious.
"Next is the moment a miracle is born. I'll inject my energy into this match. Watch closely—don't blink." His hand trembled. Five seconds later, a puff of black smoke rose from the match.
It failed.
"Uh, that's not my problem. You know how it is—this match was defective. It was damp," Angel said, switching to another match.
This time, after about four seconds, the match successfully ignited.
"Ladies! Impressive, right?"
"Of course! Angel is the best!"
"Hey! Shorty over there—did you see that? Wasn't I awesome?" Angel shouted toward Ivan in the distance.
Ivan froze for a moment, then realized Angel was talking to him.
Angel was noticeably taller than most people his age—a classic early bloomer.
"Oh. Yeah. Impressive," Ivan replied perfunctorily.
"Thanks for the compliment."
Angel turned back and continued chatting with the girls as they walked away.
Could I do that? Non-contact spontaneous combustion?
Walking behind them, Ivan found himself thinking this as his gaze subconsciously shifted to a large tree by the roadside.
The tree began to smoke.
Oh no—!
Flames suddenly erupted, and in an instant the entire tree was engulfed. Ivan hurriedly extended one hand to stop it. The next second, a violent gust of wind surged forth, instantly extinguishing the flames, leaving behind a somewhat scorched, bare tree trunk.
A series of startled cries rang out—it turned out the girls' skirts had just been blown up by the gust. At the same time, the sudden wind made Angel, who was walking ahead, shiver.
"Was that you, Angel?" one of the girls asked.
"Uh… sorry. I guess—yeah, it was me. I was thinking about making a breeze to cool everyone off. Haha, pretty impressive, right?" Angel scratched his head. He was completely confused about where that wind had come from.
"Yeah, very impressive. Just a bit despicable—if we're talking about the skirt-flipping."
"What? Skirt-flipping? Oh! No, no, no! I was walking in front of you—you know that! I didn't even turn around! I didn't do it on purpose!" Angel hurriedly explained.
Just as Angel was explaining himself, three burly men turned the corner ahead and blocked their path. Two were Black, and one was Asian.
"Brown hair—you're the Superpower Kid, right?"
The two Black men were holding thick wooden clubs wrapped with binding wire, while the Asian man at the front held a dagger.
Angel froze, immediately sensing trouble.
"Yeah, I am. Do I know you?"
"A week ago, you met our boss. Heard you were pretty flashy back then—just standing there scared him into letting someone go."
"Wait, I have absolutely no memory of you," Angel said.
"Of course you don't. We were watching a different street that day. You wouldn't have seen us."
"That's not what I mean. I'm saying—"
Before Angel could finish, a wooden club swung toward him, smashing hard into his cheekbone. Angel staggered backward several steps, nearly falling to the ground.
The girls screamed and retreated, but they didn't immediately run away—because they knew Angel was a superpowered individual, and they expected him to fight back.
"Ruths, you holding back?" the Asian man asked. "How did a single swing fail to knock down a little brat?"
"If I hadn't held back, that blow would've cracked his skull," the Black man named Ruths replied.
"Fair enough," the Asian man said calmly. "Better to hold back a bit."
Angel glared viciously at the three men before him. "You know who I am, right? I'm a superpowered individual."
"Yeah. You're the Superpower Kid, aren't you?"
"So what? Gonna use your superpowers to punish us?"
Sunny shouted, "Angel! You can do it! Use levitation—float them into the air and knock them out!"
Angel's fingertips trembled slightly.
Only he understood the difference— between lifting a match… and lifting a person.