Hemopoiesis 1.3
"Oh, are you going to be my new roommate!? Hi, I'm Marvin! I hope we become best friends!"
With a forced smile, I looked at a simple eight-year-old kid who cheerfully held out his hand to me. Honestly, thinking about my future roommate, I had hoped for something unusual and befitting an orphanage that raises orphans capable of breaking the laws of physics over their knee. I would have even been glad to live next to some multi-armed mutant with scales instead of skin, but instead I got...
"Oh! And what's your power!? I'm, like, super strong and can lift, well, absolutely anything! I helped my dad twist all sorts of pieces of iron and make cool things out of them! I lifted the metal round things that lead to the sewer and gave them to my dad..."
The boy was absolutely unremarkable and ordinary in every parameter. I tried to look as friendly as possible, trying not to think about all the "fun days" that awaited me. I wasn't against children, but anyone who has spent more than five minutes with them understood how... noisy they can sometimes be. The plan to get someone to adopt me rose significantly on my list of priorities. I am still quite small, so I have every chance, especially if I rehearse my speech well and present myself as a true little angel. But for now, I need to try to make friends with my new roommate. He has clearly been here longer than me and therefore might know something useful.
"Hi, I also hope we become friends. Have you been here long?" I shake his hand with a smile. The boy smiled widely, then slightly raised his head, as if starting to calculate something in his head.
"I've already had two birthdays here, so probably about two years. But it doesn't matter, I'm already a grown-up and I can show you everything and teach you everything! I literally know everything here! Even where to get something tasty or which of the older kids is ready to trade for something cool!"
I chuckle slightly and tilt my head to the side, looking at him questioningly.
"And what, they can get absolutely anything?"
The kid thought again. This time the process took much longer, but in the end, he managed to find something in his head.
"Weeell, Steve gave me candy, and also got me some comic books. He's like super cool, if anything, you can always go to him, he's the boss around here after the adults. But that's all nonsense! Let me show you the comics about Homelander! Miss Shu gave them to me for my birthday! Homelander is like Soldier Boy, only a hundred times cooler! And he can fly too!"
I nod, smiling a little wider.
"Of course, I would be very interested..."
. . .
I was sitting in the local cafeteria trying to force myself to eat the local "delicacies". In the plate in front of me was a gray mass, which I suspect was supposed to be oatmeal. Except it had practically no taste, which, frankly, was even impressive. I had eaten a lot of similar things in my past life, but this was a completely different level of "mastery". However, it would still have been more or less acceptable if I hadn't had fairly decent food consisting of rice and chicken just yesterday. Previously, they simply brought food to my room, but such a privilege ended too quickly, and now I was like everyone else.
The main and only advantage of the cafeteria was the opportunity to observe all the other residents of this orphanage. Children of all ages gathered here, and therefore I could fully examine the possessors of various abilities. And this, it must be admitted, was worth any disgusting cuisine. I saw both ordinary kids and teenagers here, sitting around in their groups, as well as completely strange mutants. Some couldn't be distinguished from ordinary schoolchildren, while others walked around with an extra pair of arms or stone skin. It was interesting that I didn't notice any prejudiced attitude here towards those who were less fortunate with their power than others. A guy who had four eyes sat calmly in the company of ordinary, if you can say so, teenagers, and no one paid attention to his uniqueness. The cafeteria was a practically ideal place for me in terms of studying supes, but even here there were downsides.
I turn my head and immediately see my roommate. Next to me, smacking his lips, sat Marvin, who was incessantly recounting the plot of his favorite comic book about the local superman. Honestly, I don't even know if he's talking about a real and existing person or a fictional character. Considering the local level of propaganda and the hushing up of everything bad, the difference isn't that big. Yes, I had already managed to familiarize myself with the "fiction" about supes. That's what I call the comics, which my roommate had a whole pile of. Mostly there were stories about Homelander, a blonde flying brick who was for everything good and against everything bad. I mean really, even the comics about the actual Superman in my past world raised more serious themes than the local version! Of course, these specific comics made up a little boy's collection, and it was foolish to expect anything serious there, but there was hope, since children aren't stupid and are capable of comprehending adult themes.
"Marvin, are the supes here strong? Maybe someone on Homelander's level? Or at least Soldier Boy."
The kid wasn't bothered at all by the fact that I interrupted him, as my question was related to his favorite topic: supes and their power levels. And so he immediately began actively "sharing his knowledge".
"Not even close! Homelander and Soldier Boy are the strongest supes in the whole world! Weeell, Martinez is pretty strong and he fights very often, but Jesse can fly, that's cool too. Oh, and there's Johnny, he's also pretty strong, can run almost at the speed of Marathon, but that was before... And Freddy, they say, is completely immortal..."
"Hmm, interesting..."
I continued listening to Marvin, watching as something serious began to brew among the "older kids". A conflict started between the "adult" supes, in which two teenagers began shoving each other, loudly arguing about something. The main bully was a tall Hispanic guy who spoke the loudest and even from a distance seemed like a real threat. His opponent was an Asian guy with long hair, who was defending himself more than attacking. There were no guards in the cafeteria, only a few cooks, who almost immediately ran off somewhere. I, however, wasn't too worried about everything happening, because there were as many as four cameras in the room, placed in all the corners. I'm sure the guards are already running here, ready to calm down the rebellious supes.
"...wow."
I stopped eating when one of the teenagers struck his enemy in the chest without holding back. I expected the blow to slightly push him aside, but instead, the fist seemed to get covered in a silver film at the last second, and the moment it touched his chest, the kid instantly flew back about six meters, crashing right into the wall. The impact was so strong that cracks ran along the wall, and the injured Asian guy instantly fell to the ground, starting to spit up blood. I jumped up in a flash and was already about to run to save the idiots, but instead of dying, the guy simply got up as if nothing had happened. He wiped the blood away with his sleeve and, limping, walked up to the one who hit him, gave a thumbs-up, and simply sat down at the table. The bully cracked his knuckles and sat next to him, never ceasing to glare menacingly at his victim.
"That's Martinez, he's quite the brute and loves to argue with his fists often. You know, it's better not to make him mad, or else he doesn't care at all who he fights. They say he broke Johnny's legs after he just played a prank on him. And he was really super fast and wanted to become a professional supe, but now he just walks around sad all the time with a crutch."
I kept monitoring the situation, but everyone acted as if nothing had happened. A few teenagers sitting near them had jumped out of their seats, but after a minute they calmly sat back down once everyone quieted down. Yeah, it's a strange place, for sure. And you can't say it's a good kind of strange.
. . .
Weeks at Red River flew by at tremendous speed, and with each new day I grew more and more accustomed to this strange universe. Still, it wasn't some fantasy world, but the America of the two-thousands. Moreover, there were practically no supervillains here, and therefore heroes took on the role of simple celebrities, appearing on television or various other similar events. Without any competition here, they really had simply nothing to do.
The schedule at the orphanage was classic; five days a week we had classes, and two days were set aside for the "weekend". The former were a simple thing, though god-awfully boring. English lessons, math, literature, and history.
In all subjects except the last one, I knew the whole curriculum, so I quickly solved all the problems, after which I sat and practiced my ability. The teachers, by the way, absolutely didn't care that I did nothing for most of the lesson and just looked at the clouds out the window. Well, I didn't mind either; the radius of my senses had already increased by about ten percent, which never ceased to please me.
But the most interesting subject for me turned out to be precisely history. Even in my past life, I wasn't particularly interested in the founding fathers, so I at least learned something new. There was hope to hear something about the recent past to compare it with what had happened in my old reality.
But unfortunately, we were currently only covering the formation of the states, and there were no supermen back then. In his book, Brink mentioned in passing that supes appeared during World War II, so I would have to wait a very, very long time to reach that topic.
As for the weekends, it was hard to call them that, because we weren't allowed to just lie in bed and do nothing. Yes, you could sleep a little longer, but for most of the day, instead of real rest, we were taken to various doctors, psychologists, and forced to engage in socially useful activities.
This included cleaning, laundry, and simply putting the place in order. By the way, this is where I understood how repairs are done in a place where excessively strong teenagers live. I encountered an adult man who walked up to a practically smashed wall, touched it, and the "magic" began.
In a few minutes, all the cracks seemingly grew back together, leaving no trace of the carnage that had taken place. And immediately after that, the man exhaled heavily and went somewhere else. This all happened right during the lunch break, and since no one even reacted to him, it wasn't something unique here.
Also, the sessions with Linda couldn't be skipped. We met every Sunday, and it was one of the few moments when I could truly rest. There was a strange, calming atmosphere around her, in which I didn't want to do anything, just relax and cast aside unnecessary thoughts. But even in such moments, I had to keep my mask up so as not to give myself away.
Mostly I discussed Brink's book with her and "bragged" that I had already read it all. This really pleased the woman, which is why she even decided to give me some of the professor's more serious literature. It turned out this old man had been studying supes since the sixties and had managed to write dozens of volumes about completely different aspects of their lives. Honestly, it even made me want to meet him face-to-face and ask the professional about all my accumulated questions.
With each passing day, as I received more and more information, I began to think more and more about my future. I more or less figured out what was happening, and even realized that I needed to get the hell out of the orphanage. This was not a place where future heroes were trained and educated.
It's a place where unwanted and unseemly elements are dumped. There were no power control lessons here, or even interactions with adult or successful supes. The goal of the local caretakers was to offload the kids, or at least ensure they didn't go crazy and start a massacre once they left this place. But they weren't doing a very good job of it, to be honest.
Yes, over the last three weeks I actively used my eyes and couldn't help but notice that not particularly legal activities were actively flourishing in the orphanage among the oldest and strongest teenagers. Moreover, no one even hid it, because the administration didn't care about conflicts between supes, as long as they didn't affect the children or people without abilities.
There were several factions, which would be easier to even call gangs. For example, a group that included almost all the Hispanics, led by the already familiar Martinez. This two-meter brute was a real machine who could break concrete and bones with his bare hands.
Over twenty days, I saw him get into various kinds of conflicts four times. They always ended quite quickly, as it only took one of his strikes for the victims to double over and fall to the ground.
The second "center of power" was Stevie. This guy turned out to be a short, pale seventeen-year-old kid who was constantly maximally sad and emotionless. And honestly, he was a much bigger threat than the half-crazed Martinez. And that's all because I had no problem against a dumb brute, but a clearly cunning kid with the ability to implant thoughts...
Now that truly scared me. As far as I understood, he possessed some superpower that allowed him to bend people to his will for a while, just by standing next to them. The effect lasted an hour at most, and people grew dumber under the influence of his power, but the ability was still impressive. There were constantly a few other teenagers walking around him who didn't have a drop of sentience in their eyes.
The empty and even dead stares were far more frightening than some cracked wall. Besides, I suspect this kid was already engaging in truly serious crimes. Almost without hiding, he passed little bags and packets with something inside to other teenagers. It wasn't hard to guess that these weren't just the candies Marvin had talked about. Steve was the head of a local gang, and no one messed with him.
Aside from him and Martinez, there were a few other factions, but none were worth a separate mention. Basically, the teenagers were divided by skin colors and countries of origin, but there were also quite a few who simply existed. Though mostly these were either very young children, whose chances of being adopted were still quite high, and total outsiders located at the very bottom of the local food chain.
This was all yet another reason to leave the orphanage as soon as possible. In principle, I had good chances of climbing to the local peak myself over time, but why would I need that? I don't have the slightest desire to become some pathetic criminal relishing in imaginary power. Plus, I have a thought that there's a reason I've never heard of super-drug dealers on TV. With each passing day, the thought occurred to me more and more that not all students graduate from this orphanage. And for some supes, like Steve or Martinez, a much sadder fate was prepared.