Hemopoiesis 1.4
During the lesson, I sat paying no attention to the board, as I completely concentrated on using my power and unlocking all its possibilities. But now, instead of the usual study of its movement, I was figuring out its composition and the fact of whether I could feel the particles that make up blood? So far the answer was no, but I still managed to discover something interesting. Blood was an amazing thing. I felt dozens of people and how their hearts beat. The scarlet liquid of every person was in a sense unique and unrepeatable, however, there were common elements in it. It was also interesting to compare it, because I noticed that supes and ordinary people differed in some ways. It was hard to explain, as the power worked almost intuitively and didn't give a full chemical analysis, but there was definitely something different in the blood of superhumans. It seems that I will have to add chemistry to the list of subjects I need to figure out. But I didn't mind this, as my head was so occupied by all the possibilities. Therefore, before I noticed, the class ended and everyone began to disperse.
Leaving the class, I was calmly walking down the hallway towards my room when I noticed something interesting. I saw a crowd of teenagers surrounding someone and actively discussing something. One could only see the towering Martinez, who was clearly engaged in his favorite pastime — turning some unfortunate guy's face into bloody meat. He was doing it with obvious pleasure and seemed to even let out some jokes in the process. With every blow, the poor guy screamed, trying to cover himself with his hands, but it helped little against a superhuman infamous for his physical strength. For a moment I froze in a stupor, trying to understand what to do. I knew that this brute was quite the psycho, but I somehow didn't expect such open aggression from him. So as not to accidentally get caught in the crossfire, I stepped aside around the corner and began to peek out from it, trying to figure out what was happening. I watched how the main brute moved, and although I didn't possess close combat skills, it was obvious that he didn't understand them either. He was clearly showing off his strikes, doing more typical beautiful "superhero" swings with a large arc, as if he was just waving his arms. Honestly, it was neither effective nor spectacular.
After about twenty seconds of this carnage, the poor guy practically stopped moving and simply lay on the ground. Except this didn't stop Martinez, and he kept continuing the slaughter. Out of curiosity, I tried to use my power. I closed my eyes for a second, after which understanding came to me. I saw drops of blood rolling down the Latino's fists, while his heart worked at full capacity. But for the poor guy on the floor, the situation was much worse, as I felt his blood leaking out too fast for him to survive this confrontation. His bones crunched, shifted, and tore the flesh from the inside, forming very serious wounds. I also felt how the cycle of blood movement inside him was disrupted, which was probably a sign of internal bleeding. Even though I wasn't a professional, I don't see how he can survive this unless he possesses some powers. I suspect accelerated regeneration could save him, but I wasn't noticing it. At least for now.
The beating lasted for another couple of minutes, after which more than half of Martinez's body was covered in blood. He looked at the practically dead body with a smile, then said something in, I suspect, Spanish, spat on the half-corpse, and simply walked forward along with his crowd. Raising my head, I looked at the camera on the side, which couldn't have failed to record what happened. The "battle", if it can be called that, lasted at least a few minutes, but I didn't see any guards rushing here. Having checked that there was no one around, I slowly approached the dying body, then slightly leaned over, beginning to observe his condition. I could have run to the medical office for help, but I doubted their capabilities. I felt that the guy's lung was torn, and his heart was slowly stopping its beating. He couldn't be saved without the use of superpowers. And I know that the ability to heal others has never existed in all of history. I specifically asked Linda about this, and then confirmed it with Marvin. Therefore, I kept waiting for the moment when the regeneration I expected would kick in. And it had to appear, because if my analysis is correct, Martinez, despite all his strength and obvious mental deviations, knows the limits. Which means he wouldn't kill, because he wouldn't want to deal with the wrath of the administration, which is unlikely capable of writing off a supe and explaining his death to the authorities. And therefore, in one, two...
I barely held back a smile, seeing how the blood began to slowly, as if by magic, return to the body, and the heart began its beating once again. Honestly, it was both disgusting and amazing at the same time. His bones crunched as they fused back together, while he tried to take at least one breath. But these external manifestations were just a trifle compared to what I saw with my special sense. I don't know exactly how much time I spent over the body, studying the manifestation of such an interesting ability. According to all laws, the kid on the floor should have died, but his body seemingly just refused to do so. From somewhere, his organism drew resources to close the open wounds, return the torn organs to their previous state, and even produce new blood. This completely broke my brain, because judging by the puddle beneath him, he should have kicked the bucket from blood loss alone. But no, his body worked even without supplying the necessary amount of red liquid to the organs. As soon as his ribcage crunched and returned to its place, somehow reassembling from shards without damaging anything in the process, he took a very deep breath. And then another one, and an even bigger one, after which he started spitting up blood. The guy opened his eyes and began to frantically look around, clearly searching for his abuser. He soon noticed me too, but paid no attention to some child and simply started to get up. His arms and legs recovered literally in seconds, while the torn pieces of flesh took much longer to fuse.
"Why did he do that to you?"
The kid turned his head, looking at me with his currently single eye. I still couldn't get a proper look at his face, as it was full of hematomas and fundamentally severely deformed. But one could still make out an ordinary guy of about sixteen. He winced in pain and clearly had trouble speaking, but he still managed to answer me.
"None of your business, kid. You should get out of here, or I'll go and smear you all over too. Wait until you reach my age and you'll have your own Martinez. Unless you become one yourself."
I chuckle, watching the guy start hobbling away somewhere. One of his legs was healing literally on the go, but the guy didn't care. He was trying to get out of here as fast as he could, and I wasn't going to stop him. After watching him for a little while longer, I went to my room, overflowing with thoughts about what had happened.
. . .
"How was this week, Mark?"
A month and a half had already passed since I had been in Red River. And since today is Sunday again, it was time for the session with the psychologist. I, as always, didn't turn down her tea, it was that good. Besides, there were cookies here and they were gorgeous. Linda knew how to attract children so they wouldn't worry around her. I, however, just loved cookies.
"Everything is fine, no problems with classes. I like it here, but still... Um, excuse me, but can I ask a question?"
I tried to behave as restrained and modestly as possible so that the attitude towards me would be the most gentle. And largely thanks to this behavior of mine, she was so open with me. She smiled widely, then put her cup on the table.
"Of course, Mark. You can always come to me and I will always try to help you."
I take another cookie, then wash it down with tea. Then I put my mug on the table too, after which I look up at her.
"This place is pretty good, but it confuses me why some of the older kids... don't act heroic at all?"
The smile on her face didn't falter for a second. Except I felt that her heartbeat slightly accelerated at this moment. Hmm, now this is interesting. A rather strange reaction to a question I just asked casually.
"You see, Mark, the fact that children here have powers doesn't mean you are obligated to become heroes. There are many promising and very useful jobs for which your powers would bring incredible benefit. Medicine, science, or simply helping those in need can often save many more lives. Isn't that what matters most?"
I eat another cookie, pondering her words. In theory, it all sounds good...
"But some don't look like they're going to do anything useful at all. And nothing is done to them for very bad deeds."
She began to shake her head slightly, not showing even a shadow of negative emotions on her face. But the blood said otherwise. Her heart was starting to beat faster and faster, which was a clear sign of agitation. More and more interesting.
"Mark, some questions are too complex to be answered in a single phrase. I'm sure you'll understand what's going on in the future, but now is not the time for this question. Tell me instead, have you tried using your power again?"
Now I was genuinely surprised. Linda had never shifted the focus from the topic of conversation like this before. It seems that the problem of unstable supes worries her no less, if not more, than me, but she is severely limited in what she can say. Especially to me, a "little" child, who are infamous for their inability to keep secrets. Oh well, I'll play along with her, especially considering that the topic is interesting to me. For a while, the room plunges into silence as I try to decide what to say. I had been pondering this for some time now—should I tell her about my experiments with using the ability? Of course, talking about everything would be the utmost stupidity, but a tiny bit could be revealed. Just to see her reaction.
"I... didn't risk trying to manipulate blood anymore. But sometimes, when I got very carried away with something, a feeling would come to me, as if I could feel it moving. It was strange and I tried to push this feeling away. After some time, it started getting easier, and now I have significantly more control over the power."
If you know how to count to ten, stop at seven. It's better to show that I have control over the power, but very limited. She folded her hands and looked at me with a new smile. I don't like this one bit.
"Don't worry, even though abilities are a gift from God, it takes time and a lot of effort to figure them out, and it's normal that you aren't yet capable of fully controlling them. You know, I'll let you in on a little secret," here she leaned in slightly and even whispered, "I've talked even with adult professional supes and far from all of them understand them."
This was interesting information, to which I didn't know how to react. On the one hand, I somehow couldn't believe that people possessing full-fledged superpowers could simply brush them off and not think about self-development. Honestly, I wouldn't be able to survive without using the ability anymore, it had become such a strong part of me. Every free minute I tried to use my sense, trying to unlock all the secrets of the scarlet liquid. Because of this, I also found a practical application for the power, like sensing a heartbeat.
"And... will there be any training here on using the power?"
Linda shook her head with a sad smile.
"Powers are not the main thing, Mark. Millions of people like me live perfectly fine without them, and everything is alright. Poor children who have suffered from their use end up in Red River. Therefore, we try to surround you with love and care. Is there anything in the world more important than that?"
I nodded to her sagely, as I wasn't eager to start a discussion. Otherwise, one could argue that a child with the ability to blow people up without appropriate training would only be a threat to people. Regardless of how well he was treated.
. . .
"Ennis, can you come to the board and solve the math problems? Ennis?"
I instantly snap out of the state of "blood vision" when I hear my name a few times. The math teacher was a formidable woman in her fifties, who valued order above all else. She occasionally called us to answer at the board, but mostly only those who wanted to do it themselves. This was the first time I was called up.
"I apologize, Miss Lance. This won't be a problem for me."
I get up from my seat and calmly walk to the board. Written on it were a dozen different problems for the little ones, involving basic addition of single-digit numbers. At this moment, I was annoyed that I had been interrupted during another experiment, which consisted of trying to feel the blood of any animals. Unfortunately, either there were none here, or I was simply incapable of it. Due to the failure and the realization of aimlessly wasted time, I didn't bother pretending and in about ten seconds wrote down the answers to all of them, after which I turn to her. The teacher looked at me in surprise, as did some of my classmates.
"I've solved everything. Can I go back?"
She nodded at me, frowning, after which I went back to my seat. I need to stop with these games anyway and start building the reputation of a boy genius, whom some family will definitely want to take in. Preferably one that is quite successful and wealthy, but for now, something simpler will suffice. Practically any family will do for me, to be honest, because it's hard to imagine anything worse than this place. Martinez was like a stray dog that caught rabies, as he took part in fights every week, many of which ended not as well as with that pseudo-Wolverine. Most supes possessed a healing factor, but this power was developed differently in everyone. There is a huge difference between the ability to heal a scratch in five minutes and the ability to spit out pieces of your lungs without a problem.
I wasn't called up again for the rest of the lesson. The teacher kept looking at me strangely, as if I had done something wrong by turning out to be too smart. But I only managed to figure this out after the class ended and she told me to stay behind. She wrote something on her piece of paper for a couple of minutes, after which she handed it to me. From the first glance, one could notice that this was a set of elementary school math problems, albeit of a more advanced level, involving multiplication and division of two- and three-digit numbers.
"Mark, could you please solve these? If you don't know something, you can skip them."
I silently shrugged and took the paper. This time I decided to play along a bit and dealt with everything in about three minutes, occasionally pausing to think. But still, it was so simple that I managed without any visible problems. And before the teacher could say anything, I decided to give her my prepared explanation for my knowledge.
"Dad taught me math, and I was pretty good at it. We covered these topics a long time ago."
I suspect they don't gather information about dead parents, due to its uselessness. Therefore, even if my father was an idiot, it still can't be proven that my story is a lie. And even if my mother shows up and says she knows nothing about it, I'll just spread my hands and say it was a secret between my father and me. But I'm not sure that will be necessary, as the teacher looked very impressed. She quickly went over the whole sheet, checking the answers. And, having verified my abilities, she looked me up and down, after which she took me by the hand and led me somewhere. This is definitely not the reaction I expected, but it's still interesting what will happen next.