Hemopoiesis 1.5
The teacher led me through the entire orphanage, taking me to the principal's office. Immediately after that, she told me to sit on the bench next to the door, and then went inside herself. This was the first time I found myself in this place, making it all the more interesting, because I didn't understand what was happening at all. So I turned out to be slightly smarter than usual, what's the big deal? It's unusual, of course, but the children studying here are an order of magnitude stranger than a child capable of calculating better than his peers. Do superpowers affect the brain somehow, which is why there are only fools? A very doubtful theory; although the children around me weren't particularly interested in studying, they were no stupider than ordinary ones. Hmm, maybe the teacher considered my intellect a superpower? I've never heard of such powers, and they weren't even mentioned in Brink's book, although the topic is curious. After all, a person with supernatural genius could be an order of magnitude more dangerous than a supe who is only capable of shooting lasers from his eyes and lifting cars. And you don't even need a technical mindset to build weapons of death; inhuman charisma alone and the ability to read people steps ahead would be enough to break the world over your knee. Although I might just be working myself up, inventing problems that don't even exist, while the administration simply decided to test me for potentially taking classes externally.
"Come in, Mark. Mr. Stevens wants to talk to you. It's nothing scary, he just wants to personally test your abilities."
I shrug my shoulders and calmly walk into the office, immediately starting to turn my head and look around. It was a rather richly furnished room, on the walls of which hung dozens of paintings depicting a gray-haired man in the company of various costumed supes. None of them were known to me, but so far I had only figured out the most popular mastodons like the legendary Soldier Boy and the popular newcomer Homelander. Besides that, there was a large bookcase in the office, on the shelves of which stood dozens of photographs with different, now ordinary people, as well as a whole collection of various books. Of course, dedicated to superhumans. It seems some of them were even authored by the already familiar Brink, whose signature adorned their covers. In the center of the room stood a dark brown, clearly expensive desk, behind which sat a very old man in a beige business suit. Various papers lay in front of him, but I could only recognize my test. As soon as I walked in, the man raised his head and looked at me with a slight smile.
"Come in, come in, Mark. Don't be afraid, I don't bite, haha."
The practically bald man had a long gray beard, and a gold watch was noticeable on his wrist. A Rolex or something similar. The old man looked at me with a smile, spreading his arms in an open welcoming gesture, pointing to the chair located opposite him.
"Um, nice to meet you, sir. Did I do something wrong?"
I answered the principal, not even having to fake my bewilderment, for it was quite genuine. After that, I walked over to the indicated spot, settled into it, and examined the man even more closely. And not in vain, because only now did one very important detail become visible—instead of a regular chair, he was sitting in a wheelchair. Another point in favor of the theory that there are no strong healer-supes here. This old man clearly possesses both authority and influence among supes, as well as obvious wealth, meaning he should definitely be able to afford treatment. But if even he couldn't, then it's unlikely such heroes exist at all.
"No, no, don't worry, everything is fine. Excellent, I would even say! You did a great job on the test and solved all the problems without any mistakes. That is exactly what I would like to discuss."
He took my test, quickly skimmed through it with his eyes once more, and then handed it to me. I reflexively inspected it, after which I looked up at the principal. There was a slight smile on his face as he looked at me with a very instructive and "teacher-like" gaze.
"You see, Mark, Red River is not just a home for all the poor children who have experienced tragedies in their lives. Our institute is also a place where we keep an eye on young talents so they can fully unlock their potential. And also find a family capable of helping them do so..."
He had a deep, senile voice, in which one could feel the experience of working with children. It was quite soft and endearing, and as I listened to him, purely out of interest, I decided to check him with my "blood vision". And the picture was not particularly positive for the man, because for the first time I saw the organism of a person that was so severely depleted. I'm not sure if it was some disease or just his advanced age taking its toll, but he definitely didn't have much time left to live. Hmm, I wonder, could I, purely theoretically, help him? Not stop aging, of course, that doesn't depend on blood alone. But slow down the processes and improve his well-being? If I become knowledgeable enough in medicine, then it seems possible...
"...that is why we very carefully ensure that our students themselves understand the possibilities of their powers. For example, you manipulate blood, don't you?"
I hesitate slightly, but in the end still nod affirmatively. I was monitoring his heartbeat, but it was hard to determine anything from it, because it was working with such difficulty. I don't really like where our conversation is heading.
"This is a very great power, Mark. I understand that you have been through a lot, but know that even the greatest heroes face hardships. Believe me, I know many of them personally! Soldier Boy himself grew up in the hardest of times, but they only hardened him and made him stronger. Made him a true hero! I am sure that a great destiny is prepared for you, but no legend became one without effort and a readiness to roll up their sleeves and work."
The principal spoke cheerfully, occasionally breaking into a little laugh. It was hard to tell if he really was such a "kind grandpa" or just trying to calm a child. But considering the general state of affairs here, I didn't believe the first option. The man sitting in front of me is responsible for the state of affairs in the orphanage, and for Martinez in particular. Were he a kind soul, he wouldn't have allowed even a tenth of everything happening.
"Also, true heroes, Mark, are those who are capable of fully unlocking their potential. Their main power, that which makes them so unique. Superpowers often coincide, but it's rare for someone to possess only one ability..."
Alright, now I understand exactly what this is about. Are they really considering the possibility that I have super-intellect? That's just nonsense... Although... I obviously don't have genius, but what if we consider my "transmigration" here as a manifestation of a superpower? Hmm... In a way, it explains a lot, but in return, new questions arise. Looking at it like that, at the core of most of them is my lack of understanding of how powers work. I don't even know if some gene is responsible for them or if it's something mystical? I suspect the government and Vought know more about this, but just try getting to their knowledge. I'm sure they will guard their secrets to the bitter end, for it's unlikely that in decades of researching superpowers they haven't dug up something interesting but dangerous.
"Therefore, upon seeing your results, an idea immediately came to me. Who knows, suddenly you possess some other abilities? Ones whose existence you don't even suspect yourself? This is a fairly common situation, and many heroes only discover the full potential of their capabilities in adulthood. However, fortunately, you have kind caretakers, always ready to come to your aid..."
In principle, his words sounded very appealing. The help of professionals in developing my power definitely wouldn't hurt. Except there was some strange, not particularly pleasant atmosphere to all this. I might not have problems using the ability, but a child who killed a parent with it a month and a half ago? This could seriously affect the psyche, and clearly not for the better. However, the principal seemingly didn't care about this, which is what bothered me. He clearly had his own interest, and the fact that I didn't know it was practically killing me.
"...That is exactly why, since you have already shown your exemplary knowledge, I will allow you not to attend classes for a few days. A little time off wouldn't hurt anyone, right? We will need to test your knowledge and find out how to build a curriculum that will fully unlock your potential. Well, and a couple of other tests of your abilities. This definitely won't hurt and will only help you in the future. If you become a hero, they will be mandatory anyway, so why not take care of this now."
Finishing his speech, he smiled widely, putting most of the documents away in his desk. I frowned upon hearing this. Theoretically, it all sounds pretty good: a personal plan, special treatment, and days off from boring and useless lessons. Except the last part sounded somewhat strange.
"Um, okay? And when will these tests begin?"
"I think we can start right now. Why wait? I'm sure it will be interesting for you yourself to see our facility, where only the worthiest heroes of our institute have trained! You know, I might even be able to invite a few of them to a holiday party! Well, of course, if you like Lamplighter?"
The principal chuckled, then put away the papers and pressed something on the armrest of his chair. Less than a minute later, the doctors I had seen during my medical examinations entered the room. Okay, I seriously don't like this now. It's all too strange and starting to look like some horror movie. But trying to escape or show aggression right now would be foolish, as it could lead to even bigger problems that I'm unlikely to handle. Therefore, I decided to go with them, watching their actions as carefully as possible. If they try to harm me in any way, I will have a way to respond to it.
. . .
Okay, I have to admit, I might have miscalculated.
"Have you already handled these problems? Excellent, then we can move on to the next part of the program. I assure you, you will like it."
Handing over the sheet of paper, I once again looked at the clock hanging on the opposite wall. The few "days off" promised by the principal consisted of constant medical examinations, during which they endlessly took my tests, had me solve problems and all sorts of puzzles, while a whole bunch of doctors watched me. I was tested with various medical devices, after which I was forced to use my brain to the fullest, being given exercises of all types and based on all subjects. Logical, mathematical, related to physics, chemistry, mechanics, and even programming. Moreover, the level varied so much that sometimes, even thinking seriously, I couldn't solve them. But I still didn't show everything I knew, so I mostly successfully handled the assignments up to the fifth grade, and already at the sixth, I required "time to think". In addition, I could only show such miracles with math, and slightly worse with chemistry and physics, but American history? Of another universe? In that, I was knowledgeable exactly at the level of a schoolboy my age or even worse. At least children's minds are clean and don't store facts that happened differently here or didn't happen at all.
"Now we will conduct one more experiment, Mark. Please, just don't be afraid, everything is fine."
The doctor I had spent the last few hours with placed a glass vessel on the white table in front of me, the contents of which I knew even before I looked at it. I felt it, sensed it with my entire being. In the glass bottle in front of me was about a hundred milliliters of blood. I looked up in surprise at my "doctor", but before he answered, I heard Director Stevens's voice coming from the speakers. Along with cameras, they hung practically everywhere here, which caused a very unpleasant feeling, as if I myself were under constant surveillance.
"We know that your past experience with using the power was traumatic. However, don't worry, we have everything under control right now and nothing bad will happen. The main thing is that you don't worry and think calmly."
As I listened to the voice, the doctor carefully opened it and moved it closer to me. The blood was a meter away from me, and I felt it as a part of myself, as my extension. And I felt that I only had to want it, and the fun would begin. The power begged me to use it, and my not-so-great mood only pushed me to action.
"Please, Mark. I am asking you very strongly. Use your power."
The principal's voice shifted from friendly to more demanding, more befitting a strict teacher than a kind old man. With every second, the tension grew more and more. Only the realization of the fact that they were unlikely to kill or somehow injure a six-year-old child allowed me to keep myself in hand. Otherwise, all this reminded me too much of some experiments by mad scientists from movies about those same superheroes. And being someone's lab mouse did not appeal to me at all. But I'll think about what to do next and how to climb out of the hole they're burying me in later. I was genuinely interested in seeing how my ability would work, because playing with a drop was tempting, but now I would have the opportunity to test out a completely different level.
"Ummm... Okay, I'll try."
I close my eyes and begin to inhale and exhale deeply. It took only about five seconds to start feeling my own blood first, and then the one in front of me. I take a deep breath, then exhale, after which I mentally command it to rise.
Hearing gasps, I opened my eyes. And I immediately saw a red trickle beginning to rise from the vessel. The blood moved upward, ignoring gravity and obeying only my will. I watched it spellbound, while my brain was overwhelmed by gigantic volumes of incoming information. I felt the blood, its composition, various impurities, and overall condition. But right now I tried not to pay attention to these streams of knowledge, and concentrated on simply manipulating the scarlet liquid. The moment I willed it, it accelerated its movement and successfully left the vessel in a few seconds. Now it formed a scarlet ring, hovering right in the air a meter away from me. One thought, and ripples ran across it, after which the ring transformed into a thin disc. The controls were elementarily simple; I just needed to imagine the shape I wanted to get in my head. Concentrating, however, was unusual, which caused the disc to tremble barely noticeably. Rarely in life do you need to keep one picture in your head.
"Excellent, you are doing great, Mark! I'll be honest, your level of control is very impressive, few achieve such at your age. And now let's see if you can create more complex shapes with it?"
The moment I heard the principal's voice, the disc trembled noticeably. Hmm, one only has to get distracted for a second, and the image in the head disappears, and the real object changes after it. I sighed once more, after which I began to experiment in full force. The bloody disc gathered into a small sphere, after which it began to turn into various geometric shapes: cubes, rhombuses, pyramids, and cones. It strongly resembled working with a 3D-modeling program, making me get better with every second as I got used to the unusual "controls". The liquid moved very fast, following my thought and will. Amazing...