Chapter 9
It was the day after the fight at school, and I was in an empty room in the house that mom usually uses for yoga.
"Do we really have to do this?" I asked, annoyed.
"Yes, dear. I've been meaning to teach you martial arts for some time now. I wanted to wait until later, but... after this incident, I thought it would be better to start now."
"Can't we talk about this?"
"No... but trust me, someday you'll thank me for this."
…
"And we're done," mom said after an hour of exercise.
"Panting Finally, freedom," I said as I dragged myself toward the door.
"Oh, and tomorrow I'll be busy, so on the days I can't train you, Agatha will."
"NOOOOOO!"
…
After showering and changing, I went downstairs to the kitchen, where mom was reading something on her phone.
"Just some news, a bank robbery, some kidnappings, heroes and villains fighting, the usual."
We both stayed quiet until mom asked me a question.
"Do you still want to be a hero?"
"YES! And no, it's not just a phase."
Mom chuckled a little at my reaction and said, "I know, sweetheart, but... why do you want to be a hero?"
"Why?... Before, it was to make people happy, but... since yesterday, when we fought and I defended Selphira... I liked that feeling of protecting someone, and that's why I want to be a hero."
Mom just looked at me in silence. I couldn't tell what she was thinking.
"That's a good answer, sweetie, but remember, when you decide on an ideal, you'll have to fight against all odds to achieve it."
"Okay?"
"Come, give me a hug."
"Yes, hug!"
…
Two years later
"That's enough for today, miss. We'll continue tomorrow."
"Panting Alright."
I grabbed the towel and wiped the sweat from my forehead.
"How long have we been training, Agatha?"
"About two years, miss."
Two years... Honestly, I think I've been progressing well during this time. I've moved from simple kicks and punches to holds, throws, and more. Generally, Agatha trains me in the mornings or afternoons after school, but sometimes Mom trains me... I don't like it when Mom trains me.
"Didn't you have plans to go out with Selphira today, miss?"
"That's right! Thanks, Agatha. I'll go get ready. I won't take long," I said, running to my room.
…
"Do you want to play or just walk?"
"I'd rather just walk," Selphira replied, a little nervous.
"Alright."
And so we spent time walking in the park, watching other kids play. I wouldn't mind playing with them, but Selphira... yeah, better we just walk.
We were talking, but my mind couldn't help but wander to my gene as I watched the other kids playing with their genes. After the fight with Arnold, I copied another gene from a boy in the park who had tougher bones than average, and another from a kid at school that improved organ function.
Both genes, along with Arnold's, were compatible, so I merged them into a single gene called superhuman body, which enhances my entire body, including my brain. That's why I can have these thoughts while talking to Selphira.
About six months ago, my gene went through another evolution due to the passive accumulation of epsilon energy, giving me a fourth gene slot. I used it to copy a gene from a classmate that was quite similar to Dr. Ernesto's. It gives me a vague sense of other people's genes. For example, there's a boy on the swings right now, and I know his gene has to do with producing fire, but I don't know exactly how or how much. The boy I copied it from was sad, saying his gene was useless, but I think it's very useful.
We continued talking until we heard a commotion on the other side of the park.
"What's happening over there?"
"Maybe there was an accident?"
"…Do you want to go check it out?!"
"Yes."
So, we went to see the source of the commotion, and up close, it was worse than I imagined. There was a man wearing a ski mask who seemed to be bleeding, holding a girl no older than seven years while pointing a gun at her head. Behind him, there was a car that had crashed into a tree, and another man in a ski mask was lying across the windshield. I couldn't tell if he was alive.
"DON'T TAKE ANOTHER STEP OR I'LL KILL HER!" the man shouted at the police officers surrounding him. Meanwhile, the civilians just stood by, either recording or pointing, without much panic overall.
"NO! Don't kill me!" cried the girl while sobbing.
"SHUT UP, YOU LITTLE BITCH! IF YOU DON'T WANT ME TO SHOOT, TELL THEM THAT, NOT ME!"
"DROP THE WEAPON! IT DOESN'T HAVE TO END LIKE THIS!" replied a tense police officer at the front, while his fellow officers aimed their guns at the man.
"IF YOU DON'T WANT HER SHOT, THEN QUI—AHHHH!" He was about to make a demand when suddenly he dropped to the ground, screaming in pain. The girl took the opportunity to run away.
"Well, looks like I arrived just in time," said a female voice, and everyone present turned to look.
"It's her!"
"Who?"
"DON'T you know her? She's Lady Mental, the rising star of the Guardians group."
The woman they were talking about was a young woman in her early twenties, wearing a purple suit with black lines, a matching domino mask, blonde hair, and green eyes.
"Do you think she'll give me an autograph?"
"I want one too!"
Quickly, everyone forgot about the previous incident. The only ones who seemed to acknowledge it were the police officers who were now escorting the handcuffed man into a patrol car.
"Calm down, I'll sign autographs, but please form a line," requested the heroine with a smile, which I couldn't help but notice was practiced, based on some things Mom had told me. Still, we went to get in line.
When it was our turn, we didn't have anything for her to sign an autograph on, so I asked for a handshake. She raised an eyebrow but agreed.
"Sure," and we shook hands. Honestly, I didn't care about the autograph or the handshake—I just wanted to copy her gene. Thanks to my four genes, I knew hers was related to projecting brainwaves, which I couldn't copy, though I expected that.
"Excuse me, can I ask you a question?" I asked, a little nervous.
"Of course. What do you want to ask?"
"Why are you a hero?"
"Why am I a heroine? It's to protect the defenseless and those in need," she answered with the same practiced smile.