The Powered People

Chapter 1

Nolan cringed whenever the professor said it. He sat a little more uncomfortable in his seat. His fists became as tight as his facial muscles. He glared at the professor for a good three minutes each time it was said.

"So the powered people..." Profesor Benvelo announced, drawing the word on the screen with his stylist. There it was again. Nolan flat out flinched. He gave the same scowl he gave when he saw a "powered person" being escorted down the hall. They often fought back and struggled, refusing to just comply for once. And they screamed like crazy when we tried to experiment. What's so scary about giving people knowledge?

"So these powered people," Profesor repeated, making Nolan cringe again, "can owe a lot about their powers from genetics. It is known as a dominant trait. Who here remembers what that is?"

The only other kid in the room took a break from jotting to raise his hand, eagerly. The teacher opened his mouth to speak, but the student already responded, "A trait that always appears in the offspring!"

"Correct, Mr.Iota," Profesor Benvelo sighed. Nolan leaned his cheek against his palm. His elbow dug into the table. He just wanted "powered people" studies to be over already so they could get straight to chemistry. The sooner this is over, the sooner I could learn how to make a tranquilizer, he thought. Then maybe they'd corporate.

Until then, he'd have to suffer through how these rotten creatures were made. As if they needed more of them. The sound of a paper smacking on his desk snapped him back to reality.

"You may need to use a Punnett square for some of these," Profesor Benvelo hinted. The other student snatched his pencil and immediately answered the first question on the worksheet.

"I think it's cool that all the powered people's kids-" he began.

"They're freaks, Tyrone," Nolan snapped back, shooting his classmate a glare. Tyrone's eyebrows raised, leaning away from Nolan.

"What, that's what they are!" Nolan whispered. "They're not normal. They're 'unusual and unexpected.' That literally makes someone a freak."

"Y-you don't have to hate them," Tyrone muttered, avoiding eye contact. "I mean we need to know 'bout them if we want to study them."

"And I want to be a scientist so I could know what they are. Then I'd find a way to get rid of 'em."

"Nolan, don't-"

"Excuse me, boys," Professor interrupted. "We have papers to do."

Nolan rolled his eyes and started to answer the stupid questions on the percentage a child will be born powered or half-blooded or perfect. About half-way through the worksheet, Nolan heard the ear-splitting sound of screams again. His eyebrows bunched as he glared at nothing in particular. This scream was more high-pitched. Something that would come from a child. Children were even worse. They always found something to cry about. Sometimes just the sight of a little flame will cause a tantrum.

According to Nolan, the ones raised in captivity seem to be better off though, they're raised from birth to accept how things are. They never whine when they're put in salt water or get blood drawn. They're the realists. They're how the freaks should all act if they're not exterminated altogether. They'd be a help to the laboratory, in fact! Maybe they'd improve the cells and cages. Maybe they'd feed them more as a reward. It'd teach them respect.

He struggled to focus as the annoying screeches continued. It wasn't until the sound slowly got more and more distant that he was able to breeze right through. He forced his eyes away from the beakers and Bunsen burners in the corner of the room. Just wait a little while, just a little while, he thought to himself. Each hour of studying the undocumented and unheard of. He was ready to take on the analogy of something that conforms to the rules and has been in place since the beginning of time. In Nolan's opinion, science and logic are the very best aspect of the world.