FREAKS

A twisted, darker version of your average sci-fi mutant story. Main character gets less Whiney later on I promise 
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Chapter 1
Mistakes and Catastrophes

Lying sprawled in the middle of the road, Logan Blackwood was truly, heart-stoppingly terrified for the first time in his life as a red corvette sped down the road towards him, the middle aged male driver too busy head banging to the rock and roll that was blasting through his speakers to notice the eight year old collapsed in the road ahead of him. Normally, when he was thinking straight, Logan would have been out of the road by now, unfortunately though he wasn’t at his best. Bruised and bashed all over, his skin was numb and yet it stung at the same time, his muscles were tired and sluggish and his mind was panicking from the overload. Only as his heart raced and his pulse seemed to pound loudly in his ears, the roar of the car’s engine consuming all of his attention did some small part of his remaining survival instincts get him to shove himself sideways to the edge of the road and the car shot past him, narrowly missing his legs.

For once, Logan’s bullies weren’t laughing, they were all frozen, looking rather pale and sick as they stared at the boy they’d nearly killed. Most of them aged between twelve and thirteen, they all understood the penalty for manslaughter or murder. Several of them turned and ran immediately, whilst others hesitated as they briefly considered checking if Logan was alright before they too turned tail and sprinted to catch up with their friends, all of them silent except for the odd shaky shouts as they called out to others, desperate not to be left on their own in this situation.

Trembling, Logan pulled himself out of the gutter he’d rolled into and hoisted himself up onto the pavement on the side of the road, holding his knees and rocking back and forth slowly as he stared at the spot he’d just been lying helplessly in. Ever since he’d been six he’d been bullied, as that had been the first year he’d been moved ahead. Quickly following that he’d been put up into fifth grade, then skipped to seventh and now he was attending a middle school in his ninth grade at the age of nine, whilst taking supplementary A-Level night classes as well. Perhaps if he were better at lying and pretending to be someone he wasn’t he would have been viewed as a cute novelty, but instead his lack of social skills had led to him being badly bullied by people much older than him for being a freak and a weirdo.

In the past it had just been him being shoved around, into lockers and getting locked in them, on the odd occasion he’d even been tripped or hit against a table, but he’d never felt like his life had been in danger. He’d managed to handle it, to simply put up with it and know that eventually, when he was able to leave the awful schooling system he would be free of people like that, or he’d at least have the choice to avoid them. Now however he sat there shaking, unable to think coherently as a terrible twisted sense of sickness took a hold of him.
Carefully easing back into his red rucksack, Logan stood himself off, wobbling slightly before he steadied himself, inhaling and exhaling five times before setting off back home, finally set on getting help.

Surprisingly, Logan’s parents hadn’t noticed the bullying yet. He hated to admit it to himself, but one of the main reasons he hadn’t said anything was that he was waiting, longingly hoping for a time when they paid enough attention to him to notice the bruises on his face or the state of his school things and not just pass them off as the usual childhood bashes and bruises, not thinking it through enough to even be the slightest bit suspicious. He didn’t want to have to tell them himself; to him it felt like accepting the fact that his parents were somewhat neglectful when it came down to him.

Logan’s sister on the other hand was waited on hand and foot, their parents never wasted a moment when they could be with her. It wasn’t really their fault; nature had just made it that way. The thing was that Logan’s little sister, Amy Blackwood, had been gifted with superhuman abilities and Logan hadn’t. His genetics simply didn’t allow him such things.

Alice and Frank Blackwood were the result of an English science experiment which had originally been intended to simply strengthen foetuses but the genetic manipulation had resulted in a mutated set of genes being created in the children that reacted with a person’s DNA in ways scientists had yet to explain and resulted in them acquiring superhuman abilities. Logan’s mother was classified as a botanical; she was capable of manipulating plant life, whilst his father was classified as a Tele-cyber, capable of connecting with and controlling technology of multiple natures. Amy, his younger sister had managed to inherit both abilities and was subsequently the pride and joy of her beaming parents.

On the other hand, Logan seemed to have managed to inherit neither, nor display any other exciting superhuman abilities. Granted, he had displayed signs of being unbelievably intelligent from an early age and had an immeasurable IQ, but nothing with the same showy quality as his parents. After five years of waiting for him to display any powers and receiving nothing, his parents finally gave birth to a baby girl whose abilities manifested not long after her first birthday. Overjoyed, they had since that day focused most of their time and energy on raising her to nurture and control her powers, having both come from homes where they’d been ridiculed and shunned for their powers.

 

Thanks 
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Walking for over an hour, Logan finally reached his front door and turned the handle, pushing the wooden block backwards and stepping silently into his home. Counting to five, he waited for his parents to come, say something, triggered by the noise of the door clicking shut. No one came out into the hall to see who it was, though the distant sounds of excited chatter and encouragement could be heard drifting through from the living room.

Dropping his rucksack on the floor, the strap falling from his shoulder, pushed by nothing but no longer meeting resistance as Logan’s shoulders slumped and he paced slowly into the living room, keeping his eyes down as he tried to compose himself, think of what to do and say, what they would do and say. Sat up in her highchair, too big for it but the support apparently helped her focus, Amy was seated behind a potted plant which was growing and flourishing at an abnormally fast rate, green shoots appearing on the stem in seconds as Amy giggled happily, her hand held out before it, tracing the path which it grew.
Stood either side of her watching with unmasked pride and joy were her parents, babbling to each other and their daughter about how very exciting it all was, a real breakthrough in her powers. Logan knew his sister was special, even for what she was, he’d heard that one of his parents scientist friends who had created his own race of mutants had analysed Amy and she had been found to be one of the most powerful mutants he’d ever witnessed, her powers already approaching that of an adult’s at the age of three. Logan understood why his sister was so fascinating, he was happy for her. He just wished his parents would look up.

Two, maybe three minutes passed and they didn’t notice a thing, the plant was still growing, now big enough to be counted as a small shrub though it was far past its normal size. Realising he was going to have to draw attention to himself manually, Logan inhaled slowly and tried to plan ahead, find the best solution.

“Mother.” He mumbled quietly, doing his best sulky voice, attempting to appeal to her maternal instinct. Deaf to his words, his mother had cooed at the exact same time as several crimson flowers had burst into bloom. “Mother.” Logan repeated, louder this time and dropping the hurt tone. Thankfully his mother heard him this time, looking over with a wide smile on her face which stayed fixed there.

“Logan, welcome home.” She welcomed him, her tone warm and gentle though her eyes were glazed and she quickly returned to watching her little protégé at work. His throat tightening as his mouth narrowed, Logan couldn’t hold onto the warmth in her voice and pretend the rest wasn’t there. It wasn’t how his mind worked, he couldn’t lie to himself, he could barely lie to others. He was getting better though, lies coming increasingly naturally. It was easier when you’d lost your faith in truth.

“Mom.” Logan voiced up again, louder once more and his tone a little more pleading as he felt his body fidgeting with the urge to just run and hug her, close the distance and not let her go until she finally did something. His father looked over this time, gave him a laddish grin before motioning him forward.
“Logan, come see what your sister’s doing.” He urged him, gazing in wonder as the plant took on new life, blossoming into a completely different species of plant as Amy manipulated it’s DNA, a gift apparently unique to her and only her. Obeying, Logan came forward, glad for the invite even if it meant little. At least they wanted him there, closer. He could try to be a part of it, like he always did. Unfortunately though something was different this time, he didn’t feel like he could go on pretending, the boundaries had been pushed too far.

“Mom.” He murmured once again, feeling oddly fragile, his voice shaking slightly. “I need you.” His voice was barely a whisper but his mother seemed to have heard him, briefly inclining her head towards him before the plant they were gathered around shot up very suddenly, growing at twice the pace it had before, it’s base thickening as it began to take on the form of a tree, roots climbing up out of the pot and dangling down from the highchair.
Logan didn’t want to do it, but somehow he couldn’t stop himself as his body trembled slightly, his eyes stinging as tears streaked down his face as he broke down into heavy sobs, gasping for breath between each cry as he forgot how to be composed and proper and just wanted his mother to pay attention, just this once and tell him everything was going to be alright.

She started to; twisting around with an alarmed expression on her face she stared at Logan looking completely bewildered by his sudden outburst, his father mimicking her expression. Amy, sat in the middle of them looked up, her hands shooting into her lap as she stared wide-eyed at her crying big brother, her eyes filled with pity and concern. This however meant that the tree stopped growing and all in a matter of seconds it began rapidly shrinking back into its former self, flowers closing back into buds and the leaves folding in on themselves before disappearing entirely.

Distracted by her vanishing miracle Logan’s mother quickly refocused on Amy, smiling desperately as she tried to coax Amy back into focusing on the plant, force her to continue but Amy was still gazing doe-eyed at Logan as her bottom lip trembled until she too broke into tears, deeply upset by the sudden break in her usually blissfully cheerful life. Impatient and frantic their mother looked back at Logan, her expression having changed to one of frustration.
“Would you be quiet.” She snapped angrily at him, trying to regain control over the situation and allow her daughter to flourish again.

Immediately, Logan stopped crying, sucking in his breath and holding it as the words seemed to echo through his brain. It hadn’t worked; nothing was ever going to work. Whatever had broken inside of him in that moment of being faced with death had now been torn open, raw and fully shattered. Amy felt it too, the sudden sensation of complete loss emitting from her brother and she choked on her cries, waiting frozen for her brother to stop, to smile and say everything was better. All four of them waited there in silence, disturbed by the mood of the room as they finally felt it.
Logan’s mother quickly realised she’d crossed the line and had acted completely out of frustration and her expression softened to an apologetic half-smile.
“Oh Logan I’m so-” She began to apologise but was cut off as Logan started screaming.

 

I was worried he was too emotional
thank you for the comment 

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Clutching at his head and tearing at his hair, unrelenting noise poured out of Logan’s mouth as his back arched over, his body contorting and twitching, as he was burned alive from the inside out. An unimaginable, hot, white pain had suddenly gripped his body as he’d felt himself go numb from his mother’s words. Dropping to his knees as wordless noise continued to escape from him he could do nothing to stop it as his vision became meaningless and unseen, the pain that was consuming every inch of him all he could think of.

Vaguely aware in the back of his mind that his mother had rushed to him, was trying to see what was wrong with him, Logan suddenly became aware that the pain wasn’t just in him, it was leaking out at an increasing pace, his need to get rid of it forcing it outwards. He could feel his mother, the pain of her anxiety and her worry and fright flickering in her like a small kindled flame and if she didn’t move, he knew the white fire in him was going to engulf and consume it.
“Go away!” He yelled as he stopped screaming, the pain gagging him now as it lost the burning sensation and simply became a fact, almost like it wasn’t pain at all, though he could still feel it there.

Not listening, discarding his words as those of a child’s tantrum his mother hugged him closer, her hand in his hair as she stroked it gently, soothing him as she apologised over and over in a hushed voice, though he could still feel her fear. The pain was overflowing now, no despite feeling oddly numb he could feel it spilling out of him and he couldn’t keep it in. Reaching tipping point the invisible tension inside of him snapped and the pain flung itself outwards from his body, flowing over his mother just as he had predicted.

Scrunching his eyes shut and curling into a ball, Logan was terrified of the results because although he had no idea what had happened, he didn’t feel right anymore. The soreness that had been weighing down his limbs and the sting of his open cuts had suddenly faded, he was aware that they were there but there was so hurt attached, only a numb, unfeeling knowledge of their existence. Something had changed so very suddenly, he was afraid of what it was.

Slowly raising his head form between his knees Logan blinked his eyes open, observing his surroundings. Gagging in reaction, Logan fell side ways as his body went limp and failed to support him. Sprawled across the floor were his parent’s lifeless bodies, their skin still flushed and their eyes still coloured, but they lacked the shine of life. Collapsed head first into the plant, which now lay withered, was his sister, her hands were draped either side of her highchair, unmoving. Waiting for one of them to twitch, to stand up and laugh because it was all a silly act to make him feel better, Logan counted. One. Two. Biting down on his lower lip he stopped counting because he knew it wasn’t a game, though he wished he didn’t.

Standing up, Logan snivelled and wiped his eyes on his school shirt’s sleeve, then his nose. Logan was aware what they did to people, even children, who killed other people. Pausing for a moment, he looked between the three bodies and patiently, faithfully waiting for himself to start crying. However something was missing now, the raw emotion of pain had vanished; he could only feel a hollow emptiness. Nodding one in blunt confirmation to himself he turned and headed off to prepare himself.

Money, food and clothes were all packed into his emptied school rucksack within half an hour, Logan knew where his parents hid things and could work out the rest. If he lived like he normally did he could survive for a month, if he rationed he could do it for two. That would be enough time for him to start feeling again and want to get punished. Grimly putting the rucksack over his back and slipping into the straps, Logan spared a brief glance down the hallway at the house he’d known as home all his life before setting off out the door, into the world.

 

Chapter 2
Lost things and broken toys

Duke knew what was going on with this sort of thing all the time because that was his job, one of his many duties. Which was why he had positioned himself on top of the lid of a dumpster, angled on the corner so he had a perfect spot to watch a scrawny black haired Asian kid sneak his way out of the backdoor of the local co-op with his trust red rucksack hooked over his shoulders, the material bulging form it’s newly acquired contents.

As a run away himself, Duke could spot one a mile away although he’d never heard of one who had killed quite so many people when they looked no older than ten. Slipping off of his perch on the dumpster, Duke decided that this was worth investigating further. Tailing the kid he followed him down several main streets, pushing through the mobs of people that populated the city of LA until eventually he turned into a quieter back passage.

Stopping half-way down the alley, the kid squatted down besides something. Stopping as well, Duke hovered at the edge of the alley, squinting to try and see what he was doing. Opening a door whilst must lead to a basement of some sort as it was positioned just above the floor, the kid dropped himself down inside the doorway and then closed the door behind him.

Quickly following after him, Alex observed the building the door was attached to. A manufacturing factory judging by the lack of color and the multiple chimneys on the roof, the basement certainly wasn’t the way into the kid’s happy home. Grinning slightly at the confirmation that he was right, Duke opened the door to the basement and vaulted himself down into the darkness like the kid had.

Suddenly, something kicked him backwards, sending him flying and landing sprawled on the floor in the darkness.
“Why are you following me?” A voice in the darkness demanded angrily. Good, Duke thought appraisingly, so he’d noticed.
“Why are you living in a factory basement?” He responded with a question, careful not to sound threatening.
“Answer my question.” The kid ordered him bluntly, clearly not into social manipulation. That was fine, Duke could teach him.

“Could you turn a light on first, please?” Duke requested politely as he sat himself up into a more proper position, finding the floor with his hands. After a moment’s hesitation, the kid could be heard moving about and then a torch clicked on and shone directly into his eyes. Raising a hand to try and block it, Duke squinted to view the kid. Sure enough it was the same messy haired one with a pretty weird looking face and frighteningly dramatic black eyes. “Thank you.”

Nodding shortly in response to his thanks, the kid kept the light on him as he found himself a seat upon a wooden crate and took of his rucksack, placing it on his lap and hurriedly unzipping it, his actions composed except for the desperate speed at which he moved, rapidly pulling the food out of it’s wrapping and wolfing it down.

Waiting for him to be finished patiently, Duke took the liberty to look around, the surroundings of storage crates, barrels and shelves confirming his factory theory. When he was finished the kid sucked the ends of each of his fingers and then placed the rucksack on the floor between his feet, regarding Duke with a serious expression far beyond his years.
“Now, why were you following me?” He asked once again, his tone clearly conveying that he wouldn’t take anymore evading.

Smiling sheepishly, Duke found himself a crate nearby and hoisted himself up onto it, crossing his ankles out of habit.
“I’m interested in you. How long have you been living on the streets?” He inquired calmly, his voice as smooth and warm as honey as he smiled gently. Kids living like this lacked any comfort at all, so giving it to them was a basic must. Once again the kid hesitated, examining him and his expression before answering.
“Nine months.”
“And in that time, how many people have you killed?” Duke asked bluntly.

Swallowing as his eyes widened, the kid sucked in his cheeks so his prominent cheekbones now made his face look gaunt and sickly in the light and he stood. Abruptly, catching him off guard Duke suddenly felt a spasm of pain in his stomach and he fell forward, lying on the floor as his body twitched before falling motionless, a numb stinging sensation all that was left behind.
“Who are you? What do you want?” The kid hurriedly demanded in a breathless voice, clearly trying to remain in control whilst he panicked. For someone so young he was good, but Duke was well practiced in this.

Remaining on the floor as was wanted of him; he raised his hands behind his head and didn’t look up at the kid.
“I am Duke, leader and founder of the Freaks tribe. I would like you to become a member.” He explained levelly, looking up at the kid once he was done.

Wearing a somewhat conflicted expression, the kid stepped closer and then crouched down, his eyes searching Duke’s face thoroughly with a perceptiveness that was far beyond that of a normal kid that age. His nostrils flaring briefly as he seemed to have reached a decision, the kid rocked back to sit down and crossed his legs.
“Explain.” He ordered flatly, his expression guarded but he was closer now, listening. Acknowledging his new acceptance Duke sat himself up and sat opposite the kid, a safe distance away and crossed his legs as well.

As instructed, Duke went about explaining the Tribe to the kid.
“A Tribe is a group of individuals with special talents all working towards a certain goal, like a brotherhood. The Freaks are a tribe made up of only lost young individuals with these gifts that have left them in an unknown no-mans land with nowhere else to go. We are the home for those who are cursed to never have one.” Duke reeled off his own speech flawlessly, knowing it by heart as he’d said it so many times to so many people. It wasn’t that he didn’t mean it, it was just that it had become more than just something that meant something to him, it had become a scripture for everyone who was like him.

Unlike most others in his position, the kid didn’t panic or freak out, instead he sat there in silence and processed the information, his serious expression only making Duke more sure that he wanted this kid as a member, that he was more than just eligible but needed. Special. It was a word that had come to be mocked by every member of the Freaks, but what complimentary meaning it still retained applied to this kid, although Duke couldn’t place exactly what it was.

Glancing back at Duke from the spot of the floor he’d been staring at whilst he’d been lost in though, the kid scrutinized him.
“Special Talents?” The kid repeated slowly, carefully so as not to give away that he knew what Duke was talking about.
“Such as the pain you just inflicted on me. Super human abilities that the rest of the world doesn’t know about.”

 

 thank you so much 

 

Lol thanks too both of you, going to write another chunk ASAP then post it, sorry for the break school work