Oscar had been meditating for a long time, the rising sun creeping along the carpet before alighting on his form. When the trumpets blared, the powerful boy slowly opened his eyes and allowed himself to touch back down on the bed, which he'd been levitating above. With a deep breath and slow exhale, he unfolded his legs from their crossed position. He stretched luxuriously before finally getting dressed and ready for breakfast. He'd long since showered when he awoke a few hours ago. He crossed to the high window, pushing the panel glass frame outward. He stepped onto the frame, looking at the ground far below.
With no hesitation, he took the next step, dropping like a stone. When one might think he would become a puddle on the ground, Oscar stopped his descent between breaths with his telekinetic gifts.
Since he'd come to this place, he'd started to explore other avenues of his powers, always encroaching on dizzying new levels that Oscar was nearly scared of what he would become. His telekinesis was coming along, his mind manipulation and reading at the top of the known super world. He'd recently discovered astral projection, but couldn't maintain the form for longer than a couple of minutes. He was always forced back to his body before too long.
His abilities of premonition were coming along, but also lacking for Oscar. He could choose to look forward from the moment, but could only manage five minutes ahead. It was enough, always telling him when one of the other young people here in Ms. Dawson's home would try and make his life a little harder. He sighed, even as he came abreast of the mall, then the cafeteria. Hopefully they still had some breakfast burritos left, of which Oscar had grown a fondness after his extensive traveling before coming here.
He grabbed two of the large food items, the tortilla nearly bursting with steak, eggs, peppers, and all the delicious fixings. He thanked the mysterious woman behind the counter, who seemed to be able to cook anything you could think of.
He found an empty table against one of the walls. His crimson eyes took in the room and those therein with an impassive expression. Sliding into the bench and digging into his good with gusto. His morning meditation sessions always seemed to burn more calories than he realized.
Kenny was practicing his various forms and katas, trying to distract himself from the simple fact that he was a prisoner here. And he hated every moment he was to stay in the same place as some fairly crazy seeming people. They all seemed tense, on edge, or just plain aloof with eccentric personalities and behaviors. Why couldn't they be normal people that just so happened to have superpowers? Although, Kenny shouldn't speak. He'd been devoured by a damn shark until all that was left were tatters. And yet he'd still healed until there wasn't a trace of a bite or the hint of scarring.
Why he was he here? Because he simply had no where to go and Dawson's goons had picked him up somewhere along the interstate. He hadn't had the foggiest idea of where he was going, just that he had to. They'd shot him with some dart, but his regeneration just metabolized whatever drug or toxin they tried to sedate him with. Then they'd brought out the high voltage tasers. He'd writhed on the ground, teeth clenched involuntarily, but his eyes full of hate for these people.
The intercom blared out that it was time for the first meal and interrupting his practice. He gathered up his belongings and set off at a casual jog, passing by other kids and young adults walking to the mall for chow time.
When he got there, Kenny didn't know where to go, looking around at the people milling and falling into small cliques and groups. Shrugging it off, he got a plate of flapjacks, sausage links, and scrambled eggs with a glass of orange juice. As he sat down the only thought that came to mind was that if he was a prisoner, at least he got better food than one.