Chapter 9.4

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Jamie's pov

I ate a bowl of cereal as I watched my dad perform tests.

"Now Jamie, one day I might not be here for.... reasons,"

He didn't need to list reasons.

"So I need to know how to feed the captives by myself."

He nodded. We have a lot of captives in our basement. There's the spike man who grows spikes like a porcupine. The gill lady who has gills. The goo man, who has over the years mutated in a pile of goo. The angel man, who has wings on his back. Mine are cooler.

Not to mention my friends. My dad and his associates have discovered out that powers work better in children. It took five generations to figure that out. The earlier four generations were all scientists who volunteered and were studied until they fell apart. Like literally. Any cuts wouldn't heal. Their organs opened holes. They burned up with diseases and infections. Others just went around fine until they got heart attacks.

We grow with our powers which allows them to develop more easily and more powerfully. But it doesn't work if their too young or too old. Teenagers have a bit too much chemicals inside them already to be safe. Children who are too young can't control themselves. Adults tend to get upset. There's like a perfect age for each person, but for each person it varies.

Besides that babies work out best as they can be raised to keep secret. Or be crazy mercanaries.

My dad plugs in wires to the containment pods. Tubes already injected in each person provide them with food and water.

Some of these people have been here since before I was born.

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