I had set out from my home for the very first time since the war reached my city, and the danger was beginning to dawn on me. Even before the bombs had started dropping, I had never set foot outside of my neighborhood without supervision. Yet there I was, two full blocks from the safety of my apartment, without having seen my parents in months. Every few minutes, I passed an impact crater from where a bomb had struck. Several times, I saw terrible sights that I knew children weren't meant to see. The worst of which was the completely obliterated remains of Dr. Vasquez' office. I had hoped to meet up with him before leaving town, but that hope was dashed in an instant. I didn't dare check inside, lest I confirm my worst fears, so I just assumed that he'd managed to escape. Nonetheless, even as a kid, I knew that blowing up a medical clinic wasn't okay. All Dr Vasquez was doing was trying to help people, and they targeted him anyway.
Seeing that innocent people were on the menu, I slipped my knife into the rear loading straps of my backpack. I tested my ability to draw and sheath my knife. It was pretty hard to get it back into the straps, due to how tight I had pulled them, but putting it back wasn't the important part. What mattered was that I could get the knife out quickly and easily. Once satisfied with my ability to draw my weapon, I continued on my journey.
I actually managed to get pretty far without encountering any trouble, so I stopped to see if I could get some food. Crunchy beans were a step up from that morning, but that morning was rock bottom. I would much prefer something better to eat if I could get a hold of it.
After walking past a few stores, I saw that there was very little left. Windows had been broken and stuff had been stolen. It was a war out here. Of course hungry people had gotten there before me. I did take a look inside the empty looking stores anyway, though, and the third one actually had a bag of masarepa on the back of a low shelf. Out of sight for most adults, but just barely in view for me. I didn't have the stuff for arepas, but I would be able to mix it with some water and make a basic cornbread, like the people in the United States did. I had learned about many different ways that different cultures used maize during a school event, and was quite fond of cornbread. If I remembered correctly, it was an extremely simple dish made using some form of masa, an egg, some milk, and some fat to keep it from sticking to the pan. I had even heard that most of those ingredients were optional. Truly the simplest of dinners.
Having decided on what I was having for dinner, I made my way out of the store. That was when I finally encountered some trouble. It seemed some looters had spotted me going in, and were waiting outside to confront me. There were two of them. They were both wearing thick clothes and masks, fully concealing their identities. Though, I could tell that they were both unarmed. Even still, both were adults, and I wasn't confident I could take them even with a knife. My only option seemed to be to abandon my food and start over. The situation seemed hopeless. I was going to have to give up my hard earned food to some filthy, unkempt looters just because they were older than me.
That's when it struck me. I had a bargaining chip they needed. They were filthy, and I had unlimited soap. I was always the kind of kid that could get whatever he wanted from his parents. That is to say, I knew my way around a conversation far better than one would expect of someone my age. With a plan in mind, I walked up to them with as much confidence as I could muster. I needed to seem larger than life. One-hundred percent fully confident in myself. That would be the approach they would expect the absolute least from the small child they were planning to rob, and pulling them out of their comfort zone was the first step of my plan.
They were obviously taken aback by my approaching them. They were probably expecting a chase. In my experience, people were more likely to listen if you caught them off guard first. That completed phase one. Next, I'd let them take the initiative in the conversation. If talking was their idea, they'd be more willing to hear my terms. In general, people hate self-contradiction. I could exploit that to keep them from attacking me, so long as I got them to set that particular flow for the encounter.
The bigger guy spoke. "Hey kid! Whatcha got in the bag?" He asked. That was exactly the question I expected. They were there to rob me, and my bag had a notable amount more mass than it did before I entered the store. Of course they would be seeking its contents.
"All kinds of stuff," I responded. "Wanna trade?" The offer was a final test of character. Whether they passed or failed, the result would basically be the same, but it would still be useful information to carry into the negotiation.
The two guys shot a quick glance at each other, then seemed to come to an agreement. The big guy spoke again. "Why can't we just take the bag? You're a kid, and we're grown ups." Ah, flawless logic. Totally not the words of a tyrant and a thug.
"Because I have a lot of valuable stuff that isn't in the bag, and I'll only give it to you if you trade me." was my reply. In response to his threat, I countered with my own. If they chose violence, they would potentially miss out on all sorts of rewards. It was basically a dead man's switch.
"Like what?" He asked, taking the bait.
"Like a whole lotta soap," I revealed, motioning to myself. "Don't you see how clean I am?"
"All right, show it to us, and maybe we can discuss a trade." He didn't wait a second to respond, revealing that I was right on the money in my assessment. He needed that soap. Now it was time to see if my plan would pay off. My hope was that in the next few seconds, they'd be thrown so far off balance that they'd lose footing in the discussion, and concede to my terms.
"Right here." I said, as I reached off to the side, and let soap pour forth from my hand like it was a fountain. Their eyes shot open, and their jaws practically hit the floor. As they lost their composure, I added: "You can take as much as you want if you can give me some food and a way to cook it." I pulled out my water bottle and used it to wash the soap from my hands as I waited for their response. Right as I finished rinsing, using half the bottle in the process, the little one spoke to the big guy.
"We do really need soap." She said, her voice wavering.
I only then realized the reason the smaller one wasn't speaking. She was a woman. The thick clothes and masks were probably meant to give the far more intimidating appearance of two men, rather than a man and a woman. Upon hearing her voice, a second sign of her true identity jumped out to me in an instant. Both of the looters were wearing rings. That meant that they were almost certainly a husband and wife. With the previous bit of information, the next line from the big guy made sense.
"Do you have any baby shampoo hidden up your sleeve?" He asked.
Rather than answer his question, I just motioned for them to hand me an empty bottle. The husband handed me a water bottle, and I unscrewed its cap. As I began filling the bottle with baby shampoo, I also began my explanation.
"Nothing hidden here." I said, rolling back my sleeve to show that there was nothing hidden underneath. "Believe it or not, I became some kind of magical soap boy earlier today. You guys are also the first people I've helped with my powers, so you're welcome." I finished, as I passed the bottle back to them.
They glanced between me, the bottle, and each other over ten times before they were able to process what was happening. Once it looked like they had begun to process what had just happened, I continued the negotiation.
"Now, I'm sorry, but you are gonna have to pay for any more requests." I said, in as stern a voice as I could manage. They probably weren't going to believe that I had soap powers without an example, so I gave them a freebie. Not only did that act as proof of my claims, but it also placed them slightly in my debt. If they felt indebted to me, even a little bit, then they wouldn't want to hurt me. That was the final step of my plan, or rather, of all my argumentative knowledge. If they still decided to rob me after that, then there was nothing I could do. Though, I just couldn't see a married couple with a baby choosing to attack a child.
They stood there staring at the bottle for another minute before speaking. "You can't possibly understand how much you've helped us today." said the big guy. "And to think, we were gonna rob you." The woman added. They unloaded a can of black beans and handed it to me.
I had just told them the baby shampoo was free, but I also wasn't going to refuse free food. As far as acts of goodwill went, giving me canned beans was pretty good. It was proof enough that they no longer intended to rob me, and were willing to accept my offer. They motioned for me to follow them, and I did.
A few minutes later we arrived at their place. A small house a few blocks away from my apartment building. Inside, I saw their baby, being cared for by a young girl. Both were dirty, just like their parents, and the culprit was easy to spot. On the way in, We had to pass a crater from an artillery shell that had turned the entire front lawn into mud. What I couldn't grasp was why the family had stayed after a strike that close. As if to answer the question I never asked, the mother spoke.
"This place is the safest place, I think. The bomb struck, and every other one has been further since. Feel free to get comfortable." She explained.
Ah. So it was some of the exact same reasoning I'd used to stay in my apartment. Funny that here, "a bomb struck nearby, so it's safe." was actually acceptable reassurance. Anywhere else, and you'd be running for the hills after hearing something like that.
The two parents left to go grab some things, and I decided to settle in with their daughter. She was a young girl. I estimated her to be about seven. She seemed to have been put in charge of the baby while the adults were out, and she was doing a pretty good job. The baby was sleeping soundly, and looked to be healthy. If my mother's horror stories were to be believed, then that was no simple feat. Apparently, putting me to sleep had been an absolute chore all the way until I was three years old. I looked up from the baby to see the little girl staring at me quizzically. She clearly wanted to say something, but must've felt uncomfortable breaking the silence. I decided to see if I could break the ice.
"Do I have something stuck on my face?" I asked, injecting a bit of humor into my voice.
"No. You don't have anything on your face. That's weird."
"Well, I'm literally a walking soap factory, so I'd hope not."
I watched as her expression shifted from mere curiosity, to absolute bewilderment. I could have sat there for the next several minutes explaining the ins and outs of superhuman abilities to the girl, but a demonstration would do the job much quicker. I reached out, and placed a glob of hand soap on the edge of the crib using the tip of my index finger. I could see the gears start turning in her head as she tried to understand what was happening. With every change in her expression, I could feel the onslaught of questions grow larger. I was just getting ready to answer her confusion when the parents reentered the room.
The father, who had done most of the talking earlier, sat by the kitchen table and motioned for me to join him. As I walked over, I saw that he had brought several cans and a few basic tools with him. The mother took some bottled water and a few ingredients to the cooking area next to us. As she began work on some kind of soup, the man across from me picked up a puck-like object made from beverage cans and presented it to me.
"You asked for a way to cook your beans, right?" He asked me, in a slightly firm, but careful tone. I recognized his tone immediately. It was the exact same tone my father took whenever he taught me something important. I referred to it as the "pay attention" tone, and so I did just that. I straightened my posture in my seat before I answered him.
"Yes. I need something to cook with." I answered.
"Well I've got just the thing right here." He said, holding the can puck a bit closer to me, before handing it to his wife. My eyes followed the puck over to the stovetop, where it sat for a moment as she placed some kind of metal wire thing over it. After that, all the woman did was touch it with a lighter. The instant the flame reached the puck, a blue flame began emanating from it. Then, a few seconds later, the flames began coming out from the sides. Once that happened, she sat her pot of food on top of the wire stand, and started cooking. The can puck was some form of portable stovetop. I had never seen anything like it, and I was very interested. The man, seeing my interest, continued his lesson.
"This is a stove that my father taught me how to make when I was a kid." He explained. "It can take several different kinds of fuel, can burn for a long time, and stays cool enough that you can place it on a wooden table without worrying about burning anything." As he spoke, he set several of the cans, a pair of scissors, a pushpin, some gloves, and some kind of pink fuzz out onto the table.
Over the course of the next several minutes, he made a stove while instructing me on how to make one myself. Afterward, he showed me how to make the wire stand using a clothes hanger. With the setup, I could expect to get nearly an hour of cook time without refueling. That left only one question.
"What do I use as fuel?" I asked. At no point in his explanation had he ever told me what the stove takes. If the materials came from the walls of houses and trash cans, then hopefully, the fuel would be just as easy to find.
"You're in luck. It can run just fine on rubbing alcohol." He answered, puzzling me. Had he seen that I had a small bottle of alcohol in my first aid kit? But if he'd seen that, then he would know that I had already used most of it.
"Um..." I paused as I tried to find a way to say this that didn't sound ungrateful. "I'm a bit low on alcohol. I can probably only keep this thing running for a few minutes."
"What do you mean?" He asked. To answer, I pulled out the bottle from my pack and showed him.
"I used most of it this morning." I said. Upon hearing that, he seemed to become quite puzzled.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I just thought you could make it, since you could make other cleansers." He clarified.
Now that I thought of it, I should have been able to do that. I tried, and sure enough, I could produce rubbing alcohol just like I could any other cleanser. Given that I had only ever produced hand soap and shampoo in front of this man, it was rather impressive that he had figured out how my power worked.
I took my finished stove to the kitchen, and started testing it by helping the mother prepare dinner. As I did so, the little girl started asking me heaps of questions.
"Can you make any soap?" She asked.
"Yes." I answered.
"Can I do that when I become your age?" She investigated.
"Probably not." I guessed.
"Are you a hero, like the blue guy?" She endeavored.
"I want to be." I proclaimed.
"Wait, is alcohol soap?" She inquired.
"No. That's why I didn't think of it. I'm surprised your father did." I explained.
"Ooh! Do you know my favorite soap?" She questioned.
"No... wait..." I was at a loss. Somehow, I actually had an answer I was pretty confident in. "Is it this?" I hedged, as I placed a bit of it in the palm of her hand. It was a strawberry scented moisturizing shampoo for children. A popular brand that had come over from Brazil not too long before the war. She smelled it, and her eyes lit up.
"Yeah! That's it! Can I have that one?" She requested.
"Your parents gave me food, so you're getting a bottle. I'll make it your favorite if you'll go play somewhere else for now." I directed.
"Okay!" She practically screamed before leaving.
"Finally, some peace." I said, shooting the mother a smile.
"I was about to stop her myself, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't just as curious." she replied.
So she had sicced her daughter on me to get answers. Not that I minded. After all, I had also received some new info. Now that I was paying attention to it, I was incredibly attuned to the cleansers in my surroundings. I could tell where they were and exactly what kind they were from across the house. I must have smelled the trace bits of shampoo on the girl's scalp before. I couldn't be sure how useful that aspect of my power would prove to be, but I could imagine a scenario where I was able to find people lost in the wreckage after a disaster. So not entirely useless. At the moment, it would allow me to help this family.
"You know what? You've all been incredibly kind to me, for a bunch of robbers. I'm gonna customize all of these." I declared, as I stepped back from the counter and began filling an empty bottle, using my new power.
"No no no. You don't have to do that. You have no idea how much you've helped us already." The mother said, surprise apparent in her voice. I just filled the bottle with her preferred soap, and handed it to her.
"Just take it. It's training for me, if that helps."
She smiled and took the bottle. I left the kitchen to sneakily sniff the general vicinity of the father and baby so I could customize their soaps. Could I even customize baby shampoo? Yet another thing I needed to learn about my ability. Perhaps I could make a baby shampoo that was even more harmless than whatever they sold in stores. It was a high bar to clear, but this was my first human contact in months, and I was going to leave on a high note.
That plan went to ruin when, by the time I'd finished, the sun was setting. Instead of leaving, the family invited me to stay for dinner. In the middle of the night, the baby made a mess, and I discovered an additional useful aspect of my second power. Everybody else had to hold their noses, but I could choose to only smell the pleasant aromas that filled the air. I felt bad, like I was cheating somehow, and offered to change the baby so the family could get some more sleep. I ended up spending over an hour helping the baby get back to sleep, but I did it gladly. After all, if I was going to be a legendary hero, I needed to do good deeds.
By the time I left in the morning, every member of the family looked like a massive weight had been lifted from their shoulders. I must've looked the same, because I sure felt it. A little bit of charity and some good company went a long way in trying times. Maybe this whole "cataclysm" business wasn't so bad after all.
As one last act of goodwill, I gave the father directions to my apartment. Where I had left the whole place fully stocked with soaps, and I filled a bucket with unscented body wash as I did. With proper use, the family wouldn't run out for months. Or they could trade it, like I had. It may have stopped them from continuing to rob people in the future.
I left, having stopped my first criminals as a hero. Sure, it wasn't the crime fighting that people like the police did, but I had still stopped a crime, and that had to count for something.
After that night, a pattern formed. Over the next several weeks, I would find struggling people, trade soap for goods and services, get far too friendly, spend the night, and all parties would come out a little richer for it. Before long, there was talk of the local hero. A young, dark skinned boy who was far cleaner than would be expected from current conditions. If you came across him, you could trade him a bed for the night or some camping supplies for a massive amount of magical soap. That all changed when I stopped on my travels to help a man in need.
It seemed to follow the usual pattern. He had a cut on his leg that would've gotten infected without proper cleaning and care. I pulled out my first aid kit and helped him as much as a ten year old possibly could. The man helped by walking me through how to use some of my first aid equipment. Once he was up, I lent him a shoulder and helped him back to his house. It was a place a little bit off the beaten path. I didn't mind the walk. I had gotten used to walking with extra weight over the previous few weeks. What I did mind were the guns. As soon as the door shut behind me, the man I was helping stepped away, and at least ten guys with guns came out. I tried handling the situation the same way I'd handled the last robbery, But they weren't having it. I was soon tied up and thrown in the back of a car.