บท 2: Chapter 2
What a nice forgotten feeling. Someone's long, thin fingers were gently going through my hair. I felt a light breeze blowing, bringing the smell of freshly cut grass and field herbs. The sun's rays gently warmed me.
- My dear ХХХХХ, do you love me? - came a gentle female voice. My hair was slightly sweaty, demanding my answer.
- Yes, yes - I said something indecipherable, settling down more comfortably.
- Will you do everything for me?
- You dreaming - I mumbled
- So why did you do it? her voice filled with sadness and incomprehension
- You know why...
- Do you love your mother? there were notes of anger in her voice
- ....
- So why ... you didn't drink my tea? her gentle voice turned into a scream. Fingers stuck to my hair as if they wanted to tear off my scalp. My body flew into some barrier and I opened my eyes in horror. Her image froze in my memory. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, from which white foam flowed . Bloodshot eyes that looked at me with hatred. Her white porcelain skin that instantly became covered with cadaveric stains. The expression of hatred and resentment that froze on her face. Crazy bitch. I looked around in shock. I think I fell asleep on the way to school. It brings back memories.
Absolutely! Here's an expanded description of the library and the city streets to enhance your story.
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- Do you need a special invitation? A screeching voice literally rang in my ear.
I silently got out of the car, slamming the door behind me. Once I looked around, I waited until he left before glancing back at the school building. It loomed above me like a gray monster, its imposing facade cracked and chipped, a fortress of concrete that swallowed the light. The windows, grimy and uninviting, reflected nothing but a dull, lifeless hue. As I approached the stairs, I noticed the graffiti scrawled along the entrance, angry words that echoed the frustrations of countless students who had walked these halls.
Sitting down on the steps, I unzipped my backpack. Let's see what's here. Two piles of notebooks, a figure of a hero in latex, a bottle of water, and a couple of cents. Not exactly the treasures I'd hoped for. I looked back at the school, a towering reminder of my confinement, and then turned in the opposite direction. I needed information—real information. As I walked, my mind whirred with thoughts. I didn't care who helped me and why; I would make the most of this chance. If they wanted something from me, they would say so, right? Until then, I was free to do whatever I wanted.
Whether it was God, the Devil, Buddha, or just luck, I would climb the mountain of the food chain. I was fed up with people and their lies; I wouldn't show kindness anymore. I had already paid for that with my life.
As I strolled through the streets, the world opened up around me—a dizzying blend of sights and sounds. The pavement was cracked and uneven, each step sending small vibrations through my bones. On either side, buildings jutted up like jagged teeth, their exteriors a patchwork of faded colors and peeling paint. Neon signs buzzed above storefronts, casting an eerie glow over the sidewalks where people hurried by, their faces a mix of determination and weariness.
Vibrant boards plastered with images of heroes decorated every corner—larger-than-life figures promoting their power and virtue. Small children dashed past in homemade masks, their laughter mingling with the distant blare of horns and the hum of conversation. Everything screamed of a cult of personalities; it was a twisted celebration that I found both captivating and repulsive.
Every block told a story: street vendors hawked their wares, the aroma of street food mixing with the scent of exhaust fumes, creating a heady perfume that was both enticing and nauseating. I passed a park where clusters of teenagers lounged, their eyes glued to their devices, oblivious to the chaos surrounding them. A group of elderly men played chess on a table marred with graffiti, their voices rising above the clamor, each move a battle in its own right.
I passed yet another bench overflowing with merchandise of a dude in black and a man wrapped in an American flag. Maybe there's an analogue of Batman here? The thought intrigued me. The guy in the flag looked either like a Patriot or a state puppet; it was all the same. Black Noir and Homelander—ugh, everything was so derivative here. A guy in latex with a name that sounded like it belonged to a character from a gay club, "For the People." I could see there was room for one more player, but that was a thought for later.
Finally, I reached the library, exhaling a breath I didn't realize I was holding. The massive building loomed before me like an ancient giant wedged between modern office structures. Its stone facade was weathered and cracked, adorned with intricate carvings of mythical creatures and heroic figures that whispered of forgotten tales. Heavy wooden doors, their surfaces worn smooth by time, creaked open as I stepped inside, a musty scent of old paper and leather enveloping me like a shroud.
Inside, the library was a cathedral of knowledge. High ceilings arched overhead, painted in muted hues that seemed to dim the light further. Dust motes danced in the faint shafts of sunlight filtering through tall, narrow windows, casting ghostly patterns on the polished wooden floor. Rows upon rows of shelves stretched into the shadows, their surfaces heavy with dust and the weight of countless tomes. Each aisle felt like a narrow corridor in a labyrinth, winding into the depths of history and secrets.
The silence was palpable, broken only by the soft rustle of pages and the occasional creak of the building settling. Ancient oak tables, scarred by time, invited quiet contemplation, while plush armchairs nestled in corners provided a sanctuary from the outside world. A grand staircase spiraled upward, leading to a second floor where even more knowledge lay hidden, accessible only to those brave enough to navigate the heights.
I approached the young girl at the desk, her face buried in a thick volume. Without even glancing up, she directed me to the hall filled with books and told me to go to the end. I traversed the cavernous space, the silence wrapping around me, broken only by the faint rustle of pages and the distant echo of footsteps.
Finding a computer at the end of the hall, I settled in. Time slipped away as I absorbed the digital world unfolding before me. This universe was not so different from mine, but it was populated with real heroes—mutants wielding incredible powers. This could be a perfect opportunity for my plans. In the long run, only Homelander, Noir, and Train A posed a significant threat; they were the most dangerous and should be eliminated if possible.
As I familiarized myself with the news and history of this world, the hours slipped by unnoticed. But suddenly, the peaceful atmosphere shattered. An explosion rang out, the deafening roar rattling the very foundation of the library. I was thrown back, darkness enveloping me as chaos erupted around me. People screamed, panic spreading like wildfire, their faces twisted in fear as they rushed for the exits. And then, without warning, a figure broke through the wall, tumbling onto the asphalt like a discarded ragdoll.
A cloaked figure began to emerge from the debris, a haunting silhouette...
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