Life with superheroes

Eric and Charles sat awkwardly on the sofa. It wasn't that they felt uncomfortable because they were in an unfamiliar place, but because this place was overwhelmingly messy.

No, calling it "messy" would be a kindness. A more accurate description would be a garbage dump.

The two boys hadn't anticipated that their biological father actually lived in such conditions, a place so starkly different from the one they knew now.

Luckily, their current dad was Mike.

This thought coincidentally flashed across both their minds.

The man sitting across from them was George Baker, dressed in a pair of shorts and staring intently at the two. He was tall and handsome, with slightly raised eyes and an aura that seemed charismatic yet unsettling—like a piece of sugarcane, alluring on the outside but potentially hollow within.

At this moment, he looked at Eric and Charles as if he were inspecting two pieces of merchandise. After scrutinizing them from head to toe, he finally smiled.

"So, you're saying you're my sons?"

George asked, studying their faces that bore a resemblance to his own.

He already knew the answer; after all, he had nothing worth deceiving anyone over.

Eric, uncomfortable under the man's intense gaze, turned his head slightly.

Charles wanted to nod but ultimately responded with, "Olivia is our mother."

He acknowledged his mother—but not George—as his father.

George Baker frowned, then realization seemed to dawn on him. "She… Seems like she's doing well."

"She's dead," Eric replied calmly.

George appeared momentarily stunned. Then, with an air of exaggerated grief, he covered his face and said, "She was a good woman… I was an idiot who lost her then, I was truly… an idiot." He feigned a sob, his voice trailing off with pitiful whimpers.

Watching him, Eric pressed his lips together and glanced at Charles.

Charles's face remained stoic as he shook his head. His abilities told him that the man was faking it, a realization that made his anger rise.

He attempted to probe George's mind but was surprised to find that his mental defenses were far stronger than an average person's. Given his current skill level, it would take time to sift through his memories undetected.

Seeing that neither Eric nor Charles reacted, George wiped at his dry eyes and turned to them, forcing a smile. "From the look of things, you must've come here to live with me! Don't worry, I'll take good care of you."

Then he turned toward the bedroom and yelled, "Ruth! Bring some food for my kids!"

"Do it yourself, they're your kids!" a woman's irritated voice replied from the other room.

A flash of violence crossed George's eyes, but it vanished as he turned back around.

"I'll grab you something to eat; just wait a moment!" he said with a forced, fatherly grin, before disappearing into the bedroom. Inside, he found a woman sprawled on the bed, a cigarette dangling from her lips. "Didn't I just tell you something?" he snapped.

"Bah!" The woman exhaled a plume of smoke with disdain. "Look at you—so low you'd even sell your own kids."

"They're my sons; I can do with them as I please!" George sneered. "Are you feeling tender-hearted now? When that craving for drugs hits, you'd do anything with any man if he's got the cash!"

The woman's hand trembled slightly as she held her cigarette.

"And so what?" she scoffed, blowing smoke in his direction. "At least I can support myself! And you? You still need me to peddle stuff just to keep a parasite like you alive!"

George let out a harsh laugh. "Oh, please. Want to get in on the deal? Then we both get paid."

"Money..." The woman's gaze softened briefly. She snubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray, climbed out of bed, and muttered, "We're both going to hell, George!"

George pulled her close and kissed her fiercely. "Sweetheart, living without money—that's hell."

After a moment, the woman found a wearable coat, draped it over herself, and went with George to gather some food. They returned with a plate of leftovers and two cans of beer, setting it down in front of Eric and Charles.

Eric eyed the meal in disdain, particularly the beer, which left him speechless.

"Go on, dig in!" George urged, nudging the plate toward them. The woman behind him attempted a forced smile as well.

"We're not hungry," Charles replied politely, his tone calm despite the storm brewing inside him. He had glimpsed the woman's thoughts.

These two… No, these monsters actually intended to sell them.

"Then how about some candy?" The woman's smile stiffened as she extended her hand toward Eric, holding out two candies.

George couldn't hide a gleam of anticipation, licking his lips. He felt a twinge of regret that such "good stuff" was being wasted, but selling these boys afterward would more than make up for it.

Eric reached out and took one candy. Surely, just one wouldn't hurt, right?

"Don't eat it!" Charles's voice echoed in his mind, and Eric held the candy tight in his fist instead.

"Go on," George pressed. "Eat!"

"We'll save it for later," Charles responded with an angelic smile, though his face quickly darkened. He'd finally unearthed memories of his mother.

They were hidden deep, like trash buried long ago, painful and neglected.

She had been tricked into a life of despair, beaten repeatedly. When she became pregnant, her addiction took hold, and George even forced her to sell her body while she was carrying his child. Eventually, she seized a chance to escape.

Charles shuddered, overwhelmed by the revelations.

"My child!" George suddenly extended his hand to him.

Charles recoiled, glaring fiercely. "You scumbag! Let's go!"

George looked taken aback, unable to comprehend the sudden shift. Just a moment ago, things were fine. Why was he suddenly being called a scumbag?

"Don't even think about leaving," the woman snarled, blocking the door with a cigarette in hand.

"Nice work, Ruth!" George chuckled, a malevolent grin spreading across his face as he advanced on the boys.

"Don't run! I'm your father!"

"Eric, he's trying to sell us!" Charles warned, ducking behind Eric.

Eric clenched his fist, tossing the candy aside, and focused his powers. The metal door rattled as magnetic force flared, yanking it open and flinging the woman aside, her screams echoing as she hit the wall.

Eric grabbed Charles, and they bolted toward the exit.

But a hulking figure blocked their path—George Baker, his body now transformed, muscles swelling grotesquely until he looked like some monstrous caricature.

"So, you're mutants too! Haha, this is perfect!" George laughed excitedly. Initially, he'd planned to sell them for their organs, but finding out they were mutants opened up even more lucrative possibilities.

In his eyes, he could already see piles of cash.

Charles pressed his hand to his temple, summoning his mental powers, while Eric controlled the metal in the room, surrounding himself with floating scraps as they prepared to fight their way out.

Just then, a familiar figure appeared beside them.

"Dad!" Charles and Eric exclaimed, eyes widening with relief.

Mike gently patted their heads, turning a steely gaze toward George Baker. "Alright, scumbag, it's time for the adults to handle this."

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