The boy in his wheelchair (Open)

The voice startled him, it was so close but he could not hear as she approached. Fausto was so busy feeling bad.That had never happened to him before, he was always noticing everything and ready to run anytime. Now he could not run... Why to be alert to the dangers and injustices? Anyway he could not run behind them and save damsels in distress. “Damsels in distress, nice name for a song.”
He was extremely busy hearing the laughter of children and teenagers playing with their own thoughts. He was dreaming of a time where “impossible” was not a word for him.
As always a situation kept him quiet for longer than he was used to, he feared his voice would have been extinguished for ever, perhaps together with his former life. His fear of losing his voice could be what pushed him before to keep talking shooting words like a machine gun without rest. The silence makes you feel alone.
But the words came out clearly from his mouth. He even thought his voice sounded more alive than he imagined it would sound.
Even without paying much attention he replied, his black eyes fixed on the snow and it´s entertainments. All he wanted was the winter to end... for him and for all.
"Yes, it affects the soul ... but in so many ways ..." Then he looked at her and his eyes came alive, she caused a great interest in him. It was a simple sensation, he felt identified with her. He did not just look but appreciate all the details, her skin was gray as the rock and probably as hard as it... she had wings that looked like wings of a bat.Obviously ignoring the size, the wings were very similar. Could she feel something with that skin? If your skin is made of stone, Are you able to fly...? She had a gift and also a curse, just like him. Maybe that's why, and just why he smiled and allowed himself to ignore the fact that these wings were a mockery to his mobility.There is always someone more unfortunate than you.

Then the teenager slowly shook his head, it was something that previously would have done differently, like shouting from the rooftops to destroy the peace and tranquility created by the white snow. But now, saying it was good enough.
"Is all white, so calm ... i would usually be jumping and running around..." He looked at his legs with sadness but also (if possible) with incomprehension and comprehension. There were things he did not understand about his illness but he knew something, a small piece of information that gave him a little hope. His muscles were fine. He realized she could misunderstand his situation, so he moved his legs happily. He first lifted one, then the other as if he was swimming in an invisible sea. "The saddest thing is that i could walk, but my bones do not support my weight." His eyes went down upon his chest and then his arms contemptuously and then back at her. "Even when I'm a bag of bones..." He smiled again with that thought. That bag of bones had been able to survive big battles, his body was perfect to survive. He loved it. Could have been in the wilderness alone worrying only about extreme temperatures without having to think about food or water. He never tried it but he was sure could survive eating just sand.
Many "could" and many "had" crossed his mind. There was an irrefutable certainty, he was still there.

Why girls stole so many smiles from him lately...? Although not from the girl he wanted. He smiled again but this time bitterly, another memory jumped on his head. Koga and katrina in the room together ... Did that lizard catch his prey ...? It was not her fault. If Fausto had been staying at the mansion for more than a month...
"My name is Fausto, maybe you've heard of me and Corrosive Revolution." He extended his hand toward her, whispering quickly... "Do not squeeze hard please." ... And a glimmer of hope came into his eyes with a crazy thought, he could eat stones. Hopefully she would know the band and that would give them something to talk about to help him escape his negative thoughts.
His disease fiercely attacked his bones but also his brain fulling it with melancholy and memories ... or was his heart the affected?
It was something unlikely for her to know the band with only three concerts, two in a local level and the other in a very different place in the world. With the Internet you never know ... did they have internet in that little school of Colombia?
Hopefully he will recover his health, and the world would surrender to his feet again. He smiled.

His standard greeting had changed, shaking hands and warn of its fragility was common now. At first he thought people would think he wanted attention, but after a couple of broken bones for that and several other causes, he started taking preventive measures without worrying about what people could think. One was the use of a wheelchair, another measure was to tell others of his fragility.
It seemed to work because since he had stopped trying to stand on it´s own, his leg´s bones were fine, he was giving a lot of work to the medical team.
He was surprised that his eyes deceived him that way, his hands touched her skin while shaking hands. Despite the gray color and these nails like claws that hand was just as human as him. As human as can be a mutant. It was interesting...

Fausto was always good at two things, to talk and draw people's attention. Not necessarily talking to get people's attention ... but this time someone was willing to listen without him having to eat things like umbrellas and coins in front of a crowd. She even showed interest in his band ... well it is also true that if he had not said something about the band she would never have realized about the existence of such a wonderful band, especially for mutants rebels. Could it be the genre of their music? Maybe he just should say ...
"It's a rock band, it has a touch of rebellion and mutant pride in the letters that some would find a little much ..." His face turned into wince while he say the word mutant. The singer had no choice but to say it, or should have used a big break in the promotion of his band to explain that they were evolved beings and not a mutation, a mistake ... The teenager avoided that comment and continued after a little break that helped him to find the word in question. "... Extremist." He nodded with satisfaction finding the exact word he wanted. "But really all we do is play and give our point of view ... we are messengers." He liked that idea. Their were the angels sent from heaven to deliver an important message: The mutants should count themselves lucky to have their skills and above all ... not to be humiliated by anyone.

He very much regreted not having the guitar there at the time. It would not be like with the whole band but at least she would know the music and the message they conveyed.
Where he had left his guitar? The last time he saw it was ... Fausto could not remember where he had left the guitar he use in their last concert, in fact, two weeks vanished since the last time he tried to write songs and worry about leaving his room.

The young singer moved his eyes in despair and impatience ... he never was labeled as separatist, what was next ...? The holy inquisition? He smiled foolishly at the thought of a angry mob carrying torches ready to burn them at the stake for heresy. Rock music had a long history of affiliations with the devil, but they just used it as a medium for their messages. What teenager in their right mind would listen to a politician? In contrast with the music was easier to reach more people ... Despite his impatience, his new self taciturn and melancholy replied calmly. Quietly. "We are not separatists ... we just believe that the mutants, like any living creature should not be humiliated by others ... or let others tell them they do not deserve something." He used to defend their ideas with nails and teeth, more teeth than nails but this time he could just let it go. He did not felt that inner fire that drove him to be ... impulsive.

Then he remembered his father, his death and the work that led him to his grave. He repeated one of his phrases, which always ended his speeches. "We want the same laws and rights for mutants and humans." His father had been an activist for the rights of people with different skills or characteristics, the so-called mutants. But still no one had called him a separatist. What he did was try to unite, not separate.

The memories of his father did not stay long in his head, as they were being attacked by the kids that could run and play. A huge snowball flew menacingly in his direction. It was not going to make anything even in a direct hit on the head, but Gina stopped them with quick movement. The snowball exploded in a cloud of the same material as a small dust like a curtain dropped with no other option on both viewers. That snow war seemed endless, Fausto had been watching from a while ago, and still continued with the same intensity from the beginning. These hyperactive children were not good for his mental health ... but the claws that her companion alighted on her hips might well have kept away a lion or a bear ... these nails looked really sharp. Although his own teeth had nothing to envy. Just maybe at first glance he did not seem so threatening ... the surprise factor is also important.

The question was simple, but it does not deserve an answer as simple and unnecessary. With just say they could go inside to eat had been enough, but a part within it, the great part of him that wanted attention constantly needed to further strengthened its tragedy. He looked at the boys who were still playing in the snow, his eyes followed them as they left footprints on the pristine white snow. "I would like to run without any particular direction ... but I'm in a wheelchair ..." Remembering his current state was simple, he just had to look down or pay attention at his hands rubbing the surface of the chair. Remember how he felt while running was more difficult ... Why he had not kept his memories in a safer place? He never thought that those times that nothing prevented him from running could be a treasure.

With a flick of his wrist the wheelchair started to move toward the door that she kindly held open for him. He stopped his vehicle next to her for a moment, long enough to tell her what they might do and then another quick motion moved his chair right to the kitchen. It was downstairs so he would not have to climb those damn stairs or wait for the small and slow elevator.
"We could go in and enjoy my second favorite thing ... eat. I think i have some "sweets" in my pockets but we should find something for you. " He smiled again, remembering he still had that ability, not all of his previous life had vanished. At least he could still enjoy the pleasures that allowed his skills.
The chair moved forward with it´s peculiar purring into the kitchen. She would have no problem following him, after all, she could walk and fly ...

He knew the way to the kitchen by memory, he visited the kitchen half sleep for a quiet breakfast long before the right time, even at night without making much noise to enjoy an extra plate with the remains of dinner. His silent steps now had been replaced by a constant hum like a big cat purr.
That was his favorite place in the mansion, many people knew it, he loved to go through the kitchen while being at the mansion.
Very often he meet there with the guy who had this strange but interesting ability to remember every taste, that guy was great for cooking because he remembered the best ingredients and flavors for all. Very often it was there cooking. Fausto was not lucky this time, they would be happy with anything they could find there instead of his tasty food.

The teenager who once had been able to run behind the injustices mocking of the dangers decided to omit that what he did could be considered community service. Not the band, that annoyed many when doing a concert. The human community would be grateful for him to not make so much noise, or give things to think to young and scared mutants ... but his hunts could be considered community service. It was not a clean job, but he liked to think that to a lesser or greater extent he punished people who would otherwise go unpunished.
He sleep more comfortable knowing that there were people like Luke who followed his dream and went on patrol every day prepared to put their skills to serve the community. How he called himself ...? His suit was fancy enough to be in a comic book.

He reached the place before her, which seemed to follow him with caution. Probably she not even remembered the way ... the mansion was too big to learn all their places. Fausto in particular had many problemse difficult by not staying there long enough. Eventually he managed to learn all the places. Why you should stay locked up? It was a simple question that he had asked too many people, not all responded as he wished. The mansion was simply enormous, but without reaching a labyrinthine level.
The kitchen was large enough to move easily with the wheelchair, so it did not take long for him to find a good place.

Fausto grinned, just seeing the food would turn him hungry, he was sure. There was no need to be hungry to enjoy the food, anyway she was in that state. Her stomach was more sincere than herself, and confessed it´s desire long before she realized it.
The boy looked at her while she was looking for food, with the intention to give some indication if needed, after all, he knew the kitchen better than her. "Can you use the tail as a hand ... ?" He asked very interested but not expecting the response, it was more an exclamation of surprise than a question. Since he was seeing for himself that she could do it. Then a cruel thought came to his mind."Just like a monkey."

The boy quickly nodded and went to the drawer where knives should be, along with other elements of the same type. (More properly, he shook his hand and the chair moved in that direction) There were knives, several different types, quietly waiting to be used. Fausto took the one that seemed more suited to the task of spreading, and give it to Gina. "Are you going to make enough for the two of us? I also want some ... " While wondering her answer, he pulled some metallic things from one of his pockets. Various nuts and bolts with different states of rust. Fausto launched one into the air and deftly caught it with his mouth.
He just took a few seconds to enjoy the taste of rust before it virtually disappeared transformed into liquid, liquid metal without flavor, to quickly lower for his throat.
"Delicious"

At first glance she looked like a monster, Fausto did not care to much, others might run and scream. He could imagine a bunch of humans looking at her like a weirdo, accusing her of any nonsense that has happened in his lives. As they did with the witches .
But what caught his attention were the skills she had that others do not. She could use his tail like a hand, well almost like a hand, which was quite impressive and useful in various circumstances. Not to mention that probably would have the ability to fly. It was very interesting to admire other mutations, and as each was unique. She could be a excellent side kick.
"I think everyone here has at least one wonderful thing."
While some mutations appeared to be related, he had never seen two exactly the same. He had learned while in the mansion to see all these "changes" objectively, some mutations were somewhat problematic and difficult to understand, like that girl who could turn into a small living swamp. A large accumulation of mud moving from side to side ... still he had to admit that she attracted attention.

He felt unique. That's what he wanted them to understand, it was the message to all the mutants around who were alone ... maybe they were a bit more than ordinary humans. And despite having for humans a bit of distrust, Fausto never came to hate them. One can not condemn an entire race for the atrocities of a few...
The singer thought she would feel very uncomfortable outside the mansion... or would use some sort of costume or something to hide some of his qualities as mutants as did many of his class. That really would make life much more complicated... Maybe that's why Fausto was accepted to be the band´s singer ... not to feel guilty for not having a visible mutation. Now with a pro mutant band, it was obvious that he mutant. Had he ever shown his skills on stage ...? He was not sure.

The way Gina replied to his question reminded him too much of his mother. Perhaps not with the same words or the exact gesture... but her mother also used to do that without the complicity that indicated it was a joke that Gina used. His eyes floated around her, remembering...
Although that gesture from his mother was not entirely welcome, as it indicated that even if he was willing or not he was going to finish all his food (probably some kind of deadly poison vegetable) before getting dessert. Instead this time it seemed a nice gesture, a bit weird but kind of cute. Even with her appearance ...
The teenager felt for a moment back at home, waiting for his mother to prepare lunch, and for his father to return from work in his free hour.
Then the three could eat together.

His smile grew bigger as she wondered about his mutation almost to look like a normal smile, still retained in it some of the sadness that followed him for some of the previous days. But he was more alive than in the past few hours. That little smile made him look healthier, it was good to get back to his previous life and enjoy all the things he liked before. Like a good conversation, or to watch the face of admiration of the people seeing him eat.
Fausto lifted with his left hand one of the screws, it was partially covered by rust. The screw remained between his thumb and index finger, exposed to the public. Like a magician before starting his act, everyone should check that it was truth.
That brought back many memories to him, good memories of when he went to the streets to earn some money by eating things ... he should try again now, with the wheelchair could make more money.
Then he took out his tongue, covered with his saliva, and deposit the screw carefully of not touching his own tongue. Trying to make the process visible, keeping his mouth open along with his tongue hanging out, not all, but enough for her to see.
The countless chemical processes in his saliva began to take effect quickly on the metal. Such material would take enough to melt to achieve a dramatic effect on the public, other material would disappear too quickly. Not so fast as to miss it, but not slow enough to appreciate what happened.

The portion of the screw in contact with his salivary fluids began to unravel the solid object into all it´s chemical components, giving way to a kind of liquid.
The simplest comparison to what happened was that the screw seemed butter in a hot skillet. Exactly in that way the screw began to disappear.
Fausto then drank it quickly, not wanting to shed his saliva with the partially melted screw on the ground ... or would be in trouble.
He began to explain. "My whole digestive system has different characteristics that allow me to eat and drink anything." His black eyes looked up at an imaginary spot in the top right corner where his memories where stored.
"I can drink gasoline, any type of liquid poison ... I can eat any kind of thing... metal, paper, plastic, wood." He smiled again, this time with pride, because he was really proud of his mutation and the possibilities that this provided. Obviously he decided to ignore the negative details, that she could find another day. By now it was enough that she know his greatness. "My digestive system transforms everything i eat or drink in nutrients." then he gave the word to his attentive audience. "Any questions?"

It seemed that his greatest tragedy, according to others, was drooling on the pillow. People did not realize he could not kiss? Nor enjoy a taste for long enough...
"I do not drool while sleeping ... How many people do it?" Why do people always wondered about that ...? Fausto was decided, when he go on a tour with the band (his first world tour) would make a survey. He would surely discover what he already suspected, drooling in bed form a smaller percentage than mutations.
He suspected that this particular activity was carried out by some evil gene.
Then he do not understand why they chased mutants instead of the evil people that soaked their own pillows in saliva soaked every night. It was almost impossible not to realize their malice and cruelty to the pillows. While mentally wandered about the cruel fate of the these soft creatures, he watched Gina preparing the sandwiches, What she was doing was not easy.

Fausto feared that at any time Gina would ask about the chemistry behind his skills and how that could possibly happen, scientifically speaking. Fortunately she did not asked that, he would not have known how to respond.
Then continue with his explanation. He loved to explain its abilities and that everyone realized he was more than a boy that could eat anything. He patiently answered. "No, you got it wrong. Just my digestive system is immune to my saliva. The rest of my body like my skin can be burned as anything else. I do not understand how it works, but it produce a chemical burn ... "
The teenager took the sandwich that she offered, and looked at it with sadness just for a second. He knew it would not last longer than the screw. It disintegrated much faster, disappearing at the same time as the flavors did. That really was a tragedy ...

The boy rushed to respond, he did not want his new friend to feel guilty. He talked faster, rushing to finish before she had the time to feel bad, but without hesitation. "Of course not, I think my question about your tail was more invasive. I would also like to know if you fly, but I will not ask. " But to let her know he really wanted to know he just winked hoping her to tell him. He knew it would be much harder to wait for her to just fly just as happened with the tail.

He bit a big piece of the sandwich without even having time to chew it began to lose its shape in his mouth, chemically disintegrated into a liquid that his bowel was responsible to use to obtain nutrients. Fausto was never able to find out how it worked. With his food in his left hand, he approached to try to help with the cleanup. He take a piece of kitchen paper towel of the other table with his right hand and began to remove small spots of peanut butter and jelly that where closer.
"Once I used my saliva to break a pipe in my room, which led to further flooding and relocation. Luckily it's fixed now. " He even remembered the face of Sam when he reported what had happened in his room, he remembered very well how he said that inadvertently drooled while sleeping, and that was the source of the disaster.
While cleaning, bread crumbs fell to the table with every bite, the singer did not seem to care and continued his work as he enjoyed the amusing story .