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by Jolanh
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Action/Adventure · #2220694
A silly story of a joke name made serious business
Your're Mine

Bowen Enfield ran through the dimly lit alley. His Five foot ten frame, splashed through the small puddle, distorting the image of the moon above. It had rained earlier, and it did not improve the pungent smell of coming from the rusted out dumpsters, lining the corridor of, bricks and mortar. He stopped to catch his breath for a few moments, turning his hat backwards letting a tuft of black hair stick out. “Who are these guys and why are they chasing me?” He asked himself.

The chase had started not even ten minutes ago, interrupting his nightly meal at the Black Fish Diner, renowned for its home style cuisine. Greta the owner, main waitress, and his friend would always have a tall glass of Dr. Pepper waiting for him as he entered. Today he was denied the spicy cherry taste. He had just entered when three men two dressed in military gear, and flak jackets, next to a man in a fancy suit, turned their attention to him. The man in the suit glared at him, and pointed. Bowen waved to them, after all it was only polite. That one action, caused the three men to get up.

The man wearing the suit, with hair greying on the side, and ferret like face shouted, “You're mine”, before turning to his cohort, and saying, “Prepare the needle”.

His friend reached into the inside pocket of his faded jacket. He quickly pulled out a small vial of clear liquid that, went pink in direct light, and a small syringe, the kind you would see a diabetic with.
Bowen was not stupid, when people started saying things like “you're mine”, and “get the needle”, it was time to find someplace else to carry on his evening. It didn't matter where, as long as the people didn't have needles. He swung the door open the bell rang loudly. He slowly turned as his right foot found outside. The three men rapidly headed to the door, and then he ran, as fast as his slender frame would allow.
As he steadied his breathing, and his heart stopped trying to win the Kentucky Derby. He took a few precious moments to ponder who these men were. Obviously they weren't gang bangers, the sleepy Town of Tallpines was too small for that, and their posture was too good. They moved in unison, maybe they were police? Or military? Oh God he thought, Was putting I.C. Weiner on a military application a punishable offence? He was only nineteen, and had just moved out of his parents house, and he was going to lose everything, because of I.C. Weiner.
His thought process was ruined by voices echoing along the alley, and footsteps splashing in water. The men in tactical gear came into view. Bowen hid in the only viable place, under a carboard box, the ravens had been using for target practice. Taking a deep breath, he took the box that was spattered with raven feces and placed over his body. He fought the urge to puke, for a few moments, before his survival instincts took over, and he managed to gain control of his gag reflex.
The footsteps came closer, and the voices louder. At first he couldn't make out anything, but through a tiny hole he could see the men were parked just in front of the box. He almost gasped, but managed to stop himself, from giving away his position. Instead he took the opportunity to find out what was really going on, like he had a choice.
A strong male voice asked, “Hey Wilson, why are we in this Podunk town anyway? The briefing only stated this was a retrieval?”
A second male voice with a southern drawl replied, “We are here to retrieve an important asset. Have you heard of project Stargate?”, judging from their friendly tones, Bowen could tell they had worked together often.
“No I haven't”, the first male voice said curiously
“Let me educate you Ortega. In the the seventies, the CIA wanted to see the viability of remote viewing. As in seeing targets from a great distance, without having to send anyone. The project, was a complete flop, and was declassified in the mid nineties”, Wilson said taking on the tone of a school teacher.
Ortega played the part of a bored student, “That still doesn't explain why we are here”, he said in a tired tone. Bowen wished they both would shut up and move on. Then only to add his to misery, he passed a silent but violent fart, that filled the already foul smelling box with an acrid scent of his own design. Bowen tried so hard to breath through his mouth, wishing he could only smell the Raven poop now.
“I was just getting to that, they had two major successes, and those successes went on to have children. Ichabod Cornelius Weiner, and Amanda Huginkis. Those children were born with psychic abilities, one of which was astral projection, and the other was telepathy. Don't make that face Ortega, I have seen the videos, those two are the real deal”, Wilson paused and laughed, “Okay so maybe the names are funny. What is not funny is they escaped almost six years ago. Last week our Canadian contacts said a military application came into their possession with the initals I.C. Weiner. The address was for this town. B team is searching the house ”
Bowen wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, because his life was literally being ruined by I.C. Weiner. It dawned on him in that moment, the application meant to be a joke, had been the cruel victim of fate. This was a nightmare, and it was going to get a whole lot worse. It was at this particular moment, his parents decided to call him. Now if he had put the ringer on silent, or even vibrate this would never have been a problem. When your ringer is some loud and obnoxious gangster rap song, that goes “Where my bitches at”, hiding becomes next to impossible.
Bowen smothered the phone to muffle the noise as best he could, in hopes Wilson and Ortega would think it was coming from the dumpster next to him. “Please go away, please go away, please go away” he said in his mind.
“Shhhh. Do you hear that Ortega?”, Wilson asked, just as Bowens parents decided to end their call.
“I didn't hear anything. I told you to start wearing the ear covers at the range. Its given you tinnitus, your ears are probably ringing”, Ortega said to Wilson in a very, I told you so, tone.
Wilson didn't get a chance to retort before his phone started ringing, “Wilson here...No sir we lost him...Your orders?...We will be there in ten”, the call ended. “Come on Ortega, B team thinks they have something , we are being called to back them up. Lets hope our guy is there, or Ragland is going to have a fit”
Ortega snorted, “I wish that jerk would get his hands dirty, just for once. The man thinks he is gods gift to operations, when in reality he is gods gift to ass kissing”
Wilson laughed, “I am glad I got paired with you Ortega, your sense of humour makes this situations just a little more bearable”, Bowen could hear the sound of a hand clapping on a shoulder.
“No charge. Lets hope this does not drag on like that incident in Utah”, Ortega said as his voiced started to fade into the distance.
Wilson laughed, “It was not that bad, what about that time...”, and his voice faded off in the distance. Bowen waited an extra five minutes, before emerging from the box, and taking a gasp of fresh air.
“Now what”, he said to himself. Several things were clear, he could not go home because they were searching his house, and his roommate probably was rethinking the living arrangement. He could not go to his friends houses, as they were most likely being questioned, and now most likely not his friends. He had think of a place, no one would ever expect him to be. He cursed his mind for its sluggishness, and just as he was toying with turning himself in, he thought of Bexley.
Bexley Granade, was the town eccentric. Not much was known about her, and no one knew what she really looked like. She endeavoured to look as unusual as possible, and always had different hair, but the usual rumours flew around like leaves in the wind. One said she was a high priced call girl and entertained men as a profession. Another said she was Gypsy descended, and would curse you if you looked at her wrong. Bowens personal favourite, was she was an alien princess looking for her prince, to breed a race of warriors to take over the world. This was strictly a hypothesis of the Governmentalists, the local conspiracy theorists group. Bowen chuckled until he remembered why he was being chased, and the Governmentalists did not seem so crazy.
Bexley lived roughly five kilometres out of town. “No problem” he thought, “All I have to do is get my car...Damn”, it was back at the diner, where there may or may not be people looking for him. It was not worth the risk. He was left with several other options, all of them could very well bring him into contact with his new “Friends”.
Stealing a car was completely out of the question, as he did not need to complicate the situation further. The second and more viable option, was to steal a bicycle, and take the wendigo trails where supposedly a real wendigo was spotted. After having his world rocked by Ichabod Cornelius Weiner, he feared he would meet the accursed thing, despite the fact it was summer. The third option was to make the journey on foot, and that was even less appealing, and more risky than the trails.
In the end he stole and eighteen speed carbon fibre bike, owned by the local gym teacher. Bodie Odoure. Bowen didn't bother to speculate on his last name. It was unfortunate, the teacher valued the bike more, than he did his car. Not that anyone could blame him. A bike like this one was easily worth around three grand. Four grand if he had it outfitted with titanium parts, and carbon rims that could be straightened in the freezer overnight. Anyway the point is Bodie had wired a special alarm to the bike.
Bowen swore loudly as the alarmed screamed like a banshee giving him away. The lights in the house went on, and the dog was now barking thanks to the alarm. Bowen jumped on the bike and began pedalling as hard a he could. Bodie owned a pitbull called Precious Bertha . Whose barking was so loud the house across the road turned on its light as well. As he watched the monstrous mutt in the window bang against it. He came to the conclusion, it was better to avoid finding out what was worse, the bark or the bite.
The shifter clicked, and the chain rattled as the bike slowly picked up speed. A few more seconds and the rush of night air hit hit Bowen in the face. He headed to the Wendigo trails, to avoid detection. Unfortunately this would prove to be harder that it sounded, as the familiar sound of a remote control drone came from behind him.
Bowen looked skyward in anger, cursing the man above, “Why do you hate me?”, seriously why? Tonight had been nothing but one misadventure after another. Not only that he was denied his nightly Dr. Pepper, and no one messes with that, unless she was hot. However, he was not going to let his anger get in the way of his survival. He turned down the street, which led to the forest containing the trails.
The drone matched his speed rather easily, a toy would not have this kind of capability, and he surmised this must be a military grade drone. He wondered if it had a taser attached to it, or even worse a gun. “Bowen shut up you have enough problems right now never mind made up ones”, he scolded himself as he flew over the bank, front wheel in the air, landing flawlessly on the hard packed earth of the trail.
He was peeved he could not turn on the LED lamp placed on the handle bars, but sacrifices had to be made, in order to lose the drone. The light would be nothing more than a giant blinking sign saying, “Feel free to pick me off”. The silvery moonlight provided adequate vision, allowing him to dodge pitfalls, and the dense foliage on either side of the trail.
The drone remained in steady pursuit, “how in the hell could this thing still see me?”, he thought, as he jumped off a rock. A few more twists and turns, and it came to him, the drone was equipped with night vision.
The drone was having trouble keeping up now, because the canopy of leaves and pine needles was hiding him for short stretches. In spite of everything Bowen was proud of himself, maybe this night had gotten out of hand, but he had managed to keep his cool, well most of it anyway.
“How about congratulating yourself once you get away?” a voice in his head asked, he almost flew off the trail in surprise, because the voice did not belong to him. At first he was angry at the invading voice but then, “Turn left, and jump over the log” the voice urgently said.
Bowen had nothing to lose at this point, he leapt over the the log at the edge of a short drop, and heard two distinct thunks, as his back tire cleared the log. “Tranquilizer darts, I was not far off the mark about the drone”, he thought.
“Make a right”, the voice said, as he came to fork in the trail.
At first Bowen wanted to argue with this new voice. However it had proven to be helpful, even though it was completely invading that last sanctum a person has, the mind.
“Trust me I wouldn't be doing this if you were not in real trouble”, the voice said apologetically
As Bowen turned right, he could see why the voice had chosen this particular path. The forest was much more dense in this area, and would make it harder for the drone to see him. Though the drone was not be discouraged so easily. Whoever was flying it, was experienced. The drone must have been a tailor, because it threaded the needle, weaving in and out of the branches. Bowen had nothing but respect for the pilot. It was now right behind him. Bowen started to move back and forth, making himself a harder target for the tranquilizer darts.
“Damnit” the voice in his head in frustration, “Don't worry we will figure something out”
Bowen was not going to wait for the person who may, or may not exist, to guide his actions next and came up with a plan. He saw a long whippy willow branch, arms reach from the trail. He grabbed it as he passed stretching it as far as possible, and then released it,
The drone may have saw it coming, but there was nothing it could have done to prevent the thick branch from slamming it to the ground, shattering a rotor.
“Well, that was impressive”, the voice said in admiration, “I promise you will have answers the moment we get you out of harms way”
Bowen was getting tired, he had been going for an hour straight. Even in spite of this, he was not going to give this Ragland any satisfaction, by getting captured easily.
The voice guided him through the complex trails, Bowen was grateful for the voice, who had proven more useful, than he expected. He kept pushing his aching legs forward, going as fast as he could. Just because he took down one drone did not mean there were others, he thought
“That is the most useful thing you have thought all night”, the voice echoed in his mind
He was getting close to the road, and he knew this because the forest was getting thinner, kind of like that mans head, he had seen earlier.
“Crap” The voice in his head shouted loudly. Bowen looked up just in time to see a dart pierce his pectoral muscle. The sedative was super effective, as he fell to the ground from the bicycle, hitting the soft grass. The last thing he saw, was the smug grin of Ferret Face. “Make sure you, restrain him properly”, was the last thing he heard before everything went black.
When Bowen awoke it was to familiar voices, “Ragland is super pissed, this kid destroyed the tracer drone. It was not cheap either, a couple million was sunk into it”, Wilsons southern drawl said in an impressed tone.
The drug was lingering in Bowen's system, like a bad house guest, throwing a party without his permission, and then refusing to clean up. He was aware of the cold floor now, and the unyielding grip of the steel around his wrist. His head was holding a heavy metal concert, mosh pit included. This was like having the worst hangover, without all the fun that earned a hangover.
“You told him not to underestimate someone running for their lives. He had every reason to listen, but since he is Gods gift to operation why would he do something sensible like that”, Ortegas voice replied.
“Five years we have been hunting them, and we finally captured one of the escapees”, Wilson said proudly. “By the way that was some impressive drone piloting”
Ortegs voice was filled with pride, “Hey it was your training course that honed my skills”, he said pausing, “I heard this one was a boogeyman back at base. The elites got nervous when he was brought here. Several of them backed up a good foot”.
Bowens ears perked up a little upon hearing this. For as long as he could remember, he had never been allowed touch a weapon. Not even with a long pole, using the hand of someone else. He was a book worm, and scholar. He had no doubt, a six year old girl could beat him.
Wilson s voice dropped low as if he was telling a ghost story. “I was a rookie when they escaped. This one here was an absolute demon. The kid was fourteen, and stealthy as hell. I never got to see him fight, but I could tell by how quickly the radio went silent, he was not a slouch in combat. When we gave up the search, five men were dead, and ten more were seriously injured. It was my first live mission, and I was scared”, he paused as his voice got lower, “I let him get out”
Ortega lowered his voice too, “What? Are you saying you are the reason he escaped?”
Wilsons voice became defensive, “No, I was at the east exit, and he came my way. My bowels turned to water the moment I saw him, and my knees were knocking together. He walked by and left me alone, I had froze in fear. Its why I volunteered us for this mission, redemption”
Ortega was a proper partner to Wilson, “Its okay man, when I was with the rangers, I let a kid into our camp. Little did we know he was a saboteur, I got a reprimand in my file for that one. We all make mistakes”, he said reassuring his companion. “So what makes him so deadly?”, he asked
Wilsons voice seemed unsure, “I didn't have clearance for that, what I do know is the kid was a gifted fighter. I know Ragland does not trust him, he thinks the adult escapee gave him a dose of deception, causing him to forget himself. Ragland is not taking chances with him”
The metal door swung open, on rusty hinges that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Bowen resisted the urge to cover his ears. The last thing he wanted is to answer dumb questions. He could hear the tapping sound of expensive shoes enter the . Two feet stomped in unison, “Sir”, stiff voices said.
“As you were” a friendly, seductive male voice said. “By the way Ortega, you did well with the drone, and the shareholders, have decided to provide us with another. You may not have hit him, but you herded him towards us, and that is just as good. There will be a bonus on your next cheque”
Bowen groaned because the voice belonged to ferret face.
Ortegas voice was filled with pride, “Thank you sir you flatter me”
“As for you Wilson, if you had not noticed the trails on the map, we may never have caught him. You are now point man for these capture operations. Human resources, will have some forms you can fill out via email”, he paused, “I assume you want to name Ortega as your right hand man?”, the voice asked
Wilson did not hesitate, “Of course, I wouldn't dream of working with anyone else”
“Make sure you relieve Hawkins of his position, I am tired of his half baked ideas. You at least try to get into the head of your quarry”, the male voice said, “Now you two get something to eat, you earned it”
“Yes sir”, the voices said in unison and two sets of boot prints could be heard echoing off in the distance. The metal door closed with a loud clank. The expensive shoes headed back toward him.
“I know you are awake”, the voice said, despite the fact the voice was friendly, Bowen was not inclined to trust it
Bowen could hear every link, clinking as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, his tailbone was a bit sore from the fall. Other than that he was in decent shape, well aside from being chained to the wall of course, “So Ferret Face please tell me you didn't come here because of that stupid application”, he said bravely. If there is one thing he had surmised about his grim predicament, was Ferret Face needed him alive.
Ferret Face, glared at him, “Five years, and even with your memories erased, you still manage call me that wretched name”, he said, his voice dripping with venom for his captive.
Bowen was enjoying this now, “Look Ferret Face, If you would like me to call you something else, it might be prudent to give me a name”, he said conversationally.
Ferret Face nodded, “Yes I suppose that would help wouldn't it”, he held out his hand, “Evan Ragland, head of project homeguard, and your former caretaker”, he said with a false warmth.
He refused to touch this mans hands. Instead he mimicked a scale using both hands, the chains clinking as each hand moved up and down, “Ragland or Ferret Face, which do I like better? On the one hand Evan Ragland sounds sinister, but since I know Ferret Face bothers you, I will stick with that”
Ragland laughed, as did Bowen, right before the expensive, gator skin shoes, connected with his ribs. Bowens lungs fought to recapture all the air they lost, as his hands wrapped around his torso out of reflex. “I hated that mouth, when you were here. I hated it even more because even in your ignorance you mock me” he said pacing in front of him.
Bowen knew he was not the mastermind, and wondered how the Shareholders would react to damaged goods. He pulled himself back to a sitting position. “You know most people send emails these days. As the old song goes, if I knew you were coming I would have baked cake. We could have sat down like adults and worked this out. Hell you could have sent an owl Hogwarts style, and I would have believed you...”
Ragland scowled, as his fist connected with Bowen's face, “You are so lucky you are one of a kind, Enfield. I have permission to rough you up, believe me if I could kill you, there would be a ditch with your name on it”, he said rubbing his hand. “Anita Huginkis...”
Bowen put up his hands, “Whoah buy me dinner at least, I don't put out on the first date”, he watched as Raglands right eye twitched involuntarily. “Look I hate to disappoint you man, but I like girls. Just because you have me chained up, does not mean you can treat me like your personal altar boy”, he said laughing, at this point it was all he could do. Not to mention there was something so incredibly satisfying about winding Ragland up like a cheap dollar store toy.
Raglands fist, whistled before connecting with his face, as if it enjoyed the grisly job it was performing. This time his left eye felt the sting of Raglands knuckles. His blood rushed to the area, to see what all the fuss was about. “Do you think this is just about you?” he shouted, “This about the others you helped escaped. I was humiliated, lost my position, and the respect of my peers. I will have what I deserve, and you are powerless to stop me”, he was now tearing at his hair, and his voice moved an octave higher.
Bowen laughed, this Ragland was throwing a tantrum a five year old would envy, “So what makes me one of a kind?”, he asked calmly, as Ragland smacked him across the mouth. His lip split, like a watermelon at a baptist barbecue, he could taste the iron in his blood.
“You are still mocking me”, he said, like a child pulling on his mothers apron strings, tattling on his siblings.
“Ragland pull yourself together, or I won't tell you where the others are”, he said wondering if Ragland was rattled enough to jump on anything related to his precious redemption.
Ragland, stopped dead in his tracks, “Do you really know where they are?”, he asked in a hopeful tone.
Bowen just laughed, “No, I was just testing your listening skills. You pass by the way”
Ragland grabbed by Bowen by the shirt. The fetid smell of clam chowder, offended his nostrils. “Your training was erased from your mind, yet the anti interrogation techniques remained, how is this possible?” he said talking to himself. He suddenly let Bowen go, “Don't go away, I have to check on something”, he said chuckling at his own bad joke.
Bowen relaxed after he left, and looked around the stony room. He examined the the bolts securing the think chains to the wall. Standard hex bolts, galvanized against rusting. If he had something to chip the stony armor around the bolt away, he could escape.
Ragland may have been a complete child, but he was not about to let him escape. He was eager to find out who he was before the supposed memory wipe. He heard a thumping noise coming from the vent above. At first he thought a bird or a cat had found their way into the vent. That was until a section of the roof said “OW, Damn spiders”
He looked up at the metal vent cover ten feet up, it shifted and then fell, landing with a loud clank. A girl with pink and purple hair stuck her head out, “Oh hey Bowen, how are you holding up?” she asked.
“Bexley what the hell are you doing here? Are you caught up in the middle of this too?”, he asked, in amazement.
She giggled as she pulled a syringe out of a glasses case, “The name is Amanda Huginkis, at first I thought Ichabod gave me away. Then I heard a crazy story about a military application sent in as a joke”, she paused, “I am about to inject you with a drug called Awaken, it won't bring back your lost memories, but it will allow you to use your powers...”
Bowen backed away, “What powers do I have, and why in the hell do I want them?”, he asked.
Amanda sighed, “Bowen you do not want to be in Azraels hands, I'll show you my boobs, if you let me stick you with this needle” she said.
Bowen entertained the thought for a moment, “No I want an explanation”
Amanda slapped him, and then stuck the needle painfully into his arm, “There will be plenty of time for that later”
“Poor bastard” he heard Amanda say, thirty seconds after the drug entered his system. Except he did not see her mouth move.
His hands glowed for a moment, “What the hell?” he said panicking
Amanda held his face in her hands, “Okay breath deep and focus on making a lock pick, you have seen one I assume?”, she asked. Bowen nodded, and slowed his breathing, without her glasses Bex was kind of cute, she had that girlish charm about her, and she was rather shapely....
Amandas hand slapped him again, “While I am flattered we need to remain focused Bowen”
Bowen did as he was told, and he managed to pick the lock, he was not sure how this was possible, in the grand scheme of things, it was perhaps the least strange thing that happened this evening.
Amanda giggled, “I can just imagine, sorry I couldn't keep you from getting you captured”, she said apologetically.
“You were the voice in my head, while was on the trail?”, he asked as the feeling returned to his wrists. Amanda did not bring any rope to go back the way she came.
Amanda smiled brightly and nodded, “That was me, and we are going to practice you power, its called pyschic in fusion. You can shape psychic energy into a variety of things, and I suggest you manifest some rope, Ortega and Wilson are on their way back”
Was it just him or was Amanda enjoying this a little too much, “Ummm, I do that how?” he asked weakly.
Amanda shook her head, “The same way you made the lock pick stupid, I promise I will explain everything but it can't be here okay?”, she asked.
Bowen focused, and allowed his hands to create the rope and grapple hook. He swung the hook around his head until he released it. He had no idea what he had gotten hooked on, but it was solid enough to hold Bexleys weight. She climbed rapidly, and when she was halfway up Bowen followed her.
They had just made it to the hole, when the Ortega and Wilson had entered the room. “Get in touch with Ragland now. I can't believe this is happening again. I told Ragland there should be a guard on him at all times” Wilson said angrily
Bowen followed Bexleys tight bottom all the way to the fresh night air, “Well at least we know your little brain is working” she said sarcastically, as she dusted of her pants.
From the top of the building Bowen knew exactly where they were, Bandys House of Wig Washing, their slogan was, “You will dance a jig, when you see how we style your wig”, Heather Bandy had started the business two years ago. Since no one was brave enough to try her service out, she turned to selling ecstasy pills to keep the business open. She was busted six months later.
Amanda rolled her eyes, “Honestly Bowen you have the most useless thoughts right now” she said slapping him again.
Bowen glared at her, “If you don't like my thoughts stopping invading my damn privacy” he said giving her a shove. Yeah it was a petty thing to do, but he was tired of her commenting on every little thing his brain came up with. He stood over her, hands on his hips, “Now tell me how we get off this roof safely”, he demanded.
Amanda smiled, “Nice to see some of the old you is in there, you were always kind of hot when you got...” she blushed as she took his hand. They looked around as groups of soldiers were frantically looking walking into the nearby woods, and scanning the perimeter for Bowen.
Bowen studied them, and saw a hummer with the keys in the ignition, “Hey Amanda, can you distract the men near that hummer?” he asked. The idea was to get to the hummer
“Well duh”, Amanda said as she nodded, “Yeah I have just the idea too”. She suddenly slumped over as if she was asleep. At first Bowen was not sure how helpful this was going to be, until another her appeared over over near the edge of the woods. He remembered Astral projection was the ability to allow the mind/ soul to travel freely without the constraints of the body, at least it was a close approximations.
Amanda patted her butt, and taunted the already excited soldiers, who did not hesitate to chase the apparition of her. She giggled and raced into the woods. Over three quarters of the soldiers , followed her, leaving a skeleton crew to defend the abandoned shop.
Amanda gasped as her spirit returned to her body, “Bowen reformed the hook and rope, and rapidly repelled down, and landed silently on his feet. Only one guard by the hummer, he walked silently but unfortunately stealth was no longer one of his strengths.
The guard attacked, and at first, the advantage belonged to his more experienced rival. The tables turned as with each strike, Bowen seemed to be able to copy his attacks. After a short exchange of blows, Bowen managed to stab the soldier through the head with a psychic blade. He fell to the ground convulsing, and Amanda rushed from the side of the building straight into the passenger seat of the hummer.
Bowen noted the fifty caliber mounted in the back turret, “Drive, I will handle the shooting”
Amanda had already climbed in the back, “Like you get to have all the fun Bowen”, she said as the machine gun loaded with a loud ca-chunk.
The tires squealed as they pulled out of the parking lot leaving a small black patch, and a group of angry soldiers shouting at them, and a puff of black smoke, made of burnt rubber. Bowen was excited, he found some sort of sick and twisted fulfillment in the days events.
With some breathing room he experimented with a few things. First was signalling Amanda without words. “We have to ditch this vehicle, and get something a little less showy. It would not surprise me if they have GPS trackers on this thing. Unless you want to keep having near misses” he thought”.
Amanda seemed genuinely surprised, “You weren't this clever back in the day”, she said taking a seat next to him. “We should use our abilities sparingly, until we really need it. Ragland has those psydrones. He designed them to pick up psychic energy, and they are a little too effective for my taste”, She placed her hand on the dash, and she briefly glowed, “Oh there the GPS has been disabled”, she said happily.
Bowen looked over at her, “How can you possible know that?”, he said in disbelief. No one could tell anything about a machine just by touching it, it was impossible.
Amanada laughed, “You are so cute. I am a technopath, I can manipulate machinery with my mind”, She paused to put her seatbelt on, “Anyway those drones are are no joke. I can't manipulate them either, Ragland outfitted them with some sort shield against my powers”
Bowen ignored the questions of Amanadas powers, and went straight into the, the selfish thought of how the drone found him, “Is that how the drone found me in the first place?” he asked, “That does not really make sense my powers were blocked”, he said flicking on the windshield wipers.
Amanda put her feet up on the dash, above the glove box. Bowen could not help but notice her shapely legs, and nearly rolled off into the ditch. Amanda giggled, “Honestly Bowen, you were never like this, we used to joke that you were born old”, she said playfully pushing him, “As for the drone, just because your powers were not working, does not mean the psychic energy vanished. It was still there, it was just weaker, and the drones could easily follow that”.
The front seat was filled with the sound of his ringer going, “Where my Bitches at” from the center console. Amanda picked it up, “Hello...He is driving right now...Amanda...I am his new girlfriend...We are taking a road trip together before college starts...He is most definitely a special boy...Oh we will try to stop by on our way back...It's too early to tell that, okay bye, he sends his love...One more thing he has to get a new phone, someone hacked it and ran up a pretty hefty international tab...I will make sure he calls you...Okay bye”, and she tossed the phone out the window,
Bowen resisted the urge to turn and retrieve it, “That was a two thousand dollar phone... Ragland will take what is on there and make my friends and family pay...” he stopped because Amanda was laughing.
“Relax Ragland is not going to risk blowing his operation, and I know someone who can help us, and all we have to do is head to Climax Saskatchewan”, Amanda said brightly, “In the mean time let me tell you a story about where we came from”
Bowen pressed the accelerator and put on his listening ears and sped off into the distance.






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