Chapter 10: Hunters

Cemmera Wilson, Division Captain and team leader of Op. team four-H, smiled as she felt the excitement grow.

“Give me the analysis, Santos.”

Santos looked towards the ground and appeared to be deep in focus. He was a fat, weird-looking fellow with mushroom-shaped hair and large cheekbones, but none of that mattered to Cemmera. Santos could be as fat and ugly as he wanted, as long as he did his job properly.

“It’s the two we’re looking for, no doubt about it. They’re both Teleys and they’re both scared out their wits. They have a feeling we’re closing in on them, and they’re about to lose it.”

“Do they sense you?” she asked.

“Not at all. They’re amateurs, untrained.”

Cemmera nodded. This was good.

They were crouched out of sight and huddled behind a filthy stretch of wall that lined a storage facility in Midtown Manhattan. All five were bundled in bulletproof T.A.C jackets, Comm radios, 9mm. firearms, and non-constrictive helmet gear.

As usual, Manhattan roared with activity. Cars sped to and from work, restaurants, and a few other less respectable places. Positioned over a sewer grate, the stench annoyed Cemmera, but she pushed it from her mind and focused on the entry point.

“Can everyone here make the jump? It’s only a two-story window.” Cemmera beamed with approval as one by one, her team-members nodded. It was only about a fifteen foot jump to the window, and her team was well-trained. Even a Telepath could make the jump with proper training.

Cemmera motioned with her hands, and in one fluid motion, the team bolted upright from their crouch and followed Cemmera. She sprinted from behind the dusty wall towards the left end of the complex. The second-story window was low enough to the ground that the wall behind them hid them from any onlookers.

With a grunt, Cemmera kicked off the ground and leapt, grabbing hold of the base of the window. Concentrating, she focused on the chemical structure of the glass. As a Manipulator with almost two decades of practice, the chemical composition of glass could be manipulated as easily as a piece of bread in a toaster.

Silently, the glass faded away into sand, and she entered the building. One by one, her team members leaped, grabbing a hold and pulling themselves in behind her. Once inside, Cemmera signaled weapons-free, and the men removed their guns from their holsters.

“Santos, location,” she said.

Santos looked down again—it was his gesture of gathering Intel. It was different for every Telepath, but they all had some noticeable quirk when they were concentrating. “Just down the hall and to the left. They have ah, let me see here now. Any deeper and they’ll feel the probe.”

A small drop of sweat fell from his forehead as he concentrated. “Okay, they have weapons. They’re carrying Colt M1s and sufficient ammo to take down a small army.”

Cemmera nodded. “Alright, we’ll put our Kinetics up front and our Brute in the middle.”

Neil Witherson, her team’s sole Reinforcer, grunted at the derogatory term. More than anything else, Reinforcers hated to be called a ‘Brute’. Cemmera knew he wouldn’t voice any protest during a mission, but he’d approach her about it later, for sure.

Cemmera rubbed her gloved hands together. “On three we go.”

One.

Here it was. This was the reason most joined the Op. department. She knew she was not alone in feeling the rush, the excitement fill her belly—the giddy feeling of pleasure and empowerment she’d come to live for.

Two.

She licked her lips, with her fingers held tightly on the trigger of her weapon. Not that she would ever use it—very few did. It was less powerful than what she was capable of by herself.

Three.

This was it, her favorite part—watching her plan come to fruition. On cue, Neil balled his left hand into a fist and then slammed it into the door. With a tremendous crash, the door exploded off its hinges and flew into the room, startling the two frightened men huddled in the corner.

As Cemmera expected, they reached for their firearms. They were Telepaths, widely accepted as the weakest fighters among Psychs. Before they could raise their weapons halfway into a shooting position, the guns were ripped from their fingers and sent soaring across the room and into the hands of her Kinetics.

Cemmera smiled. She only loved two things in this world—the thrill of the hunt and the men she hunted with.

The two targets looked at each other in confusion before raising their hands into the air and dropping to their knees.

“We surrender!” one cried. “Don’t shoot!” begged the other.

Cemmera shrugged. “Okay, I had the last few kills, so who wants this one?” Cemmera’s men filled her with pride as each member of her team raised their hands like school children with an answer to their teacher’s question. They were such good boys.

“Alright, you seem kind of agitated, Neil, so go ahead and smash ‘em until their skulls look like jelly.”

The two Telepaths gasped. “But wait, we said we surrender! Take us in, lock us up. Did you not hear us? We surrender!”

Neil walked closer to them, ignoring their pleas.

“Wait, please, I beg of you. I only cheated the casino to feed my family. I didn’t mean any harm. I beg of you, please! For the love of God, don’t kill me. I will do anything, I will plead guilty to any charge, just don’t do this to me.”

Cemmera knew that Neil liked to walk at a slow, sedate pace and draw out the killings.

“You boys are gonna learn that crime just does not pay,” he hummed at them.

The sound of horror quickly transformed into one of pain, as Neil’s massive fist met skull. The man had never even removed himself from a surrendering position. His cranium was smashed into nothingness.

The other man stood and attempted to flee, but only made it into a standing crouch. Neil kicked him in the throat, snapping his neck and killing him instantly.

The two men, who were full of life only moments before, were now crumpled in a heap on the floor. Life was entirely absent from once shining eyes.

“We got lucky on this one, boys,” Cemmera said. “Those Carebear investigators almost brought these two in. They never let us have any fun.”

All five of them shared a laugh.

God, I love my team.

Cemmera picked up her radio. “Hey, Mitch, guess what? I got your two Paths. Thanks for leaving that file on your computer. And don’t sound appalled, of course I broke into your office. I was bored!”

The voice on the other end fired back with outrage. “Damn you all, you Op. team animals. You’re no better than they are! Those were good people. All they did wrong was cheat on a few casino games. They weren’t murderers or thieves!”

“Ah, but Mitch, cheating is thieving. Besides, I don’t make the law. Once a Psych hits twenty-large, it’s a Grand Larceny. Your boys had their chance, and they didn’t catch ‘em, we did—cry about it.”

The returned explosion of anger-filled shouts annoyed Cemmera, so she closed her radio, prematurely ending the conversation.

“You love to tease the poor Carebears, don’t you?” Santos asked, chuckling.

The men laughed with him. “I can’t help it,” Cemmera said. “It’s just too easy. Besides, it’s our job to make sure that the bad guys pay when the good guys show up, isn’t it?”

The men gave Cemmera a pleading look, and she knew why. They all probably had the same thought on their mind—drinking to celebrate their kill. It was tradition.

“By the way, I’ve got a lead on some other great stuff to do. You boys are gonna love this one. I filed for another kill authorization without permission from an Investigation Team. They’re gonna flip when we cut down their targets like we did to these sorry excuses for men.”

Cemmera’s men beamed with appreciation.

“Tell us more,” Neil said. “I don’t know how you manage to keep getting these kills authorized without consent.”

Cemmera laughed. The only way to receive an authorization for a kill-order was to send in the Investigative files to the proper commander. The problem was that investigation teams were stubborn fools that refused to cooperate half the time. So, Cemmera stole what she could and bribed her way to the rest.

“We’ve got some serious murders going on over in Elms New Jersey. Nine dead, more will probably follow. Paro’s got this one. Oh man, he’s gonna lose it when we grab our targets.”

“Wait a minute,” Santos said. “Isn’t Paro doing Juvie crimes now?”

“Yep, the suspects are kids. He’s probably going soft on them, that Carebear. You know he used to be one of the baddest guys around, back when I started. He’s a legend, that one. Unrestricted too, if you’ll believe it.”

Cemmera watched as she could visibly see the chill running down the men’s spines. “Did you know he started when he was only fourteen?” she asked. “I’m not kidding, he made it rain blood. It’s sad to see him go so soft.”

Santos’ face turned pale. “I’m worried. What if he comes after us for killing his targets?”

Cemmera gave him a friendly nudge. “Don’t be ridiculous. Once we get authorized, there’s nothing he can do about it. Let him be angry, the world is angry!”

“If you say so …”

*****

“Did you guys know that if you took every living animal out of the sea, then the water level of the ocean would go down?”

“Jack!” Paro snapped, “I’m going to tell you this one last time. Shut the hell up, or I will shut you up. We can speak when we get there.”

“Jeeze, someone forgot to eat a Mentos today.”

The van whizzed by on the North Roadway. Jack had no idea where they were headed, but he no longer cared, either. He took life on a thing-by-thing basis, but he did fear that his mother would worry about him.

Looking out of the window, he could see communities and neighborhoods pass by. He loved his suburban home. It was like a paradise of swimming pools, parks, and gardens. The beautiful sunrise cast exotic shadows along the trees and flowers.

I wonder where we’re heading. God, this is so boring. Stupid Paro, telling me to be quiet.

Jack was sacrificing a great deal by wasting all his time with sorcerers.

Then they try and tell me that I’m a sorcerer too. Hah! If I were a sorcerer, I would summon a dragon-demon-thing with long black wings that breathed fire. Then I would ride it through the clouds.

Jack relaxed as the ride continued, until a dangerous, horrific thought came to his mind.

Oh no! This can’t be … how could I have let this happen?

“We need to stop the car right now!”

Kazou, Melissa, and Michael all turned to where Jack sat in the back. Their faces filled with alarm.

“What’s wrong?” Kazou shouted. “Has something happened?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, you guys. My Magic the Gathering tournament … it starts in a few hours. We need to turn this thing around. Today’s prize is the all new Plainswalker card.”

With a grunt, Melissa slapped him on the back of the head. “Paro, can I gag him, please?”

“Be nice, Melissa," Sarah said.

Jack rubbed his head. Why was everyone so mean?