Superbullet

Part Two: The Professional

"o what do you think?"

"I think you shouldn't be here," Detective Marilyn Dobbs continued pacing back and forth in the living room... an activity only slightly complicated by the fact that she was on crutches. The detective hadn't stopped moving since they'd arrived at the former home of Bernard and Emma-Lou Henderson... both deceased for approximately 17 hours. She had started her 'investigation' with a maddeningly slow circle around the exterior of the house. Then she hobbled a similar path around the interior... studying each room for several minutes before moving on to the next... and now she wove her way through the tight maze of furniture, chalk outlines, and blood stains that comprised the murder scene.

Jason Brooks was in the kitchen.

The kitchen table was ALSO a crime scene... but the crime in question was not murder. It was the unauthorized access of a laptop that had been recently 'misplaced' from police evidence earlier that night. The laptop had been found inside a briefcase belonging to a reporter... a reporter who would have been better off investing in a ticket to somewhere OTHER than Rock Springs. Jason had just plugged the computer in and he watched the screen as it booted up.

"I mean about the shooting," he said. "You getting anything?"

"'Getting'?" Dobbs stopped pacing and looked at him. "I'm not one of your psychic friends... I don't 'get' things."

"I heard that!" Ashley called from the kitchen. Her voice was muffled slightly by the refrigerator door...

"I assume there's a good reason you're going through the refrigerator?" said Jason.

"Because I'm hungry... DUH!"

"These people are dead, Ashley-"

"Which means they won't be needing this cheesecake." Ashley retrieved a unhealthy-sized chunk of cheesecake from the middle shelf.

"That could be evidence, Ash."

"Yeah," said Ashley. She removed the plastic wrap from and started hunting for a fork. "Right."

Jason glanced at the computer screen. The laptop was password protected. He smiled and reached into his pocket.

"What's that?" Dobbs called. "You'd better not be damaging evidence."

"This?" Jason held up a computer disk. "This is the difference between me and you. When you have to get past a locked door... do you break it down or pick the lock?"

"Break it down-"

"I pick the lock. This is my lockpick." Jason slipped the disk into the drive and rebooted the laptop. "We'll be in in about ten minutes. Maybe less."

Jason watched the screen as his computer program wormed its way through the 'secure' areas of the laptop's hard drive, looking for the 'encrypted, unhackable password.'

Then he noticed that, with three people in the house, the computer was the only thing making any noise.

"Dobbs?"

"What is it now, Brooks?" Marilyn snapped without bothering to look in his direction. She was studying the chair where Emma-Lue Henderson had been sitting when she died. It was still overturned... with a very large read smear on the headrest.

"You haven't said two words since we got here."

"I just said four."

"Look..." Jason left the computer to its task and went into the living room. "I'm out of my league with this detective stuff, and if it doesn't have claws or fangs then Sebastian and... uhh... Ashley aren't much help. You're the expert... what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that this-" she pointed at the overturned chair. "-isn't possible." Marilyn turned and pointed at the window. The double-paned glass had a single circular hole in the center of it.

"One shot came from there," Next she held her hand over the chair where Bernard Henderson's nearly-headless corpse had been found. She was careful not to touch the bloody upholstery. "It took out the Mr. Henderson here. And it SHOULD have ended up there-"

She pointed to the wall by the fireplace.

"-but INSTEAD, it made an almost ninety-degree turn somewhere in here-"

Dobbs waved the tip of her crutch in the air over the coffee table.

"-and took out the woman, sitting there." She pointed to the overturned chair. "And that is impossible. There HAS to be another bullet entry somewhere. The sniper took the first shot, and either relocated or had a partner already in place to make the second. I'm going for the partner... because once Bernard Henderson's head exploded, there's no way his wife would just sit there and wait for a single sniper to tear down... walk around the side of the house... get set up again... and then blow her head off. He wouldn't even HAVE a shot... She'd be running around the house screaming bloody murder-"

"But where'd the other bullet come from?" said Brooks.

"I don't know. I can't find it."

"If it were here, you'd find it."

"Gee, thanks," Dobbs said with much sarcasm.

"I wasn't kissing your ass... I'm trying to help. IF there was a second bullet-hole then you would have found it. You haven't found it, so we can assume that there isn't one. Maybe that means there IS no second bullet."

"No, it means I just haven't FOUND it yet!" Dobbs snapped.

"...or," Jason started looking around the room. "There was a second BULLET... but no second bullet HOLE."

"There has to be. Both."

"Does there?" Jason said evenly.

"Yes-"

"I could make that shot, Dobbs. Two hits... one bullet. From here-" He pointed to the window, then traced a path to the chair where Bernard Henderson died... and on to the wall. "Ricochet right here..." He pointed to the floor, and then at another wall- "Here, and here... and then the woman there. The angles would match up exactly."

"That's supposed to make me feel GOOD about being here with you, Brooks?"

"I'm just saying..."

"Saying WHAT, exactly?"

"What you think of as impossible... isn't. The only problem is that there aren't any marks on the walls. A ricochet would leave a mark."

"So we're back to impossible. Which means you've been wasting your breath and MY time."

"It's not impossible-"

"A man who does as much shooting as you have should know that bullets DON'T turn corners by themselves-"

"Unless it wasn't a bullet."

Dobbs gave Jason a grim look.

"You're making the same mistake I did earlier," Jason continued. "My-"

He stopped, and thought for a moment before going on.

"I was there when the reporter got hit at the cafe. I was standing right next to him... and when I traced the bullet back.... I got nothing. My MISTAKE was assuming that the thing I was tracing was a BULLET. Maybe it wasn't. At the school, the bullet came through the door as the teacher was closing it. It SHOULD have hit the teacher and gone out the window... but it didn't. It went AROUND the teacher and student.. turned a corner... and hit the cop standing in front of the class. That tells me that it wasn't a bullet."

"Well what was it then? A bee?"

"What kind of movies do you like, Dobbs?"

"Huh? What-"

"I saw one once where this scientist guy made these robotic bullets... little rockets that could change direction and chase a man around a corner. Ever see that one?"

"No."

"It was pretty good; you ought-"

"What's the POINT, Brooks! That was a MOVIE! SCIENCE FICTION!"

"Geosynchronous satellites used to be science fiction, Dobbs. Now everybody with a GPS is connected to at least three. The Exorcist was fiction... but how many demons have YOU seen in the past week?"

"None. Look, I came here because I thought that if I took a look around... maybe I could find something... I dunno..."

"We aren't looking for bullets, Dobbs," said Jason. "Not normal ones, anyway. Just get that out of your mind."

"So what ARE we looking for? Robot bullets? Science fiction? Why not just make him a demon, Brooks? Why not that?"

"That's a possibility. Probably a pretty good one."

"Sounds like you've got this thing all figured out... so why the hell do you need ME?"

Instead of waiting for his answer, Marilyn stormed out of the room, nearly bumping into Ashley who was coming in from the kitchen.

"HEY!" Ashley gulped as the detective hobbled past her, heading for the back door.

"Stay out of the way next time," Dobbs growled over her shoulder. She yanked open the door and let the darkness of the back yard swallow her.

"I bet she didn't have a lot of friends growing up," Ashley said to Jason as she joined him in the living room. "I thought she was going to help?"

"I don't know if she can. She's still stuck in the real world." Jason sighed. "I wish I could join her."

"But you already knew she's not ready for our kind of stuff. So why'd you bring her here?"

"To keep Sebastian from carving another bloody path through police headquarters. She just walked in and photocopied what we wanted-"

"And that's it? That's the only reason?"

"Why?"

"It's obvious that you like her, Jason."

"No, I don't."

"Oh, come on, you KNOW you do!"

"We're standing in the middle of a murder scene... and you're talking about who I like!?"

"Well what do you want to talk about... who SHE likes?"

"Uhh, no. She's already said I wasn't her type."

"Yeah, so I'm wondering who IS her type."

"Why don't you just read her mind if you're so curious."

"Because that'd take all the fun out of it!"

" hear you creeping around back there," said Dobbs. She was standing in the Henderson's back yard, looking up at the stars. No... she was looking TOWARD the stars. What she was actually seeing was the blackness between them. Right now, it was more comforting to look at emptiness than at those annoying points of light.

"I'm not creeping," said Sebastian. He'd been 'hiding' in the bushes just outside the back door... although Dobbs suspected that he could 'hide' a lot better than that if he wanted to, with or without the shrubbery. "I'm watching."

"Watching what?"

"The houses," Sebastian stepped out into the open, but stayed behind her.

"Worried the neighbors might get suspicious and call the police."

"No," said Sebastian. "I cut the phone lines."

"Oh... so you went around and cut every phone line to every house in the neighborhoo-"

"I cut the main junction box outside the subdivision. Much quicker."

"Ah. You think of everything, don't you."

"Yes."

"Too bad we live in the age of cell-phones, or you might just be dangerous."

"I've taken other... precautions."

Dobbs pulled her eyes away from the sky and turned around. Sebastian was right behind her... a lot closer than she normally would have liked, considering she had no idea who he was. She studied him for a moment. He glanced at her... and went right back to scanning the surrounding houses.

"How's your back?" she said.

"Fine," he replied without looking at her.

"I... didn't get a chance to say thanks. You took that hit for me in the hospital. Probably saved my life."

"You would have done the same."

"Oh really? You think you know that much about me, eh?"

"I know enough."

"Enough for what."

"Enough to save your life. If I didn't think you were worthy, I would have let you die."

"Ouch," said Dobbs. She tried to feel insulted... but the boy's words actually made sense in a barbaric sort of way. From his point of view, he'd probably just given her a compliment.

"Who are you?" she said after a few moments of comfortable silence.

"Sebastian-"

"No. No... who ARE you?"

This time, the silence was not all that comfortable. Dobbs thought he wasn't going to answer, and was about to go back inside when:

"I don't know," he said. "I know who I was supposed to be. But now.... I don't know any more."

"Hmph..." Dobbs turned looked at the sky again. "You sound like I feel. I was a cop once. A mother... probably not a great one, but one nonetheless. Now, because of stuff that wasn't even my fault-"

Dobbs got the sudden, distinct feeling that she was talking to herself. When she turned to Sebastian, she saw that she was right. He was gone.

A moment later, so was she.

"-ecause it wouldn't be right," said Ashley.

"What wouldn't be right?" said Dobbs, just entering from the kitchen. "Did I miss something?"

"Uhhh..."

"Jason wants me to screw with your head," said Ashley. "So that you'll help us instead of walking around acting all bitchy. I said 'no'."

"It's not an act. YOU, stay out of my mind. And YOU, Brooks, mind your own business."

"Sorry. Just trying to help."

"That's what I'm here for."

"Well...?" Brooks said expectantly.

"We're getting nowhere on the murder weapon. Obviously we're missing information that would allow us to reach a LOGICAL conclusion... so we start looking at it from another direction. The victims. What did they all have in common?"

"Us," said Jason. "You... or me... or BOTH of us."

"What you MEAN," said Dobbs. "Is that they were all somehow involved in the weirdness that's been all over this town. That means they all SAW things that... that maybe they shouldn't have seen. If we made a list of people-"

"It would be a looooong list," said Jason. "You and I would both be on it."

"I don't think so," said Dobbs. "Maybe you... but not me."

"Why not?"

"Take a look-"

Dobbs pointed to the chalk outlines.

"If whoever did this could... well... DO it, then there's no way he could have NOT hit ME in Gavin's office if he wanted to. I was sitting in front of his target. The bullet should have gone through me... but it didn't. It disappeared somewhere between... well, you know."

"So... whoever did it didn't want to kill you."

"But they MAY have wanted to kill YOU. Both you and the reporter were moving when he was hit. That was the only case where the target was in motion... this guy might not be as good as we think. He may have been aiming at either ONE of you... or even both... and just missed you.

"See, this is what I'm taking about," said Jason, smiling. "NOW we're getting somewhere-"

"Don't get too happy," said Dobbs. "I'm just talking out loud... we haven't reached any conclusions yet. Like you said, if this guy was taking out witnesses to strange events..."

Dobbs frowned.

"What did Henderson see?"

"He was one of the people who rescued your partner."

"But there's nothing strange about that. Unless you're gonna tell me my partner is a demon again..."

"Well-" said Ashley.

"No, but I DO know something that you don't," said Jason. He walked back to the kitchen and unplugged the laptop. With the machine on battery power, he brought it so that Dobbs could see what he'd found while she was outside. "He was working on a story... about the Braxis incident. I glanced at his emails... his editor told him to drop the story, so this guy immediately smells a cover-up and decides to check things out. He had a list of names... people he either wanted to talk to, or already HAD talked to. Most of those people are now dead."

"List of victims?" Dobbs said eagerly.

"No," said Jason. "The cop at the school isn't on it. But your captain was. So was Mr. Henderson. Plus me, you, and Ashley."

Dobbs looked at the list.

"The woman from the hospital... the miracle-cure... she isn't here either. Looks like this guy's list and the killer's hit list just happen to have some of the same names-"

"She was going to write a book," Ashley interrupted. "The lady from the hospital; I remember that from the news. She was going on all kinds of talk shows and was writing a book about how Braxis cured her."

"Yeah, her..." Jason dismissed Ashley's comment. "That's the one."

"She was the ONLY one," Ashley added.

Jason looked at Dobbs... then they both turned to Ashley.

"Lots of people got the magic touch from Braxis," said Ashley. "But SHE was the only one making a big stink about it. SHE was the only one going public."

"Officer Lewis... the cop from the school... was always going on about the monster he saw. He'd tell anybody who would listen..."

"Publicity," said Jason. "Somebody is trying to hush up all the demonic activity in this town. Everybody on this reporter's list had something to say-"

"Question..." said Ashley. "Ummm... if you were trying to keep something quiet, why would you send a guy out to shoot people in broad daylight? Seems to me that would draw even MORE attention... don't you think?"

"She's right. We must be missing something."

"What we aren't missing is this list," said Jason. "This reporter had already talked to Henderson and set up an interview. The next person on his list is Buddy Hurst... the paramedic who helped Henderson rescue Royce. If those two guys saw SOMETHING... ANYTHING... then Hurst could be a target. Everybody else on here is either in this room, or dead."

"I need to get this list back to headquarters-"

"Heeeyyy, hold on a minute," said Jason, snatching the laptop away before Dobbs could grab it.

"What are you-"

"No, what are YOU doing? We give this list to the cops and what do they do... put this guy in protective custody?"

"Yes-"

"And how much protecting can they do... two of their OWN GUYS got killed yesterday. One of them sitting right in the middle of police headquarters. I hate to break it to you, Dobbs, but the past few months haven't exactly left this city brimming with confidence in you. You can't even protect yourselves-"

"So what... you think you can do better?"

"Well..."

"This is a guy's life we're talking about, Brooks-"

"Exactly why we shouldn't leave it in the hands of the gang that couldn't shoot straight. I can protect this guy."

"Are you sure?"

"If I can't, then the COPS sure as hell couldn't do any better. Besides... put me and Ashley in the same room as this Hurst guy, and we're practically guaranteed the sniper will take a shot. This time we'll be able to find him. We'll have eyes in the sky... I mean... Sebastian on the roof. And besides... how are you gonna give the cops this list without admitting you stole the laptop from evidence. Somehow I don't think suspended detectives can just walk in and sign for stuff like this."

"And exactly HOW do you plan on protecting him, Brooks-"

"Just trust me, Dobbs. Trust us. We're professionals."

"Yeah..." said Dobbs. "...but professional WHAT?"

fficer Bob Cartersfield eased his Mercedes into his usual parking spot... bringing the old, slightly rusty vehicle to a halt just before the front wheels touched the concrete divider. He checked the clock as he turned off the struggling engine. He was late. But not late enough to matter. Still, he made a mental note to be early the next morning to make up for it.

Officer Cartersfield had made that same mental note yesterday morning... and the day before... and every preceding morning for the last 24 years. He never remembered... and it never mattered.

At 54 years old, the senior officer was so close to retirement that he was bulletproof. If he ever did anything to give his superiors reason to fire him... which he never did... then it would be just as easy to let him ride out his last couple of years than go through the mountain of paperwork and hard feeling that it would take to get rid of him. He was effectively untouchable... not that he abused the privilege. No, that wouldn't be right.

Grunting deeply from the effort, Officer Cartersfield hauled his rotund bulk out of the driver's seat and reached back to retrieve his briefcase. The case contained his lunch, a paperback novel, a book of half-finished crossword puzzles, and about fifty brochures for various retirement communities... most of them in Florida. These, along with the daily newspaper which he tucked under his left armpit, were all he needed to survive another day at work. He had two guns. One he kept in the glove compartment of his wife's car (which was much nicer than his aging Mercedes), and the other lost somewhere in the dark recesses of his locker. He wouldn't be needing either of them, since his job now mainly consisted of sitting at the front desk, retrieving files for the detectives, or fetching coffee for the precinct captain-

-Oh.

He'd almost forgotten. He supposed there wouldn't be much coffee to be fetched today. The Captain... definitely one of the nicest men he'd ever worked for... had caught a bullet yesterday afternoon. Right here in his own office. Cartersfield shuddered at the memory, and of the chaos that had followed. Yesterday had been a bad day. There seemed to be a lot of them, lately. If things kept up, they'd probably have to put HIM in a squad car and send him out on patrol. The thought came as a private mental joke, but when he thought about it... it wasn't very funny. If they were letting that bastard James Royce and his harpy Detective Dobbs haunt the headquarters when they were both in no condition to put on a uniform, then there might actually BE a good chance that he'd find himself on the streets again. The precinct was literally running out of cops, and the bottom of the barrel must be looking pretty damn good right about now...

"Ohhh, wouldn't she just love that..." Officer Cartersfield mused aloud, thinking of the fit his wife would throw if he went back on active duty. Sure, HE would love it... but he'd be sleeping at the office because there certainly wouldn't be any peace and quiet at home.

With a determined sigh, the nearly-retired officer started waddling toward the side entrance. His briefcase bounced back and forth at the end of his thick, meaty arm, slapping against his thigh with every fourth or fifth step.

"E-excuse me, sir...?

The voice came from behind him. Officer Cartersfield halted his comical waddle and executed an equally comical turn. There was a man standing on the sidewalk just outside the fence. He was blonde, and wore a long coat and dark sunglasses.
He didn't look dangerous... but he didn't look all that healthy either. Bob couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was... he was no detective, after all... but the man looked sick.

"You all right, son?" Bob called as he approached the fence. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I'm looking for Detective McElroy... he works here, right?"

"McElroy? Yeah..." Bob turned to glance at the lot. Junior Detective McElroy's Honda Civic was tucked away in a corner near the exit. "...he's here. Inside." He pointed the man to the front entrance.

"Oh. Oh, okay... thanks." The strange man turned to walk away... but he was walking away from the building. If he wanted to see a detective, then he was heading in the wrong direction.

The long-dormant cop's instincts flared to life within Bob Cartersfield's brain. He took a mental snapshot of the man's face... his clothes... and the direction he was going. He glanced at his watch and took note of the exact time. Then he decided to see what else he could find out.

"Hey, son!" Bob shouted before the man could get out of earshot. "You don't look so good... you wanna come inside and-"

The stranger darted across the street... running, even though there were no oncoming cars... and vanished around the donut shop on the corner.

"Uhhh-huh..." Bob walked up to the fence where the stranger had been standing and looked around.

There was a tiny spot of bright red blood on the pavement.

e had told them that he wanted to be alone. Coming in today was hard enough, but if one more person came up to him and apologized...

...he was just glad they'd listened to him. Crying wasn't the kind of thing Buddy Hurst liked to do in front of an audience. He and Henderson had gone way back... not as far back as some of the other folks he knew, but there was a difference between knowing somebody for years and actually being FRIENDS with 'em. He and Bernie had been friends, and friends shouldn't die the way Bernie did. Cleaning out his friend's belongings was a long, painful process, but Buddy pushed through it as quick as possible... piling up everything in a cardboard box that he assumed would be mailed to some distant relatives somewhere on the other side of the country. He'd given himself all day to finish the job, but it was close to lunchtime and he was almost done. Good... that would give him time to go and pick up that new suit he was going to wear to the funeral.

Buddy dropped the last item... and 'employee of the month' plaque from three years ago... into the box and closed the locker-

"You Hurst?" said the woman standing just a few feet to his right. She'd been hiding behind the open locker door; Buddy had no idea how long she'd been standing there watching him. He DID know that she didn't belong... this was the MEN'S locker room, after all.

"Hey! You can't- YOU'D BETTER NOT BE A DAMNED REPORTER!"

"Detective Marilyn Dobbs, RSPD. You Mr. Hurst?"

"Look, I talked to every cop in the world yesterday, okay? No, Bernie didn't have any enemies... NO, I don't know who would want to kill him-"

"We're actually here about you, Mr. Hurst."

"Eh?"

Buddy noticed for the first time that the woman was on crutches. It was a rather difficult thing to miss... but the woman's presence had shocked him so much that he hadn't noticed it until now. Cops didn't usually walk around on crutches, did they?

"Lemme see a badge, lady," Buddy demanded.

"Badge?" said the woman. "Sorry. No badge today."

"Okay, that's it. You're outta here. Crutches or not, I'm kicking you out!"

Buddy grabbed at the woman's shoulder, but before he reached it, a hand clamped down on his wrist. The hand didn't belong to the woman. It belonged to the tall black man whose other hand was holding a very, very large revolver.

"If there's any kicking going on around here, you're gonna be on the receiving end of it," said the man. "Trust me on this." The second intruder's impressively large gun was not pointed at Buddy, but the fact that it was there at all was quite sufficient to make the point. Buddy quickly shut himself up and listened. "We're here to help."

"Y-Y-You're not really cops, are you..." Buddy said slowly.

"Actually I am," said the woman, who may or may NOT have been a real detective. "He's not. But we're both here to help you."

"Y-yeah... I'm sure ya are. Hey..." Buddy got a good look at the man's face. He recognized it... and with that recognition came a sinking feeling in his stomach. "A-Aren't you that guy-"

"Yeah," said Jason Brooks... cop-killer, vigilante, and/or innocent victim, depending on what rumors one believed. "I'm that guy."

Buddy's stomach hit bottom.

"Oh, God..."

"We have reason to believe that what happened to your partner is gonna happen to you," said Dobbs. She looked at her watch. "Sometime in the very near future."

"Please don't kill me! I'm just a paramedic! I don't know nothing about anything, I swear-"

"A reporter by the name of Benjamin Worth thought otherwise. Ever hear of him?"

"R-reporter? Y-yeah, there was a guy asking questions the other day. Called me up-"

"He won't be calling again," said Brooks. "He and a lot of other people had a very bad day yesterday... but you can help us prevent a repeat performance by telling us what you talked about. What did he want to know?"

"And what did you tell him?" Dobbs added.

"I don't know nuthin!" Buddy pressed himself against the wall. The lock on the locker behind him dug painfully into his back... but barely noticed.

"What did he ASK you?" Dobbs was growing impatient. The woman looked tired and dangerous... and she wasn't the one waving the gun.

"He-he wanted to know about the rescue work we did after the explosion Me... me and H-Henderson, we was working with the firemen. We pulled a lot of stuff out of that rubble that probably shoulda been in a museum or a circus somewhere. That explosion d-did some pretty freaky stuff to those corpses. But mostly he wanted to know about the one survivor."

"Royce," said Brooks. Dobbs gave him a quick glance that Buddy couldn't read... but it looked like a warning. "What did he want to know about Royce?"

Buddy shrugged.

"I dunno... just wanted to hear the story, I guess."

"And what WAS the story?" said Jason.

"W-well... seein' as how everything else in that building was burnt to a crisp or all torn up... I don't really see how that Royce fella made it out as good as he did. Just lucky, I guess. But..."

"But what?" said Dobbs.

"Well... Henderson was the one that noticed it."

"Noticed...?"

"You ever seen somebody that's been pulled out of a collapsed building? They're always covered in dust... no matter what color they were before, they're mostly gray when they come out, especially if there was a fire involved.
That ash gets everywhere. You can't even take two breaths without thinkin' you're gonna die. But this Royce guy... he was clean as a whistle. Almost like he wasn't even THERE when the building went up. And then that arm? Said he lost it in the explosion? Wasn't burnt, though. It was cut... a good, clean cut, too. That coulda happened in the collapse, but there wasn't any blood on the debris. Here's a guy says he was trapped under the debris with a missing arm, but nothing around him had any blood on it. Me and Henderson didn't know what to make of it, but hell, that's not worth killin' people over."

"You were going to tell this to Worth?" said Dobbs.

"Yeah? Why?"

Suddenly, the locker-room door opened. Thinking he had been rescued by a co-worker, Buddy prepared to sprint for the door, or at the very least shout a warning....

But he didn't recognize the small blonde girl that came in. She was too small for Buddy's tastes, but was kinda cute... in a cartoonish sort of way. She looked at him and smiled.

"Looks like everybody suddenly decided to go to lunch without you," she said. "And by the way... did you know your secretary was having an affair with-"

"Ashleyyy..." Brooks warned. "I thought we didn't go around peeking in people's brains, remember?"

"Well she was THINKING about it! And when I say she was thinking about it... I mean she was REEAAALY-"

So the building is clear?"

"Nobody here but us superheroes," said Ashley. "And Dobbs. Sebastian's creeping around on the roof as usual. I think he has a thing for heights-"

"Ummm, excuse me?" said Buddy. "What are you people here to do?"

"Protect you," said Brooks. He looked at his watch. "-almost noon. The sniper-"

"-Or snipers-" Dobbs corrected

"-hit at the stroke of noon yesterday. I'm guessing he'll do the same today."

"But I'm safe in here, right!" said Buddy. "I mean... I'm inside... he can't see us, right?"

Brooks and Dobbs gave each other an uncertain look, and Buddy had his answer.

"Shouldn't I get a vest or something!"

"This guy shoots through walls," said Jason. "I doubt a half-inch of Kevlar will give him any trouble. Besides, he likes head shots."

"Sounds like you need to be gettin' me out of town!" Buddy pulled away from the wall, but Brooks pushed him back.

"We're not going anywhere. We can't stop this guy until we know what we're up against... and we won't know that until he makes another move. Me and Ashley are probably on his list too-"

"Then YOU stay and get shot!"

"-but THIS way, I can protect both of you."

"HOW!?!" said Buddy.

"Just wait. You'll see."

"WAIT and SEE!? THAT'S your plan!? Stand here until noon and wait for somebody to try and kill us!?"

"Yeah," said Jason. "That pretty much sums it up."

is view of the city wasn't exactly optimal. But then, it didn't need to be. He could see the tops of the two or three tallest buildings on the horizon.... everything else was obliterated by distance and the mile or so of trees that separated him from the city limits of Rock Springs. That was fine. He didn't like the city anyway, and he'd already had his fill of it for one day. The less he saw of it now, the better.

Only slightly out of breath after the long walk, the stranger set his oblong black case down on the grass and leaned against a tree at the edge of the clearing. The ground was uneven, but the dirt path leading back to the car was wide and easy to follow. It probably made a good trail for hunting, which made it more than suitable for what he had to do. From his pocket, he produced a fresh white handkerchief. He dabbed at his nostrils, then inspected the cloth. His nose had finally stopped bleeding... but the timing was ironic. In another few minutes he'd be spouting like a fountain again.

He stuffed the handkerchief into his shirt pocket and checked his watch. Noon was coming fast, but he still had a few minutes to relax and get in the mood.

Mood was everything in this business.

"Never shoulda gave up the drugs," the stranger said as he let the tree take all of his weight... relaxing as much as he could without falling down. He could relax quite a bit more if he lay down in the grass, but... while he didn't like the city... he didn't care all that much for bugs and poison ivy either. "...this was a whoooole lot more fun with a good high..." he sighed. He closed his eyes...

-BEEP!-

The electronic chirp from his watch marked 11:50am. The stranger's eyes snapped open, and he stood up straight. Smiling, he knelt down and began unsnapping the latches on his case...

"unchtime, Fellas!" Bob Cartersfield announced with as much joviality as he could muster. Of course, there was nothing fun or even jovial about serving lunch to three of his co-workers who'd been locked up... but he figured that the last thing officers Kline, Truett, and Watt wanted was pity and apologies. So he smiled as he waddled down the stairs with the large metal tray balanced precariously on his chubby hands. The tray held three styrofoam boxes, each of which emitted the emitted the thick aroma of corned beef.

Detective Truett approached the bars like a hungry animal. Detectives Kline and Watt hung back near the rear of the cells, watching Bob with sharp, mean eyes. The three were charged with attacking Detective Dobbs when SHE had been locked up for murder. Officer Davidson had been with them at the time, but he had escaped in the... excitement... and nobody had been able to find him since. Technically, these three should be out on bail... but-

"Master Braxis will soon free us, fool!!" Truett barked at Cartersfield. "HE WILL COME FOR-"

"SHUT UP!" Detective Kline snapped... then returned to stony silence.

Riiiiight. THESE guys needed to be out running free on the streets. Suuuure.

"Look, fellas..." Bob said. Despite his best efforts, the hint of apology eased further into his voice with every word. "I just bring the food, okay? If you guys are bucking for an insanity plea... I'M not the guy you need to impress, okay?"

Nobody said anything for a few long, uncomfortable seconds. Ordinarily, the other prisoners would be having their fits of shouted obscenities and demands, but there WERE no other prisoners. Captain Gavin had pulled some strings to clear out the holding cells so these three cops could have it all to themselves. That was very nice of him to do that... but Bob doubted the detectives even cared. In fact...

"Hey, uhhh...." Bob almost stuttered. "You guys heard what happened to the Cap'n, right? Yesterday?"

The cold look in their eyes told him that they had heard.

"You guys... you guys aren't even sad?"

Kline and Watt looked at each other. Truett had retreated to his bunk, but his eyes never left the tray of food.

It occurred to Bob that these men acted more and more like animals every day.

"You fellas wouldn't know anything about it, would you? I mean... I'm sure somebody's asked already, but seeing as how we're friends and all-"

"FOOD!" Truett snapped. "FOOD NOW!"

"YENTH!" Watt added. Watt was trying to say 'yes', but he'd lost a few teeth and a bit of tongue in the fight with Dobbs. The doctors said that he was healing rather nicely, though. "FNNND!"

"Okay, okay..." Bob set the tray down on the bottom step and grabbed the first two styrofoam boxes. "Smells good today, fellas-"

"GIVE IT!" Truett rushed at Bob

...and nearly knocked himself unconscious when he collided with the bars.

KLANG!

"...oww."

"HA!!" Detective Kline pointed at Truett. Watt began laughing.... only the sounds coming from his mouth were more like a series of Neanderthal grunts.

"...like a buncha monkeys," Bob said... then immediately felt guilty for saying it out loud. "I didn't mean that, guys. I-"

zzZZZIK!

Bob spun toward the unmistakable sound of a bullet zipping past him... but by the time his brain even registered that there had BEEN a sound, Detective Watt's guttural, primitive laughter ended in a wet splatter-

SPLATCH!

Followed quickly by to almost identical sounds-

zz-
SPLITCH!
zzz-
SPLUTCH!

The three men in the cells now lay dead on the floor. Their skulls were all in various stages of collapse, and the walls opposite where each of them had been standing were splattered with bloody chunks.

Head shots.

Three head shots...

But the holding cells were in the BASEMENT, and there was no one down here but HIM! How...

"HELLLLP!!" Bob screamed as he waddled up the stairs. He didn't know how it happened, but the sniper had claimed three more cops... right in front of his face! It had happened right in front of him, but he hadn't seen a damned THING! He'd just heard-

-one bullet.

Three dead men...

...one bullet.

No, make that...

zzZZZIK!
SPLATCH!

...TWO bullets. Bob Cartersfield's large, nearly-retired corpse rolled comically down the stairs, crushing the styrofoam containers and coming to bloody, silent rest among the corned beef.

"hat the hell is THIS?!"

Joseph Patel scowled across the table at his cousin, and then looked again at the small plastic bag that Rafat had just handed him. There was something inside the bag. Joseph couldn't be sure... but it looked a lot like a bloody napkin.

"It's a bloody napkin!"

Joseph sighed. It was not a good sigh.

"I thought you said you had something important-"

"I did! I do! I think the blood belongs to the sniper!"

"Oh really?" Joseph said doubtfully. Rafat started to say something, but the waitress arrived with their drinks. Instead of speaking, Rafat hastily snatched the plastic bag away from Joseph and hid it under the table while the woman set their chilled herbal teas on the table before them.

"Ready to order?"

"Give us a minute?" Joseph said.

"Okay!" The waitress fluttered away...

...and the bloody napkin re-appeared on the table.

"Take it!" Rafat tried to shout and whisper at the same time... he failed miserably at both, and managing only a very loud hiss.

"Why?" said Joseph.

"So you can analyze it back at the lab! Find out who the sniper is!"

"I can't do that, Rafat."

"Yes you can! You work at the Crime Lab!"

"Yes, I do work there, which means that I know what I can do and what I can't! Even if I believed you... which I DON'T... there is paperwork and account numbers... using that equipment is expensive! I can't just-"

"PLEASE, Joseph!"

Joseph paused. He had seen his cousin upset before... but not quite this upset.

"You think this is for real?"

"Yes!" Rafat hissed. "A man came into the hotel yesterday. He had a long case...I think it was a gun!"

"Rafat-"

"No, listen! He was acting very suspicious, and he was bleeding!" Rafat pointed at the napkin. "He was very sick, I think!"

"So you THINK he had a gun."

"Yes."

"Guns are not illegal, Rafat."

"The kind of gun you need a LONG CASE for is!"

"Hunting Rifle?"

"Sniper rifle!"

"And you know it was a sniper rifle because..."

"-because the man was very suspicious! He said it was a musical instrument!"

Again, Joseph sighed.

"Why bring this to me? Why not call the police?"

"Because if you do your thing with it, we can be famous! And RICH!"

"It is not MY thing. It is the Crime Lab's thing... and it cannot happen without the proper authorization. And if it DID happen, then all I would have is DNA. Without some matching DNA at a crime scene, it means absolutely nothing."

"You could find out who it is! His real name!"

"No, I can't. Maybe the police could... but I can't. We don't have that kind of information at the lab!"

"Joseph-"

"I can't help you, Rafat!"

"Well take it anyway!"

"No-"

"Shhh! She's coming!"

The waitress was making her way back toward their table.

"Take the napkin!" Rafat hissed.

Joseph took the napkin and stuffed it into his pocket... with the full intention of depositing it in the trash on the way out of the restaurant.

"So what will you be having-" the waitress began. She didn't finish.

The young girl yelped as something zipped past her ear.

zzzzzZZZIK!
SPLATCH!
SPLUCKK!

Ka-thump-thump

Joseph and Rafat Patel sat slumped over in their chairs, their fractured skulls resting on the white tablecloth. Blood and bits of flesh had splattered adjacent tables, as well as the waitress.

The girl screamed.

The restaurant exploded into panic.

People leapt from their chairs and tossed tables out of their way as they ran for the exits-

"EVERYBODY DOWN!" came an unexpected shout. "EVERYBODY GET DOWN ON THE FLOOR... IT'S THE SAFEST PLACE TO BE!! GET UNDER THE TABLES!"

The man was standing in the center of the restaurant, holding up a badge. That badge... and the unusual volume of his voice... got nearly everyone in the restaurant to do what he said.

Oddly enough, when questioned later by the police, no one in the restaurant would remember seeing James Royce BEFORE the shooting started. They would say that he just sort of... appeared... during the chaos. Everyone would remember Royce trotting over to the table where the two corpses still sat. They would remember him checking for vital signs, and shouting at the stunned waitress to call the police.

...but no one would see or remember Royce removing a small plastic bag from Joseph Patel's pocket and quietly stuffing it into his own.

"11:59," Jason announced as Dobbs returned to the room. "Talk about cutting it close."

"When ya gotta go, ya gotta go," said Dobbs. "Besides... do you know what happens if you die with a full bladder?"

Behind him, Buddy Hurst moaned. HE knew what happened when someone died with a full bladder. The distressed paramedic wasn't feeling too well, and had taken a seat on one of the wooden benches that ran the length of the locker room. The bench he picked happened to be in the middle of the room... which was exactly where Jason wanted him to be.

"Ashley..." Jason waved Ashley over to where Buddy was sitting. "Everybody stand up, we might have to move quick."

"M-move?" Buddy gulped.

Jason already had one of his .454 revolvers drawn. He drew another one from the small of his back and tossed it to Ashley. Then retrieved a third one from a belt-holster. He clicked open the magazines for both weapons, making sure they were loaded.

"Are you packing, Dobbs?"

"Of course."

"How many?"

"Two. A .357 and a .45."

"Get 'em ready. In your hands, with safeties off. When I yell for one, toss it to me."

"Are you sure you can do this, Brooks?"

"Now isn't the time to ask me if I'm sure. It's noon... either you trust me or you don't."

"I don't trust you!" Buddy cried.

"Well... in that case, it'll probably be over before you know anything happened..."

Jason stood in the center of the room and let the Affinity have its way with him. Fire and ice pulsed through his veins... a burning chill that was almost pleasure... not quite pain. The revolvers grew heavy in his hands as his awareness of their weight and balance sharpened... sharpened further...

He felt the individual grains of gunpowder in each of the shells. His mind mapped the inconceivable complexities of the explosion each grain would produce. He knew how the microscopic aberrations on the surface of every slug... and the tiny grooves along gun's barrel... would shape that explosion and affect the vector of each round. He knew these things instinctively... and he knew them to a level of accuracy that exceeded the capacity of any mind or computer in existence. But it did not end there. The hairs on the backs of Jason's hands stood erect, flowing back and forth in time with the minute disturbances in the air... disturbances caused by his own steady breathing, and the nervous gasps of the people behind him. His skin sensed the air's temperature, weight, and density.... Jason's mind calculated the effect that each bullet would have on the air that it passed through. Each concussive blast and resulting shockwave was predicted, calculated, mapped, and compensated for...

All of the above came to Jason as an intense buzz that began in the base of his skull and quickly spread down his spine... across his shoulders, down each arm and through his fingers INTO the metal of his weapons... metal that was now as much a part of his nervous system as the hands that held them.

Jason took one step forward and began to turn in a long, slow circle. His eyes dragged cross the walls, studying with vision so sharp that each chip in the paint was like a monstrous, yawning cavern. His ears scoured the air with the same, if not greater intensity. Sounds that were not physically possible for him to hear... he heard. His mind mapped the location of each heartbeat in the room... including the mouse sleeping in the bottom of locker #37. The electronic buzz of the overhead florescent lights became a deafening roar... and then faded to silence as his mind filtered it out. If someone fired a gun on the next block, he would be able to calculate the bullet's vector before the missile reached its target.

That wasn't good enough.

Jason pushed the Affinity further. His vision could not see past the painted brick walls, but through his ears, Jason's awareness expanded beyond the street outside...through the neighboring building... out into the next block...

...into the wailing police cars that were roaring around a corner two blocks away.

If Jason had a powerful enough gun, he could put bullets in all four tires from right where he stood. And-

Police Cars!?!

"Dobbs..." Jason's voice sounded both impossibly loud and maddeningly slow to his own ears. "...you didn't by any chance stop by a phone on your way back from the bathroom, did you?"

"I-"

Jason's cellular phone vibrated furiously in his pants pocket. That would be Sebastian calling to tell them about the four patrol cars approaching the parking lot.

Jason didn't wait for Dobbs to answer his question. He didn't reach for the phone. Something much more important was happening.

The minuscule, whistling buzz was like chainsaw in his ear. It was so loud that he couldn't have missed it... yet so fast that he almost did. He'd been listening for a gunshot...

...but there wasn't one. There had been no gunshot yesterday on the street, and there wasn't one now. No shot... but there WAS a bullet.

Or something that SOUNDED like a bullet. The sound had simply APPEARED on the street just outside the exterior wall. Jason turned... muscles spun him toward the sound in a motion that was incredibly fast to the people behind him, but almost fatally slow to his own mind. By the time he brought his guns around, the buzz was now a high pitched ROAR... a roar that had somehow made its way INSIDE THE ROOM!?! Jason's guns fired at the sound even as his eyes searched for the target. A bullet... even a FAST one... would almost be standing still to his perceptions.

-But it wasn't there. He could HEAR it... he could FEEL the shockwaves preceding it through the air... directly toward him.

But he couldn't SEE it!

His own bullets crawled across his field of vision. The heavy weapons jerked in his hands as they spat out more a slow parade of metal slugs. The projectiles chased each other in two impossibly straight lines... one from each of his blaring revolvers. The lines converged at the focus of the violent pressure waves that were all he could detect of his target. An invisible bullet!? What WAS this thing-

Jason's mind reeled as his first two bullets shattered... sending fragments of speeding shrapnel streaming through the locker room. But the sound... the disturbances in the air.... remained unchanged. It was still there... still coming for him.

Jason had already emptied his first revolver. The bullets were still marching toward their target as he dropped the gun from his right hand and twisted-

Firing with the left revolver, he snatched the .357 that Dobbs was holding out. He didn't have time for her to throw it... from the look on her face, she was only JUST NOW becoming aware that something was happening.

-CLICK-

The hammer of Jason's left revolver fell on an empty chamber. An instant later-

BLAM!

Jason was firing Dobbs's gun, emptying the seven rounds into the air as he twisted the opposite direction... reaching for Ashley.

In front of him, the impossible sight of bullet after bullet exploding into bits of nearly-liquid metal. The target... the thing that was coming for them... was ripping through his slugs like they were made of glass! That shouldn't have mattered. All he needed to do was DEFLECT the damned thing... just a LITTLE bit...

But, in complete defiance of the laws of physics, the super-missile WOULD NOT BUDGE from its course! Jason's next few shots struck the invisible target from three...four... five different angles. But it STILL CAME... shrugging aside his bullets and bearing down on him like a train plowing through a cloud of gnats.

WHAT WAS THIS THING!?

Jason had snatched the third .454 revolver from Ashley and was firing its last three shots... simultaneously reaching for Dobbs's second gun... when the Affinity told him what he did not want to hear:

This was not going to work.

The thing was still coming for him... invisible and unyielding... and he COULD NOT STOP IT!

And for all the time he had spent TRYING, the impossible bullet had come clear across the room... sweeping all of his efforts aside in the process... and was now a fraction of a second away from Target #1: Him. He couldn't see the bullet, but the 'pop' and 'whoosh' of the air in front of it told him exactly where it was going. It was a head shot. It was going to hit just above and between his eyes. Jason was already twisting away from it even before he realized that he needed to move. Dobbs was behind him to his right; he snatched her second gun from her nearly motionless fingers the instant before he twirled out of reach. Ashley was off to his left. She appeared to be stepping forward... her mouth was open in a very undignified shout, and her arm was sloooooowly swinging out in front of her. From HER point of view, she was probably performing some fantastic leap for cover. To Jason, she was barely moving at all. Behind her, Buddy Hurst was slowly backing away toward a far corner... eyes wide and filled with panic... mouth open and shrieking like a schoolgirl...

Good.

There was no one directly behind Jason, so when the bullet zipped past his ear it would-

-change direction and come after him.

The rushing disturbance in the air veered toward him, following his motion with all the fluid precision of a homing missile.

He shouldn't have been surprised. He'd been EXPECTING it, in fact... but he HADN'T expected to be completely helpless when it happened.

It was a bullet... one, single bullet... but not only could he not STOP it, he couldn't DODGE it either!

Jason kept firing as he strafed to the left... even going so far as to bounce a bullet off of the floor to hit the projectile from underneath. It... like all his other attempts... had no effect. Jason dropped his empty revolver and brought Dobbs's second gun around as, less than two yards in front of him, the last of his .454 rounds came apart in the air... shattering before the invisible bullet's unstoppable advance.

One bullet....

"GET OUT OF HERE!" Jason started to shout.... then realized that by the time the first syllable left his lips, his brain would be decorating the wall behind him. Time had run out. He'd failed. He couldn't protect them. Not only could he not protect them, but time was too short to even give them fair warning that they were about to die.... because of him.

A half-dozen desperate thoughts raced through Jason's mind as the final bullets left the barrel of his last gun. Dobbs's .45 semiautomatic jerked in his grasp, and Jason's eyes followed the rounds as they flew.

He could almost see it.

The superbullet was so close that he could almost SEE the air peeling away from its invisible tip. Jason's last three bullets flew back into his face as bits of speeding, hot shrapnel. Jason knew the gun was empty even before the hammer clicked against the empty chamber. With the ammunition spent, the guns became useless hunks of metal... and the world began to rev up to its normal speed as the Affinity deserted him. The bullet that he could almost see became a blur... and in the next moment-

Something exploded.

There was a bright blast of light from somewhere to his left. The floor vanished, and the room began to spin around him. The spinning was violent... and brief. It stopped when Jason slammed into the lockers on the other side of the room, hitting them so hard that he dented several of the metal doors, twisted his shoulder almost out its socket, and nearly broke his neck. Jason's feet found the floor, and he pulled himself out of the locker that the explosion had very neatly stuffed him into-

-but it wasn't an explosion.

In the center of the room, exactly where Jason had been standing an instant ago, Ashley now stood with one hand stretched before her. Her powerful aura.... so bright that Jason had mistaken it for an explosion... pulsed off of her outstretched fingers in brilliant, concentric cones of force that shot from her glowing fingertips and vanished into the air in front of her. With the sheer power of her mind, she had shoved Jason aside and stepped into the path of the bullet that should have either gone through her like an arrow through a sheet of paper, or veered around her on its way to him.

But it had done neither.

Though he couldn't see it, Jason somehow knew that the unstoppable bullet was now... stopped... hanging motionless in the air a few feet from Ashley's fingers.

She was holding it.

Jason could only gasp in awe. He couldn't have done it. Even if he had her power, he knew that there was no WAY he could ever summon the willpower that he was now witnessing first hand. Just being close to it was like standing in open door of a blast furnace. The girl's eyes glowed like stars, and her hair hung around her head like a halo of gold... but her expression was far from angelic. Strain and concentration carved deep, ugly canyons across her face. As Jason watched, the corners of her top lip pulled up into a dangerous snarl. Her jaw was clenched so tight that Jason swore he could hear her teeth grinding from across the room.

She was holding it... using will and power to hold back what could not be held... but for how long?

Buddy Hurst was huddling in a corner, eyeing the doorway that was so frighteningly far away. Detective Dobbs was hobbling toward Jason... or she HAD been, until she'd turned and seen Ashley. Now she... like Jason...was frozen. She couldn't see the golden aura, but the look on her face told Jason that somehow, on some level, she knew that something incredible was happening.

-but the instant it STOPPED happening, they would all be dead.

"A-Ashley..." Jason called softly, unsure if Ashley could even hear him... or if his worlds would break her concentration. "you... you've got it!"

"No, I don't!" Ashley's words hissed ominously through grinding teeth and unmoving jaw. "...I've slowed it DOWN... But YOU'VE got to STOP IT!"

"I don't-"

Ashley's other hand lashed out... and pointed at Detective Dobbs.

"HER!" Ashley growled. "SHE'S DOING IT! SHE'S THE ONE!"

"Wha-?" Dobbs looked like a deer caught in a pair of very bright headlights. Her head snapped back and forth between Jason and Ashley. "I don't-"

"GET.... HER... OUT!" Ashley ordered. And then added: "HURRY!"

Jason sprang away from the lockers. Dobbs turned toward him... her face a mask of utter confusion.

"BROOKS!?!" She began. Then Jason tackled her. They hit the floor with Jason's arm around her waist and Marilyn's fingers already curling around his throat. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?!"

"UNNNNGGHG!!" Ashley grunted suddenly, and the moaned. "I'm Losing It! HURRY!"

Jason reached for the detective's face... although he wasn't sure what he was going to do when he grabbed it. He needn't have worried. Dobbs twisted halfway out of his grasp and then jammed her elbow backward across his left temple.

-CRACK-

The room started spinning again. Jason felt the detective slip away... and he heard Ashley scream.

And then he heard the door open.

"THE POLICE ARE-" Sebastian's voice began. He paused.

"TAKE HER OUT!" Ashley screamed. "NOOWWWWWW!"

Jason heard the sound of a sword being drawn.

"HEY!" Detective Dobbs cried. "What are you-"

Jason's vision cleared. He sat up...

...just in time to see the sword fly from Sebastian's deadly hands.

whoosh-Whoosh-WHOOSH

"NO!" Jason cried. "NOOOOO!" Too late.

K-KRAK!

The pommel of the sword struck Dobbs squarely between the eyes. The heavy weapon had enough momentum send her reeling, but not enough to break her neck in the impact. The detective stumbled backward, but was already unconscious before she took her first step. Dobbs collapsed in an embarrassing tangle of long legs and crutches on floor of the men's locker room.

"AAAAA!" Ashley convulsed suddenly and twisted to one side.

One of the lockers behind her imploded with a metallic gong...

...and a large, ugly crack shot up the wall, stopping just short of the ceiling. The locker was folded in half, with a bullet-sized hole in the center of the door and a matching hole in the solid brick wall behind it.

"Dobbs..." Jason lifted her head. She was out cold.... but was still breathing. "Sebastian, You could have killed her!"

"But I didn't," Sebastian said calmly.

"Ashley what's this about!"

"Uhhh-" Buddy Hurst started. "Can I go now?"

"NO!" Jason shouted. "ASHLEY-"

"Don't shout..." Ashley was dragging herself toward them, stumbling and dragging her feet as if she'd just run a marathon. "I'm tired... not deaf.... ohhhhh, my head hurts..."

"Why did we just attack our friend?"

"Because she'd not just OUR friend," said Ashley. "When you started talking to her, I peeked inside her mind. She called the cops when she went to the bathroom. They'll be here any second."

"Yes, but-"

"But that isn't ALL I saw," Ashley continued. "Someone ELSE was in there, too. It was like looking through a peep-hole and seeing another eye looking back at you. Someone was in her mind... looking through her eyes. THAT'S how he finds his targets. He looks through their eyes... and then he shoots them."

"With WHAT? What WAS that thing?"

"A bullet," said Ashley.

"No, it wasn't. I know-"

"He must have gotten to Dobbs somehow... sometime before her boss was killed. Maybe earlier that day. Then he kept the connection alive in case she lead him to us... which is exactly what she did."

"But what kind of WEAPON does he use!?"

"Like I said.. a bullet."

"Dammit, Ashley-"

"A telekinetic bullet." Ashley sniffed, and frowned. "That's why you couldn't stop it. His mind was stronger than your guns."

"But who could DO THAT?"

"Don't you GET IT, Jason!?" Still frowning, Ashley rubbed her finger under her nose. Her fingertip came away bright red. "The guy we're looking for... it's somebody like me!"

[To Be Continued]

copyright 2005 by Dark Icon Entertainment