Esper Chapter 15: Porcupine

Part 1

Beneath the spotlight of those piercing purple eyes, Harper Wolf’s heart pounded against his ribcage with Amala Singh breathed down the back of his sweaty neck. Unable to catch his breath, the teen was paralyzed with the exposure of his secret! “Wha…What are you talking about? Powers? I don’t get what you’re talking about…” Playing dumb, backpedaling away from the situation, that was the best option in his mind. (Shit! How?! No way she was able to figure me out!) Harper pushed away from Amala only for her to reach out her hand, grabbing him by the wrist with unexpected force! The petite woman’s nails dug into his skin, akin to a mountain lion’s claws locking onto prey! Her gaze was ferocious, and unflinching, staring a hole right through the teen. (Oh no. No, no, no! Got to get away! Maybe…I can…) Harper tried to establish a link to Amala’s mind, planning to suggest thoughts into her head.

“Ow!” The second he did, she winced in pain, then seized the boy by his chubby cheeks with an iron grip! “Stop that!” Coinciding with the tension surging throughout her body, Amala’s pyrokinesis engulfed the area in a warm embrace. “Don’t you dare…ever…ever do that again! That hurt!” Mauve haze plumed upward, seeping out from beneath her feet.

(Suggesting thoughts never hurt people before! Is this a part of my new powers?!) Harper attempted to pry Amala’s hands from his cheeks, but the more he did, the tighter she clutched and more rapidly did the temperature soar!

“…How long have you had these powers? Don’t lie!” The asphalt was slowly softening from the miniature heat dome. “What can you do? I remember feeling words being…shoved into my head, which was you. Then…is it brain control…no, telepathy? That’s the name I came across on the internet. It’s telepathy, isn’t it?! Wait, does that mean you can read minds too?” Terror bled into Harper’s very bones as Amala was, right before his eyes, piecing everything together! He was totally at her mercy! If the thought of using telepathy to escape even crossed the fear-stricken boy’s mind, the dire situation would only worsen. “Are you…the reason I’ve been having those dreams?”

“W-wha…?” Cold sweat permeated Harper’s brow, evaporating upon contact with Amala’s smoldering hands.

“How much of my mind have you read?” With each word, her frigid glare chilled the boy’s soul, while searing nails scorched his face. “…How many of my thoughts have you manipulated?” The sweltering heat bubbled! Harper knelt to the hot asphalt, feeling an imposing aura radiate along Amala’s outstretched arms. “How many people have you manipulated with this power of yours?”

“N-no one…” Her grip tightened again.

“Don’t you lie to me.”

“…” He couldn’t maintain eye contact with the incensed woman. Conscious of all the deeds done with that power, Warren’s death, likely causing Wilhelmina’s kidnapping, controlling and influencing many people’s thoughts, and reading their minds, Harper was choked up! “…”

“I see.” An intrusive thought, only existing for the blink of an eye, flashed though Amala’s mind and was picked up by Harper. (…Should I kill him?)

Grasping that one thought, and peering into her eyes, Harper understood she could and would coldheartedly take a life. “Stop!” He screamed, startling Amala just long enough for her grip to loosen and giving him time to shove her, with all his weight!

Amala was thrown backwards onto the ground, dazed! When she gathered herself, Harper was already sprinting away, moving faster than he’d ever done in his whole life! “Come back here!” Amala tripped, feeling her heel had stuck in the mushy asphalt! “Dammit!” She quickly dug through her bag, in search of her sneakers aiming to pursue the teenage boy who’d already made his escape, ducking into a deserted neighborhood!

Part 2

The poor girl cried hysterically while being carried under the arm of the crazed dealer! Begging words muffled under duct tape, arms restrained by bundles of rope, and unfortunately her legs were too short to reach the ground. “Shut up! I said shut up!” His constant tussling of the girl only agitated Wilhelmina Trask more!

Down an alley from his hot pink dragster, Juan hurried Wilhelmina into a seemingly dilapidated building. Basically, kicking open the rusted yet sturdy door, he stumbled down multiple flights of stairs, into a wide bunker room. From wall to wall, jumpsuit clad workers halted cutting drugs upon seeing the distraught man! “Hey! You can’t come in here!” A man on a scaffolding hollered, reaching for his gun!

“Fuck you! Where’s Noah? Tell him Juan’s here!” Wilhelmina verging on a panic attack, reflected on the events of the day. Less than one hour prior, she was still sulking from the incident in the woods, then the man who’d scarred her reappeared, forced her into a car, tied her up; finally thrusting her into a frightening and perplexing situation!

Juan stormed by the workers, up into a room that overlooked the whole operation. He entered to large thuggish men pulling their guns on him! The manic dealer held up the hand, that was basically only a stump, in fear! “Whoa, whoa! Noah! Noah! It’s Juan! Tell them to chill!”

“Relax.” Wilhelmina, in her terror fraught state, struggled to even comprehend the face of the man entering the room opposite them. With more tattoos and piercings than visible skin, in walked a wiry, presumably, Caucasian man from a curtained off area in the back. Moseying around his large expensive desk, only sporting red boxers, and a loaded holster, the man gestured to the small hyperventilating child under Juan’s arm. “…Juan, bro, what the fuck is this?”

“This the little bitch who lied on us! Gotta’ be! Her or that gray haired prick!” Juan tossed Wilhelmina to the floor! “We can get that motherfucker through her!”

“…” Noah strolled behind the curtain, retrieving a pack of cigarettes, then returned with a deep sigh. “Bro, you know what’s happening here, right? You grabbing this girl and shit, that’s what the police think we’re doing. They think we’re the ones who are kidnapping kids! I would never kidnap no kid; you get me? I’d kill one of those motherfuckers myself! I got kids!” Noah groaned again, scratching his tattoo masked forehead as he exhaustedly fell back into his desk chair and logged into his PC. “Bro, look at this! Shit’s fucked. They saying this Beset’s sword is coming for us now! Bunch of stupid kids going ‘round playing super hero and shit.” Noah turned his computer monitor around, showing Juan a cluster of messages and posts online from Beset’s sword.

“Yeah, it’s her fault and that dude’s fault! Son of a bitch shot my hand off…with like, some kind of superpower or something!” Wilhelmina was confused. As far as she knew, after escaping, Juan and Warren, who she didn’t even know, ran away!

“Superpower?”

Removing the haphazardly applied wrapping, Juan dramatically unveiled a mangled stump, only a thumb and wrist left at the end of his arm! “My fucking hand, man! I was holding that little gray-haired pussy down and he…swung his arm and cut my hand up! Fuck! Man!” He balled up his other fist, standing over Wilhelmina and reeled back!

“Chill the fuck out.” Noah spoke and Juan halted in place! Calmly, he pulled a cigarette from the pack, placing it in-between his lips, lighting it, and taking a long drag. Having seen her father smoking before, Wilhelmina was perplexed by the tobacco stick’s odd color. Each puff Noah blew into the air from the greenish brown cigarette filled the room with a sour, bitter stench. The room went mostly silent for minutes as the tattoo skinned man simply sat, smoking away, pondering without a word. Under his breath, barely audible, he muttered something. “…Juan, I known you since 8th grade, right?”

“Yeah! Then you know that-”

“You know, I grew up watching my ‘dad’ beat the shit out of my mom and sister, right? I got a daughter now, so I don’t play that shit.”

“Man, Noah, you know I’m right, right?! Bitch went and told those fuckers online that we snatch up kids! Now they’re after us and so are the police!”

“And what exactly did you do here?” Noah stood up from his seat and pointed to Wilhelmina, tied and bruised on his floor.

“Man, you don’t get it! I-”

Without a second thought, Noah shot Juan right between the eyes! “…” Wilhelmina screamed into the tape over her mouth as the two guards looked to each other, surprised by Noah’s decision! “Known that man since 8th grade. Back then, we used to just fuck around, watch music videos, then get high as shit and drink my ‘dad’s’ liquor.” Barefoot, Noah paced back and forth through the puddles of blood and brain matter. “Bro was always on some shit, crazy paranoid. Always thought someone was out to get him.” He stopped and looked down at his former friend. The bullet had taken most of the man’s skull, leaving only a lopsided bowl of viscera. Noah knelt down and closed the still intact eye, and began to perform a silent prayer using the cross tattooed on his own chest.

Once finished, he turned his eyes on Wilhelmina! The young girl tried to scurry to her feet, but bound as she was that wasn’t possible! Backed against the door, begging for her life, only her muffled cries which fell on deaf ears came forth. “Boss, you want us to handle her?” One of the guards said, as Wilhelmina grew more panicked, assuming death was inevitable!

“Handle?” Wilhelmina clenched her eyes shut, as Noah, clad in tattoos, dripping with blood and wearing only his boxers, while wielding a smoking gun approached! She expected to be hit or shot, but he gently placed his hand on her face and brushed away bone fragments. “On some real, send Juan’s mom some money. She’s going to need it to bury him.” The leader got back up and moved back toward the curtained off room, stopping to say something to one of the guards. “Post her up somewhere. We’ll let you go after a while, alright? No more crying, get me?” Said guard walked over, slung Wilhelmina over his shoulder and made for the exit. “Damn! Now I’m pissed off! I’m’o get some sleep! This is why I should’a gone to college! Fuck all this drug dealin’ shit, damn!” Wilhelmina watched as Noah retired to the back, blowing up the curtains, with two partially clothed women awaiting him on a bed. Without even bothering to brush away the blood and chunks of flesh, he joined them to relax.

Part 3

Scouring every abandoned building, car, and alleyway, yielded nothing in Amala’s search for Harper. “Come out! Stop hiding!” She shouted across the quiet scape! Only wind cutting through empty structures whispered back. With a sigh, Amala resigned to plodding through the ghost town.

Unbeknownst to Amala, that target wasn’t far off, eluding her at every turn. (This headache won’t go away! Fuck! Why me?!) Despite the severe migraine, Harper used his telepathy to perceive Amala’s general location, staying one step ahead. Finally locating a safe city block with other pedestrians walking about, he could spare a minute to sit, collecting himself on a vacant stoop. (I’m definitely, so getting stronger! It’s like I went from a 5 to a 50, and got some new power on the way!) In the back of his mind, Harper kept replaying – reliving the kidnapping of Wilhelmina. That hot pink dragster creeping along, Juan leaning out, Wilhelmina getting snatched, guilt was inescapable! (Dammit, Warren! I just wanted to cheat some fucking card games, but you had to get Juan involved?! This is bullshit! This is his fault, not mine!) That assertion couldn’t clear his conscience. (…I can still sense Vergil. What’s he even doing? He’s got no idea where to go, or what to look for. Only I do! I wonder…can I read his mind from here?)

Closing his eyes, Harper let his mind drift. The cold concrete below vanished, the chilly winds slowed to a stop, and thoughts overwhelmed all sound. Growing from dull humming to crystal clear voices; worries, frustrations, lusts, hunger, and ultimately, fear, all reached Harper’s mind. Clearer than if they were spoken directly into his own ears, thoughts from further than ever before supplanted themselves in the telepath’s mind. Sifting through the noise was like traveling down a long corridor, catching bits and pieces of conversations happening on the other side of closed doors. From amongst the myriad of thoughts, one stuck out. It wasn’t Vergil, but dedicating all focus to it revealed something direr! (Vergil, help! Daddy, help!) His head snapped in the direction of those thoughts, glimpsing a van flying down the street blocks away!

“Fuck…” Harper knew; it could’ve only been Wilhelmina! Guilt would’ve strangled him if it had hands! Struggling back to his feet, praying his head wouldn’t fracture, the exhausted teen slowly gave chase.

Part 4

Time dilated under Vergil Trask’s hefty anxiety and an unbearable headache. Driven by a compulsion to follow a singular enigmatic image, the frazzled teen pushed on. Truthfully, the origin of the bright pink color, familiar foreboding visage, and the shape of a long car, seeping into his mind was mysterious. He was scared, though only finding his sister mattered. Ditching school, cold air burning his lungs, and his feet aching from running nonstop, didn’t matter! The inevitable beating from his father, did not matter! Only Wilhelmina mattered!

Numerous ignored calls from Harper, but none from his father were displayed on Vergil’s phone screen. (Is he drunk in the middle of the day, again?! When Wilhelmina needs him?!) Lost, running throughout the desolate factory district, the teen buried all his questions and fears for another time, soldiering on.

Upon reaching a dirt road, someone called to the exhausted boy. “You okay?” The smell of that homeless man hit Vergil’s nose before any words reached his ears though. “Don’t look too good. Better sit down, catch ya’ breath.” Ill equipped for the middle of the cold season himself; neither the man’s worn cap or dingy clothes, nor his cardboard box shelter, seemed adequate in Vergil’s eyes.

“…I-I am fine.” Though Vergil said that, his adrenaline was slowly petering out. His knees shook, and feet felt as if they’d break with another step.

“Be careful walkin’ ‘round here. Asshole nearly ran me over little while ago.”

“R-ran…? In a car?!” Vergil nearly tackled the man seated in his box!

“Un huh! Young guy drives this pink dragster `round here all the time, doing doughnuts and stuff. Don’t go getting’ involved though. Pretty sure he’s a dealer.”

(Pink…dragster? Those thoughts in my head…are they connected? Why do I know about that car?) No time for questions, Vergil hardly faltered. “T-The guy that drives the car, did you s-see him?”

“Yeah. Mexican guy, bit older than you.” An image solidified in Vergil’s mind.

(Was it the guy from woods? The man who I…) Flashing back, Vergil remembered being straggled, nearly dying, but defending himself by severing three of the man’s five fingers! Though, the sensation of blood splattering across his face, was unforgettable. The agonized screams from the man…the light fading from Warren Prince’s eyes, and the lies he told to cover his own tracks…

“Seriously, I don’t know who ya’ are, but you seem like a good kid.” He was back! Vergil was stood, once more, in his grim reality. “Ya’ probably don’t sell, do ya’?” A shake of the head was given in response, obviously. Vergil had never so much as taken a sip of alcohol or smoked a cigarette in his life. “Whatever business ya’ got with that guy, drop it. Go home, I’m sure someone is waitin’ for ya’.” Vergil unsure of that. The only person who was who could’ve been waiting was Wilhelmina.

“W-Which way did that car go?” Reluctantly, the homeless man pointed toward a set of dilapidated factory buildings. Vergil fished out his wallet and offered some money, but it was rejected. Placing the cash on the ground, the teen solemnly marched toward the barren lot, leaving the homeless man to silently pray.

Approaching the structures, Vergil's heart quaked in his chest. Support, he craved any support. Scrolling down his contact list, he arrived at Nicolaus Thompson. A sliver of hope, though he’d noticed Nicolaus wasn’t posting in their group chat all day. The teen had also not seen him play any games online, or respond to any invitations sent to him. In the back of his mind, Vergil knew his message wouldn’t receive a response, yet sent it off anyway. After a minute of waiting, the message sat unread. (I’m…on my own.) With a deep breath, Vergil attempted to steel himself and sneak on.

Decrepit and cracked floors littered with discarded drug paraphernalia sent chills, colder than the winter breeze, down Vergil’s spine. An overwhelming rusty stench was carried along by gusts of wind, howling through the desolate district. What made him think he could be a hero? What were his chances of making it out alive with his sister in tow?! He was walking into a drug den filled with people who wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him dead! Never had he experienced being on the winning end in his miserable life! Reality, and his own mind were laying into him! Every beating he’d taken, every encounter, he was helpless; helpless until he fought back against Juan, and killed Warren Prince.

Etched into every corner of Vergil’s psyche was him killing someone, and all he wanted to do was defend himself! (What am I even doing...?) Recalling his father’s disdain on the day he failed to protect his sister further eroded his confidence. Motivation sapped; Vergil halted in his tracks. As his eyes glazed over, hardly catching the tarmac and gray buildings, until a flash of bright pink contrasted harshly. Focusing up, a muscle car stood out! It sat in one of many run-down garages, quietly awaiting the return of its owner.

Propelled by another sliver of hope, the desperate older brother rushed to the vehicle’s side. In through the tinted windows, aside from the well-maintained leather interior, nothing. Absent-mindedly checking the inside of the car, Vergil completely missed the grown man calling out to him! “Hey! The fuck?!” He shirked in reply to the gangster, who seemingly appeared from nowhere! “Wait…gray haired…?” The man, pants sagging, unkempt brown beard, and wearing a skully muttered to himself, remembering Juan’s words. The boy’s premature gray hair already stood out, but more so in that situation. “…You the kid, huh? Juan was one of the boys, for real. Come here, I wanna’ talk with you for a sec.” The flick of a switchblade produced from the man’s pocket sent Vergil into fight or flight mode; he chose flight! Though Vergil was fast to escape and wily, the man was faster! Gripped by the collar, the teen was slammed back first against the dragster’s door, setting off its alarm!

Pain shot up Vergil’s spine, yet that was incomparable to the sledgehammer like punch that rocked him! He’d been punched before, but never like that! The blow collided with the side of his head, concussing him immediately, rattling his eyes around, splitting the boy’s scalp! Vergil fell to the ground with a thud, defeated, but the man pulled him back up, unleashing another flurry of shots to his gut, relentlessly pummeling Vergil!

The onslaught only ceased when Vergil fell limply to the ground. The man’s voice, and car’s blaring alarm, were drowned out by ringing in the battered boy’s ears. No thoughts could pierce the fog of hurt claiming Vergil’s mind. Even laying on the ground, motionless and disoriented, watching the world spin, was at the edge of his comprehension. “Yo, turn that shit off!” A voice hollered from on high!

“Aight, but Noah, check this lanky fucker out. It’s the one Juan was talking about!” Down from a catwalk overlooking the garage slowly walked Noah, only managing a glimpse of the boy’s silver locks as Vergil subconsciously staggered to his feet. The gangster gestured again as if he would stab the barely conscious teen, but an explosion of smoky, translucent objects burst outward! Objects of all shapes and sizes, larger than buses, smaller than bullets, shaped like the heads of lions, twisted hands, thin as paper, small spheres, and sharp curved spikes, ravaged all the buildings in the area! Vergil had unleashed a flood of psychic energy objects everywhere! The projections crashed through whatever they came in contact with! The car, walls, and earth below were nearly obliterated! No matter the shape, they were denser and heavier than tungsten!

Noah was blown off his perch as the stairs came crashing down. The dealer watched as his base of operations was shot full of holes by glassy energy items, piercing the walls and floors. Vergil’s attacker had not only been run through by several spears, but crushed against the car, smashed into a bloody smear, leaving only a crumpled corpse. Inside the building, the workers all fled for cover as their workspace began to collapse, killing several, injuring more. The objects continued outward to just before the edge of the lot, annihilating the run-down buildings, leaving only rubble, dust, and corpses.

End of Chapter 15