A/N: This story accompanies chapters of the story 'Unimaginable: Volume 2'. Though it is not necessary that you read 'Unimaginable: Volume 2' to understand this, it would certainly help. If you like, read both, plus 'Unimaginable: Volume 1'. Seriously, I'd love you forever. Thanks for reading, and please enjoy.
RECRUITING DRIVE
BERLIN, GERMANY
1988
Jake Nicholson moved slowly, carefully. The kid was slippery, and dangerous. The train yard at the edge of the Soviet sector of the divided city of Berlin was freezing cold, and far too dark. The lights of the western side shone brightly in the distance, and Jake knew why the Soviet Union was collapsing around the Kremlin's ears.
He gave them another two or three years, at best.
Jake's breath misted in the air before him, and he tucked his hands in the long overcoat he wore to stave off the cold.
How had the boy lived here for as long as he had without freezing to death? Jake had seen his living space; a rat's nest at the edge of the train yard, featuring a ratty old blanket.
Jake knew he would have died after one night in these conditions.
There.
Movement in the shadows, farther along the moonlit path Jake was walking, between two massive passenger cars. Jake needed no further indication, he ran, gun out.
The kid saw him, and ran, too, straight for one of the train cars. Jake lifted his gun and fired, but the shot didn't seem to strike anything. The kid only ran faster for it, jumping towards the solid metal wall of the train.
He disappeared. Right through the wall.
Jake skidded to a stop in the gravel, eyes wide. "Holy hell." Greenland's information was good, it seemed. The kid did have an ability. Maybe that's how he survived, Jake thought.
He kept moving, despite his surprise, and finally reached the train car. He leapt up, into the niche that housed the nearest door into the car.
He cocked his fist back, and pounded the door.
The thick wood splintered like balsa, collapsing inwards. Jake kicked the remnants down, and pulled the gun up, finger curling around the trigger. His heart was pounding in his ears. The kid could be anywhere.
Movement.
Jake fired towards it.
The kid spun about, his face briefly illuminated by the muzzle flash. The shot was perfectly aimed, and should have blown a hole in his chest. Not imminently fatal, but definitely incapacitating. However, the skin and clothes of the boy merely rippled beneath the bullet, and it struck the thin padding of the train seat behind him.
The kid didn't waste a second, and nor did Jake.
The boy simply phased through the nearest wall, out into the night on the other side of the train car. Jake moved like greased lightening to the nearest window, through which he could see the kid making a run for freedom through the open air.
Jake punched out the window, and slipped through, landing at the same time as the shattered glass.
He followed the rapidly retreating shape of the boy, trying to get a clean shot, but the kid was leaping from side to side in his desperate attempt at escape.
Looked like he had some practice escaping from pursuit.
He was almost out the train yard's gate, almost to freedom. Then, a brilliant flash lit the train yard. A jet of fire burned through the night air towards the boy. It struck, and he screamed as the flames set his clothes alight, and scorched his skin.
He dropped to the ground, and began to roll.
Jake kept moving, knowing that he only had a small window here.
From the shadows, stepped a slender, beautiful red-headed woman. Abby Cone was her name, and the fire was her doing.
She waved her hand over the blaze that was the writhing, screaming, boy and they seemed to be sucked up towards her palm. The flames entirely left the child, and encircled her outstretch hand. She spread her palms upward, and the flames gathered on her skin, finally disappearing entirely.
"Good job," Jake said as he came near, letting his gun drop to his side.
Abby turned and nodded solemnly. The boy was badly burnt, whimpering on the ground. Abby knelt beside him, her expression sympathetic. "The pain'll be over soon, I promise."
The sound of a single person clapping came from the shadows.
Both pursuers turned, but they both already knew who it was. Clad in a top-end, ultra-expensive faux-fur coat stood the slight, blonde form of Louise Greenland. She stopped clapping, and her gloved hand grasped the outstretched palm of a little boy, no more than eight years old, with a shock of short, spiky dirty blonde hair.
Jake couldn't help holding his breath. Greenland had brought her son?
Greenland came closer to the two of them, and she let go of the boy's hand. He stood, silently watching the proceedings. She dropped to the gravelled ground, and extended her hands over the badly burnt boy.
A thin, straw-coloured glow emanated from her hands.
The boy stopped his pathetic squirming, as the healing energy began to reverse the damage done by his burns. Within minutes, they were all gone, and his once-scorched and blackened skin was the same pale colour it had been.
He sat up, spun about, and, pushing himself to his feet, bolted off in a blind panic.
Greenland turned back to her son, and nodded.
He threw out an arm, and, Jake saw with a kind of horrified fascination, let loose a bright blue bolt of lightning.
The burst of electrical energy struck the boy's retreating form, burning across his body, picking him up and dumping him on the ground, unconscious.
Greenland turned to the boy, and extended her hand. He ran forward, and grabbed it. She nodded politely to Jake and Abby, a sick kind of proud smirk barely hidden on her face. "Congratulations. You just captured a teenaged run-away by the name of Brendan Wunderlich. Bring him in."
With that, she and the boy walked away, leaving Jake and Abby gaping after them.
