{…The pain was everywhere, and nowhere; it had no origin point. When it stopped, I slumped to the floor and stared up at the girl.
"What…are you?" I gasped out, the world was still spinning and I closed my eyes to keep from vomiting.
"Scorpio," the girl answered. She sounded amused. "I have some work I need you to do. Do as I say and you'll live longer."
I said nothing. I was dead either way. They would never let me go alive.
"I took care of your little mob problem," the girl whispered, slapping my cheek. I winced. "You don't have to worry about them coming for you; just me."…};
-Chapter 2: Stress Relief-
Manaus was a strange city, seeming to never end in its uniformity. It wasn't like the cities in the States, it was…closer to the ground. There weren't many skyscrapers here, and all of them seemed to be apartment complexes with the occasional hotel. The streets and businesses were worn down and dirty – not quite bad enough to be called filth, but enough to make someone uncomfortable.
It had been dark out for about forty minutes, and the hustle and bustle of the city night life was in full swing. The booming bass of extremely loud music could be heard coming from a few blocks away, most likely a night club of some sort. While that sort of place had its moments of fun in my life, that wasn't exactly the right environment I had in mind for tonight's entertainment. I needed something more subtle.
I shook my head and breathed in, taking in the wondrous smells of car exhaust and garbage. I turned and walked down the sidewalk for a few yards before dodging into an ally, away from prying eyes. Satisfied that no one was watching, I bent my knees and leaped up into the air, soaring over the low-rise buildings and away from the hotel.
The Amazon might suck during the daytime, but it was absolutely the right climate and temperature for flying – much better than the abrasive cold of Washington. I did a corkscrew and a few nosedives, laughing all the way, before I caught the scent of cooking food and drifted lower to investigate.
It seemed to be a respectable restaurant, from what I saw from my perch on the roof across the street. It was a sit-down restaurant, though, and I didn't have any Brazilian currency on me. I guess I'd just have to work for my meal, then.
I leaned farther over the edge of the roof, getting a glimpse of the foot traffic a couple stories below. Though some of the people looked a little rough around the edges, none of them looked to be up to no good. Not that I was a vigilante, mind you. It's just peer pressure, I suppose – well, that and some good logic. Sure, I had no qualms in murdering a soccer mom, but why not go for the serial rapist or bank robber instead? I may as well be a public servant. I grinned and ran off to the side of the building, leaping the ally-distance and landing on the adjacent building.
After a few more rounds of extreme parkour, I hit paydirt – the gas station a block away from where I hid was being held up. From the frantic clerk's thoughts, the thief had a pistol. I darted through the air, making it to the roof of the store impossibly fast. My hand reached for my knife when I was thrust into a vision.
I open the door, the masked man flinches and unloads his gun on me. A bullet hits me when I forget to put up my shield.
I shook my head and hesitated. I sifted through various possible futures. Some of them ended with the clerk alive – though most of them featured his corpse – and all of them showed me as the victor and the masked dead. The issue was the damn security cameras inside. The one that looked out onto the aisles wasn't an issue, but the one that was aimed at the counter would capture me in all my glory.
Shrugging, I drifted down to the sidewalk and peered through the window at the robbery in progress. The clerk was frozen in fear, his eyes never leaving the barrel of the gun that was aimed at him. I drew my knife and shot it through the glass of the window, where it struck the security camera and completely obliterated it.
The robber flinched, like in the vision, but instead squeezed off a few rounds into the wall. The clerk ducked down behind the counter and seemed to be going into shock. I pulled back the knife, sending small bits of broken security camera across the floor and shattering the window completely where the blade impacted the window.
"Who's there?" the robber shouted out in Portuguese. "Did you call the police?" He made his way behind the counter and grasped the coward of a store clerk, shoving him into the wall while his eyes darted through the window. I ducked down and crouch-walked over to the front door, securing my shield around me and grinning as I tried not to laugh. Right, the police decided to shoot out the security cameras without identifying themselves. What an idiot.
Giving up all subtleties, I used my telekinesis to rip the door frame from its hinges and hurl it straight into the robber. A satisfying wet smack and a loud crash followed, but the robber did not cry out. I nearly thought the man was dead and buried under the blood, glass, and metal of the rubble until I heard the wheezing cough and gasping for air. I moved into the store, disregarding the petrified store clerk, and stood beside the carnage. Several shelves were knocked over and broken, leaving piles of unhealthy-but-delicious snacks scattered on the floor.
The results were quite nice, and I didn't even get to have any fun with him. The robber tried to cry out for help – as if anyone would help him; could help him – as I lifted the twisted door frame from his mangled and crushed body. I tossed the pile aside and knelt down to get a closer look, shooting the clerk one last look to ensure he kept up his statue impression, which he was. I turned back to look at my work, who was now in the process of choking to death from the free-flowing blood. It was actually quite impressive that he was still alive.
His left eye was obliterated, a shard of glass embedded through his cheek across to his eye socket. Actually, the entire left side of his body was fucked up from the impact. The bones in his arm were like gravel and two of his fingers were completely severed, with the rest – save his thumb – completely mangled. From the position his soon-to-be-corpse was lying, his spine was broken. Oh yes, he would die soon. I stood back up and turned my head to the counter, where there didn't appear to be anyone.
Well shit, where did the damn clerk go?
The man was breathing heavy as he arrived at the modest car parked down the street. He fumbled his keys, but managed to unlock the door and start the engine after a few shaky tries. Visibly shaking with terror, he peels out of the parking spot and drives away.
"Oh, shit!" I shouted aloud and take off running out the hole where the front door used to be. I really can't be leaving any witnesses around. Surprisingly – and most of all, luckily – there wasn't anyone immediately around and I didn't hear any sirens. I mentally crossed my fingers as I sprinted down the overgrown sidewalk that no one would come across the body and rubble before I was finished with Mr. Clerk.
I caught up with the bastard just as he started the engine. I honestly had no idea it was possible for someone's eyes to get as big as Mr. Clerk's did when he saw me stop right outside his car. I reached for the door handle as he flipped the car into drive and started to peel out. I smirked as I lifted the entire car four inches off the pavement, listening to the snarl of the small engine try to propel the pathetic vehicle forward. I floated the car back to its parking spot – still hovering it in the air – and reached for the handle again.
Mr. Clerk, being a smart guy, promptly locked the doors before I got to the handle. I knocked on the window and gave him the 'are you fucking kidding me?' look, trying to convey without words the absurdity of relying on a lock to save him from someone who can kill robbers with flying store doors and levitate cars off the ground. It took him a second or two to come to the same conclusion in his mind, and when he visibly gulped and dove for the passenger side – trying to make another run for it – I was already in action. Without lifting a finger, I crushed the metal exterior of the car inward, effectively jamming all the doors and preventing his escape.
"Oh, god!" the man pleaded. "Please, just let me go! Don't!" I ignored him and leaped up onto the roof of the car, kneeling down so I could grasp the edges. Suddenly, the car was airborne and I was riding it back to the ruined store. In no time at all we were back, and I set the car – now prison – down, facing the gaping hole.
"Don't go anywhere," I said to Mr. Clerk as I strode back inside and headed for the cash register. I mentally crushed the machine and extracted the money – not much; nearly $340 worth – and eyed the soda refrigerators across the store. I was getting kind of thirsty from all this hard work. I shrugged and telekinetically ripped the second security camera from the wall before walking over to the drinks. They didn't have any Mountain Dew, so I had to settle for Coke. I'm not entirely sure why, but I don't like Pepsi as much as I do Coca-Cola. I grabbed a couple bottles and headed back outside.
Mr. Clerk had managed to shove his foot through the passenger-side window, which would have been an awesome escape if he didn't get stuck while doing it. His right leg – nearly to the knee – was hanging out of a jagged hole in the cracked glass. Small dribbles of blood leaked down to the pavement. When he saw me coming, he struggled and tried to free his foot. His thought process was mostly running on instinct now. It was similar to the way small children won't let their limbs hang over the side of the bed in fear of the monster underneath. Even though he wanted to escape the car and knew it offered him no protection, he didn't wish to be outside with me.
"Sorry about this," I spoke through the bloody hole after his shredded leg was finally removed. Quickly, I levitated the car again and flung it into the hole in the building, keeping the force equivalent to that of a speeding car. The sound of rending and screeching metal replaced the wet thud of the door hitting the robber, but the crash that followed was much the same – albeit on a larger and more satisfying level. The hole became even larger after the car's frame settled three-fourths of the way inside the building.
I waited a few minutes to make sure the scene looked correct and to ensure no witnesses survived. No thoughts or emotions emanated from the ruined structure. I let out a deep breath of satisfaction as I swayed on my feet slightly. The pressure and anxiousness I didn't even realize I had been carrying was lifted from me during the after-kill high I always got. I reached into my pocket for the money I took and pulled out a few bills.
"Well damn," I said, putting the rest of the money back. "I still need to find a few cars." I unscrewed the cap to the bottle of soda and took a swig, enjoying the fizz as it went down my throat. Recapping the drink, I put the other one under my arm and took off into the sky in search of some food before I went car shopping.
End notes: I'm really sorry about not posting this on Saturday. Halo 4 is slightly addicting and I didn't get a free chance to finish the chapter. Expect another one this Saturday.
Also, I changed the rating from 'T' to 'M,' simply because this story is going to get even more violent than it already is and I don't want to take the chance of the story being taken down or something.