I'm glad people are starting to like the story, I am certainly enjoying the experience. Just barely know what the hell I'm doing but huzzah for improvising!
Also...there needs to more fanfics with Damien, he is a fun guy to write XD.
Btw, I don't own Aiden or any of the other game characters blah, blah, and blah.
"Have you ever gotten that feeling that you are being watched?" Jay asks through his growing anxiety. Nothing has warranted the emotion, but half an hour of walking beside his new friend in complete peace apparently kick starts his nerves. He found himself on several occasions looking behind him, feeling eyes on them.
"You are a nervous thing, aren't you?" Wick jokes, smirking, "Why are you so jumpy?"
"I don't know…I'm not usually like this."
"I hope not, I know you were a bit sheltered but the outside world isn't that bad."
Jay narrows his eyes, "I'm not sheltered…"
"There is no shame in it, mate, it was out of your control," Wick strides in front of him, walking backwards, looking at him with shining grey eyes, "Your parents didn't understand you, wanted to hide your from the world, right?"
"Yeah…was it really that obvious?"
"Well, considering you act like a kid in a candy store at everything you see around here, yeah, it is pretty bloody obvious…but, I also get you," He turns around, going back to matching his steps, "I had the same problem."
"Really?" Jay says, pondering this. He wasn't surprised there is someone like him, Wick isn't much older than himself. It feels comforting somehow, "What happened?"
Wick turns into an alley, his hands behind his back, "I ran away a long time ago, moved here and found some work."
"You…ran away? How old were you?"
"Twelve. Old enough to sneak onto the nearest airship out of New York, I'm surprised you stayed as long as you did."
Jay stays silent, he had tried to run away before, but he didn't get too far. Back in Poland, everyone knew him. Back there someone was always there to bring him home, because they thought he was crazy, that his parents weren't holding him back. An air of jealousy flares in him, how could Wick get away with it but he couldn't?
Wick stops suddenly, looking at one of the alley walls, "Hey, new art."
The young man stops next to his friend, looking over at wall, his jaw dropping. The brick is riddled with graffiti that spilled from the top to bottom in a Technicolor waterfall.
"Who did this?" Jay asks, eyes wide.
His friend shrugs, "Just some kids with spray paint. It's everywhere…" He trails off, pointing at a certain symbol encased in a circle, "Bet you've seen this before."
Jay moves his eyes to where he's pointing, the symbol was shaped like a fox head. As he scans the rest of the art, many held the mark, "So he really is popular…"
"'Popular' is an interesting word there," Wick says, "More like 'infamous'. You have no idea how many people would like to, ahem, 'talk to him'." He slips the phrase into air quotes. Jay knows what he truly meant and is not surprised considering how many hate their kind with a passion.
The two make their way out of the alley, Jay could hear noise coming from down the next street, "What's going on?"
Wick is grinning now, turning to him, "Let's say I lied about just going around town." He leads him toward the noise, he is courteously slow considering Jay's still throbbing ankle. He hates having to limp everywhere, he felt weaker than usual.
Beyond he sees the street crowded with people chattering incessantly. There were tents lifted haphazardly and stacked up boxes of unknown contents. The crowd is split into circles around certain areas, children and nervous-looking parents hopping from area to area. It seems like a fair almost, but hastily put together, as if it were just thought of an hour ago.
"What's going on over there?"
"A protest."
"Protest?" Jay says, thinking, "For psychics?"
"Yup, these are my favorite. You know, not big enough to attract too much attention, but spontaneous enough to get people interested in what we can really do," He looks at Jay, "It's time you learn a bit about yourself."
"I'm pretty sure I know a lot about myself," Jay mumbles, rubbing his arm.
"Oh, no, you have no idea, mate," Wick laughs, touching his shoulder, "You barely know what a kind of psychic you are."
Jay hesitates, his expression turning miserably sheepish, "There are different kinds?"
"You just thought we all make things float, didn't you?"
"Maybe…"
Wick rolls his eyes, "Wow…this will be a lot of work. We'll start slow. Follow me."
Jay follows his friend toward a fire escape, quietly cursing to himself as he starts climbing up the small building. He proceeds cautiously, Wick helping him up the last ladder, sitting on the edge of the rooftop. The structure overlooks the impromptu fair well. Jay could see the farthest away circle watching a young woman manipulate several metal spheres.
"Are those all…ah…humans watching them?"
"Not everyone hates our guts, mate. Some are actually welcoming and want to see what we can do," Wick answers with a smile, he points toward the young woman, "Now for some education. That little lady over there is an Aero, they specialize in telekinesis aka making shit float around."
"I didn't know there were types…"
"Well, I don't blame you. I didn't know either. But most psychics find what they are good at and stick with it. Most are Aeros. It's the easiest to perfect."
"What are you?"
"Me?" Wick smirks, pointing down at another circle, a man is leading another to the center. He holds out a hand, making a gesture that Jay recognizes. Wick did something similar at the club.
Immediately, the human man's eyes flutter, he begins to fall but the psychic catches him. The crowd whispers and chatters about as the psychic somehow brings the human back to consciousness with a wave of his hand.
"Will benders," Wick says, "We can manipulate the mind, sleep, thought reading, things like that."
"That sounds powerful," Jay says, but wonders if Wick ever read his mind. He didn't exactly need anyone invading his thoughts; they were his own.
"Well, it doesn't work sometimes. Humans with high intelligence are harder to control, and it definitely won't work if a person is aware someone it trying to control them. I mean…we can try and force ourselves in but it takes a lot more energy and probably not worth it at that point." Wick's eyes dart around, as if remembering something. Jay decides not to question it, although at this point he really wishes he knew how to read minds.
"…What am I?" Jay is deadly curious now, looking at Wick expectantly.
Wick thinks about this only for a second, "You're a Visionary."
Jay stares, blatant about his next question without asking it.
Wick continues, stretching, "Psychics that work better with their eyes closed. You can manipulate almost anything artificial, but you have to imagine it, dream it. I heard people like you can look into the past too, see things you otherwise did not see yourself due to certain circumstances."
Jay thinks about the apartment he woke up in, the visions he had of things he couldn't see. It makes sense. He remembers manipulating objects in his home when he got angry, he didn't realize what he was doing, and it didn't matter.
"There are no Visionaries here," Wick says, "You're pretty rare, really. Most can't control their power unless they can see."
"Well, I guess that helps that I don't know what the fuck I'm doing half the time anyway," Jay grumbles.
The two watch the fair play out for a while, the crowd in awe at the power being displayed. "I don't get it…why do they fear us so much?"
Wick, now laying on his back staring up at the sky, glances over at him with an odd expression, "You really know nothing…" it was under his breath, but Jay heard it.
"Are there people that…"
"Bone Devils," Wick sits up, his eyes suddenly serious, "People that can manipulate the muscle and bone. Need I explain more?"
The young man stares, "Seriously?"
Wick nods, "Needless to say they are a bit scary. The only people that take the time to learn that are people you should stay away from."
Jay looks back down at the fair, seeing two in particular snaking through the crowd. He narrows his eyes at one, a woman with dark hair.
~WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW~
Clara listens to the humans speaking positively about the demonstrations with a small smile. There was a point in the past where she thought only violent rebellion could solve things. She was wrong, clearly, based on the last two years.
Although, she didn't completely rule out violence, especially for the man following her.
"I cannot believe you made me come here," Damien mutters for she's sure the third time in the last hour. She turns to him with a raised eyebrow.
"You've said that."
"Well you've ignored me the last two times and I wanted to make sure you knew, sweetheart. If you didn't want me complaining you should have let me stay at the bunker."
Clara narrows her eyes into a glare, "Don't call me sweetheart. And to Hell if I trust you alone there. And I didn't make you come. I tricked you."
Damien scowls, "Well when a woman tells me she want to 'go for a nice walk' I can hardly refuse. That would be rude."
"You're disgusting…" Clara scoffs, crossing her arms.
"Ouch, you hurt me," Damien says, his eyes wondering past her, "Something you want, kid?"
Clara turns, facing a young man with startlingly blue eyes and dark, messy hair. He stares back at her with intent to say something but he can't seem to get any words out. Clara watches the stranger; he is familiar.
"I know you," The kid suddenly says, speaking in a daze.
Another young man appears through the crowd, his hair an obnoxious purple, "Jay, what the Hell? I thought you were going to fall off the damn fire escape…" He trails off, looking at the two of them, his eyes focusing on Damien, "Oh, didn't think I'd see you again."
"Likewise. He with you?" He points at the other young man.
Clara ignores both of them, "I'm sorry…you said you knew me?"
"Well…kinda…" He says, clearly trying to capture the right words, "You know the Fox."
The woman stares, her automatic response being to deny this. However, his face finally found her way into her memory, "You're…" She shakes her head, "Yes, I know him. He's been looking for you."
"Wait, what?" The purple-haired man speaks, but his friend seems to not be listening.
"I know…" He shifts, looking at her with a sudden steely gaze, "How long have you known him?"
Clara is baffled, "What? Does that matter?"
He shrugs in response, "I'm just curious…"
She hears Damien make a noise, as if coming across a sudden discovery, behind her. But, when she looks over he just smiles at her, saying, "So that's the kid? Really? He's what all the fuss is about?"
"There is fuss about me?" The young man seems even more confused.
"It doesn't matter…look—"Clara is interrupted but shouting coming from the crowd occupied by a Will Bender. Now, a human stands close to him, the two glaring at one another.
"Well, this might actually get interesting," Damien says, and evil grin growing on his face.
Clara bites her lip, feeling someone shoulder past her. It takes little time to see that it was the young stranger limping through the crowd toward the fight.
"That can't be good…" The purple-haired man says, his hands gripping and readjusting. Clara watches this for a few seconds, it was most likely nervous energy. The young man was probably a friend of his.
"I'll get him," Clara says, following the stranger through the rapidly growing crowd. The young man is already in between the two men, glaring at the human.
"Why don't you leave him alone? This is supposed to be a peaceful fair…" He says with a surprising amount of authority, although not enough for the human to be intimidated. Clara saw that the younger psychic is small framed, wiry and nimble.
"Peaceful?" The human scoffs, "Yeah, right. That freak stole from me! I remember it!"
"I didn't do anything." The psychic claims calmly, but there is anger in the back of his bright eyes. Clara watches, hoping that perhaps the stranger could settle things.
"You're a fucking liar! And you…" He turns his attention to the kid, "You could be messing with my head too."
"Um…I can't do that—"
"I don't care! This doesn't involve you, get away. Now." He says, his glare intense.
There is silence, save the muttering voices of the humans. Clara suddenly wishes she knew the young man's name. However, she sees him begin to move away, turning his back on the man.
"Yeah, try not to get in the way of things you don't understand," The human man grumbles.
The young psychic seems to be ignoring him. But, he stops, his eyes darkening. In one, swift movement, he spins around, slamming his fist into the man's face.
The crowd spurs in a collective gasp as Clara curses. The young psychic stares at what he's done, looking absolutely petrified. The human growls, throwing a punch back but the psychic runs under it, slamming through the crowd. Clara groans at the instant panic, pushing past a couple moving bodies, catching the kid's arm. He turns, looking at her with wide, blue eyes.
Damien and the purple-haired stranger join them. The latter grinning like a school girl, while the friend speaks, "What the hell is wrong with you? Why did you punch him?"
"I…I didn't mean to! Something came over me…" He defends, "I didn't even realize…"
"Ah, those are cop cars," Damien suddenly speaks, pointing out the bright lights hovering straight toward them, "Who signaled them that fast?"
"I don't know and I don't care," Clara says quickly, "We are getting out of here."
Damien crosses his arms, watching the police begin to surround the small area with a nod, "Yeah, that's not going to happen at this rate. But you know what could solve this?"
"You are not doing anything. Fighting back will only make it worse!"
"You see, with that kind of attitude it will."
"Damien!" Clara growls, reaching to take the young man's arm, but found it no longer beside her. She looks around, seeing him and his friend have vanished, "Where did they go?"
"I don't know, but you should look out behind you." Damien takes her shoulder, pulling her behind him. She rips away just as she sees what is behind her.
An officer stands frozen, one hand holding a small but deadly-looking taser. His face is twisted in some mix of fear and frustration as he tries to move his arm stuck just where Clara had been. Damien saunters over, pulling the weapon from his hand, "Thanks," he says smugly.
Clara expects him to snap the officer's wrist, or break his legs. But the man simply flips the taser around, slamming it into the man's head and letting him drop unceremoniously. A gash of scarlet blooming from his shaggy hair.
He turns to Clara, grinning, "So…"
"Are you expecting me to thank you?" Clara says, crossing her arms.
"Well I did just save your life."
"No you didn't," Clara mutters stubbornly, adding, "It probably wasn't lethal."
The two hear screams across the lot, turning together. The crowd breaks apart, multiple uniformed men aiming their guns at the figure standing at the center.
Damian barely registers what he sees before chuckling, "'The Fox' certainly knows how to make an entrance."
~WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW~
Jay is just about sick of getting dragged around by everyone he meets.
Wick had pulled him away from the two strangers and into the panicking crowd. Jay finally rips away from his grip, "Where are we going? You heard them—"
"And why didn't you tell me the Fox was looking for you?" Wick demands with concerning aggression, but it fades, regretting it, "I'm sorry…this isn't the time for that. But if we don't get out of here we'll have bodies full of bullets."
"Will they really kill us?" Jay asks and as if on cue he hears several gun shots, a couple of figures vanishing.
"Damn right they will, come on," He leads them to the wall of the nearest building, a blockade of cars beyond.
"There is no way we are getting through that," Jay says, although he has to shout over the noise.
Wick begins to speak, but his eyes wander above them, "Ah…I can think of one way…"
Jay's eyes dart to the shadow appearing from the rooftop above, landing with effortless elegance. Jay knew it was before his eyes even begin to process the man standing.
He does not know any other man that could silence chaos. Even if it is for only three seconds.
The two friends stumble back as an enormous plume of steam explodes from the asphalt just below the blockade, sending several of the cars to pile atop one another. Another goes off, this time behind them before time fully reawakens.
He hears an officer screaming into an earpiece for backup whilst the area begins to empty, humans climbing over the wreckage of the blockade.
Jay's first instinct is to do the same, but he is still, watching the Fox turn toward him, their eyes locking.
"Jay, he's looking at you," Wick says slowly.
"Yeah, he is…" Jay confirms in the same daze, seeing several objects fly out of the Fox's coat. They were swords, from what Jay remembers.
But, as the handles fly up, Jay could somehow hear a small clicking above the hysteria, the other end of the handles extending. They weren't swords, they were batons.
"Jay!" Wick shouts, shaking his shoulder. It sounds as if it wasn't the first time he said his name. Jay looks at him, then back at the Fox, watching the batons spark as bullets ricochet off the metal. Other psychics engage the officers as the Fox moves forward toward the two. The officers begin to retreat, but something told Jay they wouldn't be gone long.
He starts running, meeting the man as if the fight beyond did not exist. He stares, "How did you know I was here?"
The psychic doesn't answer, his head snapping up behind him. One of the batons flips around, the sword blade appearing and pointed right at Wick.
Wick raises his hands, staring with obvious fear. Jay stares between them, "What are you doing? He's a friend!"
The Fox yet again doesn't answer, staring at Wick, who looks back at him, his eyes changing. They look at one another as if having a wordless conversation before Jay's friend slowly steps back. The sword vanishes back to a baton, the older man taking Jay's shoulder, steering him across the lot. He stumbles, pain nipping at his ankle.
"Ok, that hurts!" Jay scowls, stopping.
"We need to hurry," The Fox speaks finally, the voice is much rougher, not like the last time he spoke. There is a scarf over his mouth, but the tone was clear and demanding.
"I can't exactly hurry with this," Jay gestures to his injury, "You should know considering you stitched it."
"That doesn't change the fact that we need to hurry."
"Well dragging me around isn't going to help!"
"Fine. I'll try something else." The Fox steps closer, some of the batons vanishing and returning to his coat as he wraps an arm around Jay, lifting him off the ground as he runs down the street, jumping over an abandoned car.
"This is not what I meant!" Jay shouts, gripping the older man's arm.
"Well what other plan did you have?" his voice is considerably calmer, however, it shifted to the condescending manner that makes Jay feel more insulted than he should.
"Can't you make me float or something!?"
"Yes, but that makes you a target for crossfire, besides, we are almost to the bike."
"Bike…?" He feels him stop, setting him down. Jay sees the machine sitting on the curb in horror, "I really don't like bikes…"
The Fox looks at him blankly, "You've got to be kidding me."
The two turn as the strangers from before join them. The man's clothes were torn in several spots by skidding bullets, but he was smiling, unlike the woman next to him.
"What the hell was that," The woman gestures to the clouds of steam still present in the distance, "You are going to have the whole city's police force on you!"
"I won't if you cause a distraction while I get out of here. Without killing the whole city's police force."
"That's not effective at all," The man says as sirens scream.
"They are coming," The Fox looks at Jay, "You're going to have to trust me." He goes the bike, Jay following with hesitation, looking at the two strangers.
"Don't worry, kid, you'll probably survive. Probably."
"Damien, I swear…" The woman growls.
Jay turns slowly, looking at the bike. He sees the police begin to make their way down a nearby alley as he sits behind the older psychic.
"Hold on, don't get shot," The Fox says as the machine roars to life. Jay squeaks at the sound, wrapping his arms around the man for dear life as the cycle catapults down the street.