The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A speeding car rushed between two agents and the car they were trailing. The sudden change in the pace of traffic was a bit of a jolt. The driver seemed oblivious to other traffic other than to dodge.

“What the fuck?” Thorn asked.

“In-fucking-deed.”

“We’re just about to their club.”

“If we keep following, we’ll end up there.”

“You think?” Thorn rubbed his eyes. “Maybe this is the killer?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. We’re pretty much there already.”

They turned onto the street Fire Eaters was on. The car they had been following had the two men standing by it as the speeding car rushed into a spot behind the first. On the wrong side of the street. Why? There were spots on the correct side. Not a lot. Admittedly you’d have to spend time doing parallel parking.

They were rushing for some reason. The same reason as the ones in the first car? It didn’t look like they’d been aware the first car had just parked from the way they pulled in behind it.

Both cars’ occupants were in a hurry. There was a door open on the building side of the first car. As the second car had come to a halt one of the two men from the first had already started crossing the street. As a response to the second car, the man in the street fumbled with his clothing as he struggled to snatch out a gun to use on the assassin he feared so much.

Breaking down immediate movements and actions, there were six people and three cars involved. Two of them, Jacob and Jonathan, who had just watched Miss Abernathy dash into the empty building across from the Fire Eaters club. Two of them exiting the second car, just now seeing Jacob and Jonathan standing in the street. Jacob ambled or strolled, depending on how far he’d gotten so far, towards the club. Suddenly due to the noise of the tires he turned and lead to his struggle to get his weapon out.

From where Thorn was, he could make out doors on the second car opening. Mathers was driving up behind Polly and Samuel. Though Thorn had not met any of the four people in the street he’d see pictures of a couple of them. The two he recognized were Jacob and Jonathan, but that didn’t much matter. He didn’t see the gun yet but was certain Jacob was trying to get one in hand. The movements were right.

Mathers was the one driving. She swerved the vehicle into place sideways so Thorn’s door faced the direction of Jacob. She hadn’t intended to protect herself so much as to provide a cover once they exited the car.

The FBI agents saw too many people in motion with probable hostile intent. Their initial reaction was to draw weapons, but the car hadn’t even stopped yet. They also felt a little naked at the moment, if they were to draw their service weapons.

Mathers stopped the car and grabbed for the vests neither had thought to put on in advance. Thorn’s hand grabbed his just before she could get to hers. They unbelted from their seats and orchestrated as quick a change either ever had done, putting on their FBI issue vests.

A gunshot rang out.

Thorn looked up as he got his vest on. His observation after registering gunfire, it didn’t hit their vehicle. Opening the car door, he piled out to the street with his own service weapon in his hand. Starting to point it at his target would take a moment during which two more shots came from Jacob’s pistol.

Mathers popped in an equal rush from the car and drew her weapon. She wasn’t sure where the shots had gone but her ears did recognize three in succession. Where she headed was over the hood of the car, most of her behind the fender and wheel. By the time she got where she was going she could see Jacob dashing madly towards the cars near the club. He’d realized someone else was armed.

Jonathan stood there. Dumbly he failed to register Jake drawing the weapon. When he heard the three shots, he was paralyzed a moment. He hadn’t realized there was a third car. When he finally turned back the other direction, he realized a man and woman had gotten out of the unexpected car nearest him.

The woman fell after the gunshots. The man let out a cry of anger, a wail of rage. Jonathan barely got his mental barriers up before a huge mental bolt slammed Jacob. Jacob may have staggered. Jonathan wasn’t sure. Jake was still up, heading to cover. Why? He had the gun.

In a matter of scant seconds, the perception of what was going on about him had narrowed to a pretty thin arc of vision. His knees had almost buckled under the sudden sounds and energy bursts about him. Once more he looked past Jake’s car to where the man was working his way around the back to get to the woman on the opposite side.

Now he saw the reason for Jacob to do the sudden wild rush to cover. The third car had two people getting out as well. Judging by their blue vests and the fact they were leveling weapons, it was a pretty sure thing they’d fire at Jacob.

Jonathan sought in his own head where his own best options lie. His hesitation didn’t result in penalty yet. He didn’t think it wise with people shooting guns in the street for him to be there or even close to Jacob. He looked to where Miss Abernathy had dodged away so quickly only a few short moments before and decided the old abandoned building at least afforded him a possibility he’d have an ally there.

Jonathan turned from the only friend he had most of his life and fled into the building. There was no thought about whether Jake would care. His friendship had always been a matter of convenience. Jacob didn’t even know he was gone.

Samuel pulled up in a rush without noticing Jonathan or Jacob exiting their own car. He didn’t see young miss Abernathy at all. He started to get out quickly, intending to try heading off Sandi in the old building. He just noticed the presence of Jacob in the middle of the street as he heard Polly getting out.

It seemed clear to him she hadn’t seen Jacob. She got out, looking over the car at him. It wasn’t until she saw him looking up the street her body turned to look as well. Then her body jerked and he heard the gunshots.

Samuel was in the frightening state of being outrageously furious and at the same time panicking in terror. As he twisted to go around behind the car to get to his wife he performed another action having nothing to do with physical motion.

He let go a fast sharp mental wall of energy directed at the shooter. His anger pumped it up but his movement and rush deflated it a bit as well. Not well articulated as an attack on another psi. It would have killed an ordinary human instantly. Jacob, well, no, who was dashing for cover already.

Polly was on the ground as he got around the car. He dropped, almost fell to his knees beside her.

She got out of the car then turned to see the subject of her husband’s curious gaze up the street. Something punched her torso really hard. It made her fall. The sound of gunfire didn’t even come into her mind as she was dealing with finding herself knocked down, scuffing her hands as she’d fallen backward trying to cushion her fall.

It took longer to realize something dangerous hit her. She didn’t feel unusual except the scrape on her hands. She put her hand where she’d felt the punch and felt hot liquid. Lifting her hand she saw the sanguine color on her hand. Understanding arose within.

Seconds later her husband was beside her, pulling off his shirt and holding it in place to slow the bleeding. Pain cut in sharply as he did so. Then came another set of loud cracking sounds she knew had to be gunfire.

An arm encircled her, she felt his mind touch her own. She realized he was as exposed as herself now. She looked up at Samuel with panic.

“You! ...line of fire, get...!” she told him. Samuel was her world and if anything happened to him, she’d be totally crushed.

“I’m not leaving,” he snorted. “You’re hit,” as calmly as he could while using his free hand to turn on his cell phone. “How do the kids do this so easily? The phone I mean.”

“...get shot, You’ll be shot!” She started to cry. He felt terror inside her and tried to find a shared place of peace. The peace of a meadow they used to picnic in. Yes, bringing the warmth of that late May day into her as he remembered. The trees danced with wind. He felt panic pass into her memory of the grasses.

“You die, I die. Relax love.”

He managed to get the emergency number dialed.

“Nine one one, what’s your emergency?” came the voice on the line.

“There’s been a shooting...”

Down the street both Thorn and Mathers positioned themselves to shoot at the man with the gun. About sixty feet away with everyone in motion each fired once and knew immediately they’d missed.

Mathers had the radio out of its holster and was reporting the shooting as Thorn got up. There would be backup soon but he could see the woman on the ground with a man beside trying to apply pressure. He assumed from the man’s position, the woman had been hit.

He saw the man who fired the shot dash to the door of the club. He tried once more to hit him but could tell he’d missed. All the time he put in on the range to get rated well on his marksmanship didn’t help this time out. He stood. Moving towards the couple by the car, he kept a close eye on the club’s door.

“Sarah,” he yelled, “we need the squad too!”

Mathers spoke into the radio again. He could hear the urgency in her voice.

Sandi was trying to be patient. No one actually came out the door and no one appeared to be about to go in. It was quiet enough. The clouds over head might be a touch darker than before. So she watched. And waited.

She could almost feel Connie scolding her for knocking out the doctor. Connie would probably be certain such a conversation took place. Her sister was a very important part of her life, she would not have her deliberately damaged by the assholes. She wanted to get rid of these people. They represent a real threat to more people than just her sister.

She was the Right Hand of Justice today. Sandi was the Wrath of God.

The sound of squealing tires rose from below. While not entirely a new experience while sitting around this place, it sure seemed loud. In her mind she could smell the rubber kicking up smoke in friction against the pavement. There was a certain visceral smell to the event. For a bare instant she remembered her father when he drove her to school, some of his crazy turns were noisy too.

A shot rang out below as well. Then another. As far as she knew, these guys weren’t packing, she was. This was therefor, a new thing. New things require investigation. She was prepared to deal with a number of possible events but hadn’t expected shooting from below.

She picked up the Smith & Wesson. Wondering just what was happening she shook her head. The only way to know was to stand and peer over the edge. The long gun was a little unwieldy to be looking over the edge while hanging on. Once standing, she looked below. Dammit.

If she’d waited a moment more she’d have had one of the club members in her sights. Instead what she saw was a couple on the ground by a car with the door open. There were two people who looked very much like law enforcement from the vests they had on. Those were approaching the two on the ground.

A bit of conversation happened down there and then she turned because she heard something thud against the rooftop door. Shit. Company came visiting. Not what she planned for. She’d make do though. She bought some time with the two by four bracing the door, so she quickly disassembled the pieces she could of the long gun. She replaced it in the case. From nowhere a wave of nausea hit her. She knew this feeling. It was one of them.

Forcing herself to her feet, she held the pistol in one hand, the case in the other. Turning away from the building’s edge, she headed towards the back of the building. The case’s shoulder strap had to be adjusted. She hadn’t used it before and normally just ignored it as it lay tight against the case’s hard side. It took more effort than she thought to pull the adjustable slide.

Being delayed in her departure was a frustration. The heady wobbliness was caused her hands to slip on the nylon strap. But adjust it she did, slinging it over her back. Holding the gun in her hand she went to the back of the building. The fire escape ladder looked a little disturbing to her.

More thudding noise came from the door she’d braced closed. She doubted they would get through without smashing up the door. Whoever it was continued making the effort. Additional thudding convinced her they were certain of her presence.

Mia Abernathy wanted to kill.

She’d killed before. This time her rage drove her even more than the prior few times. Then it had been more a matter of dealing with inconveniences, and oops, oh look, a corpse. This time she planned to kill, she intended to kill.

It’d taken her years to get him to a point she no longer had to direct his actions so he naturally did what excited her. He’d been a nasty bastard before her ability came in. Despite that, most of the time she had liked it. She just needed to adjust him so the parts she hated didn’t happen.

When she’d reached her teen years, she’d tried to get a boyfriend to do to her what gramps did for his own relief. She knew their relationship wasn’t a thing understood, or approved of by society. So she’d intended to replace him. Preferably with someone else she liked.

The first dolt she took in tow was too gonzo to stay in the role she needed of him. She needed the pain, needed the harshness, enjoyed being displayed. She was just wired different from other people. She wanted to be brutalized. Very few could understand her need for it. In the proper way of course.

The first idiot pissed her off by stopping when she was starting to get really into it. She lost her temper and the ability kicked in. He dropped to the floor fast as if she’d dropped a fragile piece of stemware. Only he didn’t shatter, he broke on the inside. Permanently. The lump of wannabe was then forever not-to-be. She didn’t wait for him to be found. Later the coroner’s inquest said it was a brain hemorrhage of some sort.

She didn’t much care. Mia was busy figuring out how to manipulate people to do what she wanted, having discovered the ability. This was useful for money, grades, and a new car from her parents. The talent left her delighted to feel gramps being a cold bastard when he used her.

He was her personal cold bastard. It thrilled her to be in the dark abyss. She had put a lot of effort ensuring her thrill would endure.

There was another attempt at a boyfriend. He didn’t last long either. Even with manipulation he wasn’t creating the right thrill for her to feed on. Eventually, he too angered her for being less than the frigid soul she wanted, totally inadequate to her desires.

The authorities talked about trying to investigate the bizarre deaths since sudden episodes of brain trauma just weren’t common for boys their age. Feeling there might be some kind of official visit at some point was an irritant she disliked.

Then her parents found out about her with gramps too.

The saccharine reaction from her mother and father made her see red. She knew gramps did the same to mom when she was young. He’d probably caused gramma’s suicide. Her mom liked it enough to find a man similar to gramps in the bedroom. So the sympathy rang hollow. It felt so fake she wanted to puke.

Dad, she’d tried to tempt into being like gramps. Dad? Jesus Christ on a toadstool. He was pretty tenderhearted underneath when it came to his own child. He couldn’t bring himself to impose those dark hungers on his daughter. Finally, one day, mom and dad both had her so angry about trying to keep gramps away from her, she suddenly became an orphan.

That suited her. Neither of them understood her need, and gramps provided for those needs without much more than a nudge here, a nudge there. It was great. Even when another telepath came along, noticed the energy she used. The guy assumed it was gramps instead of her. That sent her even higher with pleasure, thinking all these nasty people in their club believed she was being raped. It gave her the sense it was real, something she found thrilling.

Like a wild drug high, the scene she lived was electrifying.

Yet.

In an instant the murderer plaguing the club robbed her of her greatest pleasure. Whoever he was had robbed her. The shock left her reeling. He stole this one crown jewel away from her. There was no way to bring gramps back.

Her fury was immeasurable.

She tried to blast the shooter across the street getting only a hand full of birds. She wasn’t aware of the specific location of the shooter. She just let go with a wide blast. The angry blast she loosed managed to terrify some of the club members.

Not Jacob though. He more or less couldn’t give a shit about gramps. He put on a good display. Fake and she knew it. He wanted to enlist her in putting paid to the shooter. If he was willing to help her get revenge there was a partnership in the offing. So it was a grand idea to her. She volunteered quickly to partner up with him to do it.

Maybe when revenge was accomplished, she could persuade him to take her under his wing. As her top. In a way she liked. She knew what he liked to do with his playthings. She couldn’t look inside him like she did with gramps, but he gave the absolute appearance of having the same basic cold black core. As a plus he had some fucking ambition. He wasn’t satisfied with all he had already. That, she felt, was hot.

Right now the goal was to find if the shooter was in the building across from the club. If so, she’d tear him limb from limb. Mia would take satisfaction from just seeing his dead form splayed out on the ground, though even dead, she might want to break some limbs.

Finding no one on the first floor and running up the stairs to the next, she was gaining energy in her quest. It took a couple moments on each floor to look in each room with a window to the street. She was about to go up the stairs to the roof, she heard the cracking sound of gunfire.

Mia started to sneer. She knew Jake had gotten himself a rod. She assumed he was shooting at the bloody murderer from street level. He was unlikely to hit anyone on the roof, yet if it put the fear of the club members in the heart of the bastard, she was pleased.

The door to the roof wouldn’t yield to her efforts. It stuck in place. Turning the knob and pushing only resulted in a crack in the door. A crack through which she saw nothing useful. Her rage was such she flung herself at the barricade as violently as she could. The pain from doing so was both annoying and pleasant.

Not getting anywhere, she sucked all her rage into releasing one hot blast at the person she felt was out there. She could narrow down their location to about a ten to twenty foot wide area, so that’s where she was aiming. Releasing the barrier holding it back so the wave of fury would crush over her intended target she screamed out her mad.

Though she could tell the blow had fallen on its intended target, the target didn’t seem affected. Was this another telepath? She didn’t give a shit. She’d get through this fucking door and crush the offending cretin. She kicked the door again, then again.

It took a little bit of useless pounding on the door before she pulled herself up short. There had to be another way onto the roof. Otherwise the bastard out there would be trapped. Despite the red haze of hate across her eyes, she spent the time it took to decide to go look for fire escapes.

Rather than take a chance of being behind when she got there, she raced to the ground floor taking the steps three at a time. She rushed across the hall to the door out from there. Up the back of the building needed to be something useful. There was a built in ladder on the building with one of those ends that dropped down when you got weight on it. She looked up. If she had something to pull it down with, she could go up there.

A clattering noise from up the alley caught her attention. She saw a tall figure turn the corner at the end. He was heading away from the club. Was she too fucking late? Sprinting after the fleeing shadow instead of headlong running was necessary because of ground clutter. With her head down and arms swinging furiously from trying to make herself faster without falling down, she got more than a glimpse now.

It was clearly a woman.

All the better. She’d tear the cunt’s hair out and carver her initials into the bitch’s chest. All she had to do was catch up. Maybe another mental shot would help. Running, Mia tried to focus on Sandi. She pushed as much psi force at her as she could. Maybe seeing the target directly would improve the effect.

Sandi felt the blow, obviously, but rather than taking her down it just made her stumble. Not being careful could result in falling over with the case she’d slung over her back trapping her. Bringing herself to a halt rather than stumble with a gun in her hand. The presence of the hand gun became more evident to her.

She turned to face Mia.

Mia suddenly recognized there was a threat. She saw the gun. Her anger transformed into something else quickly. She too pulled up short, with her arms out to the side ready to dash either way.

Sandi displayed a smile capable of competing head to head with some of Mia’s best sneers.

“Thought you were tough up til now, didn’t you.”

“Fuckin’ bitch...” Mia felt a frenetic need to get out of the line of fire. The weapon in Sandi’s hand didn’t waver, pointed straight at her.

“Any last words?” Sandi asked. “I know you’re one of them. I felt something hit. No one else is around to do those tricks. I hate you people.”

“If you felt it, you have to be one of us?,” Mia was searching for anything to keep Sandi talking.

“Oh, you hit with your best shot. You meant to kill,” Sandi’s brow hardened with her dark gaze. Determination chiseled into her features. “I’m not sure how badly you hurt my sister. You’re done.”

“NO! Wait?,” the gun went off.

Edward heard the voice calling his lackey.

“Sean!” A man coming from the other corridor saw them enter this one. Sean had closed the door. Edward had him reopen it and stick just his head out.

“What is it?” Sean deadpanned. Edward meant for him to do so with a touch of irritation but since the moment passed nothing could be done.

“Do you think they need us down there?” The man was another security thug.

He began the process of taking over another mind. This could easily become a habit. A few little clicks here, a few little clicks there? before you know it, another lackey. Neither would last and he’d have to erase a few parts of his presence in their heads.

This lackey had the moniker Al. Al was as big as Sean. The Jake dude who recruited them must like having big buff guys near at hand to sic on the people who pissed him off. Edward spent a little time setting up some constructs. Making them trust each other to back them up was a simple step. Why their controller didn’t do so himself he didn’t know. It made them suitably aware of each other’s presence while teaming up. Jake’s direct controls he just ripped right out.

How could he make it more difficult for the telepaths coming along later who found them? He planted the memory of discovering the bank accounts were fake. Yes, he could feel the anger in them rise.

“Peter, take Jill to room three. Sit down there and wait,” he sent them to the room with the other remaining telepath he’d encountered.

“Now. Sean,” he looked around, “do you have any weapons? Oh never mind, I’ll peek.”

Interesting. The goon liked to use his fists. Edward looked at the man’s hands and saw thick paws a grizzly would envy. Al was a little different. It appeared from his own hands he too had the bulk to use his knuckles in a dust up. But Al kept a metal expandable baton, essentially an efficient bludgeon for fighting. The thug seemed to be of the opinion a club like his was more efficient than a knife in a fight.

Edward was glad he managed to avoid any kind of physical conflict with others. The damage these two did in their pasts to other people was disturbing.

“Okay. Here’s the deal. I expect anyone coming through this door,” he indicated the door to the balcony, “helped Jake con you both. I’ll give you a choice. You can leave with me, or you can beat the crap out of every one of the mutherfuckers.”

He knew they didn’t really have a choice. Giving the appearance of it was useful. Instead of wiping himself from their minds, he replaced the person who talked to them. Everything he did from the moment they met him, they thought, was Peter’s doing.

“We’re going to get the bastards.” Al was adamant.

“I’m stayin’,” said Sean. Exactly as Edward had scripted for him.

Smiling as he turned away from them, Edward wanted to pat himself on the back. Mostly because he made it this far. It was just a matter of making a final extraction with Jill from the building. Peter would come along at least for now. If left behind, the Jake dude would know it wasn’t Peter pulling the strings on the sudden departure of some of his club members.

He joined the people sitting in room three.

This was the telepath who had cut open the woman’s back with his flogger somehow. Edward was starting to feel a little drained from all the activity. It wasn’t over though. This telepath was going to head down the road to being a normal person now too.

The two women and Peter sat patiently as Edward did a sorting of things in the man’s mind. He was removing himself from these people’s memories the best he could, but for these folk, it would have to wait until he reached a safer place. Exerting his strength again to burn out this telepath’s talent took a little longer than Peter’s had.

If this continued much longer, he’d start making some unpleasant mistakes.

“Okay, Jill, and Wendy is it?” The other woman nodded.

“Go out the door at the end of the hall away from the balcony, at the back of the building, got it?” They nodded. “Then go down the stairs outside the office there and wait on the loading dock outside. I will be there in a moment with these two.”

He really didn’t care about them much but the one time psis had to be sent out of the way completely and for good.

“What to do with you guys. What to do.” He mulled it over a little longer.

Directions he gave them were to run and hide. They wouldn’t forget this place, or what they’d done. Being ex-telepaths would probably give them night terrors since they no longer could tell who else might do something to them. When they left here, they were instructed, they were to collect enough money to flee. Then they were to get as far away from this city as possible, hunker down, change their names, vanish if possible.

“Scoot,” he told them.

They practically got in each other’s way getting out the door to the room. Edward scratched his chin a bit. Had he forgotten anything? He couldn’t tell. All he really needed was to leave with Jill in tow now.

Taking the walk down the hall to the exit felt like he was leaving a load behind in here. The sheer fear he had earlier had faded. Still shaky he knew the worst of it had to be over now. Sending the people he didn’t need to keep who were on the loading dock to where-ever would take a bit more energy though.

As he was closing the door to the hallway, he made one more quick pass at Sean and Al to ensure he had been completely replaced in their thoughts by Peter. Satisfied that was the case, he made his way to the rickety stairwell and down.

It was some relief to him to reach the bottom of the steps.

Bart waited in place a couple minutes. The two security goons in the dining room talked a bit in there. He could have listened in. There was no point to it. Either they went to the main hall to see what all the to-do was about or they stayed where they were. He wouldn’t push the issue more and a little doubt in their heads would be good either way.

He started to back out of the kitchen, pausing at the door, looking at the snoozing staff.

There were relatively fresh buns on the end of the counter. He looked at them. They were too tempting. He found a knife and the butter. After buttering one, he tucked the knife in the dirty dishes pile at the sink, returned to where he’d been before they tempted him.

With a quiet little motion he opened the door and half stepped out. Then he started using the connections he’d created to these staff members, waking them all. He took a wee bit of extra time to wipe their memories of having taken a little break.

The bun tasted good.

He got back out to the loading bay before he’d finished it. He paused because he heard steps on the stairs to his right. Preparing to duck under them to hide, he saw who it was. The legs were visible first, but he recognized Edward, who was moving warily as well.

“You do know, just anyone could have jumped you.”

“I doubt it.” Edward didn’t even bother to turn his head. “I sent people ahead of me. Any ruckus caused in them coming out would have flushed a threat before I came down.”

He continued walking to the exit door, smiling. Bart’s footfalls were quiet but there as they left the storage bay. Nathan greeted him as he came out the door. The little monkey creature of Nathan’s was curled around the man’s neck with a nervous twitch going on. The energies emanating from the building were strong. Not directed out here, but still strong. Hubert was not a happy little critter.

“Hi there. Have an interesting hike? I gather one of these two must be your intended rescue?” He nodded towards the women.

The two telepaths he had directed to wait were here too.

“See a guy head out of here like the devil was on his tail?” he asked.

“There were a couple,” Nathan replied. He tried to calm Hubert a bit by rubbing his little head. “Didn’t even seem to notice anyone was here. Took off like something was chasing.”

“I think these two guys,” he paused, noticing something changed with Paul. He turned to look at Bart. “You burned out the other one’s talent?”

“I did. One less to worry about when we clean this group out for good.”

“Yeah. These two need to vanish like the other two. A set of ‘run, hide, and forget’ instructions. I’m trying to get our hosts to believe the bunch all took off rather than stay for trouble.” Edward motioned to Bart. “You wanna do it? I’m getting tired. I want to get back to the digs.”

“Sure,” replied Bart. “Going to deal with the young ladies?”

Bart paused thoughtfully. Then he handed the wad of century notes to Edward.

“What is this for?” Edward asked.

“The young ladies if they need cab or airfare.” Bart grinned at him. “I don’t figure this bozo needs it anymore. He’s gonna start workin’ for a livin’ once he gets outa state.”

“Ah. I see. Yes.” He smiled at Paul. “I’m sure he won’t.”

Edward started to do a little sanitizing of the memory of the woman he didn’t have any connection to first. Once he found most of the really bad memories he handed her five or six of the bills. “Wendy, here ya go. Okay young woman, back to Kentucky with you. I’m sure your friends will be happy to see you in Lexington.”

Wendy took the money and with an oddly quizzical look on her face stood up. She went to the steps for the loading dock, walked down slowly, and started ambling off as if she wasn’t sure what she was doing. Nathan titled his head looking at her behind wobble as she got further away.

“Should I mention,” said Nathan, “I heard a bunch of, what I’m sure were, gunshots while you were inside?”

Edward looked at Nathan. “Gunshots? Other than oh Saaaaay, the person that’s been killing the Fire Eaters members, there isn’t anyone else we know of carrying, is there?“

“There are the FBI agents. I was gonna introduce ’em to Bart. Time hasn’t allowed for it.”

“There’s also HPD,” added Bart. “How many shots?”

“I counted two or three,” Nathan started, “then another two or three. I thought I heard one more a minute or two later.”

“Any direction in particular?”

“In this buildings? It could have been the other side of this one. It could have been that direction,” he pointed off at an oblique angle, “It’s really hard to say with the way the noise reflects on the buildings.”

“I left our erstwhile vigilante with the good doctor,” Bart said to Edward. “Do I need to keep your name private for you still? Or shall I introduce you?”

“Oh.” Edward looked Nathan over. “Nathan, I’m Edward. Not Eddie or anything else. Just Edward.”

“Nice to meet you Edward. Have you finished with your redhead friend so we can go investigate, or should we just...”

“I’m beat. I’ve ferreted out most of the bad stuff from her head.” He looked at the befreckled young woman. “Hi Jill. I came to pick you up. Lexi was worried.”

“Oh?” the redhead asked. “Where is Lexi?”

“She’s at the place I work waiting for us. Shall we go?”

“Sure!” she seemed content with him. After all, her friend had mentioned this Edward fellow on the phone. He fit the description. She needed a change of clothing though. She turned up her nose a bit after sniffing what she had on. “Ew. It’s like leaving a frat party.”

“Come with me. I have a car around somewhere.” He nodded to Bart and Nathan. “Maybe you two can find out about the shooting going on. I’ve had my adrenaline rush for the day. I have to go see a woman or two.”

He started across the street. If the shooter was in the building behind him, he was convinced Miss Abernathy would get him. Meanwhile, he needed to settle down the antics and goings on within his club.

He’d partly crossed when he heard the squeal of tires. No! The assassin wasn’t in the building but down here waiting in their car for him. It was the only reason he could think of at the sound of the tires. After a brief struggle with the holster he’d put on his belt, he managed to get the gun out. Suddenly he felt his heart in his chest exploding with the fear he suppressed to date.

Aiming as best he could at the person exiting the car that just screeched up at him, he yanked the trigger three time. Oddly enough, his yanking of the trigger may have been the only reason one of the shots found their target. He wouldn’t know it but one shot went wild, low to the left and the last shot hit the building on the other side of the car. About a dozen feet up the building.

He saw the third car pull up. Preparing to realign where he was pointing the pistol, he saw the man who got out of it in a blue vest holding a gun. The panic got worse. He tried to run. Jacob had never had to face any serious threat to his life before. He didn’t intend to this time either. It’s not that he was afraid to die.

It was more he was terrified of being accountable for any of the things he’d done since his first discovery of his abilities. He knew how brutally cruel he’d been over the years. There may have, if he admitted it to himself, been more than a couple deaths. Without any real risk to himself, it never bothered him.

Until faced with law enforcement he didn’t already control.

Had he taken the time to think the way Jonathan had about which way to flee, he wouldn’t have drawn the weapon. He wouldn’t need to run from any cops. He made a mad dash and was in the club.

The front door had an inch thick slide bolt to firm up the protection of the door. Prior owners had always been afraid of a raid. Slapping the bolt in place, he breathed a little. His composure returning after the peculiar state of panic. Trying to get his bearings, he looked down the foyer towards the common room.

The scene he could make out, as little as it was from here, was chaos. Even his security guards, a few he’d explicitly programmed to protect his domicile within the club were in there. He could see Willy and Jerald trying to punch at others. There was little doubt the place was in chaos.

Melody was close to the entry of the foyer from the common room. She looked at him and shook her head with dismay. Clearly she’d tried to get things under control but with people one cannot affect with your own telepathy, she’d hit a wall of resistance.

The smell of sex would soon be overcome by other odors. He pointed his gun to the side as he walked up the foyer and fired it. In the space he was now in, the sound was like a short sharp bit of thunder.

His panic was over. His anger had taken over. How dare they not be united with him against a common enemy. Dammit. Jacob was more powerful than any of these fucks. And he had a gun.

When he fired it into the wall to his side again, the shouting and roiling fighting started to quiet. There were a few sounds and people speaking angry tones at each other, but for the most part they got quiet realizing the big gorilla was in the house.

Melody let out a sigh of relief. Her gaze wondered to the door he’d bolted. Her expression changed from relief to a state of uncertainty. What the hell was going on and since when did Jake carry a gun? Of the things men did she hated, the use of guns was high on her list. She wasn’t really reassessing her willingness to tolerate Jacob, but his being armed did not sit well with her.

“How in hell did this fracas start?” he asked in a conversational tone.

“Over seating arrangements,” she answered, “Macho guys versus testosterone poisoned guys. Naturally.”

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” He turned towards the others. “You actually had a brawl because of where you were sitting?! Over a woman I might understand. But over where you fucking sit?!”

He stood there shaking his head. The others were quiet with some shuffling feet. Melody felt like she’d returned to a time before she’d been able to use her powers, when the principal would chew out a class for not actually trying to act more mature.

The problem as she saw it was few if any of the other members here ever actually got to something resembling maturity. It didn’t bother her at all to treat her minions like rugs to walk on but somehow it was wrong for these guys to be abusing theirs. It was a bit of unique declination of morality, to be sure.

“They’ll never grow up,” she muttered. Jacob heard her and turned.

“No, maybe not. We may all be killed first by whoever is murdering our members,” he said loudly enough it reached most of those present. He turned back to the others, “We. Have. Bigger. Problems.”

There was a disquieting moment of shuffling and coughing.

“The killer brought cops to our doors in numbers we can’t turn fast enough to control. I’m pretty sure with them out front, they’re out back too,” and he looked at Melody again, “I still think someone inside the club has been helping the shooter. Why, I don’t know. Dammit though. You all,” he turned back towards them, “need to get your fucking heads out of your fucking asses before we are knee deep in fucking dead bodies.”

He pointed to one of the closer telepaths. “You. Go to the third floor. Get anyone there down here to join us. You,” he pointed to another, “get the rest from the second floor.”

Jacob looked at Melody. “Where the fuck is Vanessa? She was supposed to be here too.”

“I think she’s in the front offices, you want me to find her?”

“Get her. Get any other members there to join us. Move.”

“You don’t order me around.” Her hands curled into fists, she snarled, “I may help, but you don’t tell me what to do.”

He glared at her. She tried to stare him down. Neither wanted a psionic clash just now. But he was very close to just tossing everything aside and taking out his anger on her.

“Think of it as a strongly worded request, but get your ass in motion,” he said.

Melody met his eyes. Neither of them blinked.

“I’ll go. But you owe me.”

“Fine. I owe you. Don’t try me now.”

She started towards one of the doors leading to the front office areas.

Jonathan lurched around the corner to find there were police cars rushing by. The sound of sirens didn’t sound so close when he was heading this way but as they were passing him it was loud. He stopped. Watching as them head towards the club convinced him he was right to leave the scene quickly.

Another couple blocks of walking passed before he confiscated a car from an old geezer with an ugly receding hairline and uglier looking scalp. Taking roads away from both his home and the club, he was looking for some old beater no one would bother report missing for a long while.

Swapping cars again he took it to half a mile from his house and walked the rest of the way. He kept his personal mental barriers up tight and kept scanning around for threats, any threats. When he got in the street with his house, he spent some time casing the area to see if there were any strange people or cars in the area.

Now might be a strange time to develop additional security fears. Yet he’d been doing a lot of his experiments lately and still had a dis-minded zombie to get rid of. Seeing no one unusual he made it up to his back door and went in, still looking over his shoulder as he did.

He poured himself a large amount of whiskey and downed it in one gulp. It burned on the way down, but that’s what he wanted. It helped remind him he was still alive. He wanted so badly to stay so. No dying if he could avoid it. After a second drink he called out for Simon.

“Yes, sir?” Simon entered wearing his butler uniform.

“I’m going to the white room again. How many subjects do we have at the moment?”

“Only the two, sir.”

“Give Leo a call and let him know I’ll be moving soon. He can hold off for a bit until I’m re-established in my new facilities,” he poured one more glass. “And tell Henry to get the next one ready. I’m going to try again right now.”

“Is that wise after drinking so much, sir?”

“Maybe not. It doesn’t matter at the moment though.”

“Very well.” Simon headed out the door to summon the other staff required by his master.

Jonathan downed the last glass of whiskey he’d poured. Within a moment he picked up his cell.

“Anderson and Phylum, how may I direct your call?” came the voice on the phone.

“I need to speak to Mr Anderson immediately,” he said. Impatient but trying not to display that.

“Mr Anderson is in a meeting at the moment, can I have him call you back or would you rather go to voicemail?”

“Get him on the phone now. Tell him John Billingsly is on the phone. I don’t have time today for waiting.”

“Just a moment, I’ll see if I can get him sir.”

He rolled his eyes at the on hold music came on. It really was an irritating melody as if they wanted to punish people they put on hold.

“Jon, this is Phil. What’s up?” Anderson seemed nonchalant about being dragged from a meeting.

“I want to execute the plan to relocate.”

“Okay. I understand. Which of the cities?”

“Denver,” he replied. “Get it started, please. Immediately or before this call even happened if possible.”

“You bet. I’m on it.”

“I’ll be by this afternoon or call your cell this evening if I can’t get there during the day. I have loose ends to tie up.”

“I understand. Bye then.”

He hung up. It took him a few minutes to set the security system and he threw the locking switch for the gateway to the property entry off the driveway.

“Barbara, oh Barbara,” he called out. The girl was always nearby when he was home.

There was a scuffling from the other room and a dark black haired woman came in through the archway. She shed her blouse as she did, letting her bulbous boobs flop in front of her, then knelt before him.

“Yes Master. How may this slave serve you?” Her head lowered so the straight black hair dangled to either side of her face.

Mmm. Should he? He was a little conflicted. Now was not a good time. He was in a hurry.

“Barbara, start packing my bags. Pack a bag for you too. I am relocating. You’re presence will be required when I do.”

“Yes Master,” she liked her lovely pink lips, “is there anything this slave may do to encourage Master to make use of her now?”

While he watched, she lifted her breast and her tongue came out to lick her own nipple. He seriously gave some thought to taking a little pleasure while he could. He slipped his fingers into her hair and yanked her head back, looking into his toy’s eyes.

Yes, he decided. It won’t hurt to dally a little while.