Hunting the Girl

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Have you ever wondered how the world would be if psyhic powers were real? How would someone who could see past the bodies we wear to the true person within, see us? However, because we are humans it is all too likely that some with such powers would use them selfishly. This is a story of one such man, the Hunter.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters, places, or anything else is meant to be represented by anything in reality. Duh! Fiction, get it? I the author reserve the rights, so please don't go posting this anyplace else without my permission. A very special thanks goes out to Cathy who spent the time to make this story readable. Another round of thanks goes out to all the others out there in BCTS land who have encouraged and inspired me to write and keep writing. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.

Hunting the Child
by
Grover
12/29/2013

The Hunter pulled into the drive of the lower middle class home. His vehicle was as carefully selected as was his attire to blend in. The older, very common mini-van wouldn't draw comment and neither would his drab uniform.

As the final touch he reached out with his well-trained 'Bender' talent, deftly dulling everyone's attention over his arrival. It'd taken him weeks to narrow down the location of the intermittent psionic contact. Like most new talented, her mind glowed with the strong emotion that had triggered her emergence.

In this case it was extraordinarily powerful. While the Psionic Studies Foundation had a legally mandated right to search out and train young 'talents' so they weren't a danger to themselves or others, this girl offered other possibilities. That was why he was here.

A net search revealed a Mr. Henry Fowl live here and that he'd recently lost his wife of thirty years, Evelyn, to cancer. Strangely, no mention of children could be found, but the Hunter had found dolls and other signs of a young girl while on a cautious reconnaissance of the residence.

The Black Society's clairvoyants had correctly identified the new talent as a young girl. Her mental signature was unmistakable. Certain assumptions could be made such as just entering puberty and the loss of Evelyn Fowl, being the keys to the recent flowering of her talent.

Due to her strength she couldn't be remotely, from a distance, bought under control by the Society's 'Benders.' That was because of the powerful forces of grief and passion the girl was feeling. However, there was answer to that. It was this girl's remarkable potential that had caught the Society's attention.

While the Foundation acknowledged the mundane world by kowtowing to ULTIMATE and the world of the mind-blind, the Black Society was the arm that made certain that its interests were protected without regard to anything as non-consequential as the laws of man. What was the mere power of superheroes and the technical accomplishments of mankind next to the boundless possibilities on the mind?

The old man would not be a threat. While the girl's untrained power had kept the Hunter from entering her last guardian's mind, in a direct confrontation he was confident he could easily overwhelm that unknowingly 'borrowed' protection.

To secure a young talent like this girl, who was completely off the books for the Black Society, would be quite a triumph. Already he was one of the top 'troubleshooters.' This would further assure his raise in the leadership. Politicians might rule nations, but the Foundation with help of their unknown Black brethren ruled them.

His telekinesis had the deadbolt and rape-chain unlocked in a handful of seconds. He could only exert a few pounds of pressure, but years of practice had turn that talent into an invaluable tool. Advancing quickly, his TK closed the door behind him. There was the old man to deal with.

The double metallic clack of a weapon's hammers being cocked, startled him. It was also pleasing. The pure power of this girl to hide a mundane this close to him. She would be make a very effective addition to the Black Society. Of course only after suitable indoctrination with drugs and other tools of the trade. Like the Hunter, such things as morals, or a conscious would only be a hindrance in furthering the Society's goals.

Confidently, he lashed out with an invisible whip of telekinesis that would mimic the symptoms of a stroke.

The Hunter's mouth dropped open when the old man only sighed instead of collapsing.

“Now that wasn't very wise.” Dressed in a rumpled, ill-fitting gray suit, the balding ginger haired oldster held a double barreled shotgun with the business end aimed at the Hunter. “My eyes and reflexes might not be what they once were, but with this I can't miss.”

Hunter didn't hesitate. Using his talent, he mentally leaped at Henry Fowl's mind.

And promptly bounced off.

Startled and surprised didn't begin to cover it. Using what folklore would call his 'third eye,' the sense given to him by his talent, it showed him the impossible.

The young girl, he'd been searching for and the old man who'd just lost his wife was one and the same.

“Ah, now you see the truth.” The shotgun never wavered an inch as the recent widower spoke. “I'm a lot like Peter Pan, the boy who never grew up. However, fate saw fit curse me not once, but twice. In my hearts of hearts, along with forever being a child, I'm a girl.

“A girl who cried as her body grew not breasts, but hair and muscles.” The bitterness was biting as Henry Fowl recalled the past. “Something about that stunted or stopped my mind, my soul, from growing older although it did nothing to stop my body. I knew what was wrong, but was helpless to stop or cure it. Perhaps the same fear that kept me from telling anyone else also helped kept me from revealing my something 'extra'.”

There was more than one way to complete any task. His TK lightly extended seeking the mechanical assembly of the firearm.

“It was meeting Evie that saved me.” The sorrow and sadness flowed off of the old man as he spoke. “She accepted me. In a lot of ways she was a forever child like me, but better able to step between the adult and the child's world. Together we supported each not just as only the man and wife the rest of the world saw, but as best friends and playmates.”

The Hunter kept his success to himself as he TK fused the parts together. No one would be pulling those triggers.

“Losing her hurt worst than my parent's death or the childhood as a girl I never got to live.” Henry's sad eyes looked up at him. “You've made a mistake.”

“And that is?” The Hunter asked, his hand slowly bringing up the tranq gun he'd kept hidden beneath his jacket.

“Just because my heart of hearts is that of a child, doesn't mean I'm don't have decades of experience in the use of my power.” The young girl smiled within the old man's body as she TK 'tapped' the pair of shotgun shell's 'primers' with her power. Just as good as the falling hammers, both barrels fired throwing the intruder away.

“They all fall down!” She whispered the old nursery rhyme, but then composed herself pretending to be 'him' again.

“Hello?” Henry called the police. “There's been a break-in and he had a gun. I had to defend myself.”

He and Evie had always known the dangers of the Foundation's heavy handed self-interest. However, her love had kept that inner little girl content and happy, despite the busted-hand of cards fate had dealt. Knowing the end was near, Evie did her best to help prepare her beloved for what would come.

Called Robin because of her red hair that little girl felt so alone and afraid after the one she'd love so much and for so long had gone away. She just couldn't hold all the hurt inside and some got out for the mind-peepers to see.

The one that laid dead in front of here had been very icky. His thoughts had been all edges and angles with none of the warmth of most people. She had seen far more than she wanted when during his last moments when his 'light' had faded and his thoughts were unguarded.

She didn't want to, and knew she wasn't ready for what was to come, but Robin did what she had to do. No way did she want to be taken by such 'bad' people. However in those thoughts were also clues to those who could help her. There were those who knew of and disagreed with this 'Black Society.'

Her bags had been packed for sometime knowing her visitor was coming and accepting that there were too many memories for her to stay here.

Turning to face the house where she and Evie had been together for so long, the tears fell. From the dead man's memories she knew the vehicle was clean and not monitored. Like the dead man she didn't need a key.

“Bye bye Evie. I love you. ” Robin whispered, before beginning her next journey … alone.

The End


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