Chapter 2
Aidan's POV
“Take one for the road!” I scowled and gave the detective a punch to the nose.
The man grabbed his bleeding nose and staggered like he had a beef with the ground, but still ended up crashing to the floor. He was up almost immediately, but the second punch sent him flying some feet before landing on the police vehicle.
I took advantage of that opportunity to bolt for safety with no place in mind. I heard my wolf tugging at me to transform, but it was broad daylight and I couldn't transform into my wolf form. Not that I couldn't, but I didn't want anymore rumors. I was tired of the saga.
What happened at the foster home wasn't my fault. No, not in the slightest. Those kids had messed around for too long and needed some discipline. It was premeditated, and crazy, because they were all cognizant of the fact that I wasn't ordinary like they were. Yikes, sounds insulting, but I'm not.
Yet they wouldn't stop poking at me where it hurts. Well, they got what they wanted, and I'll have to deal with the repercussions. But at least, I'd blown off the kid’s left ear with fire. He could chill with that souvenir until we met again.
“Catch that kid!" A cop behind the police van yelled.
“I’d love to see you try,” I muttered with a smirk on my face as I jumped over a bicycle. He made the order like it was a walk in the park. Why didn't he try catching me if it was that easy?
I’d scurried a few steps ahead when I realised that using a bicycle might be much faster. I couldn't use my powers in broad daylight, so I was kind of slow. With that realization, I dashed two steps backwards, pulled the bicycle off the wall and raced with it
“Get him!” Another man shouted.
“Do it yourself!” I giggled, paddling faster.
I owned a bicycle as a kid and had been riding since I was four. Outrunning a bunch of old, toothless cops was a piece of cake.
"Hey, give that back!" A burly man with meaty shoulders ordered, barging out of the restaurant to me, looking as mad as a wet hen.
The bicycle seemed to belong to his kid, because I heard a little boy stifle, but I couldn't stop.
“Dad, my bike!” He cried, pointing at me from behind.
"Sorry, kid!" I shouted back, without stopping. I couldn't.
I sped past the deserted alley along Lincoln street - it would've been easy to get caught if I went that route. So, I drove down the lane, then under the bridge, weaving through a sea of cars held down by traffic.
The police sirens closed in, but when they noticed I was slipping away, the driver made a turn to the left. He caught me there. A turn to the right was the Lake and a solid dead end. Damnit, I made it easy for 'em.
Speeding through the alley to the right, I pushed the pedal against the mighty rush of adrenaline pumping through my body and my heart running loose like a jackrabbit.
The road was clear when I sped in through Tenth avenue, until I spotted a police car dashing at top speed towards me and I paused. The tires of the bicycle cried out in a high pitch screech as I slammed my feet on the ground, spilling an avalanche of dust into the air and taking a sharp miscalculated turn.
"Shit!"
There were more than two sirens blaring now and I knew I had to move fast. But something like a sense of pride washed over me. It felt like in those big movies where the big guy was chased by a sea of cops. I was that big guy, and the beginning of that pride was my fall.
I zigzagged through the alleys, my heart pounding in my chest, but I shook myself away from it. I'd been in worse cases. Over confidence, maybe, but that caused my ruin.
It was half a second late when I noticed the rock jutting out from the ground, but I was too late. The front tire had already collided angrily into it before my leg clipped to a stop. Without warning, I lost momentum, as the hit sent me tumbling through the air. I flew with my arms flailing wildly in the air like I was begging for a hug, before dropping stomach first on the ground.
"What the fuck!" I coughed, spurting out air of dust from my mouth. Once again, I tasted dust.
The sound of the siren seemed close to me. In fact, I knew I was on my way to jail, but I wasn't about to just give up like that.
Picking myself up, I tried to make a mad dash through the abandoned warehouse nearby. The cops couldn't catch me there except they ditched their car, and I knew as hell that those fat men were no match for me on their heels - but my strength betrayed me, and my legs gave out beneath me.
Something like an arrow hit me on the neck as I tried to stand, and for a moment, I felt weightless, suspended in the air, and dizzy from the fall. It was only after I crashed to the ground that I understood why.
I'd been hit by a sleeping dart.
I heard faint voices mumbling incoherently, sirens growing louder in the distance, and boots crunching against gravel. I felt someone pull my hands behind me, click a handcuff around my wrists and bark, "You're under arrest."
I heard all of those before the darkness consumed me.
“What the fuck did you do to me?” I barked the moment I stirred awake and realised I wasn't in my room.
“You've been a terrible boy, Aidan,” a wrinkled face fart started, trying to use psychology on me.
“I know your type, you're going to try to blackmail me.” I seethed, trying to rise but to no avail.
I was handcuffed, and locked to the bed. At least, these folks were beginning to give me some credit, I thought, glaring at the grandpa in a labcoat and some cops behind him. This would've been the best place to turn into my werewolf form, but I couldn't. It felt like I was restrained.
“No, I'm aware that won't work on you.” The man answered calmly. One thing I'd learned, if an enemy replies calmly, he's got you in his hands. “But with what I have prepared for you, I can guarantee you'll never walk out of here alive, son, except you cooperate.”
“I'm not your son, you toothless fart!” I spat, angrily.
“Suit yourself, but from henceforth you are no longer to be accepted into a foster home, you cannot get a resident permit, work permit nor passport. In fact, if at all you escape from this ward, you are to be hunted down by every law enforcement agent for the rest of your life.”
That sounded like a curse, even worse than the curse of Cain, I thought, studying the man. He may have looked like a manipulative bastard, but he didn't look like he was bluffing. These folks were actually going to tag me an outlaw for real.
I weighed the cons quietly but not leaving a trace. These guys - I found out through research, were the COs, a body that was responsible for whisking kids with special abilities like me to somewhere far from our ecosystem. A place of isolation. More like exile. I'd done my research, and I heard they called the city of exile the Mutants Academy.
“What do you want from me?”
“You already know.”
He was right, I already knew.
“When do we leave?” I couldn't believe I was asking that question, but I was held tightly on my balls.
“We set at dawn.”