1: Wake-Up Call

“Wake up Jonathan Blaine, you lazy piece of shit!” The shrill, piercing voice of his boss, Janine, punctuated by the slam of her tiny fist on the front hotel desk he slept upon caused Jonathan to snap awake, and jolt upright. The twenty-four year-old’s bright, sky-blue eyes went wide as he took that first deep breath of consciousness, trying to blink away and shake off what little sleep he’d gotten in a while.

The brightness of the morning sun piercing through the slightly-dinged glass of the front door and windows was unexpected, and he squinted at the harshness of it. He ran a hand through his straight, longish, dark hair, chancing a look up at the mousey, bespectacled woman standing before him. No good; by the wrathful look on Janine’s face she’d caught him sleeping, dead to rights. Her arms were crossed, and a deep scowl covered her features. For a woman who was nearly always nice and timid, she was angrier than Jonathan had ever seen.

“Are you kidding me? I know you slack off, and with this position I kind of expect it…” the older woman reasoned, seemingly more to herself, than to Jonathan. “I mean, you’re by yourself, and all you have to do all night is check in maybe a few people and clean up a little. You play your games and watch your movies in the meantime, and that’s fine; I don’t care. But this-“ she almost snarled, “this is completely unacceptable, Jonathan!”

“Janine, look. I’m really sorry, but I haven’t been sleeping well at home; these stupid dre-“

“No way; I don’t wanna hear it. You can say ‘it’ll never happen again’, or whatever, I don’t really care. You told me when I hired you that you had no problem working overnight, but here we are. I-I just can’t keep you on,” Janine grimaced, shaking her head, and looking elsewhere. Her cheeks turned slightly red. It was obvious she hadn’t ever had to fire anyone before; her nervous speech and body language spoke volumes. Jonathan hoped he could capitalize on that.

“Aw, c’mon, Janine! It won’t happen again. It was a fluke, honestly. I’m gonna get something for my insomnia on the way home, and then I’ll be the best night-shift guy you ev-“

“Just… just stop, Jonathan.” The woman held up a hand, palm out, to the young man. “I’m not listening to your excuses, I’m firing you,” she concluded, nodding firmly to herself. “Dr. Levin says I need to be more assertive…” Janine wrung her hands together, her nose wrinkling up, as Jonathan slowly raised a dark-colored eyebrow, unsure where some of this was coming from.

“Wh-… Who’s Dr. Levin?” Jonathan questioned, as he watched his boss take her mobile out of her purse, and swipe a few commands into it with her thumb.

“There. Your last week’s pay is authorized to deposit on Friday. I’m giving you all of your hours, even though I’m concerned I may have missed out on some customers because you were passed out at the fucking desk,” she snapped, glaring for a moment, before smiling satisfyingly. “See? I’m still a nice person.”

“So that’s it? There’s nothing I can say to mitigate this?” Jonathan half-whined, a little hurt at the unfairness of it all. “One screw-up and I lose my job?”

“For one, you’ve had a few more than one screw-up. Need I remind you how many times it took you to learn how to set the security system, alone?” Jonathan sighed, shaking his head. He’d sworn up-and-down that thing had been malfunctioning; he’d never had so much trouble with anything electronic in his whole life. “Never mind the time you-”

“…And for two?” he cut in. Janine clearly wasn’t buying any excuses, and he was ready to end this whole thing.

“And for two…” She made a face, like she couldn’t remember what the second thing was for a moment, “For two, no. No, there’s nothing you can say. I have to fire you. Get your stuff and go home.” Jonathan was already standing up, removing his dark-blue hoodie from his chair, and fitting it to his shorter-than-average, thinner-than-average frame. He wouldn’t, or couldn’t, even look at Janine as he grabbed his bag, crossed the cheaply-furnished lobby, and headed out the front door.

Seattle was warm that morning; the sun was up and bright, so Jonathan had that at least going for him. It was a five-block walk to his present-girlfriend Stacey’s apartment, where he was supposed to meet her for breakfast that morning, so he was glad that it wasn’t raining, for once. Looking back at the small motel for the last time as he trudged out toward the street from the parking lot, he let out a deep breath; beginning his slow march down the sidewalk and noting the sounds of car-honks and engines revving as morning traffic started to build.

Jonathan lamented this new turn in life with a wrinkle of his nose, and a quiet curse. It wasn’t the best job he’d just lost, but it let him slack off all night and get paid for it, which was more than he could ask for. It kept enough funds for an adequate living coming in, and he didn’t have to deal with many people, or put forth a whole lot of effort other than having to be there overnight. The proximity to Stacey’s apartment had made it all seem too good to be true for Jonathan. Figured he’d get hit with a bout of insomnia or… whatever the hell it was, soon after being hired.

As he waited for a street light to change, and his turn to cross the street, Jonathan wondered why he couldn’t seem to get things together. He was smart enough, and always had been; finding a path in life, however, had always presented a challenge. Nothing truly interested him, except for videogames and movies, but he never really found any means of latching himself onto either of those industries. After high school, he just sort of went from job to job, trying to find a place he liked enough to settle for. He’d thought the motel might have been that place.

Jonathan mulled over what he was going to say to Stacey as he climbed the staircase to her apartment, or if he would indeed say anything at all, yet. He used his key to unlock her door and stepped in, relishing the fresh, clean scent that was a welcome change from the dingy motel, or the rank roommate dwelling in his own apartment. The neat, well-decorated living room beckoned him inside, and Stacey’s voice toward her bedroom, after shutting the front door.

“Hey, how was work?” she called through the open doorway. Cleo, her small, gray cat emerged from it, stretching languidly before walking up to Jonathan, and letting out a tired meow. He reached down to give the animal a scratch behind the ears, before straightening, and heading into Stacey’s room. “I just need a couple more minutes, and I’ll be ready,” she intoned from the adjoining bathroom, where Jonathan knew she’d spend more than a couple of minutes putting on makeup and making finishing touches.

“That’s fine,” he sighed as he plopped onto her bed, exhausted. Laying his head back onto the bed over his own crossed arms, he felt his oh-so-tired eyes begin to close. “You scheduled at the library, today?”

“Yep, nine-to-six. Do you want to go out for breakfast?” Stacey’s reply and inquiry echoed from the bathroom. “I thought we could try that place up the street, the ‘Rising Sun’?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Jonathan felt himself falling asleep, and he wasn’t totally sure if she would hear his quiet answer.

“What?” He was right. She was coming back.

“Tell her.”

“What?” Jonathan sat up quickly, shot out of his daze by the sudden familiar voice in his head. Stacey eyed him warily from the bathroom door, her brows knitting in worry.

“Jonathan, you look awful,” She frowned as she fastened a stud earring to her lobe. Stacey was no model, but for Jonathan, she was more than he considered himself likely to get. Her straight, shoulder-length brown hair shone with a luster that came from a fresh brushing, and she had pretty green eyes that sparkled through her glasses. She was short and thin without being skinny, and while her figure wasn’t spectacular, she knew how to accentuate what she had with clothing. Currently, that consisted of a very library-appropriate ensemble of a fitted, light green shirt, well-tailored gray pants and a matching blazer, with low-heeled shoes. “Is something going on?” He stared back at her, blinking for a moment, before finally speaking.

“I got fired, today,” Jonathan admitted, guiltily. Stacey sighed, and shook her head. Jonathan hung his own.

“Goddammit, Jonathan. What happened?”

“My boss caught me sleeping,” he muttered, nose wrinkling up.

“Oh my god…” she began.

“I couldn’t help it! I’ve had this shitty insomnia all fucking week…” Jonathan groaned, rubbing at his face, peering at Stacey between his fingers. “Every time I start falling asleep, I have some fucked-up dream and wake up again.” He dropped his hand into his lap, shaking his head. “Other than that, I’m all wired… but I feel like I’m goin’ crazy.” Stacey sighed again, and folded her arms.

“So… what are you going to do?”

“I have enough money saved to last me a few weeks. I should be able to find something in the meantime,” Jonathan offered back, shrugging.

“You can’t keep living like this, you know,” she scolded.

“Living like what?” his eyes narrowed slightly, defensively.

“Like… constantly changing jobs, never making a career out of anything; you’ll be thirty before you know it, y’know. What kind of life are you going to be able to make if you can’t even hold down one position for six months?” Stacey directed to him, canting her head. Jonathan returned her stare, blankly.

“So… So, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, it’s time to grow up, Jonathan. You have to start looking ahead more than a few weeks at a time,” she threw her hands up, exasperated. “I mean, what do you even want out of life?” The question gave Jonathan’s tired mind pause, and he remained silent for a moment. “Do you even know?” Did he? No career, no drive, no ambition to make anything of himself. “Oh my god, you don’t know!” He cringed at her reaction, gritting his teeth. Surely there was something he could say. “How could you not know?!”

“I-… I don’t know.”

“That’s not true…” The same voice echoed in Jonathan’s mind. Was he going crazy? He groaned, and rubbed at his face.

“Maybe we should just skip breakfast,” Stacey sighed, nose wrinkling up as she glanced elsewhere, then to the clock on her nightstand, then finally to Jonathan again. “I’m going to get to work; you should stay here and maybe think about that for a while… and try to get some sleep, while you’re at it.”

“Yeah… might be a good idea,” Jonathan muttered, his eyes already closing as he lay back down. He never heard Stacey leave.

It was getting dark when Jonathan awoke. The last few signs of light were shrinking over the horizon of glass and steel, and he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He didn’t remember anything after lying down, so he must’ve slept, but he still felt exhausted. He stretched, yawned, and sat up, noting the sour taste in his mouth. The slight feeling of nausea accompanying it drove home the realization that he hadn’t eaten in almost a day. He could hear the sounds of evening traffic outside; the clock sitting atop the nightstand showed a time of 6:24 PM, which left Jonathan over half-an-hour before Stacey would return. It was plenty of time to run out, grab some dinner for the both of them, and come back.

He stood, and walked into Stacey’s bathroom, having to squint as he turned on the light. He turned on the faucet, and held his hand under the water until it was cool enough to splash on his face. Wiping it away, he blinked at himself in the mirror. Stacey had been right: he looked like shit. Dark circles under bloodshot eyes along with a general fatigue showed clearly on his features. The lack of restful sleep was definitely having an effect, and he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to keep it up before things took a marked turn for the worse.

Jonathan also realized that he still had the motel uniform on, and felt the need to be rid of it, instantly. The polo shirt and khakis were removed, and tossed aside, leaving him in his boxer shorts. Eyeballing himself in the full-length mirror that hung from Stacey’s bedroom door, he made a face. While he wasn’t overweight by any means, he also wasn’t in the best shape. What little extra weight adorned his body was mostly in the form of a small gut that had been growing since his advance into his mid-twenties. That bothered him a little.

He shook it off and headed to the small, cheap dresser on his side of the queen-sized bed. Jonathan stayed over often enough that he kept some possessions in it; mostly clothing. He rummaged through it for a minute or so, and pulled a few different items out. In short order he was dressed for the evening: a dark-colored tee-shirt with the “Band Together” punk band’s logo emblazoned across the front, dark-blue loose-fitting jeans, his ever-present hoodie of the same color, and black work-boots. He flipped the thin gold necklace that Stacey had gotten him for his twenty-fourth birthday over his head and onto his shoulders, before threading a simple black belt through the loops of his jeans around his waist, and fastening it.

A gastric whine reminded him of his current objective, so he grabbed his phone and wallet, walked through the living room, out of the apartment, and down onto the street, locking up as he left. He meandered up the street a couple of blocks: there was a decent-sized strip mall there, with a few different places to eat or get take-out. He and Stacey often grabbed food here, and he had some discounts built up at certain places; the only difficult part would be to decide what to get. He crossed the parking lot, and stepped onto the sidewalk, considering each option as he passed.

Dawn of the Bread was good, but sandwiches and stuff were more of a lunchtime thing in Jonathan’s opinion. They’d just had Burger-Time the other night, and while Italian was an option, never from Pizza My Heart, because their ingredients were sub-par. The new place Stacey wanted to check out, The Rising Sun, was just a few doors up, so he headed toward it to see what it was all about. It sounded like it was packed, and as Jonathan passed beneath the sign of the stylized sun, he noted the small crowd gathered inside the small restaurant.

As he reached for the front door, sudden screaming startled him into jumping back with a gasp as a rather large male customer reached back beneath his long leather jacket, pulled out a huge revolver, and wave it at the group of people. Jonathan stood, transfixed as the man pointed his weapon at the cashiers, made demands for cash, and let off a shot into the ceiling when they weren’t moving fast enough. He tried to run but fear turned his legs into rubber, and he only managed to take a few frightened steps backwards from the door. The gunman, having grabbed enough cash, turned and fled from the restaurant, eyes narrowing at the much smaller young man standing in his way. Jonathan’s eyes widened as the man aimed his firearm at him, and time seemed to slow, as his adrenaline began to kick in, big-time.

“He’s gonna shoot you.” Jonathan could only stand frozen as the strange voice spoke to him again; only this time, it continued. “You can protect yourself, you know. I’ll show you how, this first time, but that’s kinda all I can do, for now.” Jonathan’s vision blurred, and he dropped to one knee as the strength to move left his body. He felt goosebumps appear on his skin, as a light tingling sensation spread throughout his body. His head ached as he tried to see how close the bandit was to killing him, and panic welled up when he realized he really couldn’t see much at all. The tingle across his body became sharp jolts of pain, and he thought he’d pass out before the guy had a chance to shoot him. Maybe he was having a heart-attack, or something.

Jonathan heard a vague, distant rumble as his right arm involuntarily drew backward. The pain in his body began to subside, and the tingling flowed into his outstretched hand. His vision cleared, and he watched his fingers curl up, as the low hum of what sounded like massive insects swarming reached his ears. There was a small crackle of light at his fingertips that caught his attention, and a few tiny sparks jumped between them as Jonathan looked on, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest. What the hell was happening to him? Turning his attention back to the quickly-approaching bandit at the door, Jonathan’s arm involuntarily shot upward towards the gunman.

In an instant, there was a deafening crash as a blinding flash of lightning arced from his hand, smashed through the glass door, and struck the gunman square in his chest. The thief cried out as he flew back and crashed into the restaurant counter, singed from the blast. The lights in the restaurant and most of the buildings nearby that hadn’t gone out instantly were flickering into darkness. The chaos of the robbery had gone dead-silent, as onlookers stared in disbelief between the blackened-but-still-moving chest of the robber, and the horrified youth crouched outside, while he could only stare at the man he’d so grievously injured. A woman screamed. Murmurs amongst the nervously retreating crowd began, and an older man, narrowing his eyes at Jonathan asked clearly, “What did you do to him?”

“I-I…” Jonathan fought for something to say, as he sat there, shaking. The sudden panicked stress, added to his previous exhaustion and hunger proved to be too much for his stomach, and he felt a wave of nausea send what little it contained up and onto the pavement. He coughed and sputtered on hands and knees for a few moments, wiping the sweat and tears from his eyes, when he heard the sound of sirens approaching.

“Alright, that was pretty good, kid!” The voice in Jonathan’s mind praised, sounding more than a little pleased. But we should probably get out of here. I don’t like the idea of the security drones finding us here.

“What… the hell are you?” Jonathan groaned, finding the strength to stand, and start staggering away. Where would he go? The only place he could go would be Stacey’s. He could hear the voices of the bystanders discussing who, if anyone should stop him as he began a trudge back across the parking lot, and he tried to pick up the pace.

“Yeah don’t-… don’t start talkin’ to me out loud or anything, people’ll think yer crazy.”

“Aren’t I?” He muttered, quietly this time. The voice did have a point.

“No, man, you’re not. But I can hear your thoughts, so just think whatever you want to say to me, alright?” The voice was gruff and commanding, but friendly. It sounded really familiar, but Jonathan couldn’t put his finger on it. “Also, you’re thinking of Lieutenant-Colonel Rigg, from ‘Space Battles 9’. What a great game.” It was. Jonathan had loved that one, and had thought the voice acting for that specific character had been done particularly well. “So I chose that voice for our little interactions here. See?”

“Fair enough. How’s this for starters?” Jonathan growled inwardly as he ducked into an alley between buildings, growing annoyed at this… thing’s knowledge of his thoughts as he had them. He peered out onto the main road, trying to pinpoint where the law enforcement was, exactly. Traffic was pretty thick from rush hour, and it sounded like they were still pretty far off. “Who or what the fuck are you, and what the fuck is happening?”

“Better. And those are both totally legitimate questions. T’put it simply, I am the spiritual incarnation of what you call ‘Lightning’ or ‘Electricity’. You’re the physical anchor or ‘Anima’ that I happen to reside in. Such an arrangement gives me some real access and influence in the physical world we now reside in, and it gives you the powers and abilities thereupon… blah-blah-blah, et cete-“

“Wha-… what? You’re not putting it simply enough for the situation at hand!” He thought back. Since the ground officers were held up behind traffic, and he didn’t hear any drones above, Jonathan bolted out of the alley, and chanced a dash across the road as the crosswalk light turned. Maybe he’d make it without being noticed, after all. Clearing the street, it was just a couple of blocks until he could take the back entrance to Stacey’s apartment complex. He wasn’t exactly dressed for jogging, so he slowed to a more inconspicuous walk.

“Basically, I’ve been with you since you were born, and I know everything you know, plus a few things you might not. Your spirit and myself are kind of… synced up, as it were, for the rest of your natural life.”

“My ‘spirit’, eh? Well, that kind of answers a few major philosophical questions humanity’s had for the last couple-thousand years or so.” Jonathan replied sardonically as he did his best to mingle in with the pedestrian traffic. He let out a deep, relieving breath when the traffic let up a bit, and the police cruiser finally zipped by, presumably toward the restaurant, siren blaring. “So… what, I can shoot electricity, now? What do yo-“

“No-no, you control it,” the spirit cut in. “There’s a difference.” Jonathan groaned inwardly. “There is!”

“Alright, alright; yeah, there is a difference, relax.” Jonathan felt like he was going insane, but at least the people around him didn’t seem to notice. He’d be a lot less sure of what he’d seen, if he wasn’t positive all those witnesses at the restaurant had seen it, too. He turned a corner right, and then right again, taking the small concrete path that led to the back entrance of Stacey’s apartment building, near the parking lot. He was just about home-free. “So, why me? What do you get out of this deal?”

“What I get is a chance to directly interfere in certain other Spirits’ plans to wreck what we’ve got going, here. Jonathan, my boy, you and I are gonna save the world.” Jonathan stopped in front of the side gate to the apartment’s parking area, blinked as that last statement sank in, and just started laughing uncontrollably. He held himself up on the metal railing, as he doubled over with laughter, tears forming in his eyes. The spirit had gone quiet.

“Ahhhh, shit… hah-hah… that’s good…” He wiped at his eye, taking a deep breath to try to control himself. He exhaled, slowly. “Boy, did you pick the wrong person. ‘Save the world’? I mean c’mon; you say you know everything about me? You’re asking a hell of a lot from a guy who can’t even manage to scrape up his own life.” Jonathan shook his head in disbelief, still chuckling as he moved through the gate, around the pool, and into the back entrance of the building proper.

“Meh, I’m not concerned.”

“Seriously? You’re not concerned? The apparent fate of the world is at stake, you’ve plopped yourself into an irresponsible, overeducated-but-underemployed, out-of-shape slacker for the last twenty-four years, and you’re not concerned?”

“Nope. I’m confident that you’ll do juuuust fine.” Jonathan opened the door to the stairwell, and began to climb. It was four flights; but aside from walking most places, and avoiding elevators and escalators, he didn’t get much exercise.

“And uh… how do I know this isn’t all some massive hallucination brought on by a continuous lack of restful sleep?” He topped the stairs at the fourth floor, and stepped into the hallway, his footsteps quietly echoing in the empty air.

“Well…” There was a pause. “...I guess you don’t. You’ll figure it out. I mean, I can tell ya it’s real until doomsday, but you’ll just have to get there, yourself. But you knew that already.”

Without responding, Jonathan opened the door to Stacey’s apartment, of which the living room remained uninhabited. He moved through the room, quietly calling out, fearing that if he spoke too loudly, the authorities would instantly show up. “Stace’?” There was no answer. Jonathan realized that on top of everything, he’d forgotten to bring food back, though that seemed a little trivial, now. He could just find something to cook for them here.

What he needed, he thought, was a proven mind-clearer. He quickly walked into the bedroom, and the small, cheap dresser near his side of the bed. Jonathan kept a few more things than just clothes at Stacey’s, one of which lay at the bottom of one of the drawers, underneath a few random, unfolded shirts. He pulled out a small plastic bag, unfurled it, and opened it, plucking a rolled joint and a lighter from within. He quickly replaced the bag in the drawer as he’d found it, sealed to contain the smell. Placing the paper-rolled weed between his lips, he pushed the drawer closed, walked over to the window, and opened it. He glanced back toward the door in silence, listening for a moment, before slipping out onto the fire-escape.

Making sure to keep well away from the window, while trying to remain out of sight of any passers-by below, Jonathan leaned against the sun-warmed bricks of the apartment building’s outside walls. He lifted the lighter up in front of his face, where it took two flicks to bring the flame to life. He closed his eyes with a deep inhale, and a few sharp puffs to get the end of the joint to ember. Sweet-tasting smoke filled Jonathan’s lungs, and he could feel a warmth spread from his face on down.

“What’re you doing?” the Spirit chimed in. “Don’t you think you should be focused on what’s going on?”

“Yeah, because not getting any sleep for the past… however long it’s been, has been real beneficial for my focusing ability,” Jonathan thought back, angrily. “Right now I’m pretty focused on not freaking the fuck out, thanks. Not getting arrested and/or blasted by the cops is pretty high on my list, too.” He could feel the effects starting to take hold; his body loosened a bit as tension melted away. He mentally detached a bit, although he didn’t exactly feel any better about the situation at hand. Still, he took another long drag, and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke into the air, watching it swirl away into the breeze.

“I feel like we should be going over our next move. You know, so we can stop the world from being destroyed?” The spirit was getting annoyed. Jonathan found himself caring less and less about that.

“Yeah, about that. You should probably find someone else to do whatever it is you have in mind.”

“As appealing as that’s starting to sound right now, that’s not exactly an option, anymore,” the spirit replied. “You’re it. We’re linked up, until-,“ There was the sudden sound of the apartment door opening, and voices carrying through from the hallway. One was unmistakably Stacey’s; Jonathan could instantly recognize it. He dropped the joint onto the fire-escape platform, covering it beneath his black work-boot until it snuffed out. Hopefully she was just talking to her neighbors; she was always the extroverted one.

The front door shut, but he could still hear voices, male voices, echoing inside the apartment. Heavy footfalls thudded around the carpeted living room, and on the kitchen linoleum. Jonathan couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but Stacey sounded upset. He guessed it wasn’t other tenants over for a chat. They were getting closer. He hugged back against the wall, out-of-sight of a glance through the bedroom window. If they approached for further investigation, however, they’d spot him for sure.

“…He could be out,” Stacey’s voice wavered with concern as it reached Jonathan’s ears. He gritted his teeth; either she was having some major affair, or these men, whoever they were, were looking for him, and knew exactly where he was. That meant they knew who he was. Jonathan almost hoped she was cheating on him, though it seemed far less likely. He glanced down to the alleyway below; it was a long drop, but the window was still open. Running down the metal stairs to the ground would cause enough sound to draw attention, as would shutting the window. His nose wrinkled up, and he weighed his options as the footsteps drew ever closer.

“You’re not seriously thinking of jumping, are you? You’d probably shatter your pelvis, at best,” the spirit broke in, confirming his fears.

“So, what then?” he returned, panic rising. “Forgive me if I’m feeling a little in over my head, here. I’m not exactly used to fleeing from the cops.”

“Run!” Jonathan wasn’t sure if it was the spirit, or his own self-preservation instinct screaming the command. Either way, he shoved himself from the wall, and vaulted down a few stairs, landing with a resounding ‘clang’. He continued down as quickly as he could, fear pushing him faster as he heard the men behind him.

“He’s here!” one yelled, poking his head out of the open window. Jonathan chanced a look up as the first man climbed out onto the fire escape. He was a white guy, with short brown buzzed hair. Otherwise, he was fairly non-descript, dressed in an all-black suit, white shirt, and black tie. Sunglasses covered the man’s eyes, and he held a small pistol in the hand that wasn’t being used to spring him through the window.

“He’s a fucking government agent, dude!” Jonathan gaped, turning back to the flight of stairs below him. His terror spiked when he heard a loud pop, and the unmistakable sound of a metal projectile ricocheting from the scaffolding. “Shit, shit, shit,” he couldn’t help babbling to himself aloud. He came to the end of the last platform, and practically leapt onto the ladder, unhinging the safety latches. “Alright, man,” he thought to the spirit. “How do I-“

“Got it! Just think it, will it, focus or whatever. I’ll make it happen.” Jonathan did, and as the ladder extended toward the ground, he could see small threads of electricity arcing from his hands onto the metal. He heard an agonized scream above, and couldn’t help but smirk as he dropped to the pavement, realizing the agent had likely grabbed one of the rails.

“I can’t believe that worked!” Almost giddy, but not about to chance another look, Jonathan glanced around for an escape route; one way led to the front of the building, the other to a parking lot, before a small wooded area, and the highway just beyond. A low growl of frustration escaped him as he heard the other G-man yelling instructions as he followed.

“Agent down! Continuing pursuit! We need backup, here! Surround the building!”

“That makes the decision easy, huh kid?” Jonathan agreed. He sprinted out into the parking lot, which was eerily empty; he was sure that was the agents’ doing. The sound of sirens and the buzz of low-flying drones spurred his feet to move more quickly. Shielding his eyes as he dashed through the darkness into the cover of trees, he winced as he felt sharp lacerations from the branches whipping against his face and uncovered forearms.

Breaking through the opposite edge of the tree line, Jonathan dashed up a small hill, stopping by the guardrail that separated him from the highway. Light traffic still flowed, and he saw no signs of law-enforcement heading his way. Without a vehicle, though, he was thoroughly screwed; they’d be sure to catch up, and he had no idea where to go. He looked around fruitlessly, gritting his teeth in sheer resentment. “Now what? As useful as being able to control you might be, I’m not sure I can fight all the fucking feds.”

“We’ll get through this, I pr-“

“No! Fuck you, man! I never asked for this shit! I just wanted an easy, normal existence where I could be left alone! I just-“ Jonathan, so wrapped up in his inner shouting-match with the spirit, barely registered the sound of screeching tires, and a large, tan, open-top convertible skidding to a halt near him on the shoulder amidst the myriad of headlights.

“Hey! Lightning!” He heard a feminine voice call. Torn from his thoughts, he blinked over at the owner. A young woman; tanned with straight black hair drove the vehicle. She was waving him over. His eyes narrowed in skepticism. “Yeah, you!” She continued, as the car idled. “Need a quick exit?”

“What’d you just call me?” Jonathan wrinkled his nose up in suspicion, doubting the intent of this newcomer in the current scenario he found himself drowning in. He backed away slightly, seemingly ready to bolt again. The woman rolled her eyes.

“Look, we have about thirty seconds before the drones and the rest of those government assholes catch up to you,” she growled as she stepped out of the car and started around to the other side of it. She was dressed simply: white tee-shirt, jeans, and boots, covered by a short, brown leather jacket. Her sparse makeup did little to enhance her naturally pretty features, which looked Native American. It was well-known that there weren’t many of her people left. “I guarantee you don’t want that. Can you drive us out of the city? Southbound, preferably.”

“I-I…” Jonathan stuttered, unsure what to do. “Why me?”

“Because you’re still weak, that’s why!”

“I…” Jonathan blinked, confused at her matter-of-fact statement. “I’m weak?”

“Just get in and drive,” She was already hopping into the passenger seat. “Hurry up, before they get here!”

“I think we’re out of other options, chief,” the spirit broke in, fairly well making the decision for Jonathan. “She doesn’t exactly look like one of them.” He- or ‘it’ was right; he didn’t really have any other choice, and he had to find someone to trust. She’d called him “Lightning”; it was clear she knew something of the situation. He glanced back in the direction of the apartment building, narrowing his eyes at the thought of leaving. He could see lights moving through the trees behind him, and decided to move.

“Alright,” he muttered, quickly hopping the guardrail, and making haste to the drivers’ side of the car. He slipped in and shut the door, throwing the car into gear as the automatic seatbelt wound over his chest and lap. Before pulling off, he gave a sidelong glance at the woman. “I haven’t driven in a long-ass ti-“

“Shut up and go, already!” She practically screamed, watching the traffic behind them through the side-mirror beside her. “They’re coming!”

“Right! Going!” Jonathan could see the flashing red and blue lights behind him, and a clearing of other traffic as he shoved his foot onto the accelerator. The older car lurched forward with a squeal of tires and a rumble of the engine. Swerving out onto the highway, he kept the pedal floored, praying to maintain control of the vehicle enough to maintain a speed higher than the ominous group of black sedans following them. “Southbound…” he repeated quietly to himself. “Uhhh…”

“Shit,” the woman groaned, unravelling her own seatbelt to turn around. “They’re getting a little too close.” There was a pause. “In about five seconds, I’m gonna need you to really brace yourself.” Jonathan was too caught up in trying not to crash as he approached one-hundred miles per hour, and looking for a southbound exit to ask why she felt the need to mention that. By the time his over-taxed mind could be forced to question it, he felt the car start to swerve, and panicked for a second, twisting the steering-wheel to compensate.

“Whaaat the ffff-…” It was difficult to articulate with so much going on. Jonathan gritted his teeth, fighting against the fishtailing car.

“Keep it together!” The woman yelled back. There was a deafening shock as Jonathan managed to straighten out, and he wondered for a moment if they’d hit something. The car, however, maintained and increased speed. He chanced a look in the rearview mirror, and instantly wished he hadn’t.

Joanthan’s eyes went wide as a massive mound of earth burst through the highway behind them, and the pursuers that didn’t smash into it outright were having difficulty keeping ahead of the road falling away beneath them. One black sedan escaped the initial upheaval, but a second, smaller spike of rock punched through the pavement, and caught the rear of the car’s undercarriage, flipping it end-over-end until it crunched to a halt. Jonathan couldn’t tell if any of the agents had survived, and at this point, he wasn’t sure if he cared much. He was, however, freaking out in a pretty big way.

“What the fuck?! What the fuck was that?! Did you do that ?! What the fuck did you do?!” He rambled, practically screaming as his grip on the steering wheel made his knuckles go white.

“We’re not done, yet!“ she yelled back. “Damn drones… I can’t hit them way up there! You’ll have to!” The woman turned back in her seat to face forward, and grabbed at the wheel. Shimmying closer, she kicked Jonathan’s foot from the pedal, replacing it with her own. “Okay! Shoot ‘em down! I’ll drive!”

“I-I…” Jonathan stammered, unsure of himself.

“Do it, or we’re screwed, dude!”

“It’s okay, kid. You can do this,” the spirit encouraged, aware of the uncertainty Jonathan radiated. Expelling a breath, he shoved his arm and head out of the binding of the seatbelt, and turned in his seat, facing behind on his knees. The drones; small, airborne robots propelling themselves through the sky, were thankfully not military-made. The version made for law-enforcement was equipped like a police-car with sirens, red-and-blue lights, and black-and-white paint. These also didn’t carry small missiles, but they were loaded with Tasers, and small-arms capabilities. Jonathan could see them dipping into range as they caught up. There were two of them. He gritted his teeth as their turrets lowered to shoot. “Don’t panic. Just aim, and fire. The power is there, just concentrate it into your hand.”

Jonathan wordlessly did so, lifting his right arm, open-hand out. He grabbed his wrist with his left hand, and closed one eye. He noticed small currents flowing between his fingers as he covered his sight of the left drone with his palm. In an instant, a small bolt leapt from his hand and struck the thing, shorting out its power and knocking it into a free-fall, until it smashed onto the road.

“I got one!” He cried, both surprised and pleased with himself. He saw a sudden flash from above, and heard repeating ‘thunk’ sounds as shots from the other drone struck the car. He ducked down, as did the woman driving.

“Get the other one!” she commanded. The drone continued to fire, and Jonathan didn’t want to chance sticking his head up.

“I can’t! It won’t stop shooting!” he growled back in frustration, trying to think. “I… I got it!” He spun back around in his seat, and deftly kicked her foot from the accelerator as she’d done with his, but instead of pressing it, he slammed the brake. Bracing himself for the inevitable spin-out with one arm, and holding the woman against the seat with his other, he smirked as the drone zipped ahead. When he was sure they weren’t going to go flying out of the car, he raised his arm again, aimed and fired another bolt.

The shot of electricity was much smaller than the first blast back at the restaurant, but it was enough to knock out one of the propellers. The drone wavered in mid-air as it tried to turn back, and tumbled, smoking, off to the side of the highway. The sound of it clattering uselessly to the ground below didn’t escape their ears, and they both let out a sigh of relief. They were safe, for now.