Speak No Evil

[Mute]

His forehead smacked against the rough wood the moment shots were fired. He kept low, praying he was not the target of the weapon's fire. The police started to panic, their radios were jammed, and while two officers dived into their cars to call for back-up, the woman was attacked. As she slumped to the ground unconcious, a cry came from the house.

"Step away from the computer!"

"I didn't do anything. Look! I-"

There was a crack and Tron was silenced. From his crouched position on the ground, he turned in time to see, amongst the silhouetted shapes in the window, the figure of Tron being rendered unconcious with a brutal pistol whip. His fear vanished and as anger ignited in its place, he rushed the house at a full sprint. In the open doorway, a policeman appeared and aimed his weapon at him. He leapt and soared through the air, clearing the distance between himself and the wide window beyond the porch. He crashed inside with an explosion of wood splinters and glass.

[Spectre]

She was either starting to really like the kid, or she was going to save them all a lot of trouble and kill him! Spectre watched in fascination and horror as he launched himself through the glass and into the house, clearly in a rage now. The two officers left outside with her started to run for the front door, to aid their comrades.

Her head was begining to pound, but she was not nearly done with them. The first onto the porch, stopped in his tracks and suddenly dropped, covering his head.

"I surrender!"

The second ran up behind him and hauled him to his feet. "I've got one of them!", he called into the house proudly. Then dragged his partner toward one of the waiting cars.

He threw him in the back seat and secured him, without a struggle, then walked around the car whistling. He slid behind the wheel and started the engine, feeling like the best gosh darn cop in the land. Then he drove the car straight across the yard, down the beach and into the sea, all the while convinced he was bringing a known criminal to justice.

Spectre smiled and ran to the porch..

[Mute]

He landed in a graceful forward roll at the feet of one of the officers inhabiting the room. As he rose, he swept his legs from under him. Before he fell through the coffee table, the cop lost grip of his gun. It seemed like second nature to him as he turned and saw the other officers; one stood in the entrance and one stood over Tron's body by the computer, both raised their weapons and he knew exactly what he had to do.

Behind his back, he caught the falling gun perfectly in his left hand. He squeezed the trigger, unloading two bullets into the chest of the one in the doorway. He fell back onto the porch. The third officer still wasn't ready to fire. All it took was a kick and the upholstered footstool flew across the room and struck the policeman in the arm, sending his first shot off course.

By the time he fired his second shot, his fallen comrade had scrambled off the broken coffee table and had been taken for a meatshield by the boy. He pushed forward, feeling the bullets slam into the body in his hands. There was a faint click-click and he grinned: the cop had run out of bullets. He leap-frogged over his now deceased meatshield as it slumped to the floor, and cracked the bastard in the head with his own pistol. He, too, fell to the floor dead.

[Spectre]

She heared each shot as it was fired. Her heart slammed against her chest in fright as she crossed the threshhold and spilled into the house. There were four bodies on the floor. Tron was one of them, though she suspected he would live, albeit with a killer headache. The other three would not be so fortunate..

She muttered something extremely unladylike..

"Well, I gather you don't need rescuing this time." She couldn't quite keep the admiration from her voice, looking around at what one boy had just accomplished in the span of time it took her to run up the front walk.

The thought suddenly crossed her mind that maybe there was a good reason they had come after the boy, an entire state away, so damned fast, but her mind was quickly turning into a painful pile of mush..

Stepping over a body without a shred of mercy, she dropped to Tron's side, rolling him over to inspect the damage, but over her shoulder she spoke to the boy still.. "You're ok..?"

[Mute]

From the shirt pocket of his last victim, he retrieved an umblemished notepad, it was compact and leather-bound, much better than his last one. Only the first two pages had been used. He used his own pen to write and he extended the note over her shoulder so she could read it:

Yes.

And it was true, he was uninjured and perfectly calm. His breathing was steady, his mind was clear and his hands were still. He took a moment to glance out the broken window at the aftermath of the carnage. He suddenly scribbled something else and held it before her:

You?

[Spectre]

"I've been better." She announced.

What a mess.

Well, if they were that determined to find this boy, it would not be long before another, better equipped team would be sent in to finish the job and collect him. They could not afford to sit around and wait for that eventuality. Something of a diversion was required.

Saying nothing else, she rose and went outside. The female officer with the bashed head had been about her size. Spectre crouched at the woman's side and without ceremony, started pulling off her shirt. The woman was not dead, but would wish she was before long.

She pulled on the uniform, over her own shirt and tucked her silver-blonde hair into the hat. Spectre pulled the woman up and dragged her, by her feet, into the house, making sure that her already battered head hit every one of the porch stairs. She left the woman in the front hall, and went into the kitchen, pouring a glass of herself water and popping a few pills from a prescription bottle.

"Can you help me get Tron in the back of one of the cars?" She called out to the boy, turning on the gas to all four burners of the stove, and the oven, opening the door.

[Mute]

He nodded and stooped to pick him up. First, he tried to lift him on his own but, to his surprise, had difficulty. He side-stepped so Spectre could support one arm while he lifted the other. His face was a picture of confusion. They shuffled outside and brought Tron to the vehicle at the end of the walkway. It took a moment to rest him gently on the back seat. After shutting the door, he turned to Spectre and shrugged. She understood and answered.

"Things have suddenly become more complicated and time is no longer on our side. These people want you and until we can figure out why, we'll go to Saladin. He'll know what to do."

He ran to the other side of the car and climbed in. Spectre took a moment to have one last look at the house before joining him. The key was still in the ignition. She started up the engine and the radio sprang to life with muffled voices. Tron's frequency jam had worn off but at least they'll be able to monitor police activity. Before she put the car in reverse, Spectre was presented with another written message. He smiled.

Take me to your leader.

[Spectre]

She smiled at the note, shaking her head.

"Great, he'll be so very pleased that I've brought him an alien life form.."

After she turned the car around, preparing to head down the long driveway, Spectre put it in park for one last moment. Opening her door, she slid one leg out and stood, the other knee was still resting on the seat of the cruiser.

It really was a shame, she really liked that house..

She retrieved the shotgun from behind the seat and unloaded on the house.

They drove away, leaving the pencil pushers another blaze to investigate. This one with bodies galore, police officers driving each other into the ocean and not a mutant in sight.

Just another day...

[Mute]

The ignited gas blew a hole in the kitchen wall, sending shattered wood and glowing embers into the sea. He felt sorry for Spectre. Her sacrifice was admirable. As the car sped along the beach, he rolled down his window to enjoy the last of its cool breeze. He fished from his pocket his old notepad, now blood-stained and battered. It had belonged to his sister and she gave it to him one day when he ran out of paper. He flicked absently through the second half of the pad, recalling conversations passed. He knew there were drawings on the front pages. His jaw clenched and he gripped the notepad tight. Then threw it away.

He glanced into the wing mirror and watched it bounce and roll in the sand. Beyond, he saw the house; angry red flames danced in the windows, the white paint had turned brown in places, and ebon smoke climbed out of the cove. A memory stirred. Something other than morbid curiosity kept his eyes fixed on that house as it went up in flames. He found it ironic. His last life ended with a burning house, his new life began with one. He pulled his gaze away to look at Spectre then wrote something for her:

I'm Mute.