Jance and Paxton

"This is a science fiction story about people with psychic powers. This was really just an excuse to write Jance's "Sixth Sense" power in narrative rather than script as I usually do. His powers are just so much fun!" -Casey

Jance felt every muscle in his body tense. Adrenaline was already pumping through his system, but his mind was drawing a blank. There was no order to run, to duck, or even to move in anyway. He glanced around frantically for any sign of danger, but everything on the street looked perfectly normal. There were hardly any people walking around and those that were looked harmless enough.
Jance turned and started to walk back the way he had come. Maybe once he regrouped with his friends, he'dbe able to figure this out. He had to work hard to control his breathing and keep himself from running. There was no need to break into a panicked sprint and make himself look like a crazy person. As he walked, the feeling of foreboding only grew stronger. Jance was sure that whatever the danger was, it was closing in on him. He feared that if he turned his back, he would come face to face with whatever it was that was after him.

Stop! Stop! Stop!

Jance froze in place, not willing to take another step. The alleyway up ahead to his left had triggered that warning, no doubt about it. Was someone in there waiting for him to walk by? Had his sixth sense been thrown out of whack for something as harmless as a mugger?

Run!

His mind was now screaming at him to run, but hadn't it just told him not to move? The mixed message made Jance hesitate for only a second, but that was the only opening his attacker needed. Jance was suddenly grabbed from behind and shoved against the cement wall of a building as a blaster was shoved in his face. "Hello, Cheever," purred the voice of his attacker. "You've gotten rather slow since our last encounter."
Jance was being pinned by his right arm with his attacker's elbow digging into his chest. He could have struggled free easily enough if it weren't for the blaster in his face. He could actually feel his opponent's finger squeezing on the trigger dangerously close to misfiring the weapon through Jance's forehead. Jance forced his mind to focus on not the barrel of the blaster, but the attacker. He was probably in his late teens, tall, thin, but not scrawny. He was dressed all in leather with a long black coat, his skin was pale (almost pasty), his long black hair was combed back, and his dark green eyes blazed yellow at their rims. "Walk towards the alleyway," the man demanded. "Make a sound and I will kill you were you stand."

Jance and Paxton (C) SuperheroGeek13