Undetected

Chapter Two

Appearing and disappearing without a trace is what I do best, at least until the one time the FBI sort of found out about me. I was on a Mission, after having a dream about a tormented soul who planned to blow up a popular gay night club, The Compound. Out of natural desire, he had sex with the hottie bartender. But because his suppressed homosexuality clashed with his radical Islamic views, his anger also clashed with his desires.

It was almost closing time, and his plan was to blow the club up with a pipe bomb.

During my dream, the sound of a loud barking dog, on the street below woke me up, which was a good thing because I only had two hours to stop the perp from killing and injuring a lot of people.

I quickly got ready, and went to the garage. I gathered my small bag, that had the necessary tools, for any mission I went on. It housed several items like my M&P, Ontario MK3 Navy Knife, and other necessities.  I also had various pockets that I sewed into my disguises for easier access to smaller items that always came handy. I placed my Smith and Wesson in an easily accessible holster on my side.

When I arrived at the back of the bar, behind him, like a quiet mist, the Arabic rambling terrorist was bent down ready to detonate the bomb.

My nose, like that of a trained Police Dog, picked up on the smell of marzipan, alerting me that his bomb was an IED. The fact that my dream left out that small detail, was ok because it wasn't enough to derail the mission. Sometimes psychic abilities weren't always one hundred percent accurate but close enough to shut everything down before it spiraled out of control.

In one swift motion, with a newfound strength that I hadn't noticed before, I placed a too tight choke hold around his neck. The feel of his pulse beating against my arm, reminded me that the point was to keep him alive. I eased the chock hold just enough, so that he wouldn't pass out. My new strength was mind blowing, but no time to think about that now!

I quickly pulled the handcuffs out of one of the sewn in pockets from the black sweats I was wearing and cuffed him to a nearby metal beam. When our eyes met, a look of genuine confusion covered his face, as he realized someone was stopping him from getting his way. And not just someone but a woman....I have to admit, I got off on his surprise.

I held my right hand a few inches from the top of his eyes and shut them, like people do to the dead, when they die with their eyes open. My eye shutting technique was a memory eraser only. He would live but not remember anything about me. It was also a truth inducer, in that, he would remember to tell the police about his plan to blow up a nightclub full of happy people. He needed to face the criminal justice for attempting a mass murder because of some fucked up ideology he was taught, that clashed with who he really was. Repression can be such an ugly thing.

As I stood up to make the untraceable phone call to the police department, from one of my many burner phones, I sensed someone close by.

Out of the corner of my left eye, I caught a twenty something year old, watching me with his mouth wide open. By his sparkly, black T-shirt, that had the words PARTY BOY written in neon rainbow print across the top, it, was clear that he was heading to The Compound.

Not used to being seen on my missions, my heart started racing, but I knew to stay calm. I wondered how much he'd witnessed.

"You need some help?" The stranger asked, cautious in his approach.

Not wanting him to get any closer, and nowhere to escape to, without him seeing where I was going, I put my hand up, "Back up, there are explosives nearby. Call the police!" 

What I said wasn't too far from the truth. Although, the bomb was diffused, there were parts of the explosive nearby and the police did need to be called.