The Boy Who Could Shape The Air

-=Chapter Seven- Well, My Mind Wasn't Screwed With Enough=-

  "Got 'em," I said with a satisfied smirk as several constructs dropped to the ground, minus heads.  "Isaac?  You wanna shake these other guys up a bit?"

  "I got you."  Isaac focused intently on a point in the middle of the group- the ground split open.  All but one construct fell to the dirt.  The last one scrambled to fire some kind of gun, but was interrupted by a torrent of water that blasted it off its feet, courtesy of Ella.

  "Whoa!" I said.  The vibration from Isaac's attack had spread outward, and I pinwheeled my arms to keep from falling.  "Keep that over there!"

  "I... I tried.  I don't know.  Power spazz.  Won't happen again."

"Gah!"  I sat bolt upright.  Looked around.  The smooth underside of a stone dome I had shaped at the end of the day before.  Everyone else, sleeping in sleeping bags.  Fulvio looked really uncomfortable.  Guess she didn't go camping a lot with Scientific Institute of Murdering A-Holes.

  I collapsed back onto my pillow.  "Great."  Three times in three days.  I was tired of these freaking traumatizing dreams.  Tentatively, I shaped a hole in the dome, then climbed out to stretch my legs.  The landscape of Central Park greeted me.

  The day before, we had driven all the way to Central Park.  Oddly enough, nobody had noticed us in Mark's mindfield (take notes, Fulvio).  A brook trickled through a grove of oaks.  Serene.  Peaceful atmosphere.

  I was so freaking on edge my feet were getting cut.

  Why?  Well, just for starters, we were about to raid a major base of a powerful organization that had hunted us for years.  We were just miles from it.  We were traveling with a scientist of the aforementioned organization.  And, oh yeah, I just had a dream about my friend losing control of his powers right before he killed another one of my friends.  Great.  Good times.

  A newspaper fluttered across the grass, a gray smudge disturbing the natural stillness and peace of the area.  On impulse, I picked it up.

  The top story was something about a billionaire who had donated millions to a city beautification project (read: planting three plants along one street).  A Sixth Avenue car crash.  A thief who had taken a prized Aztec relic being caught.  I turned pages idly.

  And then there was Page Seven.

  "BYSTANDERS SAY BOY STOPPED EARTHQUAKE."

  What the hell?

  Intrigued, I read further.

  "In the early hours of the morning in Miami, a trembling woke the residents of a suburb in the north.  Three witnesses have come forward to see they saw a boy sprint towards what appeared to be the epicenter, then crouch to the ground and place a hand to the pavement..."

  Whoa, then.  Sounds like an Enhanced guy running around down there.  Well, whoever he was-

  I read the next few paragraphs.

  "After the event, the boy was seen to be taken aside by four men.  He was not seen again, although anyone with clues as to his whereabouts is urged to come forward so that he can be questioned about the event.  The boy was described as looking about sixteen, with blond hair and a slim build.  He wore jeans and a blue-and-black checkered jacket.  A $1000 reward has been offered for anyone with valid information regarding him."

  My heart almost stopped.

  Sixteen.  Blond hair.  Slim.  Stopped an earthquake.

  Well.  Holy crap.