Renegade

Chapter twenty-three

"That's it, lovebirds, nice and slow. No funny business now."

Makoto sent a furtive glance beyond his shoulder, his throat constricting at the familiar sight of the black and green uniforms: Trackers - three of them.

The two taller ones had their rifles aimed at their backs, prepared to shoot them at the slightest twitch. The third one was smaller and heading towards them, unfastening a pair of collars from the utility belt tied around her waist.

A pang of fear shot through him as he realized what they were. No way, no way, no way.

Makoto flicked his wrist, intent on sending them flying. There was no way they were getting collared! The Trackers remained vertical - he, however, did not. One of the men shot a stun bullet straight into his back and he crumpled to the ground, every muscle in his body contracting as he was engulfed by pain.

What in reality took seconds to wear off felt like hours of suffering to him. When the effects finally subsided, he was left in a panting, twitching heap, his jaw sore from how hard he'd been clenching it. The spot on his back that had been hit was still stinging.

The woman leaned over him, an oval device the size of his palm hanging from her neck. There was a blinking red button in the middle of it: the suppressor waves - of course.

She clicked the collar closed around his neck and roughly hauled him to his feet.

"Not very smart, are ya?" she asked, amusement coloring her voice.

She pulled both his arms behind his back, slapping on a pair of cuffs. He moaned in pain as the motion jarred his injury which the woman immediately picked up on.

"Injured, are ya?" she asked with malicious glee. "Shoulda stood still when we told ya, then."

She grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. Makoto groaned, his feet almost buckling beneath him. The Tracker's hold on his arm was firm and she wrenched him upright.

"Stop," Amanda's calm voice pierced through the haze of pain. "We are cooperating."

"Aww, how cute! Look at her standing up for ya," the woman cooed insincerely.

She handed him off to one of her companions and walked up to Amanda. Grabbing her by the chin, she turned the teen's face from side to side.

"Gorgeous, this one. Powerful too," she said, taking note of the white bracelet tied around her wrist. She turned her helmeted face towards Makoto. "How does someone like you land someone like her, huh?"

"That's enough," the tallest man said, stepping between the woman and Makoto. "Cuff the girl and let's go."

The woman huffed, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like "killjoy", but did as she was told. She grabbed Amanda by the arm and pulled her to the SUV parked further down the street. Makoto stumbled along behind them, his pain-addled brain trying to find a way out of their predicament. He wasn't doing well so far.

The further in they got the more identically drab warehouses rose around them. Some were open, empty trucks pulling in rear-first to be filled. Workers mulled about, carrying boxes of different sizes. A couple of them raised their eyes to watch them pass, but they were ignored by most. Makoto wondered if they were used to this type of scene or if they were too intimidated to actually watch the proceedings.

In theory, the general population agreed with the measures put in place to deal with ability-wielders. In practice, most people tended to look away when the CS collared, cuffed, stunned or otherwise subdued them, too ashamed to actually meet the captives' eyes.