Mister Nobody

Chapter 3

Instantly looking back down at the table, Jack was panicking. What were they doing here? Had they followed him? Was this all some kind of giant trap? He hadn't done anything illegal, and he doubted the NYPD would do something this complex and weird. So why were they here? Lacing his fingers together, he tried to block the thoughts coming into his mind and focus. Then, he heard a voice from above him. "Sir? Excuse me." Looking up, Jack's eyes widened as he saw the two cops staring back at him. Visibly swallowing, Jack responded as clearly as he could. "Yes, officer, what can I do for you?" The officer stared at him. "You eating by yourself today?" Jack nodded. "Yes sir." Looking at his partner, the two of them shared a glance, making Jack even more nervous. "May I see some identification?" The cop asked, and Jack knew he was caught. "That's the thing sir...I don't have any ID on me." The officer's eyes narrowed, making Jack's heart start to beat faster. "Empty your pockets, please." The cop said. Jack complied, showing him the phone and wallet. Picking up the wallet, the other cop looked through it. "That's a lot of money. Not safe to carry this much on you." Shaking his head, Jack agreed. "No, sir." Sighing the first cop motioned to Jack. "I'm going to need you to come with us. We need to ask you a few questions."

At first, Jack was relieved to finally be in the hands of someone he knew and trusted, like the police. Nodding, he got up and then started to walk towards the exit of the restaurant, then he suddenly felt something hard press against his back. Turning back confused, the cop whispered to him silently. "It's exactly what you think it is, pal. Now don't make a scene, or else this is gonna end up very messy for both of us. Keep walking slowly, got it?" Jack's heart was now beating at a rapid pace, and he could feel adrenaline pumping through his veins. This was the first time he'd been held at gunpoint, and it was nothing like the movies. The cold steel of the gun barrel pressing against his back felt like a nail being hammered into a coffin. Walking forwards slowly, he looked around, knowing that running would be a stupid decision. Then, suddenly, another one of those intrusive thoughts he'd had earlier popped into his head, this one more pronounced than the last. Disarm. It said, and although Jack had no idea what the hell that meant, he could feel his muscles tensing up as he stopped in his tracks. Frowning, the cop jabbed his lower back with the gun. "Keep moving, damn it." He whispered, but Jack wasn't listening. He was in another world, and he was no longer scared. He was focused.

Turning around quickly, Jack grabbed the arm that held the gun, twisting it and wrenching the cop's wrist sideways, making him yell out in pain and drop the weapon. His partner quickly drew his gun, but not before Jack elbowed him in his solar plexus, making him groan and drop to the ground, curled up in pain. As the gun was still dropping from the other cop's hand, Jack quickly grabbed it and flipped it in the air slightly, grabbing the barrel and pistol-whipping the cop across the side of the face, leaving a large gash in his cheek and making him drop to the ground, unconscious. Adopting a combat stance, Jack quickly pressed the button on the side of the gun, slid out the mag, checked the interior, slapped it back in, and chambered a round, all in one fluid motion. Aiming the gun at the two officers, he could hear the stats of the weapon ring through his head like he was reading a book. Glock 17, 9mm pistol, carries 10 rounds in a normal magazine, effective range of 50 m, muzzle velocity is 1230 feet per second.

Moving the weapon back and forth between the two prone officers, he could hear the startled murmurs of the other restaurant patrons around him, and his heart slowed slightly, allowing Jack to come down. Looking at the two cops on the floor, Jack had no idea what had just happened or how he'd managed to do something like that. He'd never fired a weapon or had any sort of combat training a day in his life, yet he just took down two police officers like it was nothing. Seeing all the people staring at him, Jack knew he had to leave. Forget Ralston or the meeting, he was in trouble with the cops now, and he knew he had to get out of here. Even his thoughts were telling him to move. Flicking the safety on, Jack shoved the gun into the back of his pants, covering it with his plaid shirt, and grabbed the wallet and phone from the cop, those being the only pieces as to what was going on. Rushing out of the restaurant, he rejoined the crowd and walked briskly, keeping his head down and looking for a way out. Then, he heard a voice behind him cut across the noise of the crowd. "Hey! You in the plaid shirt, stop right there!" He turned to see several members of mall security and NYPD rushing after him. Knowing that he had no other choice, Jack began to run.