Trance Part 1
Chapter 1
It wasn't an ordinary day. It never was for him. He glanced up from where he sat on a park bench, one eye lazily open, the other closed as if sound asleep. The sun beat down on Trance's head, making sweat trickle down the back of his neck, like hot oil in a frying pan. People thought him mad. Let them think it, he thought and his mouth cocked into a smile.
The sounds around him became a chaotic blob, the smells of the morning almost annoying. The well packed muscles beneath his overly-large hoodie tensed, as if somewhere in the back of his foggy brain he could sense danger lurking over top of him.
Let them come, he thought, What have I to lose? He heard the sound before he felt anything at all. Phftt! The bullet whizzed through the air like an erratic bird. It struck the back of the bench, leaving a hole inches from his skull. Is that supposed to scare me? A mad laugh tried to escape his throat, but he pressed it back down again. He lay as if dead, hoping his attacker would think him as such and let him rest a few minutes longer.
Phfft! Another bullet struck the bench.
No rest for the wicked, I suppose, Trance thought and finally pushed himself up off the bench.
"Trance Kelley," a woman said, with enough authority to stop any maniac of a man. "Come with me." Her stature was laughable, at least to Trance it was. She was five foot nothing, with short brown hair, large green eyes, and a gun the size of the Titanic.
She's out for blood. Whew, what a little hothead that one is. Better not throw any short jokes her way.
Trance leaned forward on the bench, crossing one leg, his hooded brown eyes staring at his fingernails. Let the little kitten sweat. She's trigger happy, this should be easy as pie. Pie sounds delicious; maybe the kitten brought some pie.
"Did you hear me, Kelley?" the woman said with a growl and raised her amazing gun at his face. Trance contemplated what to do next. Kill the kitten or let her think her bad cop impression was working on his poor little self. Kittens are adorable, perhaps I'll throw this one some catnip.
"I give up, Thumbelina, no need to wave your little gun around. Besides, you could poke an eye out with that thing."
Of course she didn't appreciate the short joke, what had he been thinking? The kitten raised the gun again. Phftt! This time Trance did laugh. The bullets whizzed through the air and suddenly exploded into tiny shards. Stupid kitten, should have let me play a bit longer. Now it's time for her to die.
"How did you..?" The woman staggered back, her fingers slipping off her gun, tripping over roots coming from the ground.
"I grow tired of the cat and mouse game with you people. Either send a real assassin, or just let me take my nap." With a wave of his hand, Trance gathered the shards of the bullet, reformed the metal and shot it back at the woman. Bye, Kitty, nice knowing you. The woman's body slumped to the ground, her overly impressive gun clattering like a discarded toy. Nap time. Finally.
It wasn't an ordinary day. It never was for him. He glanced up from where he sat on a park bench, one eye lazily open, the other closed as if sound asleep. The sun beat down on Trance's head, making sweat trickle down the back of his neck, like hot oil in a frying pan. People thought him mad. Let them think it, he thought and his mouth cocked into a smile.
The sounds around him became a chaotic blob, the smells of the morning almost annoying. The well packed muscles beneath his overly-large hoodie tensed, as if somewhere in the back of his foggy brain he could sense danger lurking over top of him.
Let them come, he thought, What have I to lose? He heard the sound before he felt anything at all. Phftt! The bullet whizzed through the air like an erratic bird. It struck the back of the bench, leaving a hole inches from his skull. Is that supposed to scare me? A mad laugh tried to escape his throat, but he pressed it back down again. He lay as if dead, hoping his attacker would think him as such and let him rest a few minutes longer.
Phfft! Another bullet struck the bench.
No rest for the wicked, I suppose, Trance thought and finally pushed himself up off the bench.
"Trance Kelley," a woman said, with enough authority to stop any maniac of a man. "Come with me." Her stature was laughable, at least to Trance it was. She was five foot nothing, with short brown hair, large green eyes, and a gun the size of the Titanic.
She's out for blood. Whew, what a little hothead that one is. Better not throw any short jokes her way.
Trance leaned forward on the bench, crossing one leg, his hooded brown eyes staring at his fingernails. Let the little kitten sweat. She's trigger happy, this should be easy as pie. Pie sounds delicious; maybe the kitten brought some pie.
"Did you hear me, Kelley?" the woman said with a growl and raised her amazing gun at his face. Trance contemplated what to do next. Kill the kitten or let her think her bad cop impression was working on his poor little self. Kittens are adorable, perhaps I'll throw this one some catnip.
"I give up, Thumbelina, no need to wave your little gun around. Besides, you could poke an eye out with that thing."
Of course she didn't appreciate the short joke, what had he been thinking? The kitten raised the gun again. Phftt! This time Trance did laugh. The bullets whizzed through the air and suddenly exploded into tiny shards. Stupid kitten, should have let me play a bit longer. Now it's time for her to die.
"How did you..?" The woman staggered back, her fingers slipping off her gun, tripping over roots coming from the ground.
"I grow tired of the cat and mouse game with you people. Either send a real assassin, or just let me take my nap." With a wave of his hand, Trance gathered the shards of the bullet, reformed the metal and shot it back at the woman. Bye, Kitty, nice knowing you. The woman's body slumped to the ground, her overly impressive gun clattering like a discarded toy. Nap time. Finally.
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