A/N: Decided that, since it's going to be free on Kindle soon anyway, I might as well upload some more chapters. Main fight scene here, tell me if you like it. Also, thanks to JP Lacey, my beta-reader, for improving this chapter.

Chapter Five

James left the care home early, hoping a disruption in his normal routine would help him get to school untroubled. It was a misty morning. He looked out for cars, as he did sometimes when he was bored, although there weren't many in the morning. But today he had a different reason for it. He was looking out for any sign of danger, as the e-mail had told him to. James may have been taking it too seriously, but he could laugh about it later if it proved to be false. For now, he would let the paranoia rule his decisions. It was a quiet street, and there weren't usually many people. In fact, he was the only one walking along it at the moment. That felt odd, and wrong. His hands moved to his penknife and rock-his only physical weapons.

James watched the cars go by intermittently as he walked. Hearing another accelerate behind him, he looked back. The car was a nondescript silver Ford. He glanced at the passengers, and felt a tingle of fear. The driver was looking right at him. Well that wasn't strange in itself, James was looking at him. What was strange was that the car almost seemed to be angled towards him, as if planning to hit him.

James sped up a little, paranoia setting in. He realized three things in the space of a second; the driver's eyes were still boring into him, the car was still coming at him, and it was only now it was ten metres away. This was it. Real fear set in now, and in desperation he ran forwards and dived in front of a nearby lamppost, so the car couldn't get to him without hitting it.

The car's brakes screeched as it tried to avoid hitting it, and it jerked to a violent halt beside him. Oh God. What did he do now? James jumped up. He couldn't believe this was actually happening. He froze in indecision. Did he take the offensive or run? If they had guns he would never make it on foot. He was dead anyway, and being dead meant that his decision didn't matter anyway. And he wanted to go down with a fight.

James ran towards the car as the first man was getting out. James looked at the car door and slammed it with his mind, hitting the man's head. Hard. His attacker stumbled sideways, dazed. James was stunned as he saw a real life gun in his hand. A gun that had almost dropped from the man's grasp.

In a moment of desperation, he tried to send it flying into his hand but it only just fell to the ground. Snatching it up, James ran forwards and managed to kick the guy in the groin.

He doubled over and James swung the butt of the gun as hard as he could, smashing his would-be killer in the side of the head. He dropped like a stone.

James sensed a movement in the corner of his eye and he hit the floor as something hissed above him, his cheek banging against the road. Bloody hell. Someone just tried to shoot him. He looked under the car and could see the legs of the shooter. He pointed the gun at them. Hardly knowing what he was doing, he pulled the trigger again and again, hoping one would hit. The gun jumped in his hand, and he was surprised by how much quieter it was than what he'd been expecting. Must be silenced, what remained of his brain thought. It was nowhere near as loud as the screams of the man who had just smacked down on the road, anyway.

All this had happened in less than ten seconds. He stopped for a moment, took off his schoolbag and then walked slowly round the back of the car, his heart just about to explode. James could hear moans, and glanced round. He looked away immediately; his attacker was on the ground clutching his leg and he could see blood and what might have been little bits of shattered bone. He shuddered, his knees almost giving way, and a little bit of vomit came up. He tried to call out, but his voice rasped. He tried again.

"Drop the gun," James said in a poor imitation of confidence, "I'll shoot."

He waited a couple of tense seconds, before he heard the gun drop, along with another moan. Keeping the gun trained on the man, and trying to avoid looking at his leg, James picked up the other gun he had just dropped. He glanced at the man, who was in no condition to move, and checked the glove box of the car. He found ammunition for the guns, which he pocketed, hardly registering what he was doing. James looked back at the man on the floor, who was more docile now, and their eyes locked.

"We'll get you in the end," said the guy venomously, "You can run, but you can't hide. We are everywhere, and we will hunt you down like the freak you are."

"Why me though?" asked James, anger starting to build now he was out of immediate danger, "What have I done?"

"It's not what you've done, it's what you are," he spat.

James backed away from him, then turned and began moving away. He seemed mentally unstable. And anyway, he didn't want to be caught with two injured men and a gun in each hand. Where was everyone anyway? And what did he mean by 'what he was'? He had a power, but he was still human. James personally had definitely done nothing worthy of a murder attempt. But he had to figure it out later, he could barely think at the moment. He was half elated at still being alive, and half scared out of his wits at what he had done.

James had to tell the police, but he had no idea who they were, and he didn't want to get close to them in case they had more weapons, and he had pushed his luck today already. He was wondering if he should just put a bullet in both of them. Not doing so could really end up biting him in the butt later. But he wasn't a killer. The police might have something to say about it if he killed someone in cold blood. And he didn't want that on his conscience, or end up in Hell for it, since he seemed so close to death all the time.

Should he tell the Police? James felt like he had to, although...he had been the only one to actually cause any damage, they'd not actually done anything. They'd claim he assaulted them or something. He could claim he that they'd been trying to run him over, but they'd probably get off scot-free; conveniently there were no other witnesses. He didn't even know who the guy was. And he had to get away before making any calls. A sudden thought stopped him in his tracks.

He'd said "We'll get you." Did he just mean him and the other guy? Or was there some big conspiracy - silence the telekinetics? If there was the Police might not be safe. And who says these people came alone?

Almost as soon as he thought that James heard a car coming in from a distant road. He couldn't see it in the mist but it didn't sound that far away. He needed to run, and quickly. A car raced round the corner of the road, way too fast for any normal errand. James ran the other way as fast as he could, despair reaching into his heart. He'd been lucky to escape the first of the attackers, and now more were coming? He was doomed. How could he escape this one? The car was still quite far away, but it was gaining gradually. If only he was powerful enough to lift the car itself. He needed to disable their car, or go somewhere the car couldn't. Preferably both.

James took out the rock. It was a bit bigger than a tennis ball, but with jagged edges, and certainly powerful enough to shatter a windscreen if necessary. If he could use it, it would not only slow his attackers down, but even scare them once they saw what he could do.

All that stopped him was that he wasn't one hundred percent sure that these people weren't innocent passers-by. That doubt was gone once he saw the car hadn't slowed, even as it drove past the previous car. He made up his mind, and held the rock out on his palm, so it was in line with the driver.

James knew this was a long shot, in more ways than one. His ability was a bit hit and miss at the best of times, but it had worked just now, so...

He concentrated on the rock. If any of these attackers got hurt, then it was their fault for coming after him.

Latching onto the desperation that this was his last hope to survive, he used that willpower to take control of the rock, and send it rocketing towards the car. He didn't let himself acknowledge his triumph, but kept his concentration and tried to force it to speed up, though it was harder the further it got.

The rock smashed a hole through the driver's side of the car and cracks spread out in a web across the windscreen. The car swerved to the side, and unlike the previous car was unable to avoid crashing.

James punched the air and gave the car the finger, cheering. That's what they got for coming after him. He was more powerful than even he had thought. He laughed. What an achievement!

Then the car's doors opened and three men got out.

"Oh, hell."

James ran.

He knew where he was going. He was near the adventure playground he'd gone to when he was younger. When James and his friends had gone there once they'd once played a game of hiding from the adults in the surrounding woods. They were huge; James and the others he was with had almost caused a panic when no one could find them. It was perfect for escaping pursuers. James knew that the advantage lay with the defender in an attack, because the attacker was in unfamiliar ground and the defender could prepare. But here there were uneven numbers, and he didn't know if he would make it. He ran down a side road and vaulted a fence, hoping to lose them. They were out of sight now, but not far away. He was on foot so he had a chance of losing them. After that he needed to get to somewhere safe where more people couldn't come after him.

Breathing hard, he ran down another road, hearing people yelling behind him. They may have more cars, but there were a lot of roads and they couldn't cut him off if they didn't know where he was going.

James was beginning to get out of breath. It was too early in the morning for this sort of exercise. He thought he heard footsteps behind him and fired a blind shot in the hope of keeping them away. As he did his foot caught on something and he stumbled, fear shooting through him at the thought of falling and becoming prey to these pursuers. But he managed to stay upright, and continued on, seeing his destination up ahead.

Hope giving him a new burst of speed, he raced through the gates, not daring to look back. He sprinted past the familiar obstacles, his lungs beginning to burn, and ran up the small hill, into the trees. He stopped behind one and peeked back.

One of the pursuers was there, and looking right into the woods where he was. Two others arrived next to him, panting, and he pointed right up at the tree he was hiding behind. James tried to memorise their appearance in case he had to report it later. They were all wearing black coats, and two wore hats. They had guns out, and were quickly fanning out in a pincer movement towards where he was, taking cover as they advanced. One of them pulled out something from his coat and spoke into it.

James swore quietly. Surely they couldn't be contacting more men. What if they were surrounding him right now? No, the woods were too big, but they might be able to cut off some escape routes. It was time to get moving. James had to get to a public space; they couldn't just attack someone with a hundred witnesses. He'd be safe there, and he could blend in. And what was a nearby public place he knew well and could get to or escape from easily? School.

So, he did what was possibly the dumbest thing possible. He decided to go to school. Ryan could help him as well. He would have ideas. But he had to get to bus stop first. He took a quick moment to get his bearings, and headed off in the right direction as fast as he could. He checked his watch. He didn't have time to catch it at the stop, but the bus passed by the forest not far away, and he might be able to stop it. The bus was often late, too so he had a good chance of getting there. Despite what it felt like, very little time had passed since he'd been attacked. He would get to the road it went down, and head towards the bus stop until it passed him.

James tried to balance running fast with moving quietly, but it wasn't easy. He looked back through the misty trees. What the hell. He broke into a run, listening and watching out for any signs of others. He froze as he heard movement further behind him. Something was approaching, and fast. James ducked to the right and crouched behind a tree, staying absolutely still. He knew that in bad visibility like this, you could be looking at someone and not notice him until he moved. So James stayed still, and waited. He knew what he had to do, but didn't like it one bit. However, it was the most practical solution, and he was a practical person.

James concentrated, and waited until the man was dangerously close. Still hiding, he used his power to move a stick around through the leaves. It worked for a second or two, and then his power faded. The pursuer stopped, and James heard him move slowly past the tree he was using as cover. James gritted his teeth, and saw the figure pass him, not seeing him. He moved from cover. The pursuer seemed to realise his back was exposed, and began to turn.

James shot him in the back from a metre away.

The silenced weapon made a small phut as he fired, and a rip immediately appeared in the man's coat as he fell on his front, the gun falling from his grasp.

James was disgusted with himself. He had shot another human being in the back without so much as a warning. This is what these bastards had reduced him to. A killer. It had been so easy as well. The man hadn't made a sound, and the chances were he'd get away with it. The Police couldn't trace the gun to him, and these attackers wouldn't tell anyone. He felt tainted by it, like he'd lost a part of himself that he couldn't get back. Sure, this guy deserved it, but was James in the right by taking away his life?

James strode over to the body, planning to take the gun. A small movement made him frown. The wound was almost certainly lethal. It was in the middle of the back, and had probably gone through a bunch of internal organs. But still, he thought he had seen him breathe.

He kicked the gun away from the man's hand, just in case there was some life in him, and it was then that the man struck, grabbing the back of his leg and shoving so that James, who had been kicking the gun, became even more unbalanced and fell backwards, losing his own weapon. James realised what was happening and twisted so that he fell onto the guy who'd shoved him, causing a whoosh of air as the air left him. James jumped up, and the man lunged for the gun. Seeing the peril, James launched himself at the man, kicking him in the head to stop his grab.

James growled obscenities under his breath, jumping on the attacker and wrapping both hands around his neck, going for the pressure point beneath the ears and squeezing with all his might, digging his fingernails in.

The man cried out, the first sound James had heard him make. James did a lot of sport at school, and though he was only fourteen he wasn't much shorter than this man, and he was strong. He had also been told by Ryan that if you put on enough pressure and did it for long enough you could make someone pass out. The man tried to push himself up with his arms, as if doing a press up, but James drew up his knees and forced him down, and he fell back down, choking as James increased the force around his neck and pushed his head downwards. James grinned in triumph. He could beat this guy.

In desperation, the man bucked and swung his legs up, kicking James in the back and dislodging him. James fell forwards onto the forest floor, scraping his hands, and the man swung his fist backwards, hitting James in the ribs. The assailant grabbed him by his tie and pulled, trying to bring him closer.

His anger building, James lashed out in retaliation, driving a kick at him and hitting him in the throat as he tried to roll over. The man let go of his tie and clutched his injured windpipe, gagging. James seized his chance, smashing his palm into the man's face over and over, desperately trying to come first in this fight, knowing second place meant death or capture. The man tried to drive him off with a kick to the chest but it was feeble and James was in a rage. He kicked the leg out of his way and stamped on the man's crotch, causing a moan. Who was this guy, to come after him when he had done nothing wrong?

The man tried to spring up, but he was injured and James just planted a foot on his chest and shoved him back down hard, slamming his head against the ground painfully.

Who was he to just come in and try to take his life away, when he didn't even have any family to notice the loss?

The man made one final attempt to sweep his legs away, but James dodged and brought a foot down on his face, breaking his nose and causing blood to gush.

Who was he, to come after him, and almost turn him into a killer?

James drove a foot into the man's stomach, winding him as he futilely tried to get up again.

James had shot someone, intending to kill, and his life could never be the same after this. They had changed him.

With a final, brutal kick, the man's head fell backwards as he lost consciousness. James sagged against a tree, his rage beginning to leave him, replaced by relief that he was still breathing, and tiredness. Realising that there were still others out there, he picked up his gun, and headed towards the bus stop, wincing at the pain in his ribs. He wasn't out of the woods yet.

James exited the forest and crossed a couple of quiet roads, not seeing anything unusual. He was still hyped up from the fight before. He couldn't believe he had taken on a grown man in hand to hand combat and won. He knew that it may have had something to do with the fact that James had just shot him in the back, but it was still an impressive feat. He also felt a little bit sick at the damage he'd caused. There was that disgusting bullet wound in the man's shin, and the nose he'd crushed. James was worried he was turning into a sadistic and violent person.

There was no opposition as he stopped by a pub, which was closed at this time in the morning, and sat down at a bench, a hedge obscuring the view of where he'd just come from. James took a look at himself as he waited.

He was covered in dirt from the forest, his tie had been pulled tight and he had blood on his hands. Literally and metaphorically.

Luckily he had the presence of mind to put the weapons he had picked up inside his jacket.

James brushed off as much of the dirt as he could, and fixed his tie. He also wiped his hands on his trousers. He ran a hand through his hair to remove any attached twigs and leaves. He wasn't completely satisfied that he was presentable, but it would have to do.

He tried to think of a cover story. Why would he turn up here to wait for the bus? Maybe he overslept and missed it, so he took a shortcut to catch up with it. It made sense, because the bus actually went the wrong way for a bit while it picked up the others at different stops.

He waited for the sound of the heavy bus engine, dreading the thought of thee men coming out of the woods and finding him. He had been lucky then, having already shot the man down so he was disadvantaged, but he doubted he could win again.

Then he heard the beautiful sound of the bus' engine and got up, waiting for it to appear round the corner. When it did, he stepped into the open, almost falling over as he saw one of the men from earlier driving it. He stepped back in horror before realising it was a trick of the mind and that the bus driver was the same as before. He waved it down. The bus wasn't a public one, and he saw the same driver every day, so he recognised James and stopped, the doors opening with a hiss.

"What happened to you?" asked the driver, looking him over.

"I overslept and missed the bus, so I cut through the woods to get here," explained James, trying to sound appropriately embarrassed. The bus driver shook his head.

"Alright then, on you get."

James went up to the top deck, half-smiling as he saw his friends shouting good natured abuse.

"You look like you got out of bed on the wrong side this morning," commented someone. James laughed it off, and explained why he'd missed the bus. As he did James sank into a seat next to Ryan, feeling suddenly tired. He received his due congratulations for his mistake.

"Well done," remarked Jake sarcastically, "Did you lose your bag as well?"

James desperately tried to cover up the mistake. He'd forgotten that he'd left his schoolbag behind, it hadn't seemed important when people were trying to kill him.

"I lost it on Friday," said James, hoping no one would be able to contradict the lie. Ryan frowned, but didn't say anything.

Someone sighed, rolling their eyes at him.

"You're on a roll, aren't you?"

James nodded, smiling weakly, and the conversation continued to another topic - Jake's new girlfriend. Nothing had changed for them, and it seemed an impossibility that the Hunters would get him here.

James tried to think things through.

People had come after him on his way to school, seemingly with some prior knowledge of where he would go. They were armed, and prepared to kill. At least one of them must have had a bullet-proof vest, unless the man he'd shot in the back had some power of his own. They also seemed to hate him just because of his ability, and were likely to be a hit squad of some anti-telekinetic group. One had also said the words, 'we are everywhere' which could mean the Police forces and spies. This was definitely a bad situation.

"Earth to James, anyone in there?" asked Ryan.

James jumped, startled out of his thoughts, and tried to put a smile on his face. It didn't feel convincing.

"Yeah," he said, "Just thinking."

"How did you get that graze?" asked Ryan, "And where is your bag actually at?"

James rubbed his cheek. Now that Ryan had pointed it out it stung badly. It could have happened at any point.

"A bunch of people tried to kill me," he said quietly, in a strained voice, "Nothing big though."

Ryan smiled, as if trying to get him to own up to his joke. Then he saw James' expression and his grin faltered.

"You serious?" he asked hesitantly. James nodded solemnly.

"Yeah, and I managed to get a couple of their weapons," said James, looking around, and carefully showing him the inside of his blazer. Ryan's eyes bulged.

"Are you saying you took on a group of armed men and won?" he whispered, amazed for the second time in the past few days.

James smiled for the first time that day.

"What can I say, I've got skills." he was amazed by how nonchalant he sounded, even though his body ached with bruises and fatigue. He got more serious though, "But I didn't get all of them, and three could still easily come after me."

"What exactly happened?" whispered Ryan, "How many men were there? Did they say anything?"

James explained it to him in a low voice. It seemed even more unbelievable now he was telling it. He'd taken out three fully grown men, with guns. That was so epic.

"You beat up a fully grown man?" asked Ryan sceptically.

"Well I shot him first," said James, by way of explanation.

"Oh," said Ryan frowning, "Well that's just cheating."

"So is them attacking me without warning," responded James, "So I don't care about fair play, just surviving.

"Have you called the Police?" asked Ryan.

"No, I didn't want to risk it. I could have got in trouble for it."

Ryan laughed shortly.

"You're already in trouble," he said, "But you know you can claim self-defence on everything. They came after you, and they could be after you right now. You need protection."

"Yeah, well...it was something the guy said," James tried to explain, "He said 'We are everywhere', and that makes it sound like they have people in the Police. All it takes is one corrupt officer and I'm gone."

James looked back out of the window to see if anyone was following, fearful that any moment now the bus would stop and be stormed by the men from earlier. He turned back to Ryan.

"Possibly," admitted Ryan, "But what else can you do?"

"I don't know," said James, "I really don't."

The bus continued onto school.

A/N: So, is that too dramatic and unrealistic, or good? What do you think? Review, or be cursed forever.