[Deep enough of a nick to draw blood. Just a droplet, not even a satisfying trickle, but Frederick Chilton did not like the whisper of yet another scar carved into his routinely brutalized flesh. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth, hoping to bite back that whimper that threatened to crawl out of the depth of his throat.
And in the absence of prayer, he thought. Quickly. The thief wore gloves and had Chilton at an angle that didn't favor the doctor's own hands -- no use in conjuring a sedative, no hope in grabbing a piece of skin exposed to his element.
He knew his collar was stained. Red that would darken to brown, ruining an inoffensive blue. Raina had picked out this shirt. He knew this bank was located off a busy street and adjacent to a full parking lot, one crawling with a pick of cars, just has he knew the traffic would delay any swifter police response and the parking lot made it difficult to engage alternative routes. Perhaps the thief had even calculated upon that.]
I can't -- [Chilton opened his eyes.] I cannot be held responsible.
[He had a second power. A sort of telekinesis over certain kind of machines: transport technology. Psychic Vehicular Driving. And that was why a black Cadillac Escalade slammed at illegal speeds into reinforced glass doors, that was why over 5,000 pounds of steel met with crushing concrete, that was why the bank shuddered with a sudden and inexplicable force.
Chilton had hoped to drop to his knees and crawl away in any confusion that he inspired. He had hoped to escape responsibility.]
no subject
And in the absence of prayer, he thought. Quickly. The thief wore gloves and had Chilton at an angle that didn't favor the doctor's own hands -- no use in conjuring a sedative, no hope in grabbing a piece of skin exposed to his element.
He knew his collar was stained. Red that would darken to brown, ruining an inoffensive blue. Raina had picked out this shirt. He knew this bank was located off a busy street and adjacent to a full parking lot, one crawling with a pick of cars, just has he knew the traffic would delay any swifter police response and the parking lot made it difficult to engage alternative routes. Perhaps the thief had even calculated upon that.]
I can't -- [Chilton opened his eyes.] I cannot be held responsible.
[He had a second power. A sort of telekinesis over certain kind of machines: transport technology. Psychic Vehicular Driving. And that was why a black Cadillac Escalade slammed at illegal speeds into reinforced glass doors, that was why over 5,000 pounds of steel met with crushing concrete, that was why the bank shuddered with a sudden and inexplicable force.
Chilton had hoped to drop to his knees and crawl away in any confusion that he inspired. He had hoped to escape responsibility.]