“One move and I break your neck.” The Aly'rian narrowed his eyes at him. Then he turned to Jomaira. 

He paused, his eyes frowning thoughtfully. “I see,” he hummed. “So that's how you found out.”

He glanced away then back at Jomaira. Whatever he was thinking, Yahya knew it wasn't anything good. Just as he relinquished his grip on him and turned fully to face his friend, Yahya threw his full weight on him, shoving him aside.

“Run!” He yelled.

Jomaira threw him a startled look before she followed his instruction. She ran, Yahya a few paces behind her. They passed by a few soldiers who instantly started after them. Better be caught by soldiers than a terrorist. Hopefully he wouldn't pursue them now. Yahya looked back, and true enough, there was no sign of him.

They kept running from street to street. Each time, gaining new pursuers. Still, the terrorist was not one of them. That alone, allowed Yahya to breathe a little bit easier. Now, they'll just have to tell them what truly happened. He was sure the most they would do was detain them for a few hours for public disturbance. 

They would be helping in detaining a terrorist after all. His little shameful display in the square would surely be pardoned.

Just when he thought they had shaken him off, he felt something grip his clothes from behind, then he was floating in the air. It only lasted a moment, but it was enough for his whole life to flash before his eyes. Next to him, in the air, Jomaira was floating, a hand fisted in the back of her clothes.

He could see the entirety of the huge square and parts of the branching streets. The crowds were running, screaming. Others, away from the commotion, were hurrying away, startled by the frenzied populace. Yahya was glad they had taken his threats seriously. At least they would be safe.

But his relief didn't last long. For soon enough, they were dumped unceremoniously upon the top of a building.

Yahya rolled on the ground, a burning feeling expending from his hand to cover his arm to the elbow. Next to him, Jomaira let out a slight wince. He turned to her, his eyes searching, looking for injuries. But except for her ruffled hair and disheveled clothes, she appeared fine. Yahya allowed himself a breath he wasn't aware he was holding, then turned glaring eyes to their attacker. 

The Aly'rian terrorist.

He should have known. Aly'rians were quite known for their strength. Two mere teenagers wouldn't be able to shake one off that easily. 

“What do you want?” Yahya demanded. He darted a fleeting glance around, searching for something to use to defend Jomaira and himself.

Except for a small pile of wood, there was nothing. 

A heavy feeling settled in Yahya's chest. What if he killed them? They knew about the bombs. Yahya's previous display in the square made it so he couldn't bluff the two of them out of this.

He glanced at Jomaira. Her expression was something he never wanted to see displayed on her face ever again. She was pale, a deathly pallor, her eyes were wide with fear, her lips trembling as if trying to hold her tears but failing by the two tear lines connecting at her chin.

He had to get her out of here. 

He looked back at the Aly'rian. The man was staring at them, scrutinizing. Certainly thinking about the best way to get rid of their bodies.

Yahya shivered, his movement attracting the Aly'rian's black and yellow eyes.

Good, Yahya thought, better him than her. He mentally cursed his inability to stop the spasms running through his body as it readied to either fight or run.

Should he try to convince him to let Jomaira go? One hostage was enough. Or should he just throw himself at him and buy some time for her to escape? But then, how long would it take him to catch her again? Not long, he guessed. He already caught them once. Catching one person with his unfairly super strengthened body wouldn't require much of him.

The Aly'rian tilted his head to the side, his short black hair in disarray from their short flight earlier. He looked like one of those stars whose posters lithered the shopping districts, so Yahya doubted his profession was a result of short credits. The man could take a troll in the mall and scouting agents would swarm around him like flies. 

The black vein surrounding his eyes expended a little, indicating his active use of his powers.

As an Araichian who didn't inherit his parents' telekinetic powers, he was always regarded as an inferior genetic product of a powerful species. A failure. Which made him often avoid anything associated with his kind. He didn't want to see the looks of pity they would certainly direct toward him. 

His mother always insisted he was perfect the way he was. Which was understandable. She was his mother. Mothers always regarded their children as perfect, even far from the truth it may be. He would smile at her indulgently to ease her unease that often showed in her tense shoulders and frigid smile. His mother had enough problems to deal with, he wouldn't trouble her with his childish existential crisis.

So, he often turned to other species as childhood heroes, and Aly'rians were the best option with their super strength and fast speed. They seemed like those heroes he used to watch on the galactic-Net when he was a kid, leading armies to defeat the empire's enemies, tearing into them with their strength, escaping the rain of fire with their speed. Like true heroes of the empire.

But now, faced with one of them, Yahya regretted all those credits he spent purchasing the posters of his favorite series characters.

He would like to request a refund please, preferably before he was killed.

The Aly'rian grinned, his grin a thousand promises of the horrors to come.

“W-what do you want?” Yahya cursed the stutter in his words. How would he expect the terrorist to take him seriously if he couldn't string a normal sentence together without tripping on his tongue.

“We have a little problem here.” The Aly'rian drawled as he started pacing around, a false sense of calmness in his voice. “You see, I had everything planned. Everything was going how I planned. I looked up the place, did my research, I even looked up this mold ball's cultural guidelines; Mirah better be proud 'cause I'm not reading that useless piece of shit again. It was four hundred pages long. What would they need four hundred pages for?” He said, or ranted. He seemed like he was renting to himself, venting, rather than threatening Yahya and Jomaira and giving them his last speech before he murdered them in cold blood.

As if sensing his derailment from his goal, he straightened up and glared at them. “Those bombs-” He waved his hands in the direction they came from. “They were gonna serve as the distraction they were meant to be.” His voice raised as he spoke. “But then, you kids showed up, and everything, everything,” he stressed the word, his lips twisting. “Fell apart. Now, because of the commotion you caused-” He threw an accusing finger at Yahya. “I can't use those bombs. There are too many people near them.”

Yahya squinted his eyes at him. Wasn't that, normally, ideal?

The Aly'rian paused in his pacing, his brows knitted in irritation. He took a deep breath, either to calm himself or prepare for another onslaught of words, Yahya didn't know. He titled his head up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “So tell me,” he said, eyes closed. “What should I do with you?”

Let them go, maybe? Yahya had half a mind to offer his suggestion. The Aly'rian was clearly crazy. Yahya glanced at Jomaira. She, too, was staring at the terrorist as if he was sporting two heads instead of one. As if sensing his eyes, she glanced at him. Yahya lifted his brow in a query. She shook her head, her shoulders slumping.

Ah. She had exhausted her powers earlier and won't be able to use them properly for a while. That was to be expected. For hours she was running around, using her powers to track the terrorist, reading the passerby's mind for a glimpse of him. She had used them more than all the other times combined. It was a wonder she was still functioning. He had read that Liekis who overused their powers tend to fall into a deep sleep that could last weeks to rest.

Yahya threw her a small smile in reassurance before she got more drawn into herself, before she drowned in guilt for something out of her control. 

A stab of guilt shot up from his chest. He was not only a useless genetic failure, he also endangered his friend's life. And worse, because of his stupid little wish, they both would soon be dead.

“You.” The Aly'rian looked pointedly at Jomaira. “Use whatever powers you have to fix this.” He waved his hands around mockingly.

“She can't,” Yahya pressed. “She's exhausted.”

“Does it look like I care, kid,” he said. He waved his hand in her direction. “She's still standing, meaning she can still use them. Or do you need some convincing?” He said, the last sentence directed to Jomaira. “What do you want? I can break one of his legs.” He tilted his head towards Yahya. “Or maybe both.”

Yahya didn't know whether the black vein surrounding his eyes were expanding, or whether it was merely a trick of the light.

“No.” Jomaira shook her head vehemently. “I can use them.” She swallowed. “But I can't guarantee their success.”

Guilt gnawed at Yahya's chest.

“Good!” The Aly'rian smiled, his smile all teeth, a thing of nightmares coupled with the black veins and his yellow and black eyes. “Use your powers and convince one of those jackasses to tell me where my partner is.”

Partner? So there was another terrorist under the authorities' custody. That explained the heavy police presence in the city. He looked at the Aly'rian. This man was willing to kill hundreds of people for one single person? 

But no, Yahya frowned, something wasn't adding up. A few moments ago, this madman was lamenting his inability to detonate the bombs ‘cause they were near the terrorized people’.

“Or better yet,” he continued. “He's gonna lead us to her.”

Yahya tensed, The Aly'rian's words jerking him out of his thoughts like a bucket of cold freezing water.

Us? He wanted to include them in his terrorist act? They would be done for. The empire never pardoned terrorists. 

“No.” Yahya shook his head. “We find where she's being held. You get your partner alone,” he spat. They would not get involved with a terrorist group.

The Aly'rian clicked his tongue. He regarded Yahya with a thoughtful look. “Kid, you seem to be mistaken here. You don't get to decide anything. I say, and you obey.”

Author’s note:

Hi guys, thanks for reading! :)

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