I can feel the rough scratchiness of the burlap sack even through my skintight lycra suit. Worse, I feel a splitting headache, spreading through my skull, like someone stuffing it with cotton. Cotton with spikes. Who even uses burlap sacks these days? I'm being trussed around like a sack of potatoes... the steady thrum of the engine tells me we're on a highway. Vague human shapes are visible through the loose threads of my burlap cage, silhouetted against the light. One of them seems to notice my stirring. He raises something in his hand. A small prick on my neck, and suddenly, darkness.
Even in the darkness, he'd flown straight through the crumbling wall like a bullet through ice, showering the area with shards, most of them aflame. The cries for help were getting fainter, and he knew there wasn't much time left. Kicking down a flame-wreathed door with ease, he spotted three figures huddled in the corner under a table, miraculously unscathed by the fire... for now. One of the smaller figures under the table screamed, and pointed above his head. A massive wooden beam, ablaze, crashed down onto his head. At the point of impact, it shattered into millions of pieces, but he stood firm, hardly seeming to notice. Striding over to the table, he reached under it and picked up the two smaller forms. "Stick close to me," he told the third, "and you'll be alright".
He'd saved those children, and their mother. He was a hero. So why were they doing this?
It's the burlap sack again. No engine noise, so we've reached whatever destination they have in mind for me. Or they broke down. I wish. I hear the van door slide open and many pairs of hands grab me, throwing me out onto the ground. It's not soft. Some of them laugh. I'm grabbed by my feet and dragged along the ground; luckily it seems to be sandy so it's smooth, almost relaxing. Soon, though, the ground changes to something a lot harder; I think it's concrete, by the way the burlap sack is rasping against it like sandpaper. Within a minute, they drag me over a small ledge and the floor starts to feel a lot smoother; marble, or some sort of metal, by the way the footsteps now sound much crisper. On my back, as I am, I see many lights through the sack, diffracted into rainbows.
He saw a rainbow beneath him, projected onto the clouds. It formed a perfect circle. Did that make it a rain-circle? Rain-arc? He wasn't sure. Hovering above the clouds, with perfect blueness above him and a blazing sun on his right, he felt at peace. If only all people could experience this tranquility, maybe they'd be less... irritated, he thought. "Mate!" squawked a voice in his ear. "You're up there for a reason! That flight is only a few clicks away and the pilot's glide path will put him in the ocean! Get over there and give them a boost!". Taking a last look at the serenity around him, he accelerated away from the sun, towards the people in need.
He'd saved that plane, and everyone on board. He was a saviour. So why were they doing this?
The number of footsteps around me has decreased, I think. It's hard to think with a blinding headache. I haven't had one of these since I attained perfection... I haven't missed them. The person dragging my feet drops them, and other hands lift me up. The burlap sack is dragged off me roughly; now I know what a potato feels like. I try to get a good look at my surroundings, but a ring of bright lights surrounds me, making the rest of the room as good as darkness. The only thing I can see is the brushed-metal floor, the three figures standing before me, and a chair to my left. It has quite a few attachments that I seriously doubt are for holding drinks. The middle figure steps forward. I see a man with cropped, black hair surrounding a gaunt, thin face. With his hands clasped behind his back and his perfect posture, he seems almost military, but the dark, smooth suit he's in bears no insignia. "Welcome, my friend. You're going to help me save people. Millions of people. That's what you do, isn't it?" He pauses briefly. "Well, you'll be helping us. I'm sure we can convince you."
He was convinced that only idiots robbed banks these days, what with all the security they had in place. Yet as he walked up to the imposing marble edifice, he could hear loud threats being shouted by the armed men. They'd had two accomplices in a getaway car waiting outside, but he'd taken care of them. Hopefully the car would de-orbit itself in a few days. Pushing through the rotating glass doors, he saw harried bank employees stacking large bags of what was presumably cash in front of a dozen body-armoured, machine-gun-toting, masked men. The one doing all the shouting was probably the leader, and he spotted the newcomer first. "HA!" the leader exclaimed. "It's the invincible bugger himself, lads! We've attracted the big guns now! Let's show him how big OUR guns are!". They must be new to town, he thought idly, as bullets raced towards him, then arced away before making contact. After the deafening roar of twelve machine guns firing at once for half a minute, the silence following it was almost peaceful. Now it was his turn.
He'd saved those people, and helped imprison a dozen criminals. He was a protector. So why were they doing this?
"Some people find our chair a little uncomfortable, so we're just going to strap you in, is that alright?" intones the man in the suit, smoothly. You could spread his voice on toast, like butter, I think. "Don't worry, the straps are padded, and quite soft. Unlike some of our other tools, I'm afraid." As he leans in to do up the straps, I notice his high collar bears a small silver pin in the shape of an owl. I used to know what that symbol meant. Come to think of it, what's two plus two? What's my name? Every time I try to answer something in my head, the headache pounds the answer out of it... ow.
"The power of your mind is remarkable, my friend. Flying around like a superhero, deflecting bullets and even dressing up in that ridiculous outfit takes mental supremacy unlike any I've witnessed. But there's only one of you, and so much trouble in this world! And despite your talents, you can't be everywhere at once. So, we made a simple request; let us examine you. But you refused." The last word is accompanied by a particularly strong tug on one of the straps around my arm. His voice sounds like angry butter now, I think. "You said you had rights, that you didn't want to be a lab rat. What pure selfishness, for such a hero. Surely you can see that the rights of the many come before the rights of one."
He turned right, onto a broad avenue lined with pine trees. Dispatch had told him a van had crashed into a sinkhole which had opened up beneath it. Flying towards the gaping hole he saw other cars being redirected onto another road, leaving the van and hole alone. As he approached, he dropped, suddenly, halfway to the ground as his mind clouded up. He shook himself, regained his focus, and flew on. Landing on the edge of the pothole, he saw the van hadn't actually fallen in, but was precariously balanced, front end just tipping into the abyss. He moved towards the rear doors to pull the van out, willing his mind to enhance his muscles. Grabbing the handles, he felt a sharp pain in his left palm. The last thing he saw as his vision grew blurry was the rear doors springing open.
He'd only wanted to help them. He was a helper. So why were they doing this?
* * *
"OK, Bob, so let's recap that announcement. The CEO of AthenaCorp himself, the rarely-seen Mard Janner, announced that, in the past months, they'd made a major breakthrough in... what did he say, mentalist abilities?"
"Yes Sally, that's right. Janner said the breakthrough would be applied to their elite soldiers first, as a 'field test', he called it. Rumours abound that this new research is what secured AthenaCorp the new contract with the U.S. government to provide diplomatic security services all over the Middle East."
"Right, Bob. Shares in AthenaCorp have shot up almost 17% since the announcement, and in a minute we'll have Frank with a proper analysis of the markets. But first, could your cat be making you millions on the internet? That's up next."
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