I stretched out as far as my muscles would go, straining each one I could feel - and a few I couldn't feel before - so that I could get them to relax. I let my head fall against the window, and I breathed a small sigh of relief. No cops, no cars, no worries. We were flying down the freeway at 120 mph, bound for Las Vegas.
Now, why am I flying down a freeway at 120 mph, bound for Las Vegas? Well, I'll tell you. My name is Terra Birmingham. I'm from Derbyshire, England originally, but for the last 7 years, I've been living in Los Angeles, California. I've been basically single-handedly running a gang of punks during those 7 years, including my best friend and accomplice, Vera. Her and I are unique. It's this uniqueness that has caused me to move from Derbyshire to Los Angeles, and this uniqueness that has caused us both to be orphans. It's also what has allowed me to control a gang of punks - or, for lack of a better word, rebels - without causing too much trouble. Her and I? We're mutants. I can read and control your thoughts, and I can see the future. Vera can cast a purple spectral wolf that she controls. The only problem is, Vera has problems controlling said terrible beasty, and controlling her anger. Tick her off enough, you might get ripped to shreds. Literally. It's really why I became friends with her. My self-control is strong enough that if she ever has, let's call it an "episode", I can step in, take control of her mind, force the wolf back into her head, and calm her down. BUT, if we're ever in a fight, she's too scared she'll kill someone with her wolf, so I take control of her thoughts and use it myself. If someone dies, then their blood is on my hands and not hers, clearing her name. It's not much, but it's all I can do to help her feel better.
Because of her anger issues, though, and me not always being able to be there to help her, four days ago, some kids starting picking a fight with her. She warned them to back off, that they really didn't wanna make her mad (which I agree with), but they ignored her warnings and continued to make fun of her. She got hecka mad, and unleashed her wolf on them. She sent three kids to the emergency room, and four to the doc's office. When I found out, I ran down to the hospital and forced the kids to think that they received their injuries in a gang fight, and not by a spectral wolf. For the next two or three days, Vera basically moped around our place, depressed and feeling guilty because of what happened. I tried to cheer her up in the few ways I knew how, but I didn't have to be psychic to know none of them were going to work. When she left to go run an "errand", I tried to have a vision of what she was doing, but I didn't see her running an errand. She was going down to the train station to leave forever. If you thought I was going to just let my best friend walk out of my life like that, you'd be wrong.
Fortunately, while I had been gone a few days prior when the accident happened, someone told me of a place out in New York that welcomed mutants and trained them to use their powers and gave them a proper education. If you think I tore out of that place like hell was at my heels, you'd be right. I had to run down to the train station at top speed to catch up since she had left an hour prior and had taken the car (though that didn't really matter, since I didn't have my license yet anyway). When I arrived, she was still in line waiting to buy the ticket. I grabbed her by the arm, pulled her out of the line, and told her that if she thought she was leaving without saying goodbye, and that if even she had said goodbye I wasn't leaving her side anyway, then she would be wrong. We hugged, hijacked a car, and hit the road. I had never been so grateful for being psychic.... except for one time, but that was a weird situation anyway.
"So," I asked after several long minutes of a very awkward silence, "how much longer until we get to Vegas, Vers?"
Now, why am I flying down a freeway at 120 mph, bound for Las Vegas? Well, I'll tell you. My name is Terra Birmingham. I'm from Derbyshire, England originally, but for the last 7 years, I've been living in Los Angeles, California. I've been basically single-handedly running a gang of punks during those 7 years, including my best friend and accomplice, Vera. Her and I are unique. It's this uniqueness that has caused me to move from Derbyshire to Los Angeles, and this uniqueness that has caused us both to be orphans. It's also what has allowed me to control a gang of punks - or, for lack of a better word, rebels - without causing too much trouble. Her and I? We're mutants. I can read and control your thoughts, and I can see the future. Vera can cast a purple spectral wolf that she controls. The only problem is, Vera has problems controlling said terrible beasty, and controlling her anger. Tick her off enough, you might get ripped to shreds. Literally. It's really why I became friends with her. My self-control is strong enough that if she ever has, let's call it an "episode", I can step in, take control of her mind, force the wolf back into her head, and calm her down. BUT, if we're ever in a fight, she's too scared she'll kill someone with her wolf, so I take control of her thoughts and use it myself. If someone dies, then their blood is on my hands and not hers, clearing her name. It's not much, but it's all I can do to help her feel better.
Because of her anger issues, though, and me not always being able to be there to help her, four days ago, some kids starting picking a fight with her. She warned them to back off, that they really didn't wanna make her mad (which I agree with), but they ignored her warnings and continued to make fun of her. She got hecka mad, and unleashed her wolf on them. She sent three kids to the emergency room, and four to the doc's office. When I found out, I ran down to the hospital and forced the kids to think that they received their injuries in a gang fight, and not by a spectral wolf. For the next two or three days, Vera basically moped around our place, depressed and feeling guilty because of what happened. I tried to cheer her up in the few ways I knew how, but I didn't have to be psychic to know none of them were going to work. When she left to go run an "errand", I tried to have a vision of what she was doing, but I didn't see her running an errand. She was going down to the train station to leave forever. If you thought I was going to just let my best friend walk out of my life like that, you'd be wrong.
Fortunately, while I had been gone a few days prior when the accident happened, someone told me of a place out in New York that welcomed mutants and trained them to use their powers and gave them a proper education. If you think I tore out of that place like hell was at my heels, you'd be right. I had to run down to the train station at top speed to catch up since she had left an hour prior and had taken the car (though that didn't really matter, since I didn't have my license yet anyway). When I arrived, she was still in line waiting to buy the ticket. I grabbed her by the arm, pulled her out of the line, and told her that if she thought she was leaving without saying goodbye, and that if even she had said goodbye I wasn't leaving her side anyway, then she would be wrong. We hugged, hijacked a car, and hit the road. I had never been so grateful for being psychic.... except for one time, but that was a weird situation anyway.
"So," I asked after several long minutes of a very awkward silence, "how much longer until we get to Vegas, Vers?"