Villain Recruitment: I'm Just A Psychic

My heart was hammering in my chest, each beat like a drum urging me to run faster, to escape faster.

But no matter how fast my feet carried me, I could still hear them.

The invisible men.

The voices in my head.

They were relentless.

Prepare for the next move. Don't let them slip away.

I had no idea who they were, what they wanted, but I could feel them closing in.

Their presence wrapped itself around me like a heavy cloak, suffocating, pressing in from all sides.

The air was thick with their thoughts, their commands, their chilling intent.

It was as if the world around me had shrunk, reduced to the footsteps pounding on the floor, the beating of my heart, and their insistent whispers clawing at the edges of my mind.

Don't let them escape.

We were running, Anna and I, through the narrow corridors of the school, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

She was moving with purpose, her face tight with determination.

She was the only one I could trust in this madness.

But even her presence, though comforting, couldn't ease the panic clawing at my chest.

"Keep up, Jayden," Anna's voice sliced through the haze of panic.

I could hear the urgency in it.

She was still a step ahead, pulling me along like a lifeline, but I couldn't escape the sense of being trapped, cornered.

I was a rabbit caught in a hunter's snare.

I glanced over at her, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp, scanning every corner, every shadow.

She was calculating, thinking.

And for a moment, I felt a flicker of hope—she had a plan.

She had to.

But as we rounded a corner and neared the back exit, that hope dissolved.

I could feel them, the invisible men, almost as if they were waiting for us.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and my pulse raced.

The space between us and freedom felt impossibly wide, a chasm I wasn't sure we could cross.

My chest tightened as we reached the exit.

Anna didn't hesitate.

With a shove, she pushed open the door, and we spilled out into the cold parking lot.

It was almost too quiet.

The air had a stillness to it, like the calm before a storm.

The morning sky stretched above us, bright and endless, but there was something unnatural about the silence.

It didn't sit right.

I took a quick glance around.

The lot was mostly empty, save for a few cars scattered near the entrance.

But there was something eerie about the emptiness.

It felt wrong.

My skin prickled with unease.

The world was holding its breath.

"Anna," I whispered, my voice shaky. "Something's not right."

Anna didn't look at me, didn't slow her pace.

She was focused, determined, but there was a flicker of something in her expression.

Worry?

Fear?

I couldn't quite place it.

"Just keep moving," she said. "We're almost out of here."

I wanted to believe her, wanted to trust that the worst was behind us, but deep down, I knew the truth.

They were still out there.

The invisible men.

The ones who had been in my head, whispering their commands.

They hadn't given up yet.

They were still hunting us.

As we moved further into the lot, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

It was like something was creeping up behind us, closing in slowly, inexorably.

I could hear them now.

Their thoughts.

They were like tendrils, reaching into my mind, twisting their way around my thoughts.

Get them.

Don't let them escape.

They were getting closer.

Their presence was growing stronger, more oppressive.

I could feel it in the air, in the way the hairs on my arms stood on end.

The very ground beneath my feet seemed to hum with the tension building around us.

My pulse quickened, and my breath came faster.

I couldn't run anymore.

I felt like my body was betraying me, refusing to obey my desperate need to escape.

The invisible men were closing in.

Their presence was suffocating, overwhelming.

It felt like they were in the very air I was breathing, pressing in on me from every direction.

Anna, though, didn't seem to sense it.

She was ahead of me, moving with that same determination, her eyes fixed on the distant exit.

But there was something else in her movements now—a quickness, a heightened sense of urgency.

She knew.

She could feel it too.

"Jayden," she said, her voice low and urgent, cutting through the rising panic in my chest. "We need to move. Now."

I nodded, but my legs felt heavy, like lead.

I couldn't stop looking over my shoulder, couldn't shake the feeling that something was right behind us.

That's when I heard it.

A low whisper in my ear, like a voice brushing against the surface of my thoughts.

They're here.

My breath hitched in my throat, and I froze.

The world around me seemed to slow, the air thickening with dread.

The invisible men.

They were so close now.

Their thoughts were no longer whispers.

They were shouts, commands, a cacophony of noise in my head.

My fingers twitched, my hands trembling with the force of the voices trying to break through.

"Anna—" My voice was barely a whisper, a shaky rasp. "They're right behind us. They're—"

And then it happened.

The pressure in my head intensified, a weight crushing down on me.

I felt my hands lift, almost as if they had a mind of their own.

The pain was unbearable, a searing heat spreading through my chest, my limbs, my fingertips.

My mind was a whirlpool of thoughts—fear, panic, anger, confusion—all swirling together, mixing into something dark, something powerful.

NO.

It was a scream, a howl that came from the depths of my soul, not from my throat.

My body trembled with the force of it, my hands shaking violently as the storm inside me reached its peak.

I couldn't stop it.

I didn't know how.

But then, in an instant, everything changed.

The cars in the parking lot moved.

At first, it was slow, almost imperceptible—a shift, a tremor.

And then, they jerked, spun, screeched to life.

The sound of tires screeching, metal grinding against metal, shattered the silence.

One by one, they rolled forward, the engines roaring as if they had a mind of their own.

And then, with a deafening crash, they flew into the air, propelled by an invisible force, slamming into the ground with bone-crushing force.

The invisible men—if they even were men—didn't stand a chance.

I could feel it now—the rush of energy, the raw power surging through me.

It was terrifying.

It was like nothing I had ever experienced.

My fear, my panic, had triggered something within me.

I didn't know what it was, didn't understand how I was controlling it.

But the result was clear.

The cars—those once stationary, silent objects—became weapons.

They spun through the air like ragdolls, crashing and crumpling in mid-flight.

They hit the ground with sickening thuds, one after another, sending up clouds of dust and debris.

The parking lot was now a war zone, chaos unfolding around me.

And then, I saw them.

Two bodies, crumpled and lifeless on the asphalt.

There was no blood, no screams.

Just the dull sound of their bodies hitting the ground.

The shock hit me like a punch to the gut.

I froze.

My legs felt like jelly.

My heart pounded, my breath coming in short gasps.

What had I done?

My hands, still shaking, trembled at my sides.

I could feel the world spinning around me, my mind scrambling to make sense of what had just happened.

But there was no time for questions.

Anna didn't hesitate.

She grabbed my arm and yanked me away from the scene.

"Come on," she urged, her voice frantic now. "We need to go. Now!"

I couldn't even speak.

My thoughts were a blur, a storm of confusion and guilt.

The world around me was spinning, my body numb with the shock of what I had just done.

The invisible men were gone, but the damage had been done.

The parking lot was a wreck, cars scattered in all directions, debris everywhere.

I could hear distant shouts, people noticing the chaos.

They were coming.

I could hear everything.

What just happened?

Did he just—?

Did he kill them?

My heart stopped.

I could hear their thoughts, their fear, their judgment.

He's a freak.

Why did he do that?

I saw it. He killed them.

He's dangerous.

The voices were everywhere, stabbing into my mind like sharp, jagged knives.

I couldn't escape them.

I couldn't block them out.

I fell to my knees, clutching my head as the voices roared louder, sharper.

Their accusations, their fear, their disgust—it was all too much.

"Jayden!" Anna's voice cut through the noise.

I could hear the panic, the desperation in her words. "We have to move, now!"

But I couldn't move.

My body was frozen, my mind a blur.

The pain was unbearable.

The voices were suffocating me.

"Please, Jayden," Anna whispered urgently, her hands on my shoulders, shaking me. "We don't have much time. We need to go."

I blinked through the tears, my vision blurry, and looked up at her.

She was the only one who wasn't accusing me.

The only one who wasn't judging me.

She was the only one who seemed to understand.

But even then, there was something in her eyes—a flicker of fear.

"Anna," I gasped, my voice broken. "I didn't mean to—"

"I know," she said softly, her voice low and steady, but her grip on my arm was tight, almost desperate.

"I know you didn't mean to. But we can't stay here. Not with everyone thinking you're a murderer. They'll come for you."

I could feel her urgency, the fear in her voice.

The voices were still pounding in my head, but Anna's voice cut through it all, steady, unwavering.

She was the anchor I needed.

The one thing I could still hold on to in this storm of chaos.

And for a moment, it was enough to pull me from the depths.

I shakily got to my feet, Anna still gripping my arm as we stumbled forward.

We couldn't stop.

We couldn't afford to.

"We have to keep moving," she said, her voice firm but filled with concern. "We can't stop. Not now."

I nodded weakly, my mind still in a fog.

The voices were still there, pressing in from all sides.

But for the moment, I focused on Anna, on her steady presence.

We ran.

The pain in my head didn't go away, but I blocked out everything else—everything except Anna.

The sound of her footsteps, her breathing, her words.

We moved through the parking lot and down a side street, out of sight from the school.

The chaos was still unfolding behind us, but we couldn't look back.

We didn't stop.

We couldn't.

***

Thirty minutes had passed since the chaos unfolded in the school parking lot.

News stations were already buzzing with reports.

The images of crumpled cars, shattered glass, and the still bodies of the invisible men were being flashed across every screen.

On one television, a reporter with dark, wide eyes and a serious expression stood in front of the destroyed parking lot, the distant wail of sirens echoing behind her.

The screen split to show a video captured by a bystander's phone, shaky but clear enough to show the moment everything had erupted.

The cars, once parked and still, suddenly jerked and twisted as if moved by an unseen force.

They sped toward the centre of the parking lot, colliding with each other, spinning, rolling, flipping through the air.

The camera zoomed in on the person at the centre of it all—a young boy, standing motionless, hands raised, the storm of chaos swirling around him like a hurricane.

The reporter spoke into the camera, her voice trembling slightly with disbelief.

"What you're seeing right now was captured moments before what many are calling an unthinkable tragedy. Jayden Caldwell, a student at the Clearbrook Middle School, is believed to have somehow gained control over multiple vehicles in the parking lot. Eyewitnesses claim that he was able to control and throw the cars as if they were toys, causing two fatalities and extensive damage to the property."

The screen cut to the chaotic scene, with police and ambulances rushing toward the wreckage, and terrified students being escorted away by officers.

Several bystanders were shown, their faces a mix of fear and confusion.

"The identities of the two deceased individuals have not yet been confirmed, but authorities are treating the situation as a violent act caused by a student's apparent display of extraordinary power."

The reporter paused, glancing off-screen before returning her gaze to the camera.

"We've spoken with several witnesses who say the attack seemed to come without warning. One student, who asked to remain anonymous, stated, 'It was like he snapped. One moment he was just standing there, and the next... everything was flying. I've never seen anything like it.'"

The camera shifted to show a tearful student, her hands shaking as she spoke.

"It was horrible. He... he didn't mean to. I could see it. But the things he did... it was like... like he was out of control."

The reporter continued, her tone turning grim.

"Authorities are now questioning the need for stricter regulations on individuals with powers. While there are no confirmed reports of Jayden Caldwell having any formal training or supervision, his actions today have sparked new fears about the dangers of unregulated abilities."

The screen cut to a different angle, showing the shattered remains of the vehicles, their twisted metal and shattered glass forming a chaotic landscape.

Another voice, this one from a law enforcement officer, echoed from the footage.

"We're doing everything we can to track down the responsible parties, but this is exactly why we need a system in place to control those with powers. If we don't, we're going to see more incidents like this. More destruction. More lives lost."

The reporter's face tightened with urgency as she added, "We must question: who is watching over these young people? Who's keeping them in check? And what happens when they lose control?"

Inside a dimly lit room, the glow of the television illuminated a man sitting in a leather chair.

He exhaled slowly, his fingers tapping the side of his glass as he watched the broadcast unfold.

A quiet sigh left his lips as he leaned back in his seat, eyes narrowing, lips curling into a slow grin.

He'd been watching the news reports for the last few minutes, absorbing every detail, his gaze lingering on the image of Jayden Caldwell's face.

The kid was something else—raw power, untapped potential, and most importantly, the kind of chaos that could either make or break him.

"Well, well," the man murmured, his voice low but carrying an undercurrent of amusement. "This is exactly what I was waiting for."

He paused, watching as the reporter continued to talk about the need for control, for restraint, for oversight.

"Control," the man chuckled darkly, swirling the ice in his glass.

"That's what they think they need. But what they really need is someone to guide him. Someone who can teach him what he's really capable of."

His grin widened.

He could see it now—he could see the boy's potential, his future.

But if he wasn't careful, Jayden would end up dead, just another victim of his own power.

Someone would come for him.

Someone would try to 'control' him, and it wouldn't end well.

That much was clear from the report.

But it didn't have to be that way.

The boy didn't need to be a casualty of fear and misunderstanding.

He needed to be recruited.

Before it was too late.

The man took a final sip from his glass and stood, his eyes never leaving the screen.

"I'll be the one to pull him in. If I don't, someone else will, and he won't have the guidance he needs. He'll be a corpse. And I'm not about to let that happen."

His fingers tapped the side of his chair thoughtfully, a plan already forming in his mind.

He needed Jayden on his side, needed him to understand that his power wasn't a curse—it was a gift.

And with the right guidance, he could be far more than anyone could imagine.

"Just need to find him first," the man said quietly to himself as he turned away from the screen, a dark excitement flickering in his eyes.

The screen continued to flash the reporters' faces, now shifting to more video footage showing the aftermath.

The reporters repeated the dire warnings about the necessity of controlling powers, the need for accountability, and the rising question of how far this situation could spiral before it was too late.

The image of Jayden, standing in the centre of the parking lot, hands outstretched, the vehicles suspended in the air.

Just then, Anna's picture flashed across the television screen, her face now tied to the chaos in the parking lot.

The man's eyes widened in shock, his heart racing.

He stood abruptly, the realization hitting him like a punch to the gut.

"I need to be fast," he muttered, his voice laced with urgency. "If she is given the opportunity, that Jayden of a boy would not live to see past today."

Without another word, he grabbed his coat and rushed toward the door, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty room.