The air traffic was rather heavy, and I assume there was no real-time crunch because the officer only used his siren once to bypass the gridlocked air cars. I enjoy flying under my own power, but sitting in a ceramic and plasteel can surrounded by other floating boxes was boring as hell. I am trying to keep a reasonably low profile, but if I could still shape change into something with wings, I would probably just shrug my shoulders and tell everyone I was a mutant vampire, just to fly around freely. There was an old cartoon about gargoyles; I could have faked being one of them. Some branches of my species can fly with or without wings. I’m not one of them.

Still, it wasn't far, and the closer we got, the less traffic we saw until we were the sole car in the sky. Can you say target? When I first noticed the traffic go away, I looked down and saw we were over the Blight. If you're not familiar with the city, then let me just say it's insanely thick with unsavory types. Oddly enough, from up here, I could see large areas of the slums newly cordoned off behind semi-translucent tents. That just had to push all the transients, homeless, and gangs into smaller areas. I winced. That can’t end well. This worried me since this was where I bought my books.

Technology allows a minimum level of lifestyle to almost anyone. If you, for some unknown reason, don’t want to fit in, are antisocial, or perhaps just bat shit crazy, you can go to the cities only free-ranging insane asylum we call the Blight. You can play gangster, road warrior, homeless, or anarchist to your heart’s content. If you die, you will be taken to the city hospital and resurrected, assuming your brain is intact, then sent on your merry way. The area is largely unpoliced since crazy or not, the people have cobbled together some pretty slick jammers and EMP generators. It’s safer to leave them alone and not worth calling in the military.

When my sixth sense went off, I knew we were about to be attacked; sometimes, I love clairvoyance. This wasn't one of them. I knew a good minute ahead that we were going into trouble but didn't know how, when, or why. It was a very frustrating feeling.

“Officer...” I began and then trailed off. How do you tell a non-psychic that you feel bad vibes and something unfortunate will happen? And, by the way, you can't say what.

“What can I do for you, Prof?” the officer asked good-naturedly.

“Um.” Hemming and hawing may occasionally work, but it wasn't exactly productive in this case. I scanned the area below us for what was triggering my senses, the adrenalin rush seeming to slow the world slightly as my eyes flicked from point to point, the sense of danger slowly growing in the back of my mind.

I saw mostly vacant decaying buildings, most with windows broken, some with holes in walls where shattered brick and wood facing gaped open. There were people down there, most ignoring us, some glaring as the vehicle of the law flew above them. With a moment of clarity, I saw the source of my discontent. Below us, seemingly waiting for us, was a ragtag group of rough-looking youths with tubes of some sort pointing at us. While I am not a technophile, Jeremy has brought over enough movies in the last six months to fill in most of the holes in my knowledge with this dimension's Earth culture. That, and they looked a lot like the hi-tech outlaws and hostile colonies who used to shoot at us back home. A particular intense, crazy look in the eyes gives them away.

“Missiles,” I shouted while pointing over his shoulder. I was a little too late since I saw five separate flashes and the too-familiar sight of torpedo-like objects rising through the air towards us.

I have to hand it to Cromwell; he really knew how to fly. Well, I think he did. At least the car bucked and twisted and flipped a lot. I didn't have my belt on, and I got thrown around a lot until I managed to shove my hand through the armored door and anchor myself in place. Hopefully, my pilot would be occupied enough not to notice this. I was trying to stay just a minor human psychic with an education in the occult, not one of the ludicrously strong supernaturals that the city teemed with.

There was a whine and pop as faint smoke filled the back seat. That was probably the kinetic dampeners that were supposed to keep us from being tossed around. The fact that they conveniently just self-destructed was most likely my fault. While sad, I suppose I should just be happy we were still in the air. I tried to think tranquil, enlightened thoughts and dampen my energies—the sound of one hand clapping and all that jazz. Officer Cromwell had his harness on; sometimes, being truly old school pays.

We avoided the first barrage, and I situated myself in a stable enough location to look outside again. I was just in time to see another set of five fly towards us. The thought whispered through the back of my mind that this meant there were at least ten guys with launchers down there because there is no way those things can shoot twice in a row. At least I hoped not. I hated technology sometimes.

Now that I had gotten my bearings, I placed a hundred-foot-wide psionic bubble between them and us in time to take that volley. It was pretty sturdy but still went down at the fifth hit. I hope that confused them, at least. My force fields are invisible unless you can sense psychic energy or see the unseen in some way.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

The car rolled over again, still doing those neat evasion rolls that had sent me spinning like a ping pong ball through the back seat. I took advantage of the very clear view of the ground through the window to place a third, smaller force bubble directly around the bad people shooting at us.

The next thing I saw was a very bright light show below us as another set of five missiles rose, only to impact the interior of the telekinetic wall surrounding the youths shooting at us. Okay, I guess those things can shoot multiple times. You learn something new every day.

Wincing in sympathy, I looked to see the shield go down. Did I mention that my race can see invisible things? They kind of glow blue to me. I am not sure how others that can see these things or perceive them. My glowing bubble popped as the missiles hit them. I watched the location as the car continued to make like a roller coaster. When the debris and smoke finally cleared, I noted that five missiles exploding fifty feet from a human isn't good. There was no one still standing beneath us. On the positive side, I didn't see body parts or blood blanketing the area, so maybe they were still alive.

“Are you alright, sir?” my dear friend Officer Cromwell called from the front.

“Yeah, just a little motion sick. I think the car got hit with something, though,” I said innocently. It's never too soon to cover your butt.

“Well, we can fix the car. Good thing their ordinance misfired. Saved our asses.”

“Yeah, thank goodness,” I muttered with mixed emotions. Since the officer had offered a good rationale, I planned to jump on it.

We landed and got out. I started checking the injuries of the people caught under the explosion. After verifying I had some medical knowledge, Cromwell stayed back, apparently calling in the event to the station. Maybe he should have been securing the perimeter or something, but I have no idea what the standard protocol for having missiles shot at you was.

I walked over and frowned at the first fellow I was starting to tend. Severe burns and bruising, blood from the ears. I looked over at another. A broken bone, at least. Bah. I should have stayed over by the police car; now I felt guilty. Sighing in defeat at the assault of my conscious, I knelt and touched the first punk, focusing a tiny bit of my power on him to smooth over the burns. Not enough to have the guy jump up and make a break for it, but enough to keep him out of the critical care ward or a resuscitation tank. I wasn't that guilty.

I had heard this neighborhood was bad, but shooting missiles at police was a first. None of these kids were supernaturals, either. While contemplating the situation, I knelt next to the next victim of misplaced anger. Bones were a pain; I had to straighten it out and then apply the energy to speed the natural healing.

I moved on to the next unconscious guy, straightening his limbs out in preparation for a bit of flesh manipulation. Afterward, I smoothly set the broken bone, and with a quick application of energy, healed it enough to forgo a splint, though he wouldn’t be doing athletics any time soon.

I admit that I have an ego the size of a planet. My entire race, in all its myriad facets, light and dark, has this condition. But sometimes, the universe really does revolve around you for just a few seconds. It’s a scientific fact. I read it in a magazine, so it must be true.

However, it did make sense that statistically, it would be more likely for people to shoot missiles at me rather than random police. If I had more time, I could do a light telepathic probe on these guys and determine why they would take such a huge risk.

“Looks like you did a good job of sorting these punks out.” I jumped at the words behind me.

Spinning, I noticed that Cromwell had finished his report over the communicator and was showing the newcomers from the floating police van where the downed criminals were.

“Can't believe our luck,” Cromwell said while gesturing to the youths that were being carted into the van. “If one of their launchers hadn't misfired, we would have been nothing but burning wreckage on the street.”

“Yeah, luck was with us,” I said, trying to keep the irony from my voice. Since Cromwell turned back to the car, my acting skills must have been enough.

“I know it's been a tough day for you, Professor, but would you mind going on to take a look at things?” the officer asked, contritely over his shoulder.

Once more, I was surprised. I was never in any real danger; why would I mind going to look at the crime scene? I got a hold of myself just before I said anything. Sometimes, it's hard to remember who you're pretending to be twenty-four hours a day.

“Yes, well, as upsetting as this incident is, we can't let the criminals get in the way of your investigation.” God, that sounded pompous. Something then occurred to me. “Did this attack have anything to do with your case?”

“Doubt it,” Cromwell stated definitively. “Different MO. You'll see.”

“Oh, seems a bit of a coincidence.” I trailed off.

“Not really; I recognize that gang from their colors.” I must have looked befuddled. “They all wore red jackets with the stylized 'X'. That gang was raided last week, and the gang members that are still free vowed vengeance on the police.”

“Vowed... vengeance,” I said wonderingly. Okay, maybe this was a complete coincidence, and I was being paranoid. “I hadn't realized it was that bad. These guys seemed remarkably well-armed.” I had no idea what they were, but the missile launchers looked more advanced than what I usually saw on the vid. Of course, Jeremy and I mostly watched movies almost a hundred years old. Maybe I should watch the news more.

“Yeah, it's getting bad out here,” the officer said darkly as he smoothly raised the hovercar into the air. “The missiles are new. I don't think they are common on the street... thank God. Usually, we can handle the normals, but the supernaturals are getting worse too.”

From what Jeremy said, I suppose the Mayor agreed.