Darkness leaked through the trees like ink, the dark forest night was only penetrated by a pair of headlight beams. A soft drizzle patted the dry earth, like tears wetting the dirt. The owner of the headlights drove down the road wondering where it would lead him. His black Camaro streaked with dirt, the engine’s growling purr echoing off the valley’s mountains. A sly satisfied grin pulled at his mouth as he relaxed into the seat.

This is what I watch this as though through another’s eyes, for I am the owner. Once again on the run, riding what the roads throw at me, and knowing not what is ahead. Again the future is a cloudy haze; one filled with misfortune is my best guess. But this time it’s different, something is wrong. I can feel it in my bones. It’s putting me on high alert. Someone is fallowing me, I just know it.

Beside me sits a descendant of a mountain lion named Misty- every generation I pick the kitten that looks most like her from the last litter of the one pick before, it’s complicated- this year is Azul. A low questioning growl rumbles from Azul’s throat, he felt the anxiety that probably came off of me in waves. Watching from the outside I would seem perfectly at ease, but on the inside I was almost in a state of panic. If someone is tracking me down then I automatically know who it is. Another wave of fear. There has only been one person in the history of my being that could track me down.

I cut the lights, and slam on the brakes. Idling in the dark, my sense on high alert, I wait there. Cutting the engine, we wait for a full half hour. Slowly I get out of the car, not bothering to close the door. Twenty minutes ago I had let go of whatever emotion I was feeling, now I’m glad of it. The scent hits me immediately, sharp, unnatural, only half human, but on the edge of my sense of smell, even with the wind blowing it toward me; I smile. How does that work, I wonder, we are so alike but at the same time complete opposites. Kit and I are both genetic experiments, me an accident and the first; him on purpose and second. Who knows how many were made of us, most are dead now. Azul steps heavily out of the car, his prints unmistakable in the dirt. Throwing him a warning growl, he jumps back in; I wipe out the prints and get back in.

A few hours later the car is hidden, and Azul and I are driving a rental car straight right of the road we were on before. Kit would have a harder time now. Still I had to be safe. After a few days driving I left Azul in the same woods Misty lived in; I bought the property from the government and now it was a wild life preserve, and the best part: it ran its self. With a fake ID, I grabbed a plane ride cross country. Before we had landed I was already working on a new ID.

Days had passed and the anxiety gone. It was like a replay of the city before, and the one before that, and the one before that, just with different names, shapes, and sizes. But I was already starting to get antsy. Walking down the street, between the flooding crowd of rush hour and the building walls, I saw it. A big black Hummer was rolling slowly down the street in the heavy traffic; it had a tinted windshield, and windows. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the exact same thing, only the faint shapes of the passengers were different. Crouching, I hid behind the crowd, either I was paranoid or Kit was tightening the noose. Doubled over, I crept to the alley. Paranoia was the only thing that saved me.

Throwing a glance in the alley I saw several thugs lying in wait. For me? Or some poor soul to mug? Do I chance that they aren’t after me and make sure that they don’t mug someone else? Or do I flee and not get caught? They wouldn’t catch me, that’s for sure, but they could report to Kit and tell him I’m here. But if they aren’t Kit’s they an innocent bystander could get hurt. My life or a bystander’s money and health. Ugh, if they’re Kit’s I’ll kick myself.
I walk into the alley, seemingly confidant that there is no danger to me that I know of. As soon as I step between the dumpster hiding spots, a warning flash strikes me. I stop; I already knew of the danger, why did my sixth sense flash then … unless-. I whirl, just in time to stop from being crushed to the ground. Three of the four are walking toward me half crouched, I slightly panic at the realization that I can’t hear their footsteps, their breathing, their heart beat. Kit’s, defiantly Kit’s. A sound I haven’t heard in many years echoes down the alley, looking up I see a gun barrel pointing out of every window in the alley, and every one trained on me. Taking a step right, a ripple of movement fallows me. Movement further down the alley catches my eye: four more silent thugs creep down towards me. One of the Hummers pulls in the alley the way I came in, barely fitting and the other on the opposite side. The fourth of the first group of thugs was filling a syringe with amber liquid, obviously a sedative. To what point did Kit say they could rough me up? I take it back: Paranoia was the only thing that TRIED to save me.
1-4, the one with the syringe, pulled out a walkie-talkie, and started talking. Before I could even try to listen in, I was dog piled. At least I’ll get a challenge, I thought smiling. It was a huge mass of kicking, hitting, biting, and clawing, but slowly I narrowed down the competition, for the time being. Distantly I heard the city clock strike one, rush hour over, no one would save me now. Standing up, watching the others get up, I noticed something. Part of my black tee seemed to be getting darker, putting my hand to it I felt a wetness, I didn’t need to pull my hand away to know. I did anyway, two seconds on my side and my hand was lathered in dark red blood. Mine was always darker than the regular person’s or anyone else like me and Kit, no idea why. Bringing the blood to my face I took a deep whiff of it, it had been a while since I’d bled; all I needed was one whiff. My eyes narrowed, a confidant, sly smile crept across my face, and the flame held in my pupil flashed into a raging inferno. My attackers all stumbled back a few steps, somehow knowing: Jack Wolf was back.