A Man of Graveyards

     In the graveyard, he was close to silence. The dead had no thoughts swirling through their minds; they had no impulses running through their veins. They were full of embalming fluid and sawdust. It was the nearest to silence he would ever find, and he treasured each moment of it. This propensity for visiting graveyards was what Cailtin Richards chose to exploit.
     He hadn't heard them coming, as he had finally relaxed for once. He was alone with his own thoughts, and that meant he could daydream. The thoughts of animals were often too fast-paced and erratic for his mind to really latch onto, though he could if driven to desperation. Enjoying a fall breeze on a bench beneath deciduous trees that had gone to hues of yellow, orange, and red, his mind had drifted to the Edges. It wasn't until the cold tip of a gun barrel pressed itself to the back of his neck that his eyes opened, and everything flooded in
     -shit, shit, shit, I'm just a rookie, I can't be up against guys like this, and -- no place to run, no place to hide, what now smart -- darkness, death, despair, fire and flames and destruction and ohgodohgodohgod-
     It was the last wave of thoughts that he chose to focus on. The mind of someone in the grips of full blown terror. He mentally reached out, stroked his power along their brain waves, and settled them. Shhh, his power seemed to whisper, shh, everything is okay. There was a gasp from the side. His eyes finally focused on the moment, and a multitude of SWAT men and women appeared in front of him, tactical guns drawn and focused on him. His peripheral vision processed several different well-dressed men and women, likely of differing agencies, and one who had a tight grip on a teenage boy. The boy's eyes were wide, stared straight at him, and though he couldn't hear the words, he could hear the thoughts that accompanied the words, and read the boy's lips.
     "He did it!" He actually did it! "He heard what I was projecting and completely washed it away in a calming tide." How, how did he do that?! "This is him, this is definitely him." I can't believe it.
     The softest breath of a sigh escaped him, his body going limp on the bench. The tip of the gun dug deeper against his neck, a harsh voice grunting,
     "Don't try anything funny, I'll blow your fucking spine out, got it?"
     There was no answer to that question, there couldn't be one. After a moment, a female agent stepped between the line of SWAT, and raked her eyes over him. She wasn't overly average, but possessed a normal height and weight, her sharp blazer hiding the firm muscles of her arms, and the flared slacks she wore disguising her slender legs. Her gold-brown hair was swept back into a very efficient, tight bun. Her bright brown eyes were judgmental and harsh, filled with unpleasant memories that had taken their toll. She crossed her arms over her chest, and raised on exquisite eyebrow at him.
     "So, you're the famous telepath, huh? Don't look like much to me."
     His eyes strayed down to his body, to his ratty tan duster, rumpled slacks, wrinkled and stained green dress shirt. He looked back up at her and shrugged, "I think I look alright."
     "Yeah, well, the commonwealth would disagree. Do you know how this goes Mr. Lewis, or do I need to explain it to you."
     "No," a soft sigh breathed out of him, "I know how you want it to go."
     The SWAT team, the agents, the teenage boy even, all fell to the ground simultaneously. The female agent's lips widened slightly, her hand darting to her sidearm, but it was too late. He had her mind in his grip, and her movements stilled. She was the only one awake, the only one conscious. He stood slowly, brushed off his pants and straightened his coat. Walking closer to her, he stopped in front of her and shook his head. He stepped around her, but paused when his body was parallel to hers.
     "Caitlin Richards - that is your name, isn't it? - you have no idea what you're getting into. Chasing me is dangerous, but I'm not the one you should be concerned about, because when you chase me, you will find many dark, unfathomable things follow me already." His head dipped slightly, a creeping sad smile turning up one corner of his mouth, "You want to make an impression on the WIA, I understand, but this isn't the way. Finding me is one thing, and arresting me is another. But removing me from my current location is a thing that would lead to pain and suffering for millions. Not by my hands, I assure you. Please, take care Caitlin. Good day."
     With that, he continued to walk. For twenty minutes, she remained frozen, and everyone around her remained unconscious. When they began to groan and rouse themselves, sitting up with pain in their limbs and ringing in their ears, Caitlin Richards turned her head to look at the space he had walked through. Her mind was reeling, and she determined then that she needed to know more about Mr. Lewis.