Beta: Atchair. THANK YOU ONCE MORE! *Hands fluffy white cat who may or may not be named Captain Mittins.
Here we go - another multi-chapter story! I hope you guys like it, because it is the most fun I've ever had with writing a Fanfiction. It's very AU, but I hope y'all enjoy it!
Disclaimer: If I owned GONE, I would be basking in my own triumph. But I don't, so I can't.
On the surface, far above its scarred underbelly, Perdido Beach seemed a good town. Safe, friendly and almost completely free from crime. Depending who you were, the reasons as to why changed; according to Mayor Bassem, it was due to the irreproachable police force, particularly the newly appointed captain; to the blonde news reporter it was because of the concrete laws that had been newly set, helped greatly along by her ambitious ideas; to the most successful businessman in town, it was because of the sound economical status: he'd helped kick-start a new money system which was benefiting everyone, not least himself. However, all of them had to agree, no matter how grudgingly, that a great portion of thanks needed to be given to one boy and his friends.
Sam Temple, not that they knew his real name, had once been ordinary. Nothing remotely special or different; just another kid merged into the masses. Now he only went as Sam Temple by day to the people who were not in the know, oblivious to the things he did in order to protect them. At night when the shadows struck he was someone else. Someone extraordinary.
He was Fire Fist.
Sam stood in front of the small mirror that had been propped half heartedly against the wall and gazed at his reflection. Slightly messy brown hair, somewhat bleached by his times soaking up the sun's rays on the beach, stuck up in all directions, making it look like he'd just rolled out of bed. He lifted a hand and attempted to flatten it, though without much commitment. There wasn't much point. Normally he paid more attention to his appearance, but today it wouldn't matter: for one, he was just going to hang out with Quinn and Edilio, and by the time the afternoon crept up on him, it wouldn't be a problem, as no-one would be aware that it was he beneath the mask. Sam was standing in the basement of the fire station – his secret hideout. Stuck to the walls were newspaper clippings, with headlines such as: "PERDIDO CRIME FIGHTING TRIO DOES IT AGAIN". Although most had a heroic, victorious story accompanying the picture, there was an undertone of displeasure. The blonde reporter really did have something against him, although he couldn't figure out why.
There was a swift noise and then Quinn came into view, sliding quickly down the fireman's pole. He unwound himself from the silver rod and fished a Diet Coke from out of his jeans' pocket. He cracked the seal, the pff sound it made echoing slightly in the hideout, and took a long swig when the fizz of bubbles dropped. When he finished swallowing, Quinn sighed dramatically and smiled. "Hey, brah."
"Hey Quinn," said Sam flatly. "Where's Edilio?"
Quinn shrugged. "He's helping some little girl. Her cat's stuck in a tree."
"Oh. Well why didn't you stop too?"
"'Cos I put it up there in the first place."
Sam nodded, not bothering to comment. He was far too used to Quinn's short temper to be surprised.
The hideout was large and had, at some point, been where the firemen had kept their trucks and vehicles. Sam and his associates, Quinn and Edilio, had cleared all them away, storing them in an unused, abandoned garage nearby, and transformed the vast room. It was painted a nondescript grey, so that it resembled the inside of a cave. The floor was the same colour, and gleamed in the glow of the industrial lights. The walls had three large, widescreen computers buckled to them, and over to one side was a table piled with official-looking documents. The centre of the room was mainly dominated by the two poles. There were also twin matching sofas, both a plush ruby.
"Today's the day," Sam called behind him. Quinn didn't answer, choosing instead to walk over to the high-tech computers.
"What day?" he answered insouciantly. The computers were supposed to be used for checking on the town: they linked to the alarm systems of town hall and some other important places, but instead Quinn was using it to play Pacman. The sound effects echoed in the room.
Sam smacked his palm into his forehead. "The day, Quinn!" He pointed to the calendar tacked to the other side of the wall. This month was decorated with cartoon drawings of the Perdido Beach trio fighting an army of robots (something they'd never actually had to do). When Quinn still looked dubious, Sam sighed and explained in a slightly more calm voice, "It's been a year since we first began cleaning up the streets!"
A dawning light of awareness lit up Quinn's face. "Ohhh," he said, his eyes half-closing, giving him the look of an enlightened monkey. "Happy anniversary, brah."
Sam grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. "You too, man. The celebrations in town should be starting up soon – I saw them setting up as I was walking back from Ralph's."
Both boys were distracted by the voice which echoed up from above their heads – Edilio. Quinn made to shout up at him, but Sam slapped a hand over his mouth, worry creasing up his forehead. "He's not alone," Sam hissed.
True enough, there came the sound of another's voice – a female's shrill tone. "Where are the other fire chiefs?" the girl asked.
Quinn and Sam exchanged an alarmed look. That was the distinctive voice of Astrid Ellison, the unscrupulous editor of the local newspaper. What she wanted, she got – it was almost impossible to lie to her, due to her shrewd wits and uncanny intelligence. Astrid was known for smelling out a story; nothing would get in her way once she started on the trail of a piece of news.
"They've... gone out." Edilio's voice was raised slightly, obviously hoping that Sam and Quinn heard and didn't do anything stupid.
"Gone out?" said Astrid, jumping onto the slight pause Edilio had left. Her footsteps pattered overheard, and there was the slight squeak as the old fridge door opened. Sam imagined her reaching out for a can of Pepsi and scowled. Astrid had a commanding air about her; it seemed that wherever she went, she owned the place. Sam could almost see her posture in the room above: leaning against a doorway, perhaps, or sitting in one of the wooden chairs at the rounded kitchen table, with Edilio no doubt on the other side of the room in an attempt to shrink out of sight. It was a stroke of bad luck that he'd been forced to bring Astrid back. "And where exactly have they gone?"
Sam could almost hear Edilio's brain whirring. "I'm not sure – I think they wanted to see the celebrations. Yeah, that's right. I think they were going to help set up near the church."
"Right," answered Astrid, disbelief dripping from her voice. "And they left you alone here?"
"Sure."
"But surely if a fire breaks out, or there's some sort of emergency, then that's not safe?"
Distract her, Edilio, Sam begged mentally, secretly grateful that the much slower Quinn had not been the one left to deal with the snooping reporter. Get rid of her... He pictured Astrid's sneer and felt a jolt of fear. What if she found out…? It was all on Edilio now. And Edilio probably knew it.
There was a sigh. "You're right," said Edilio apologetically; humbly. "It was a stupid mistake. Astrid, it was a one-off kind of thing. The celebrations only happen once a year and we just got caught up in the excitement. Please don't tell Mayor Bassem."
Sam knew what Edilio was doing. Turning the tide, making Astrid feel important with her high-up connections and good advice, and hopefully (Sam tried not to get his hopes up) prompting her to leave.
"It's Miss Ellison," Astrid corrected in her superior way, and Sam could picture her straightening up to her full height and plastering on her important, snobby expression which always came along with that tone of voice. "And I'll let it drop – for now. You should be grateful that I don't follow up this and make it into a story."
"I'm sure you have more important things to be reporting on."
Edilio was overdoing it now, Sam could tell, and the silence from Astrid seemed to agree. There was an awkward, tense moment, and then Astrid was speaking again, in a low, threatening tone. "I can see what you're doing, Edilio. And you better not get on the wrong side of me. You have secrets, and if you don't watch your step, they won't stay secret for long."
Sam listened for Edilio's answer, ears strained, but the silence was eloquent. Had Edilio blown their cover?
Sam would do anything to see what was going on in the room above.
The sound of Edilio zipping down the pole made Sam and Quinn jump before realising they were practically sat on top of each other in fear. Sam removed his hand from Quinn's mouth and wiped it on his jeans, grimacing.
Edilio breathed out theatrically, pantomiming wiping sweat from his brow before sauntering over to one of the plush red sofas and plopping down on it. "God, she's quick."
"Did she leave?"
"Yeah, I watched her head off towards McDonald's." Edilio checked his watch and nodded to himself. "We've got forty minutes 'till show time. I think Perdido Beach's crime-fighting trio had better get ready."
Anticipation lined the streets. The Perdido Beach trio, individually known as the mysterious Fire Fist, Fedora Guy and the Backhoe Boy, were due to make their appearance at any moment. The eager voices rose in pitch, clamouring, catching on the excitement of their neighbours.
There was the controlled roar of an engine, and then swerving around the corner came the famed yellow backhoe, Fedora Guy clinging tightly onto the back. Cheers and shouts erupted from the crowd, a colossal noise merging into a giant wave of approval. Fire Fist waved jauntily at the crowd on either side of Alameda Avenue.
Backhoe Boy drove his vehicle towards the stage that had been newly constructed in front of the church, a majestic podium erected in the middle, and several posters and banners depicting the glorious trio papered onto the walls in the background. The three heroes piled out of the bright yellow backhoe and stood beaming, on the stage.
Fire Fist was standing proudly in the middle, wearing the exact shade of green as his power which had given him his name. On his left stood Fedora Guy, who wore, of all things, a grey fedora, perched at a jaunty angle on his head. Fedora Guy carried a large hammer, which was mirrored by his famed catchphrase – "I live for the hammer, brah." Backhoe Boy stood on the right. He was the cleverest of the trio, and was probably the most loved hero out of the three, due to him almost always keeping a calm head and thinking rationally about what to do. Backhoe Boy's backhoe was the main means of transport for the trio; they would often be seen riding through town on it.
The cheering shouts grew in tempo, and Sam felt as if he was riding a wave on his board. There was the same swooping, exhilarated feeling in the pit of his stomach, and his heart beat twice as fast, threatening to explode out of his chest. He could hear the echo of his pulse in his head.
Eventually, Mayor Bassem climbed up the stage steps and stood behind the podium. It took a further couple of seconds to tame the crowd, but eventually the mayor had the opportunity to speak.
"Today is a great day," called Mayor Bassem formerly, his face shining. "Today, it has been a year – one whole year – since our friends Fire Fist, Fedora Guy and Backhoe Boy took to cleaning up the streets of Perdido Beach." He allowed a smattering of applause to interrupt him before continuing. "I'm sure you all remember the Human Crew?"
There was a sudden cacophony of booing; the mayor's words had hit a sore spot. Sam was half inclined to join in the angry shouts.
"The infamous gang spread hate and fear through the town. They made us afraid to leave the safety of our houses. They spread graffiti, threatened civilians and even captured Hunter Lefkowitz, the chef who helps prepare our food. Nobody could stop them."
The town had gone very quiet, and Hunter, who was stood at the back of the crowd, shifted uncomfortably. Everyone knew – remembered – how the events had finished, but nobody dared to interrupt. It was as if they were hearing the story for the first time.
"And then came along our heroes. They fought valiantly, eventually capturing the gang and sending them to the prison, saving us all." Mayor Bassem took a deep breath. "And since then, they have worked together closely with out police force to ensure our continual safety."
Sam nearly groaned. Mayor Bassem always managed to make it about the police force. He was close friends with the captain, a huge mountain of a boy named Captain Orc. In fact, Sam had often heard Orc calling Mayor Bassem by his first name – Howard. The two were often planning together, or hanging out (if such a thing could be said about a mayor) and Sam got the feeling that as soon as he, Edilio and Quinn were no longer needed, Mayor Bassem would get rid of them as quickly and efficiently as possible.
Captain Orc stomped onto the stage in an obviously planned move, making it shake slightly with the pressure. It was lucky it had been built so stably (another thing that the mayor had obviously foreseen), as otherwise it would have collapsed immediately.
He shook hands with Sam and his friends, accidentally crushing their palms. Orc had never understood the extent of his strength.
"We are safe from all threats!" crowed Mayor Bassem as Orc finished with the trio and stood beside them, looking like a member of their gang. "We have –"
He was cut-off by a sudden, piercing siren which tore at Sam's ears. The screeching was loud and demanding.
"Oh my God!" someone called. Sam turned around and saw Albert Hillsborough, the most successful businessman in town, running up the stairs and onto the stage. He was looking more flustered than Sam had even seen him. No, more than flustered – terrified. "That's my alarm! Someone's broken into my house! Someone's broken in!" Albert had grabbed the front of the mayor's shirt and was one step away from shaking him backwards and forwards uncontrollably. "Howard – you have to –"
Mayor Bassem turned his head in an almost resigned manner whilst attempting to prise off Albert's clutching, desperate fingers, and looked over at the Perdido Beach trio. Sam met his gaze. "Will –"
"We're on our way, Albert," Sam said loudly, interjecting calm into his voice. The businessman released the mayor's shirt and collapsed on the floor, burying his head in his hands. It was a sign for the whole crowd to go mad.
Sam knew how protective Albert was of his own property; after all, he had earned it with the sweat off of his back. Albert's house had never been broken into – it was covered in alarms and traps which were directly connected to the town hall (the source of the noise), making it any thief's nightmare. Mentally, Sam ran a list of villains through his head. Who would be stupid or reckless enough to break into Albert's place?
The Human Crew were out. They were in jail, spending most of their time doing community service, cleaning toilets and the like.
It wasn't Pack Leader's style. Pack Leader was the chain-smoking head of a drug smuggling gang, who'd met with the Perdido Beach trio more than was good for him. The pack, as they were collectively known, was currently running out in the desert, afraid of Sam and his friends. They didn't go for cheap thrills like breaking and entering.
Sam sprung after Edilio and Quinn towards the backhoe. "Who could it be?" Sam roared over the panicked crowd. People were running everywhere, unsure as to what to do. To see Albert almost breakdown in public had sparked something that was akin to madness. The scene had gone almost immediately from order to disorder, with kids sprinting in every direction, turning on each other and elbowing and kicking. The posters that had been put up in honour of the trio were lying in tatters on the floor, curled up amongst the brittle yellow grass.
"Is it the pack?" asked Quinn, gripping his hammer tightly in a reassuring move.
"Can't be."
"It's not the Human Crew," said Edilio firmly. "They're locked up for good."
Sam caught a glance of Astrid Ellison. She was on the other side of the plaza, sitting on the ledge of the broken, dried-out fountain. Astrid was scribbling frantically into a notebook, and for the briefest of seconds looked up and caught his eye.
In her triumphant gaze, there was the hint of something that Sam already knew. She'd figured it out before him. She was probably already writing up the new story for her damned newspaper.
"Fire Fist?"
Sam blinked and looked at Edilio. "I think something bad is going down, Backhoe Boy. I don't think it's anyone we've dealt with before. I think this is someone new. Which means we have a problem."
Edilio's eyes widened. He stepped on the gas and drove haphazardly to Albert's place, the piercing sound of the alarm ringing in his ears and the worry weighing him down as if his stomach was filled with lead.
Something – everything – was taking a turn for the worst. Sam could sense it electrocute the air, filling it with an almost undetectable vibrating. He knew that feeling. He knew what it meant.
A storm was coming.
There you have it! Please please review - I will love you forever. Chapter two is coming soon, seeing as I've kinda sorta written it already. xD
Any guesses as to who this thief is? Kinda obvious, but never mind.
Reviews are love, people!