The Story of Burning Warden
The sound of shouting mixed with an odd scraping of metal to bring Ward Gilbert out of his beer-induced stupor and back to the reality of the dreary Wednesday night. Not that he would have admitted that state to anyone. Two years into school at the University of Paragon, Ward was twenty years old and barely scraping by with almost straight Cs. Sobering quickly, Ward peered around into a nearby alley. Three figures were standing in a semicircle facing the far wall of a building. The middle figure stood a solid four inches above Ward's respectable 6'1" and was as wide as two of him. He held an arm that ended in three blades, like a claw, up to what looked like an older man slumped against the wall as he gestured dangerously with the huge sledgehammer that finished out his left arm. Unlike his companions whose bodies at least were flesh and blood, he looked more machine than man. The other two stood waving their weapon arms meaningfully about, a true hand resting on one hip.
Freakshow! Ward thought in shock as he watched one of the cronies, a thin man with a scythe grafted onto one arm and metal spikes adorning his head, lift the old man into a standing position against the wall. As the flunky traced shallow cuts in the moaning man's cheeks, the big tank-like man shouted.
"Ya ready ta talk!?" The claw went to the man's chin, pressing dangerously. "Where is it!?"
Ward found himself glued to the scene despite his self-preservation instinct's best attempts to make him get the hell away. Without warning the giant hammer came down, crushing the man's kneecap into a sticky pulp in a violent spray of red. A scream tore through the night, extracting laughter from the three thugs as Ward did his best to keep from retching.
"Ready yet old man?"
A small shake of the head.
"Have fun boys."
The two cronies went to work, and Ward had to turn away. Wails drifted through the night air as the scythe and hammer arms mangled the unfortunate man, soon turning to mere whimpers before disappearing completely.
Ward spent the next ten minutes utterly silent, tucked behind a large air conditioning box. By then he was relatively certain the thugs were gone but he still crept around to the alley as quietly as his moderate buzz would allow. The sight that greeted him sent the bile up his throat, barely contained. The man was a complete mess, his bloodied torso set on legs that resembled a pile of discarded garden hose. The skin of one hand was gone, exposed muscle and bone weeping red and yellow fluids. Guardedly, Ward looked around one more time to make sure he was alone, but when his gaze fell again on the dead man's face one eye was open, looking at him through a red haze. Then it blinked. The thought that someone could still be alive after that kind of brutality… Ward turned away and emptied the contents of his stomach onto the dark pavement.
- - - - - - -
The sun was burning down on King's Row from its place in the mid-afternoon sky as Ward Gilbert walked up the stairs to Crowne Memorial Hospital. It had been two days since the brutal assault in the alley. One of Paragon City's many heroes flew out of the doors in front of him, the bright red and yellow clad form barely pulling up in time to avoid slamming straight into Ward. He actually felt the man's slipstream move his spiky red hair. Where were you the other night, hotshot? He thought to himself. Shrugging it off, Ward stepped through the double doors and into the hospital. The lobby was a long rectangle with a receptionists' area partitioned off just inside the doors to the left. The entire right side, and the rest of the left, was set aside for seating, through it was empty except for a mother and daughter seated near the bank of elevators in the back wall. Before he was two feet through the doors the receptionist piped up from behind the counter.
"Can I help you?"
Ward took a moment before responding. "Well, maybe. I'm here to see someone. Visit a patient, I mean."
"Oh, sure!" she replied with the bright plastic smile of someone trained to deal with the dying and their relations. "What's the patient's name?"
"Well, that's the thing. I don't know his name." He kept going, stopping the response coming from the receptionist's mouth. "He was brought in Wednesday night, late. Uh… in really bad shape. I'm, uh, I called the ambulance for him."
Ward saw one of the nurses behind the receptionist go pale. She set down a sheaf of papers and walked up to the counter, looking grim.
"I think I know who you're talking about." It was plain the nurse was still bothered by the sight of the broken older man. She asked for Ward's name, and he quickly gave it. "I'll see if he's awake, and if he'll see you." After taking the name down, the nurse disappeared through a door in the back of the reception area and Ward went and sat down to wait.
It wasn't long before he got a response. The nurse came out of one of the elevators and told him to come up with her. He was taken into the elevators, and walked through a row of curtained off rooms until they turned into one, where an older man lay in a bed, covered with white sheets and connected to tubes and wires. The man's face was swollen, one side of his head was completely wrapped off, covering the eye on that side; but the exposed eye watched him enter, alert, and the lips moved into a crooked smile.
His voice was rough and quiet, but very easy to understand nonetheless. "Come in, boy. Come in. I hear you're the one I have to thank for being here. Not that I'm in great shape, mind, but it's better than being dead." He waved the nurse off, and she turned and left the partitioned room. "So, what's your name, boy?"
"I… I'm Ward. Ward Gilbert," he replied as he sat in one of the two chairs set up near the bed. "I'm really glad you're alright…" Images of the Freakshow aftermath kept running through his head, so much that he had to force himself to continue looking at the man before him.
He must have noticed, because he shook his head and spoke again, softly still. "I understand, boy. I'm sure I was quite a sight. My name's Wayne, by the way. Wayne Cummins. I hate to do this to ya, but I think it would be best if I got some rest now. Come back again, boy. I've some things I'd like to talk to you about."
Ward nodded silently and stood up to leave, letting the nurse know that Wayne was going to try and sleep before he headed back down the elevator, unescorted.
I can't believe how brave that man is… He's just been torn into, barely left alive, and he's not scared or worried or anything, at least not that he shows… I wish I could have done something more for him. I was so helpless, hiding in the shadows while he was ripped apart, only thinking of my own safety until I was sure they were gone. He nodded to the receptionist as he stepped out of the hospital. I just want to be able to help, but all I am is some dumb drunken kid. I just want to help…
- - - - - - -
The tires on Ward's blue '99 Eagle Talon bumped up against the curb as he pulled into the parking lot of the sprawling industrial complex that was the home of Spirit Technology Corporation. He practically jumped out of the car, just barely remembering to lock it behind him, and jogged over to the double glass doors that marked the entrance to the administrative center. The receptionist smiled and waved at him from behind a phone as he walked past, towards the bank of elevators that would take him up to the top floor of the building. It was just a short walk down to Wayne's office. He went to knock, but Wayne opened the door before his knuckles met mahogany.
"Congratulations, Ward," the older man said with a smile. He extended his right hand, the cybernetic one that Ward had helped him build, to firmly shake the younger man's hand. "I'm sorry I couldn't make the graduation ceremony, I really am." A hint of regret was apparent in Wayne's rough voice.
"No, it's alright, Wayne," Ward replied at once. "Some things you need to handle personally. We all know you've still got the sharpest mind in SpiriTech."
Wayne let out a chuckle and walked over to his desk, his cybernetic legs giving off a barely perceptible hum as they carried him across the plush carpet. "No, it's not alright. For my sake, son. You graduated with high honors from the region's best Applications of Advanced Technology program. That's not something I wanted to miss."
The 'son' was almost literal these days. Wayne treated Ward like his own son, and Ward looked up to him like a father. The man was the owner and chief inventor for the prestigious SpiriTech Labs, and had been training Ward personally for the past year and a half. Ever since he'd been released from the hospital minus both legs, an arm, and an eye. Most of Ward's early training was helping Wayne build his new limbs and eye, and the young man took to it with an enthusiasm that reminded Wayne of his early days in the technology field, back when he built...
"Ward," he said, voice suddenly very serious. "I have something I want to show you. I know you've wondered what those Freaks were after, even if you've been too polite to ask." He reached under the desk and put in a ten-digit code on the interface mounted on the inner wall. Ward had never seen him use it before, though he'd been curious about it. The unit gave a small beep, and Wayne placed his human palm on the panel above the keypad. A perfectly concealed passageway appeared as a piece of the wall slid down into the floor.
Wayne started towards it. "Come on, son. Let me show you what they were after."
Ward nodded and followed wordlessly as they walked down the narrow passage. The door slid shut behind them as soon as they made their way completely into the hidden hallway. Grey steel panels lined the wall on either side and caged fluorescent lights provided bright illumination from overhead as the pair walked up to a closed steel door. Wayne put another code and palm scan into an interface beside the door and the two of them stepped into the subsequently revealed elevator. Neither men said a word, though Wayne had a knowing smile on his face and Ward was the embodiment of excited curiosity.
The elevator opened into a small room lined almost completely by workspace and high-tech equipment. Opposite the elevator door was another interface next to a solid steel door. Wayne put in another code, scanned in his palm, and then bent forwards so the unit could perform a retina scan on his human eye. The door slid upwards into the ceiling.
Ward's jaw nearly hit the floor. He'd seen this before! Though certainly not in person. His dad had shown him pictures from a magazine when he was just a kid of a hero called Burning Spirit who fought inside an incredible powersuit that gave him powers to withstand awesome blows and deal out firey justice to those that threatened the peace of Paragon City. Burning Spirit had always stood out to Ward, because he knew inside the suit was a powerless human being, just like him. It was part of the reason he'd taken technology courses in the first place, and Wayne even knew about that! Two years, and he'd never said a thing.
"Y-you're..." was all Ward managed to get out.
"I was, son. Was. Been a while since I put the Burning suit on, and it's a shame to let it go to waste. I was hoping a healthy young man like yourself would be able to take up the Burning mantle and put the suit to good use again."
Ward's tone was pure incredulity. "You... you can't be serious. ME!? You want ME to use the suit!?"
Wayne only smiled. "Suit up, Ward. This city needs more heroes."