A/N: This is my fist fanfic so any criticism is appreciated, and I can take flames so whatever...
Disclaimer: This is for the whole story since I am too lazy to retype this every time (and yes I am also too lazy to copy paste it every time) I don't own Sky High or its characters and whatever else you recognize from the movie. I do own everything else so if you want to use anything ask me first, I don't mind much. If I use anything else I will put a disclaimed at the END of that chapter. If I do and forget, then I apologize. Now that my little rant is over...Enjoy...
Chapter 1- In the Shadows I Lurk
It wasn't the best of days. Not that any day living in this hell hole was a good day, but shit, I wasn't there half the time so it wasn't that bad. I trudged up the stairs towards the apartment where I lived with my dad. I was hoping to whatever powers above that he was either out at some bar or passed out drunk since I wasn't in the mood of listening to him scream at how worthless I am. I was already in the worst mood today. I had almost killed a kid I was pissed off at. Not that I didn't want to hurt him, he had mouthed off bout my mother so he wasn't getting off that easily but I hadn't expected to lose that much of my control. I hadn't wanted to make his upper arms turn into something like jelly, but it happened. I threatened his life if he opened his mouth about it. I guess he won't be messing with me anytime soon, but still, the fact that I had almost had my secret uncovered was depressing me. Having something I've hidden so well for such a long time come out like that wasn't what I wanted. I usually had perfect control, but lately I've been losing it.
Fixing the strap of my guitar on my back and readjusting my backpack, I started up the six flight of stairs to the dung hole I happened to call home. Reaching the front door I kicked the door open not really caring. I was in that bad of a mood. As usual my father, if you could call him that, was passed out in what was supposed to be the living room on an old beat up recliner with the TV on and beer cans and bottles of whiskey all over the floor. It wasn't something beyond my expectations. I looked around the room, it wasn't that big, roughly 4 meters by 4 in space. There was a large broken couch thrown in the corner with empty pizza boxes and beer cans piled up onto it, a TV set up on a broken chair in front of the recliner where a large excuse for a man was passed out. The living room was connected to our small kitchen at the end of the room which was made up of a wall with broken cabinets over a sink, stove and counter and an island diving the living room and kitchen. Seeing nothing worth looking at, well maybe except the rat which just decided to crawl underneath the large broken couch, I turned, slamming the door shut and headed down the hall to my room.
Passing by my father's room I managed to catch a glimpse of some whore sleeping in his bed. Not that this wasn't a regular event, he always brought some two-cent slut every night whether I was there or not. Shaking my head I took the last three steps and got to my room. I took out my key and unlocked the door, making sure to check if he tried to get in again. By now it shouldn't be a surprise that I don't like, let alone trust, my father. I had been like this for a while. He wasn't always like this, no. at some point he was actually a decent father. But when my mother was killed, he blamed himself and the whole self pity, slow death story continued from there. Actually trying to remember him being a father was like trying to remember a dream you had a couple of nights ago, its there but you just cant really remember it. It's been that long, twelve years to be exact. I was only five and all I remember of my mother is her being there one moment, smiling an me and the next she was a crumpled bloody body on the floor and my dad fighting with someone. That was the most I remember. I know I tried to wake her, but someone pulled me away from her and I didn't see my dad for a few days since I was living with someone else for a while, but when I did go back home, he wouldn't look at me or even acknowledge the fact that I was alive. If I did anything to get his attention I would get slapped and shouted at. Eventually I learned to not interfere. For a while I didn't even speak, but then I grew up.
We moved around a lot since my father kept getting fired from his random petty jobs and we couldn't afford rent anymore. Even at the age of seven I had managed a few jobs that we given to me out of pity in an effort to help. I was pretty smart as a kid. I could already read write and do college math by the time I was in first grade so everyone was impressed and allowed me to do something with their records just to make some money to get food. But half the time I was starving because my asshole of a father believed that spending the money on liquor was a better idea.
I shook my head from the memories and flopped onto my bed exhausted. My room wasn't that much of a room. It was more of a closet with a bed, a small desk and a window leading to the fire escape. Underneath the window sill was a black trunk that barely fit there which I used to put all my clothes in and things in. it also had a huge lock just incase my father managed to break the door locks. You must be wondering why I put locks and padlocks on my door and trunk. Well it was a simple fact that since my father did not work, and I made all the money, I would naturally hide it somewhere. At one point he threatened me with a knife if I did not give him the money I had hidden. He even had gone through all my things and sold half my stuff in an effort to get money for his drink and sex addiction. He had managed to pawn off my mother's necklace, the only thing I had left to remember her by and my clothes which were all I had at the time. I had managed to work a deal with the pawn shop owner so as to get back the necklace. It was hard, but I finally managed to convince him. Needless to say the necklace doesn't come off my neck, and now the only things I had in the trunk were some cloths. But even then, I always carry a change with me just incase my father miraculously grew a brain cell.
I got up off the bed and opened the trunk, I had work in half an hour so I had to change and get out of here. Grabbing my uniform, which was a white button down shirt and black slacks, I shoved them in my backpack, locked the trunk walked out of the room, locked the door and made my way back out of the building and to the bus station. I didn't need to wit long since I was, as usual, punctual. The doors opened and I hopped on. The driver, Dan, a forty five year old man I who had been driving this line for bout twenty years, nodded his hello as I paid my fare and sat at my usual spot at the back of the bus. Since there was no one on the bus this late in the day, Dan decided to do his usual twenty question check up. He'd been doing that after he got to know me the second week after I had moved here. He was a sweet guy and I tolerated him good naturedly, since my acting skills are impeccable, and I put up with the questions answering them as truthfully as I could. He knew I didn't like to talk about my family so he never pried, but he had made sure to tell me that he was always there if I needed to talk. If that happened, I would probably have lost all my senses, but I had agreed so as not to end the conversation.
"My dearest angel, how have you been? Anything new happen in your oh so boring life?" Did I mention he also gave me a nickname? Yeah, to Dan I am the Angel of Darkness that lurks in the shadows. How he came up with such a thing I wouldn't know, but I didn't mind it. Actually I liked it.
"Nothing much is happening these days Dan… school and work. Normal routine, no spice to my life, that's for sure." I couldn't help but quirk my lips a little. Just to let you know, Dan is one of those people who can make you smile just by smiling at you and even me, the dark shadow angel, was not immune to it. But I don't smile so I just smirk at a select few people, Dan being one of those rare people who saw it.
"You take life too seriously kiddo. You're what, seventeen next week and you more cynical than the old ladies I bus every morning." He was shaking his head and glancing back at me through the rear view mirror.
"Why don't you get your pretty self up here beside me. There is no one so your reputation won't be sullied by talking to the old man." I laughed and shook my head at his antics, but grabbed my back pack and guitar and headed up front and sat at the front row seat to his right so that I could see his face. He was aged and his face showed it. Even though he was only forty-five he had stress marks all over his face. He had been through a lot, I know. His wife had divorced him two years ago and got custody of their two children, Andrew who was now twelve and Emma who was ten. He missed them, but still had visitation rights and got to see them every other day. His ex-wife had tried to lower the numbers of hours he got to see his kids and even tried to kip town, but the court threatened to take the kids away so she hasn't caused any more problems yet.
It was fun who you could meet on the public transport system. Dan wasn't the only one who knew me from the bus. There was this one woman, Jenny, a thirty-four year old hairdresser who had helped me once when an annoying kid had stuck gum in my hair on the bus. Needless to say, the kid's mom kept their distance whenever they saw me, as did the rest of the passengers who where there that day. I had almost dislocated the kid's arm. I mean no ten-year-old was stupid enough to pull that stunt and get away with it. Jenny had swooped and saved the day. She dragged me to the shop where she worked and gave me a free hair cut. Luckily, the place was close to where I worked, so that day had ended well. I had my hair trimmed and all was well, I had hit it off with her, she was just like a female version of Dan. I've tried getting Dan to ask her out, but he was too chicken to do anything. Now I am nothing like Jenny, I am a tall five foot seven, with layered brown hair, brown eyes, fair skin and a fairly muscular build. Not the build of someone who works out, but lean from all the fighting I did. Yeah, I'm a troublemaker and proud of it. If I don't get into at least one fight a day I consider it a bad day. Fighting was a way I learned to cope with my anger, just project it on to someone else and let loose. Not the best method, but it suited me fine. Jenny on the other hand had bouncy blond curls and hazel eyes. You wouldn't think she was thirty four, she looked close to twenty.
Getting to my stop, I bid Dan goodbye and patted his back on the way down. I don't do hugs or any of that emotional interaction crap. I don't like people touching me and kept physical contact to a minimum avoiding it if possible. Dan knew this and smiled as if he had just gotten the biggest hug ever, not that I can out match his daughter, waved goodbye and pulled out of the bus stop. I turned and walked towards where I worked. I was a nice old flower shop run by two old Chinese couple. They had hired me on the spot when they found out I could speak Cantonese. My tri-lingual abilities were something I was proud of. I spoke English Cantonese and French. It was useful to know three languages.
On my way to the shop, I stopped by the hairdresser's to see Jenny, she had left since she had finished half an hour ago, and so I left and went to the shop. Now, just so I warn everyone, I am not normal. I'm sure everyone figured that out by now. I was different from other people, I have...lets say...skills... that other normal people didn't have. I could move things just by thinking it. I could also transform things, for instance if I want a drink of water I can turn a book into a bottle of water. Also, I had this weird but amazing reflexes, but those were just from living on the streets. Mr. And Mrs. Wong, the owners of the flower shop were the only two people who knew about my abilities. They weren't as surprised or afraid of the fact when I first told them. I had to after Mr. Wong saw rags cleaning up the vases on the top shelf by themselves. They haven't told anyone, to my knowledge, and tried their best to get me to train and hone my abilities. Its not that I haven't been doing that as a kid, but it seemed that at some point, Mr. Wong had been a martial arts master before he had moved here from China and had said that one of his students had the ability to move at unnatural speeds. He told me that his student was thought to be abnormal and was shunned from his family and village. I wasn't so happy. Now I definitely had a reason to hide. This bit of information didn't lighten my mood. But at least he made it up by teaching me martial arts and pressure points. Now not only was I weird but also deadly.
Getting closer to the shop, I could already smell all the various flowers that were set up outside. Finally reaching there, I saw Mrs. Wong talking to a few customers.
"Felix, you are late. Why do we pay you? To be late? Go quickly now…we have customers. Why aren't you dressed? Where is your uniform? Why didn't you wear it? Why are you still standing here?" despite the fact that she was bossy, the old lady was very adorable. She was short, barely four feet tall with old wrinkles, the full works old the cuddly granny, only she was a businesswoman and she acted that way. Her husband was the complete opposite. He was tall and slender, you would think a gust of wind could knock him over. But under all that illusion was a strong quick man despite his age. He was warm and kind and very easy going.
"Hello Felix. How are you today? Hope school was not bad. Why don't you go change and meet me at the counter. Your apron is on the hanger near the shelf." I nodded at his smile and went to change. After I finished my work at 11pm, moving all the flower stands back into the shop and placing the flowers in the cooler, I locked up and walked back to the bus stop. On my way back, I saw a kid being dragged into the alley way. Looking up his eyes locked onto mine and he began screaming for help. The guy dragging him clamped his hand on the boy's mouth and his friend turned around to look at me. He sneered at me and began walking towards me.
Usually I wouldn't even care, but two things got to me. The fear I saw in the kid's eyes and the sneer I got from one of the two assailants. I wasn't one to be mocked and didn't appreciate it. So I stopped and waited for him to get to me. He stopped a few yards away from me and held out his gun.
"Get in the alley bitch. We don't want no one tellin the cops 'nuffin. Come on, move!" I didn't like him. Not one bit, so still looking at him coolly I regarded his friend who had managed to shut the kid up but both were sill in visual range, I guessed he wanted to keep an eye on what was going on. I looked back at the guy pointing a gun at me.
"You had better out that away and let the kid go or else you are going to seriously regret it." I didn't like him and he would pay for even looking at me the wrong way. I guess I should still be thankful though, he made my day since now I didn't need to look for a fight, one way right there read for the starting. But still no one calls me a bitch unless I allow them to and this scum was not. He laughed at me and aimed, he was about to shoot so I did the easiest thing that wouldn't cause too much commotion, but unfortunately was not so. I knocked the gun out of his hand. It rang through the empty streets. But that was not what was worse, the gun shot had embedded itself in my right hand. How that happened I didn't know, but now I lost it. Rage burned in my eyes and these two were going to pay for even thinking they could get away with anything. I let the anger flow through me. And I looked right into the eyes of the man who just shot me. He knew he was in trouble, I reached out for his neck with my injured hand and strangled him. Being able to transform things, I had learned to change the density and speed of molecules. At this point I hardened my body to that of a stone. So my death grip on the guy's neck was deadly and his blows were harmless. My blood flowed freely down his neck and I sent a look at him that held no emotion. I was no longer there. I was going to kill this fucker for even breathing, goddamn waste of air. Slowly I ignited my other hand and began bringing it towards the guy's face. I was going to make it long and painful. As if by some miracle, the police showed up before I could do anything. The other guy holding back the kid, let go of him and ran. The kid fell to the floor still staring at me. I guess he witnessed another one of my control losses. I healed my hand before the police reached me and slipped the bullet that had been in my hand into my pocket. At this point I wasn't worried about the other man that fled. Only that I was being arrested for no reason.
Snapping out of his trance the kid started shouting that it wasn't me, but the other man who should be arrested. Seeming as if they recognized the kid, they let go of me reluctantly and shoved the other guy into the back of a police car. Thinking that everything was over, I walked over to my stuff and grabbed them before one of those filthy guys could land his hand on them. But unfortunately for me, I had to go to the station. Way to go me for getting myself into this shit. Getting into another car, I looked back at the kid who was now sitting in the ambulance. Waving at me he smiled, but was forced by the paramedics to lie down. I look back towards the front. What the fuck did I get myself into this time!
A/N: I'm not going to beg for reviews. I you want to tell me what you think, how I fucked up, something you don't like and review or whatever then thanks I'd appreciate it. If not, I really don't care so your conscience can be clear.