Fire Burning
A/N: Once again, I am so sorry for the way the story was cut off. Enjoy the full version!
- Miss Maddie
Discaimer: Any Dialogue you recognize is from Sky High.
The lunch bell had sounded, Warren already at his table. He never ate lunch, preferring to sit alone with his latest novel, ignoring the drone of the cafeteria crowd. Warren never let anyone sit with him at lunch; not that anyone had ever tried. The students' fear of him was terribly convenient.
Contemplating what had transpired the previous Saturday, Warren let the words on the page blur together into an incomprehensible mass. He had visited his father in prison on the weekend, as he did twice every month. Sitting on the one side of a dirty, smudged window, he had sat and listened to Barron Battle talk for hours, saying little, enjoying his father's company. For the most part, he complained about life in solitary confinement, and how much he missed his family. Of course, there were also the plans for revenge on the Commander, getting more and more elaborate each time Warren visited him.
It had been a long time, almost six years, since Warren had seen his father without the orange jumpsuit. To the world, he was still known as Barron Battle, notorious super-villain, but to Warren he would always be Matthew Peace, his father and part time factory worker.
He was staring down at the page, the words barely registering in his mind, when he heard a loud, "Whoa!" and something hit him in the back: a plastic cafeteria tray. A sandwich and an open bag of chips went tumbling over his shoulder and onto the table, staining the page of his book with greasy, bright orange smudges.
The cafeteria went absolutely still.
Something inside Warren snapped. Temper seething, he rose from his table, ready to roast whichever twerp had showered him in roast beef and cheese nuggets. Turning around, he saw the very last person he had expected.
Will Stronghold was sprawled out on the cafeteria floor, his eyes widening in horror when he saw whom he had hit. "Uh, sorry," he said as he rose and dusted himself off.
"You will be." Warren's eyes darkened with hate at the son of the man who had ruined his father's life. The inferno inside him was almost painful.
The younger boy sighed. "Alright, let's not do this," he said, turning to leave.
The fire inside Warren's body flared in response to Stronghold's indifference, clamouring to escape. "You think you can do whatever you want just cause your name's Stronghold?" Arrogant and selfish, just like his sainted father. What the world saw in that name, he would never know.
"Look, I'm sorry that my dad put your dad in jail, but –"
That was it. How dare he mention his father! The Commander had torn Warren's family apart, leaving him to pick up the pieces while he was off living it up as the world's favourite superhero. He and Jetstream led a perfect life, along with their perfect son. Nobody had ever spared a thought to what had happened to the losing family. To hear Stronghold mention Barron Battle in such a casual way was like having salt rubbed into the old wound.
The fire raged inside him, his hatred and fury urging it on. Seizing the front of Stronghold's shirt, he whispered, "Nobody talks about my father." Letting his wrath guide him, Warren clenched his fists as the flames spilled out of his fingers, singeing Stronghold's shirt. Stronghold backed away with a gasp as the throng of students formed a circle around them.
Igniting his hands again, Warren vaguely heard the crowd's chants of, "Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!" Stronghold backed up against the pillar, looking terrified. Desperately, he snatched a lunch tray off one of the tables, cowering behind it.
So this was the great Will Stronghold. Warren had heard the whispers that the Commander's son had no powers, but he had never believed them until now. How pathetic.
Warren hurled a fireball at Stronghold, blasting a hole through the lunch tray. Pulling the melted halves apart, Stronghold ducked as Warren launched another fireball, hitting the back wall.
Warren threw fireball after fireball at Stronghold, missing him by inches. He roared in frustration. Why couldn't he hit the boy?
Warren was blind, his features contorting with rage. The fire inside him was spinning out of control, growing so hot that even he could feel it. It was all Warren could do to keep from igniting entirely. He couldn't even remember why he was so angry, but at that point it didn't matter. This was the release he had been seeking for a long time, and he was going to enjoy it.
Suddenly, Stronghold went streaking down the aisle, but tripped once again and went tumbling to the floor. Following him, Warren saw what he had been running for: the fire alarm. Like that would have stopped him.
Warren clenched his fists once again, letting the fire travel up his arms until both of them were completely on fire. He heard the screams of the crowd as he cornered Stronghold against a table. Letting the liquid fire form a ball in his hands, Warren launched it, but missed once again as Stronghold crawled under the table. Jumping on top of it, Warren followed the freshman down the row of tables, kicking aside sandwiches and cups of soda. He wasn't even trying to hit Stronghold now, consumed as he was by his anger. All Warren wanted to do was rid himself of the inferno that bubbled inside him.
The entire cafeteria was ablaze now, the students' eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fascination. As they came to the end of the row of tables, Warren shouted, "Where's your sidekick, sidekick?"
The was a pause, and then someone shouted, "Right here!" Looking up, Warren saw the four of Stronghold's friends that sat with him in the cafeteria. They stood together, arms folded, gazing up at him in what were supposed to be threatening stares.
With a feral growl, Warren stood tall as his arms were engulfed in white-hot flames. Raising his hands above his head, he prepared to heave his biggest fireball yet.
The small one melted into a puddle on the floor.
Warren smiled. Stronghold's friends were even more pathetic than he was.
And then Warren felt himself lift off the floor. "Leave – them – alone!" Stronghold grunted as he lifted the table, and Warren on top of it, over his head.
Warren stumbled as he tried to retain his balance. Stronghold wasn't supposed to have any powers!
Groaning with the effort, Stronghold heaved the table into the air. Before Warren knew what happening, he and the table were flying across the cafeteria. Warren's head slammed against the ceiling and he fell to the floor, his vision sliding in and out of focus as the faces of their onlookers blurred together. The crowd cheered wildly, but he could barely hear them.
Damn, the boy had super strength. Warren's father would be thrilled.
As he shook his head to clear it of the pounding ache, Warren thanked his mother for her gift of near invincibility. Stronghold would need more than one hit to stop him.
"Stronghold!" Warren roared, pushing himself off the floor. His arms ignited again, the heat washing across the entire room, forcing their audience to back away. Stronghold raised his fists awkwardly; Warren could tell he had no idea what he was doing.
Recklessly, Warren charged at Stronghold. He felt himself connect with his target and they and they both fell, Warren pinning the younger boy to the linoleum floor.
Leaning in so that only Will could hear him, Warren whispered, "I'm going to kill you, Stronghold. I'm going to kill you for what your family did to mine."
Raising his burning arms overhead, Warren brought them down, but something was wrong. Stronghold had pushed Warren off, and he felt himself once again go flying through the air. This time wall didn't stop him. He slammed through three of them, dust and debris clogging his throat, before coming to a stop against a pillar.
Racing back to the demolished cafeteria, Warren screamed, "You think I can't take a hit?"
With an inhuman roar, Warren let the fire rage up his arms until he was up to his neck in flames.
This was it. The fury was fuelling his fire, making it hotter than ever. He had Stronghold cornered. There would be no missing this time.
This was for his father.
He ran blindly, his hatred lending him speed as well as flames. There was nothing but he and Stronghold; Warren was completely oblivious to everything else. He was bang on target; he knew it, even if he could see nothing but the orange of the flames surrounding him.
Warren jumped, his fists slamming forward. Stronghold was dead.
And then, Warren was on his back on the floor, choking on heaps of white foam. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, all he knew was that the flames wouldn't come. They were gone.
As his vision cleared, Warren could see Principal Powers gazing down at him.
It was over.
He was dead.
A/N: So? Personnally, I don't think it's quite as good as Inside the Fire, but I'll leave that descision up to you.