Chapter 2

Airports.

Airports were designed by the Devil, employed by demons and Hell to all who entered it. She hated, hated airports with an unrivaled passion that literally made her want to light one on fire. Security took too long and that was before they felt you up. She felt like burning them every time they touched her. The only good thing was, not many people could actually touch her skin for too long without their palms sweating so they didn't linger. Then you had to weave through herds of tourists and people just as pissed off as you before cramming into a tiny seat and sitting for hours on end.

Airports…

She would have flown herself if it wasn't so damn far away. Aryana currently resided in New York City, two thousand miles plus away from Maxville. That was just too long and too far to fly. Although now, being squeezed between two rather large individuals, she had the distinct thought that perhaps she would just get off on their connecting flight and fly the rest of the way herself. She'd most likely get there around the same time as the flight but have a lot more fun doing it and be more comfortable. Besides, it wasn't like she had checked baggage. Yup, she was going to fly herself from Denver.

Like planned, she all but ran away from the plane and once outside the airport, walked onto the highest point of the parking garage, removed her jacket, held her duffle bag tightly, and launched herself into the air. The cold air was so much nicer, being able to stretch out and actual enjoy herself. It may take a while but it was sooo worth it.

The sun began to set and she knew she was close. GPS on cell phones was wonderful. She was just outside Maxville and slowed enough she could actually call her ride. The phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey Layla." Aryana laughed at her confusion.

"You're not on the plane are you?" she asked, slightly annoyed at the intense wind in the background.

"I was not about to sit between Shrek and Fiona the whole way here." she defended. Layla laughed. "You at the airport?"

"Yeah. At your baggage claim waiting actually."

"Go ahead and meet me at the parking garage. Top floor. I'll be there in about five."

"You got it."

And with that, they hung up. Aryana had to admit, she was more excited than she thought she'd be at the thought of seeing her old friends. Wearing a wide smile, she began to make her way closer to the ground, sure to avoid hitting any planes or frightening any of the radar people.

When the parking garage was in view, she saw a young woman in green with brilliant red hair and felt like her face would go numb from the smile. Layla was standing there, looking into the air for her friend when the wide wingspan caught her eyes. She smiled wide and waved, receiving one of her own before Aryana brought her body down and with one final flap, glided to the ground. Her wings instantly sank back into her back as she rushed her friend and hugged her tightly.

"Oh my god you look so good." Aryana sighed. "I love your hair."

"You look so different." Layla beamed. "I love yours too." she laughed.

Layla Stronghold. She definitely didn't look like the same little hippie from before. She was taller, though not by much, and had actually filled out a little. She was a curvy woman now but still lean given her constant crime fighting life. Her hair, which had always been brilliant red/orange, was a deep blood red with nearly orange highlights. It was longer than it had been, a bit further passed her shoulders and wavy, not tightly curled anymore. Her skin was still fair and light but she looked like a woman, not an innocent child. In all honesty, she was stunning.

"So," she finally chimed. "You ready to get out of here and see what's become of Maxville?"

Aryana shook her head with a laugh.

"Sure." she shrugged, still smiling. "Why not?"

Layla smiled and looped her arm around her friend's and led her to the car on the first level of the garage.

As they drove through the streets towards Aryana's hotel, she couldn't believe how much it still resembled the same city. Aside from newer businesses and things like that, it looked almost the exact same. It was staggering.

"Wow. I would've thought it'd change a little bit." she sighed, sitting back in her seat.

Layla shrugged.

"Not really." she smiled. "So, what are your plans while you're here?"

"I don't really know. Have a look around I guess."

Layla smiled as she rounded the corner to the hotel.

"Well, we're supposed to have dinner around eight. You want to join us?"

"I'd love to." she smiled, leaning forward and hugging her friend. "I'll give you a call then okay?"

"I'll see you later."

Aryana smiled to her friend and exited the car with her duffle before walking into the hotel. She got her room key, the top floor with a balcony, and fell lazily onto her bed. She was tired from her exertion but more curious than anything. So, she took a shower, changed and headed out to walk through the streets of the city she had grown up in.

Aryana walked leisurely through the streets, staring at shops that hadn't been there before and ones that it seemed would never leave. The wind whipped through the buildings, sending a chill through her for a brief second before her own body heat corrected the action. It was supposed to be unnaturally cold this coming week but it didn't help that it was already late September. Why they had decided to do the reunion now she didn't know. Although, laughing to herself, she figured they might just reuse decorations from the Homecoming dance this year for their reunion. She shook her head with a smile and kept walking.

Before she knew it, her feet had taken her somewhere she didn't want to go. To her old neighborhood. For some reason, being in her old hometown, apparently she had moved back into her old routines and now she was walking to the house she hated so forcefully. She stood at the driveway, staring at the looming structure.

It was dilapidated, run down and all around rotting where it stood. No one had lived in the house for nearly ten years and she had made sure to it. When Aryana turned eighteen, she had been given a rather impressive amount of money. She didn't really know where it had come from until a lawyer had contacted her the day after. He told her this was what remained of her father's estate, the little he had before he died although little wasn't exactly the right word. Apparently, he had stashed some of his money under her name so it wouldn't be touched by the government and it worked. So, the cash he had hidden had done nothing but grow in interest, going to her when she was a legal adult.

The house the Roberts used to own had gone into foreclosure not long after their arrest and sat vacant for a while. It was well publicized who had lived there and what they had done and that coupled with how bad the condition of the home was, no one wanted it. So, when she'd turned eighteen, she bought the hunk of junk for pennies on the dollar and just let it sit there. She didn't want anyone to live in it and she didn't know what to do with it either. She sure as hell wasn't going to live there.

And now, the house she had tried so hard to ignore, was right before her. The paint had all but chipped away through the years, windows being knocked out from either storms or the most likely, kids throwing rocks. Shudders hung loose, roof was peeling back in some areas and vines growing up the sides. It looked like an old haunted house and that's what it was to her. Just standing there, she could hear the yells, screaming and fighting that seemed to have sunk into the wood, to remain behind for future generations. Aryana found herself scowling at the dwelling, her fingers begging to ignite.

Anger and hurt surged through her veins mixing with the white hot rage of the years of abuse she had endured at the hand of those people. Her face contorted in pain, tears burning her eyes, Aryana's hands lit up into a brilliant mixture of blue and white fire, the hottest possible temperature. Before she could stop herself, she screamed her frustration and launched one fireball after another at the home.

The fire ripped through the windows, igniting all of the dry furniture within. The remaining curtains in the windows were engulfed in fire in seconds and still she persisted. Her barrage of fire continued, blowing holes through the walls, the door coming off it's hinges with one particular hit. She just screamed, releasing all of her anger, her pain, everything she had held beneath the stoic figure she showed everyone else.

Finally, when the house was saturated in the blaze, fire licking every piece of aged and dried wood it could find, all of it adding fuel to the inferno, she stopped. Aryana just stood there, staring at the two story bonfire she had created. She heard the wood crack and splinter under the fire, smoke billowing high into the air. Tears stained her cheeks, her anger raging so much that only the first few had turned to steam before the rest remained behind. And still she stood there, watching as the roof caved in onto itself.

She was breathing heavily, scowling at the display until her rage and anger began to dissipate. Slowly, as the walls caved in on themselves, she brought her hands forward and concentrated. She took deep, steadying breaths and slowly but surely, diminished the fire. Flames hesitated but began to flicker down as they lost their power. Eventually, the house was reduced to nothing more than a smoldering heap of wood, resembling nothing of the structure it had been before.

She took a deep breath and calmed herself, finally bringing her mind back into reality. She heard sirens in the distance and knew someone had called the fire department. They wouldn't be needed but they were more than welcome to try and figure out what had happened. They'd have to do it without her though.

Aryana turned to walk back down the street, seeing few to no one anywhere. The neighborhood even looked the same, the trees bigger, but that was about all. As the wind moved her hair around her face, a man on a bike sped by. She saw him turn his dark helmet towards her before speeding off down the street towards the sirens and figured that was her signal. She didn't need anyone to pinpoint her location and tie her history to the house. Being the owner, she'd already be getting a phone call telling her the house burned down.

So, deciding to cut down on the witnesses, Aryana began to walk towards the old park only to find it gone. A home stood there, a few actually, and it made her slightly sad. She creased her brow as she walked up to the homes that were on the sacred grounds of the playground. She wondered if the people that lived there knew this had been her sanctuary as a child. Probably not. The thought made her smile slightly when something else caught her attention. The Peace household.