Thank you for your patience with my inability to update consistently...ever. And the update that seemed to code itself wrong, never again updating from a tablet. The song is "Film Noir" by: The Gaslight Anthem and I swear that I will do my best to update at least once a month from here on out, life permitting. Thanks to all those who stuck around this long, and please enjoy my story.
Chapter 30: "Film Noir"
"And I lit a fire that wouldn't go out
Until it consumed the walls and roof of this house
Until all I remember was burnin' away
And all I remember you burned it away"
Everything was aflame, his clothes, his skin, his world as the pain stunned him into agonized silence, he felt a hand with a cold and cool touch his chest lift him with a grunt of effort from the burning car. Even once he was clear and being carried over someone's shoulder away from what was meant to be his tomb, the flames wouldn't leave his vision and his voice wouldn't work as a loud noise deafened him and he was flung unceremoniously to the ground as his savior dropped on top of him and shielded him from what must have been an explosion from the pinpricks of shrapnel biting into his already traumatized skin. He could feel every bit of gravel biting into his bare skin from the pavement that should've been cold from the night air but was instead burning from the heat emitting from his body sending steam up into the air and putting him through further agony.
His vision had degenerated to nothing but pinpricks of light and darkness, his ears were constantly ringing painfully, and his nose was full of smoke and nothing else. Functionally all his senses were offline, and his brain was screaming in far too much pain and panic to focus on much of anything other than that. Voices, or what could have been voices, were followed by shadows that could have been people if his brain would just stop screaming! Maybe…maybe…but then there was a loud noise and that brought him back to reality for just a moment before the darkness and pain took back over. He was vaguely aware of someone placing a hand on his chest and his brain whimpered as the minimal amount of pressure felt like pain blossoming there and his brain began to scream yet again.
What scared him more was when something inside his head pushed him back and the pain hit him even harder than before. Whatever this part of him was it was now speaking as it pulled words from his pain-filled half and he tried to focus on getting this thing to push back and give him back control. For a second it fell back and so did the crushing waves of pain allowing him to recognize that he was holding onto Allison Argent's wrist far tighter than he thought possible. He could already feel himself being pulled back and he wheezed out a "Please…" while trying his best to get out more and let them know that something was wrong, terribly, horribly wrong in his head. Who better to understand than the girl who died and came back?
But he was already tossed back into the backseat of his own head and used all that he had remaining to gain any control and forced himself to succumb to the pain and the darkness that came with passing out. His body may have been out and his brain fairly incapacitated but not so much so that the thing, whatever had taken him over, could start speaking directly to him. "What have you done? We must fight back now!" Inside you head, visual wasn't exactly an option but the voice was raspy and raw from lack of use. "First I want to know who you are and next how to get you out of my head." He was met with a laugh that sounded more like a harsh bark than a laugh; it was the same kind of laugh that soldiers who had been overseas under barrage in a stalemate conflict for far too long; the laugh of someone turned cynical by seeing too much pain in this world. "I'm your ticket to revenge and that's all you need to know for now. As for getting me out of your head, well, tough luck I'm part of you."
What was this? He'd passed his psychiatric exam with flying colors both in the army and for the sheriff's department; he should not be hearing voices in his head for any reason. "I'm not crazy!" He insisted with his voice starting to sound slightly panicky and the voice laughed as Parrish started to lose control over the blackout that he'd initiated. Trying to calm down, he paused as the voice remained quiet and waited for the opportunity to take down his defenses in one go. "Fire is what I am, and you can't control me!" The yelling felt unnecessary and, yet it was powerful enough to make the veteran cower in his head as it became the sound of bullets and shrapnel firing in his head. "That's unfair to bring that up." He retorted breathing shakily and trying to push back memories of Iraq that threatened to overwhelm and incapacitate him on their own.
It was becoming significantly harder to focus his control and despite his best effort the pressure that Allison had previously pl aced on his chest was renewed with increased vigor and a lack of restraint by this thing that had hijacked his brain and body and unceremoniously kicked him to the curb. With that heart attack level pain taking his breath away and causing him to internally scream and finally his mind succumbed and the thing used the distraction to fully take over and leave him to watch wheezing and dizzy as his body leapt forward without him ordering it to. What shocked him even more than the fact that he was already losing his mind and body to a vengeful hacker, was that that the same hacker proceeded to relight his badly scorched skin internally . Orange filled his vision and he saw in flashes a stunned looking Allison wearing an oversized jacket and being held up by Isaac who has just dropped the phone and noise was still coming from it garbled and foreign. Never had the disembodied "Wah Wah" of the Peanuts cartoon adults made such sense to him. There was a figure on the ground too, but he couldn't focus on her form through the haze just that she was holding her hands to her chest and sobbing. Did he cause that? God, he hoped not as his eyes turned away from the three kids in front of him and turned in the direction of the station.
With two bounds he went from the furthest part of the parking lot to the doorway and flung it open with more power than he dared to normally use. Without looking back, he already knew that two identical dents would remain in the brick from the handles crashing into it with such force. To be honest, he was surprised that the glass in them didn't shatter as the doors slammed back into place causing the deputy on night duty and the sheriff to pause their conversation. The deputy went white in shock as he clumsily tried to draw his service pistol and clearly finish the job that he had started when he locked the door of his car and encased him in flames. "Parrish? What the hell happened to you?" Stilinski asked his eyes on the deputy beside him and simultaneously worried for his right-hand man and he didn't even know that half of what was going on Parrish's head.
He felt the muscles in his arm contract as he pointed in the direction of the deputy beside his mentor and snarled, "He did this to me." Quivering now, Deputy Haigh tried to muster his courage and stilled his arms with the intent to fire at Parrish as his fingers ever so slowly tightened around the trigger. In the time that it took for Haigh to react, Parrish's body leapt forward and pushed the gun upwards so that it only fired into the ceiling and shoved Haigh to the ground with a fiery hot gust of air which caused his pistol to be flung out of reach. "Coward." His hacker growled and Parrish agreed for the first time with this fiery being in his head as the two beings waited with a single baited breath for Haigh's response as the man gulped in air and fear vibrated off of him in waves. "You're not one of us." The man beneath him managed to stammer out gaining strength as he did, "There's money out for your head and I've got debts to pay, putting down a monster makes me a better man as I do it!"
With that revelation, the doors slammed open again and Allison leapt inside her own hands aflame and power in her voice. "Jordan Parrish, he's not worth it!" With one final look at Haigh who had passed out on his own from fear, the thing allowed Parrish to take back control and the fire girl watched as the fire boy's flames slowly fizzled out. Hers extinguished moments later but she still held a knife waiting for the new enemy to return and show his face long enough for her to attack before the good man lost to his dark side. The burns that had crisscrossed his skin before had formed into pink half healed skin that was quickly returning to his normal skin tone. "You're a better man than I would have been." The Sheriff quipped with only a slight bitter of old fear on his face as he looked up from where he now knelt in front of the cowardly man to click handcuffs around his wrists. His boss added, "Once you get some clothes on, why don't you help me book him?"
Looking down embarrassed at his soot covered skin and nothing else, Allison with eyes firmly focused on his face sheathed the knives and added, "Flame-proof clothes are best but don't always work." She counseled gesturing to her own clothes that may have had random burn holes but were at least still held together and covered the main areas on her pale skin. He was still starring that gape mouthed and not trusting whether it was his voice or the raspy invader's that would come out of his mouth. Smiling sadly Allison stepped forward and touched his shoulder with no fear in her eyes, "You're one of us now. Go get cleaned up and we'll talk tomorrow." Questions swirled in his head as the teenager let go, shook of the soot and began to walk to the door. "Stilinski was right, you are a good man," she added as she slipped out the door as quietly as she had entered as she went to check on Isaac and the burned hands of Lydia. After tonight, healing tears were not had to come by.
He watched her go with fear worming into his heart at the prospects of the future. That was a teenager who spoke to him with such experience and wisdom that made her sound like a compassionate general who had lived for decades and consequently had seen too much yet had persevered anyway to lead the rag tag group to victory. What was she? What was he? "What am I?" He whispered aloud, ecstatic to hear his own voice and not his hijackers. "A good man who chose right." Stilinski answered as he tossed him a pair of shorts and shirt, "Now please put some damn clothes on!"
