Dark Reflections: Wildfire
by Creedogmon
edited by Godeerc VanDrey
Category: Digimon
Genre: Fantasy, Action/Adventure
Rating: PG-13 (for a bitty bit of violence)
Language: English
Summery: Remember my last summery? Good. The Westwood Pioneers play in the West Georgia Junior High Semi-Finals. The team is absolutely on fire.
A/N: Hint-hint, nudge-nudge. The countdown to back-to-school has started. As far as I know, there is only going to be nine chapters to Part II, so I may be able to get them all out to you soon. By the way, take note of the point of view changes.
Chapter 6: Wildfire
I've never figured out how exactly it is that Diana gets me to come to athletic events. I've also never figured out how she gets to me to cheer occasionally. Well, she got me to the West Georgia Semi-Finals basketball tournament, but she's yet to get me to cheer. This is a war of the wills if I ever saw one. It's not as if I don't have school spirit.
Oh, wait, I don't, not really, especially in terms of athletic events.
I like my school. It's one of the best in Georgia. I've just never been much of a sports fan. In Little League, I was one of those left-fielder-who-never-got-to-second-base kinds of players. Not that I minded. I got in touch with God. "God," I'd pray, "please don't send me the ball." And God usually answered by prayers. I got plenty of time to think about stuff as the ball never came anywhere near me. Of course, our team didn't win a single game all season, but I didn't mind. One week of spring practice was enough baseball for me for a year, but I was tricked.
Basketball, it's not a bad sport. My parents send me to a day camp once to learn basketball, and I learned to throw jump shots. I was good, provided that I had at least two minutes to prepare for each shot and no one was blocking me. So, my sports career ended in junior high, along with my acting career. I'd been in plays before, but I was never very good. Of course, adults never told me this. Of course, at nine years old, all kids appear to be the next Tom Hanks. None are good, but they're all trying.
So, I became a brain. It's fun being a brain. You wreck the grade curve every once in a while. The administration doesn't even check before they cite you as being on the honor roll. Plus, you get all the girls…
"And that's another beautiful three-pointer by #6: Stuart Dora! The Pioneers lead 29 to 22." the announcer cries.
Awoken from my thoughts, which were quickly turning into fantasies, I watch the players run across the court (somewhat randomly it seems to me), but apparently, we're well organized. That's why we're here at the Semi-Finals in Savannah.
"Go, Team, GO!" the cheerleaders and pom squad shout, jumping around and moving their arms in what is supposed to be unison. I can't say the junior high marching band is any better with the whole unison thing, but I've seen the Raytonville High Marching Band and they are like clockworks, so I'm sure that their band director will kick us into shape next year.
"Analiece! Get that cheese out of your hair!" Diana's voice calls beside me. Smiling, I look over as Diana's two-year-old sister pulls her fingers out of the nacho cheese dip. Napkin in hand, Diana starts cleaning off the cheese.
"I'll get more napkins."
"Thank you," she tells me deliberately.
"And that's two more points for Westwood, but the Eagles get the ball back."
I bring back two handfuls of napkins, which are quickly put into use.
"You have no idea how hard it is to deal with a two-year-old," she comments to me.
"I have a good idea. I baby-sit…"
"…Virginia. Yeah, I forgot. But you're paid to do it for a few hours at time. I live with this tornado." Diana begins to wipe what cheese she can out from her little sister's hair.
"Birdie!" Analiece calls. Diana goes quiet for a moment, then reaching in her bag. I think she's whispering to somebody, but she brings out a stuffed bird doll. It is a brown hawk, and I recognize it.
"Hawkmon," I comment.
Diana pales. I point to the doll, "Hawkmon. There's this cartoon show. Don't ask me why I watch it, but Hawkmon is one of the characters, and that's a doll of it."
Giving a sigh of relief, she mutters, "For a second, I thought you were psychic. It's my brother's doll, and that's what he calls it. He must watch the show, too."
"Yeah."
: : :
The clock starts counting down for the fifteen-minute half-time show. The first group to perform is the pom squad, including Anna, with a bow in her hair and decal on her cheek. Dressed in sleeveless black shirts and sequenced blue pants, they perform an elaborate jazz routine to clips of music: a standard half-time show. They routine ends with girls in various positions: horizontal on the ground, legs crossed; kneeling back, head to the side; Anna is leaning on another girl, both of which have their leg held high in the air. The spotlights dim.
The pom squad exits the court as the pep band sets up to play age-old stand tunes. Justine is there to congratulate Anna. They chat when the band begins to play rather loudly and obnoxiously. So, the two go to they start to climb the bleachers. They sit in front of Christopher and Diana.
Justine sees somebody waving at her and looks down. Her head jerks to her right and back to the front. The person is walking up the bleacher steps. "Anna," she squeaks. Anna looks and there is her clone.
"They just won't give us a rest," Anna says, jumping off her seat. Justine catches Christopher's eye.
: : :
Justine catches my eye. I look forward and see Anna walking both beside Justine and up the steps, only the latter Anna is dressed in a mockery of the Sanguine's dress. I jump up and tell Diana, "I'll be right back. I'm going to restroom."
"Fine," she says, following my eyes. "I think Analiece has to go, too."
We part and I head over a section before jumping down the stairs two at a time.
: : :
Justine and Anna catch up with Anna's evil twin, grab her, and quickly take her under the stands.
"So, what's happenin', babes?" the clone asks, rather flatly. She is the mirror image of Anna, only her hair is blood red instead of fiery red.
Anna starts, "You're the evil clone of me. Whatever happens to you, happens to me, except if Justine here kills you."
Rather calm, the twin answers, "Well, you've got this down pat. Now, I would love to get rid of you civilly, but that's just not our style, Sanguine. We like to put on a show."
"Let's cut to the chase. Are you going to tell us your name or should we defeat you first?" Anna says, with extreme confidence.
"I am the Melancholy of Depression. And, yeah, I'm here to destroy you and everything, but what gets me down, beside my personality, is that fact that you killed my best friend, the Nuisance. She was one tasty girl. We were like this," she comments, showing her crossed fingers. "I bet you two are like that too. It's so depressing. Misery of Cinder!" she suddenly cries.
The Melancholy lights up with blue flame, which spreads out towards Justine and Anna. They jump back, but Justine falls to the ground, sweating. Anna touches her, but she's not burned, just overheated. Anna puts her hand on Justine's head, trying to remove the heat, but there's little transfer.
"Well, what do you know? The Inquirer is down for the count. She won't do very well killing me now, will she? Or are you going to kill us both?" the Melancholy taunts.
"Brightness of Cinder!" Anna yells, throwing flames at her adversary, who flares up and absorbs the fire.
"That was quite refreshing. A little chilly, though." The Melancholy half-smiles, but then frowns again, in a monotone, "Chemistry lesson for you: Sanguine. A rapid oxidation reaction, better know as fire, it at its optimum rate of reaction, it burns blue. Orange fire is an indication of insufficient oxygen."
"Lesson 2: Fire needs three things: oxygen, fuel, and heat," a voice comes from behind her.
: : :
"Protection of Mist!" I call, soaking the Melancholy. She crouches down, choking. "You see, when water is placed on fire, it both lowers the temperature with its high specific heat and it starves the fire of oxygen."
The Melancholy growls at me, but I grab her from behind by her arms, her body sizzling against mine. I look to Anna, who mouths a thank-you between coughing spurts. I throw her to the wall, about to water her out for good, when I hear a meek, "Wait."
This comes from the struggling Justine. "Allow me."
Anna, who's holding her up, remarks, "Nova, you're weak. You can't conjure up the energy to blast her into star dust."
"I don't need to blast her. Chris, hold her."
I grab her, still sizzling, and present her to Justine. She stumbles up to the Melancholy and whispers, "I can't understand how a person who looks so much like my best friend could be so ugly and so evil." She holds up her hand, but holds it, begging to slap the Melancholy.
"Do it hard." I hear Anna say, coming up on her.
"No."
"Please." At this, Anna holds Justine's other hand. Justine looks at the Melancholy, who smiles sheepishly at Justine. Justine slaps her hard, feeling Anna grip her hand tightly. Melancholy grits her teeth. She jumps up and kicks Justine in the gut, and I drop her. She runs off toward the bleachers. People will see her! Jessica's not here to mirage it!
But as the Melancholy is near the exit, a figure comes out and kicks her in the shoulder, and she falls over. Anna grabs her arm. The figure picks up the unconscious Melancholy and brings her to us. We are surprised by its form. It is humanoid, sort of. It is a woman, with fair skin, covered in a mask of feathers. Her arms have wing-like features and her legs are talons. "Do not fear, children," she says to us in an angelic voice, "I am Harpymon. Finish your quest, Inquirer." With that she lays the rousing Melancholy on the ground and bows away.
"Harpymon," I say to her, "where are you going?"
"My business here is done. We will meet again soon, I hope." With that, she turns and jumps onto the stands. Fearing that someone will see her, I run out. The game has started. I look up into the bleachers. There is no sight of her. I look around. The only people moving are Arielle and Analiece, still holding the doll. I duck back down before they can see me.
: : :
"Anna, take a deep breath." Justine instructs. She then sits on the Melancholy's stomach, grabbing her nose and mouth with one hand and pressing down on her sternum with the other. After one breathless gasp, the Melancholy disappears. Anna faints. Justine goes over to her, and tries to rouse her. "Anna!" she cries. Anna does not awake.
: : :I come over and look. Justine sitting over Anna and crying her name. She looks at me, "She's not breathing!"
"Get up," I instruct. I kneel beside Anna, leveling her head, and start to put my lips to hers for rescue breathing. Her lips sizzle the first time I try it, so I try again. "I can't do it. Her trauma has set off her power. If I try, steam will clog her trachea." Justine pushes me aside and begins to mimic my actions. She lifts herself, grabbing her lips, and I see that they're red. She goes back down, trying to revive Anna again.
Anna finally wheezes and gasps for air, but soon her breathing is regular and skin isn't scalding. She hugs Justine, weeping and saying, "Thank you." She then notices Justine moving her lips. Grabbing Justine's cheeks, she inspects Justine's lips. "Justine! What the…?"
"The trauma set off your powers." I tell her, and she looks at Justine aghast.
"You were gonna die! My lips will get better. I just need a cold drink."
Anna looks down on her friend, "Girl, we're gonna kill each other yet. Drinks're on me." They hug again. As we exit, she politely asks me to borrow a few bucks, which I lend to her graciously. I sit down by Diana. "Sorry, I saw some girl smoking under the stands, so I had to find an administrator."
"That's ironic. Stuart Dora just kicked out of the game because he was smoking under the visitors' bleachers," Diana tells me. I laugh.
: : :
Westwood ended up losing 44-62. The coaches blame the loss of star athlete Stuart Dora, but state that they supported the principal's decision to suspend Stuart. They didn't say they'd make the same decision, but rules are rules.
Diana's mom isn't too happy about the hardened cheese in her daughter's hair, so Diana has bath duty tonight. "Christopher, the next competition's in Atlanta, so we can't go."
"Is it on TV?"
"I think so, but it's on Fox, and we don't get that station."
"Come to my house and watch it. I'd already promised Daniel he could come watch it there." I roll my eyes.
"Okay, thanks, Christopher. Bye!"
"Bye." I wave to her as she closes the van door. I get one final glance of Analiece hugging the Hawkmon doll.
"…He must watch the show, too… We don't get that station…"
: : :
Justine sucks on ice on the way home. Her dad picks her and Anna up at the game and is driving them home.
"So, let me get this straight," Mr. Reyes starts, "at a sleepover with Anna, you burn your neck. You got to a game with Anna, you burn your lips. What is up with Anna and heat?"
"I'm just a red hot girl, Mr. Reyes." She says, smiling at Justine, who softly giggles.
Mr. Reyes sighs disapprovingly, "Tell me, how did you do it again?"
"Hot nacho cheese. Stuff stings. But I was really eager to get a taste of nacho." Anna muffles a laugh the best she can.
"She couldn't wait to get that first one in her mouth." Anna teases. Justine shoves her, grabbing another ice cube to suck on.
Mr. Reyes looks in his rear-view mirror at the bantering teens, sighs, and smiles. With his wife's job moving them all over the country, it was hard for Justine to make friends if they weren't in a single place for too long. He looks back to the road, thinking, I hope Justine can survive it once more…
: : :
A/N: Two-thirds done! If I continue to crank these out at one a day, I may just have found the perfect multivitamin. Or… uh… anyway, I hope to finish the series soon.
- Pyromania is not a crime. Burn… he he he he he. Wow, could that be any lamer?
