Never Strikes Twice
Downtown Maxville was completely silent. The skies were dark and bleak and the multi-storied buildings of the financial district stood tall in the strange mid-day shadows like skeletons and gargoyles. The entire are looked gothic and stark- and it was still. Too still.
"Weird." Maj said simply. Everyone nodded in agreement.
"Alright, I guess we spread out." Will said, though he sounded uncertain.
"What do we do if we find him?" Warren asked, his arms crossing his strong chest.
"Keep him busy." Will guessed. "If you do come across him, let us know where you are." Will looked pointedly at the older boy's hands, and Warren nodded in understanding.
Will gave the other three a bit of a smile then started walking towards the court house, his footfall swallowed up by the almost tangible silence. Layla quickly scurried to catch up with him and Zach and Magenta followed close behind.
Warren sighed and started off in the other direction. Margaret and Ethan followed, none of them saying a word. It reminded her of a scene from some old film noir, the grey skies and the stillness- the calm before the storm. At home, in the safety of her living room and pajamas, Margaret loved moments like this, waiting for some knife-wielding crazy to jump and make the hero an offer he couldn't refuse. Living it, she found, was much different. If this is being a super hero, Margaret thought, they can keep it.
The skies lightened slightly from menacing to threatening and a light drizzle started spraying down. Warren frowned and let out an annoyed hiss as he brushed the thin rain off of his leather jacket, giving the skies a menacing look.
The drizzle thinned out until a heavy patch of moisture hung in the air. Margaret could feel it on her like she was walking through cobwebs. It clung to her eyes, her skin, she could feel it in her lungs every time she breathed. She coughed and tried to wave the mist away but it was no use.
"Margaret?" Ethan whimpered. "Where are you?"
"I'm right in front of you."
"Where?"
Margaret turned around to tell the melt-er to put his glasses on when she realised that he wasn't behind her. There was nothing behind her but fog. All around her- fog. Margaret shivered in the wet cold surrounding her.
"Ethan?" She ventured, her voice starting to shake. All she could see was the cold, bleak vapour that was beginning to clog her throat like smoke. She held her arms out and felt around like a blind girl, clawing through the grey for body she recognized.
"Warren?" Nothing came back to her. She stood very, very still, the fog closing in around her like a vice. The world was silent and she could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She was alone.
Alright, she thought, this is no biggie. Just stay where you are and wait the fog out. It has to clear sometime. She let out a breath and nodded to herself. Yes, once she could see where she was she'd be able to figure out what to do next. She'd just have to wait. Yup.
"Warren-" She yelled again he but all she could hear was her echo bouncing off the brick walls nearby.
"Lost?"
Margaret stopped and stood very, very still. The voice came from behind her, directly behind her. She could feel the breath on her ear, warm and tingling in the cool damp of the fog. The voice was deep- obviously a man's- and it rolled like the ocean. Everything about that voice reminded her of the sea even in the way it cut, icy and threatening.
She turned her head slowly to look over her shoulder and she caught a quick flash of familiar white teeth before a pair of thick, smooth lips closed over the, and the face moved out of her line of sight. She felt him move past her, the fog swirling in his wake.
She quickly snapped her head over her other shoulder to catch the stranger as he moved past, but saw nothing. Maybe she was imagining things? She'd heard stories of soldier's cracking up under combat stress, and almost laughed at her nerve to consider this combat stress.
She turned back around to wait the fog out, and came almost nose to nose with King Kamaya-Mayhem.
She recognized the face from the security film in Principle Power's office. She recognized the face- tan, distinct and almost angular in the filtered light of the storm. She recognized the large, black eyes that were crinkled in a smile, and she recognized that mouth- she'd have recognized that mouth anywhere.
Margaret shivered, but it wasn't entirely from fear.
The face drew closer and she could hear the rustling of dried grass- a luau skirt, perhaps? It had been his father's preferred costume. Maybe the new king was sentimental… or psychotic. And lethal, she reminded herself, but it was hard to think of someone with that smile as lethal…
A long, tan finger that almost materialized through the fog, found Margaret's cheek. It lingered there for a moment then traced down her jaw line and then to her neck, drawing dangerously close to her shirt's collar.
"Are you bait?" He asked her. She felt her heart throbbing in her throat, making it hard to swallow. She could smell the ocean on him like a heady cologne. She was getting lost in his closeness- she'd never been that close to a man before and had certainly never been touched by one.
His hand flattened against her collarbone and his felt his hand sweep around her shoulder, his thick fingers smoothing across a knot in her shoulder blades. She moaned in automatic response. The man laughed lowly, sinisterly.
"What do you think the Commander's son would do to me if he found you lying here once the fog cleared, gutted and cleaned like a trout?" The fingers on her back curled up and he dragged his fingernails across her skin. She sucked in a long breath through her teeth and tried to pull away but his other arm found her throat, locking around her voice box.
"Scared?" The man hissed. Margaret couldn't say anything. She could feel the blood pooling in her face and her voice was a tangible knot under his thumb, sputtering and trying to be heard.
"Yes you are. I can smell it on you." He leaned in and ran his nose along her jaw line. Margaret almost cried and the man laughed. She could smell him, could feel him all over her like the fog, like the ocean. He was enjoying this. She wanted to scream. "You're petrified."
Margaret shuddered and managed a strained and whispered "Yes."
She felt him shudder and let her go as though she'd shocked him. She fell to her knees and grabbed at her throat, coughing as the oxygen returned.
The fog cleared entirely in a matter of seconds. She looked up at the monolith of madness before her and caught his eyes. He was staring at her like a frightened child, like someone who saw their end staring them in the face. She recognized that look, that feeling- she'd experienced it only seconds ago under his grip.
He slowly regained his composure and she could see the shock of fear falling away from him. Replacing it was a cold, frightening stare that was aimed squarely at her.
"Well, aren't you a tricky little Siren."
Margaret's eyes widened. Did he know her mother? Was her reputation that far-spread?
A flash of red caught her eye as it went sailing past her, the warmth of it heating the side of her face. It landed on Kamaya- Mayhem's arm, singeing the skin as it exploded with a small crack of flame. The broad, muscular man cried out in pain and dropped to a knee, grabbing at his smoldering arm. Margaret turned and saw Warren standing a few feet away, his arms still burning by his sides. She'd never been so glad to see anyone in her life.
"You okay?" He called as he sauntered over. Margaret nodded.
'Where's popsicle?" He asked, his brows furrowing. Margaret looked about. She couldn't see anything but the buildings, the empty streets and King Kamaya-Mayhem who was lumbering to his feet, a stony look on his face.
He caught Warren's eye and the two started staring each other down. Mayhem's face flashed for a moment with an expression Margaret couldn't place, and the sky quickly blackened. Immediately, large, fat drops started falling, quicker and quicker until the hum of rain was all that could be heard. Warren's arms' sizzled and smoked and finally extinguished in the downpour. He growled with annoyance that was quickly becoming rage.
"You." Kamaya-Mayhem sneered slowly as he took a step towards the two, still holding his blistered arm. "You don't look familiar. You can't be the Commander's boy. What's your name?"
"Peace." He sneered back.
"Peace?" Margaret could hear a smile in the man's voice. "I hate the word. As I hate hell, all heroes, and thee." He finished. Margaret swallowed hard. This wasn't going to end well.
The king growled and raised his tree-trunk thick arms above his head. The clouds rumbled and flashed and a white-hot streak of lightening flashed from the sky striking the ground just next to Warren. Margaret squealed and shied away, her forearms covering her face. The asphalt cracked and exploded, bits of it spraying up onto Warren's knees. She could see them slicing the skin made bare through the rip in his jeans. He didn't even move.
"Please, no-" Margaret called. The king looked over at her and smiled. She felt sick. That smile was still so alluring, how could that be?
Another flash of lightening touched down, this one inches away from her. The impact sent her flying, skidding across the street and crashing into the curb with a dull smacking sound. Keep him away from Warren, she thought. She groaned and tried to stand, but there was a sharp, stabbing pain shooting through her hands and she collapsed back onto the ground.
Kamaya- Mayhem hulked over to her prone form, the skies rumbling overhead with every step he took. He raised his arms again and Margaret wrapped her own around her head, whispering feverishly into her knees, "Please don't hurt me."
She heard the crack of thunder and even though her eyes were squeezed shut she could see the white flash surround her. She felt warm for a second and then the cold of the storm enfolded her once more. She waited for the king's blow and when it didn't come she cautiously peeked up from under her arms. The king was standing before her a thoroughly bewildered look on his face.
The sound of approaching voices pulled Margaret and Mayhem's attention to the rest of the teens, Will leading the pack. He held out his arms to stop the others behind him as he skidded to a halt. Mayhem gave Will an appraising stare and a look of cold-hearted joy spread over his face.
"Ah, the heir apparent." He cooed happily. He'd found what he'd come for.
Will wasted no time. Margaret saw him jump into the still crackling air and fall back to earth again, slamming his fist into the sidewalk. A boom followed by an earthshaking ripple followed, causing Mayhem to teeter and fall back onto the cracking asphalt. The shattered pieces of pavement hit Mayhem like bullets, peppering his bare skin. Margaret saw small patches of blood begin to ooze all over his body as the pebbles made their mark on his flesh.
Mayhem let out a howl like a wounded animal and the winds picked up once more. Margaret shielded herself again under her arms and scrunched into the curb. The winds were circling around them, faster and faster, alternating warm and cold.
A tornado.
She peeked through her arms and saw it, the grey cyclone whirling above them, lowering closer and closer as it threatened to touch down. Mayhem raised his arms and the twister went to him like a lightening rod, forming the base of it's funnel around his wounded body. Soon, the king was invisible through the cyclone's wind and dust. She hid her face behind her arms again, shielding herself from the specks of sand and glass that were whizzing by her head. The wind was roaring in her ears, but little by little it calmed until she felt her hair settle back around her shoulders and the stillness of West Bridge fall around her.
"Margaret, are you okay?" She looked around and saw Ethan materializing out from underneath the mailbox he'd clung to during the attack. She smiled at him, relieved.
"Yea, I'm fine." She nodded and tried to stand up again but the same pain shot through her hands.
"We saw the lightening and came as quick as we could." Layla said, kneeling by Margaret and pulling her upright.
Warren was sauntering over, his hair plastered to his face in the rain. His features were cold and stony, but his eyes were fixed on Margaret.
"Dude, what happened to your hands?" Zach asked. Margaret gave him a questioning look, then saw her palms- bloodied and cut, pieces of asphalt and broken glass stuck into her flesh.
"I must have… fallen…" She said, slightly amazed. No wonder it had hurt to stand.
The clouds slowly began to clear. Steam and the familiar smell of mud from the banks begin to rise and the streets felt like a hot, humid summer day.
Maj groaned. "Gross."
"We'd better get back to school." Layla offered.
Will nodded in agreement. Layla snuck her hand into Will's and Margaret saw him give his girl's hand a squeeze. She almost smiled.
She pushed onto her knees- awkwardly, since she couldn't use her hands- and slowly stood. Her legs felt heavy and the moment she straightened up she felt all the blood rush out of her head. She shook her head to clear it and had the fleeting worry that her hands would scar before her knees gave out and the world went black.
