A/N: Ahhh, I love you guys.
The fic is back up, as lively as ever, and will most definitely be continued and brought to an end as soon as possible. I hope you enjoy this chapter; it's longer than most others, so I hope it'll make up at least partially for my hiatus.
As you all know by now, I do tend to have an affinity for cliffhangers, but you have been warned. Enjoy, my loyal readers, and thank you for kicking me back into action!
Corvaisis
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Chapter Twelve: Alone in the Dark
"To live solely to avoid evil, so as not to repent, is not enough. I lived like that, I lived for myself, and it ruined my life. And only now when I am living for others, or at least trying to" (modesty compelled Pierre to correct himself) "only now do I realize all the happiness life holds."
Count Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace, page 465
"I thought you said we were looking for Battle's son."
"We are. That was him."
"The one holding the girl?"
"Such behavior is unusual for him, I concur. However, that was Barron Battle's son."
Two voices echoed sharply in the entryway of an old saloon. If Dawn and Warren had been looking hard enough, they would've seen that inside the building the stood behind them, there were two faces peering out through the dim window that had been laced with aged opacity.
The first voice that had spoken was as loud, harsh, and grating as the hail that had recently stopped. The second was silky smooth, almost pacifying in an unsettling and disconcerting manner.
"Hunt him down tonight." The calloused tone reverberated once more.
"I will. But there's one more thing I need to tell you."
In the darkness of the now un-lit tavern, it was almost impossible to see the first man waving his hand impatiently. "Yes, yes, out with it, fool."
It was even more impossible to see the wraith-like shadow take a step forward, draw a gun, and plant a bullet between the eyes of the individual so near to him. "You of all people know I work best alone."
"How was your day, sweetheart?" Mrs. Odelle called up to her daughter, an optimistic tone ringing in her words. Dawn had always loved her mother's voice; it was pleasantly low instead of high and tinkling - high, tinkling voices annoyed Dawn to no end - and it had a firm set to it. Her mother was gentle, but she was also steadfast and unwavering with a disciplinary air to her. Dawn wouldn't want it any other way.
"It was great, mother," Mrs. Odelle hated being called 'mom', so Dawn constantly, reflexively called her 'mother', "thanks for asking. How was yours?" This was also an instinctive habit of Dawn's; immediately asking how her mother was or how her day had been. It wasn't just an automatic response, because Dawn really did care, but she had been raised to be respectful, particularly to adults.
Of course, she slipped out of line on occasion, but today was too good of a day for that to happen.
"It was fine. Are you ready for dinner?"
"I think I'll skip it tonight, if you don't mind. Not hungry."
"Alright, no problem; your father won't be getting in until late tonight because of that business trip."
"Yes, mother."
Dawn sighed under her breath. Frequent business trips kept her father painfully absent from them too often. At least a week per month, he was out of state - or country - and he worked overtime on normal weekdays. He was just like that.
The telekinetic, one of the few dwindling first generation superheroes (or sidekicks), twirled around lazily in her computer chair, musing. She was just about to pop open a 'Word' document on her computer to record the day's events - she had never cared much for paper diaries and instead preferred electronic ones - when she heard faint yelling from outside. Dawn's room was on the second floor, so it was easy for her to glance out the window and onto the front yard.
She didn't like what she was seeing.
Warren's motorcycle was on its side in the grass, abruptly thrown down. Warren himself was now speeding up the sidewalk, shouting Dawn's name. As soon as he got to the door, he started beating furiously on it.
"Open it, mother!" Dawn yelled, scrambling out of her chair and falling down the stairs in her haste to get to the door.
Mrs. Odelle opened the door, and Warren darted in, slamming the door behind him and locking it.
"What is it, Warren?" Dawn asked hurriedly, quickly regaining her composure and trying to sit casually on the bottom stair after falling upon it. Her peripheral vision told her that her mother was giving her The Look that she usually got when boys came to the house unannounced.
Not that she got many, of course.
At first Dawn thought Warren was angry at her, but as soon as she noticed the look in her eyes, it registered. Fear radiated from them, identical to the fear she had seen in the cafeteria.
He was being chased.
"Upstairs," Warren ordered, "now."
Dawn swore under her breath - receiving another Look from her mother - and grabbed Warren by the shoulder, running him upstairs.
"Dawn? Dawn!" Her mother yelled from downstairs, baffled by her daughter's burst of irrationality.
"It's important, mother; I swear!" Dawn yelled back, practically trying to throw Warren into her room as she got to the second floor.
As soon as they were inside her room, Dawn shoved Warren into her closet. "Stay there!" She hissed, concern and trepidation in her eyes. "Please, Warren. Stay put."
He shook his head and tried to fight his way past her, but her physical strength and mental strength were enough to shove the door shut and plant a large suitcase in front of it, barricading his pathway out.
"Odelle!" Warren yelled, beating against the door with all his strength and attempting to burn his way through the wood. "Dawn, get back here!"
Try as he might, there was something preventing Warren from burning through the door. He was stuck behind it and was entirely helpless and vulnerable.
Vulnerability was not an emotion that Warren Peace enjoyed feeling.
Time passed as Warren struck the walls and door that surrounded him, bellowing for Dawn to let him out. He knew in the pit of his stomach that neither of them had seen the full capabilities of whatever was chasing them, and his protective instincts were beginning to take him over. He couldn't let it hurt her.
The noise of a door being ripped off its hinges was immediately and painfully evident. Not the closet door, unfortunately; it was the door to Dawn's room. Just as Warren was about to continue pounding on the closet entrance and trying to kick through it, an earth-shattering scream reached his ears. It was full of terror, dread, and the sound of one being brought to the brink of death and back again. The scream stopped abruptly.
Too abruptly.
With a vengeful roar, Warren lit himself and melted the doorknob and hinges clean off, causing the door to fall forward onto the barricade in front of the closet. The falling door tripped him slightly as he came stumbling out, but he ignored the pain in his ankle and charged forward.
As the flames lapped out of his vision and he got a clear look around the room, Warren stopped in his tracks. The shadow had fled the area, but that fact failed to hold the pyro's attention for very long.
All he could bring himself to focus on was the tattered and bloodied…thing in the corner of the room; a bloodied mass of rubble and most probably Dawn. "Please don't let this be a person; please don't let this be a person." He muttered under his breath, his stomach lurching. He'd seen plenty of torn up people on TV, but the actual reality of the situation hit him like a slap in the face…or a hot poker to the eye.
He gritted his teeth and stood motionless outside the battered closet for just enough time to whisper, "God, if You're out there and Dawn's still alive…" Warren wasn't much of a religious person, but he felt like now was as good a time to ask God for help as any, "help me talk to her. I have to tell her before I don't have the chance anymore."
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Yay cliffhangers!
I intend to post the next chapter quite soon; hopefully before Christmas. Hope you're having as much fun reading as I am writing!
Corvaisis
