25 TSoT/MMV: Of Decanter & Portender
"She's just a girl, and she's on fire…/She's living in a world, and it's on fire/Feeling the catastrophe, but she knows she can fly away"
-Alicia Keys, Nicki Minaj, song "Girl on Fire" (Inferno version)
7 am, Two Days Later, Gateway Subway Station, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Landing in a darkened corridor of the Gateway Subway Station, Matilda dusted herself off and proceeded to the exit, just as a hooded figure stepped forward from the lingering shadows. "I require your service," the male voice began. Ugh, why do I always end up with the creepers? Matilda grumbled to herself as she raced upstairs into the open air.
The voice continued to keep pace, despite her attempts to shake the hooded figure off, as she hurriedly walked toward PC Corporation amongst the surrounding urbane cityscape that ran alongside the wide Monongahela River."Matilda Valensi, daughter of Charmed One, Macy, is it not?"
Matilda froze and whirled around. "Who the hell are you?" The figure removed his ascetic hood, displaying a leering, shellacked lapis lazuli blue face. She gaped.
"Someone who has been waiting for your ascension. People call me the Portender." He walked alongside her past Gateway Park as she tried subtle methods of shrugging him off near the art sculptures, including a failed attempt at pyro-telepathy. She recognized the name. Portender. Especially after her parents' "stranger-danger" discussion the other day about a guy her mom dreamt about that wanted to do something with fire, and her. Or it could've been her mom's menopausal symptoms. Or that vegan ice cream—what was the name of the brand again?
Matilda's thoughts were interrupted as Parker disappeared from her side and directly intercepted her path. "Join me, Matilda, and become the essence of fire itself. Join me and be powerful. You won't be a monster. With me, you can be better."
"Nice try, Parker. I'm not interested." Matilda pushed past him and crossed the street as he trailed behind, eventually catching up.
"I see your parents told you about me? No matter. I'll win you over yet." With that, he vanished into thin air as Matilda shivered. This wasn't good.
She made a left onto Boulevard of the Allies, a sharp left onto Stanwix Street, a right onto Fourth Avenue, and found herself facing the front entrance of Purgatory Corporation.
7:50 am, Basement Target Practice Room, Purgatory Corporation (PC), One PC Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
In the corner of her eye, Matilda noticed Wyatt standing near the Rare decanter, which sat atop the Dutch Shunan iron coffee table. "Focus, Val!" he called out, when he noticed her glance and she rolled her eyes once more, turning around to face her eight miniature flames rotating several feet off the ground, perpendicular to the cement floor of the practice room. Everything was fine. Perfectly fine, Matilda told herself, momentarily shelving the memory of them getting it on just three days ago. The proverbial elephant in the room.
She continued the previous week's exercise of shooting each flame through to the opposite wall. Who knew pyro-telekinesis could feel so good? Matilda mused to herself as she watched the last flame shoot toward the wall, which bounced off the ceiling. No biggie, she thought to herself as she froze the golf ball-sized flame in place, brought it back with the wave of her hand, then aimed it, this time reaching its intended wall with one sharp thrust.
The sound of clapping caused her to turn around. Wyatt. "Excellent work, Val!" he exclaimed. His eyes then softened. "You've really come a long way."
8 am, Basement Target Practice Room, Purgatory Corporation (PC), One PC Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
After a ten-minute break to refill her water bottle and recoup her strength, Matilda found herself facing the Dutch Shunan iron table and the Rare-brand crystal decanter atop it. "Val, I need you to loosen your earring another two millimeters—" began Wyatt.
"Are you nuts?" Matilda couldn't help but retort. "I could burn the place down!" Wyatt shook his head.
"I think, with your level of mastery, you've leveled up. You've got this," he responded, moving to the opposite wall, far from the decanter and table. Matilda hesitantly complied, her fingers shaking all the while. "Ok," Wyatt paused. "Now, I want you to shoot a flame to land on the decanter. Think of this as…target practice." Matilda resisted the urge to stare back at Wyatt in disbelief, as her powers were too raw and volatile; she could easily annihilate anything within an eleven-foot distance if she wasn't careful.
8:15 am, Basement Target Practice Room, Purgatory Corporation (PC), One PC Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Matilda was glad Wyatt had the foresight to be well outside the line of fire. Her attempts to land flames atop the decanter were abysmal, not for lack of trying. In her most recent attempt, she found herself freezing roving flames in place as Wyatt aimed an extended pipeline from his fire extinguisher to douse them. "Keep trying!" he yelled over the noise of the extinguisher. "I know you'll be able to do it in no time!"
"I hope so," she muttered, doubt creeping into her voice as she rubbed the palms of her hands together to create a new set of miniature flames.
9 am, Matilda & Wyatt's Office, 88th Floor, Purgatory Corporation (PC), One PC Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
The pyro practice finally ended when Matilda was able to throw a flame that hit the decanter's upper lip, even though the plume dissipated a second later. After cleaning up the remaining scorch marks, she grasped Wyatt's proffered arm as they orbed up to their shared office. Awkward wasn't even the right word for it, Matilda realized as she touched the exact spot where, just three days before, they had had an illicit rendezvous involving her form shoved up against the door.
"Can we talk?" Wyatt finally asked, puncturing the uneasy silence.
"What's there to talk about? I'm not the same troubled girl I was back then. We're older—" began Matilda, her hand still poised on the doorframe.
"I know," Wyatt responded as he walked over to the smoky floor-to-ceiling glass windows; leaning his elbow on the glass above his head, he peered down stories below toward Liberty Bridge, Monongahela River, and the populace, all of whom were the size of period punctuation marks from where they stood, eighty-eight stories above the ground.
"Why didn't you reach out, after camp?" Matilda suddenly asked, her voice trembling from across the room.
"You know I wanted to," replied Wyatt softly, turning to face her. "But I never thought we'd see each other again—and I didn't want to give you false hope—"
"So you dropped out of my life for five years?" countered Matilda, her eyes firmly fixed on Wyatt's own.
"At the time, my dad was in hiding from the monster he'd been chasing—I didn't want you ending up as collateral damage," he confessed. "I'm sorry. But I had to protect you—"
"I can protect myself, thanks," retorted Matilda, though not as harshly as Wyatt expected.
9:09 am, Matilda & Wyatt's Office, 88th Floor, Purgatory Corporation (PC), One PC Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
"Why didn't you?" Wyatt spoke again.
"Why didn't I…?" asked Matilda, puzzled.
"Why didn't you contact me?" Wyatt asked.
Matilda raised an eyebrow. "I didn't want to seem desperate," she replied.
Right, thought Wyatt to himself, hiding the barest hint of a smile. "What's so funny?" Matilda asked, examining his visage from where she stood.
"I'm just thinking…of how absolutely stubborn you are," remarked Wyatt. Matilda walked over to the window, standing a couple of feet away from him as she too stared out into the distance. "Speaking of which," Wyatt spoke. "Where are we?"
"Pittsburgh," Matilda bit her lip coyly, fighting the urge to grin.
Wyatt sighed. "You know what I mean, Val. Are we…friends? Lovers? Coworkers?" Wyatt hesitated. "Fuck buddies?"
"Yes," replied Matilda after a beat.
"Yes to…?"
"Everything."
Noon, Market St. Grocery, 435 Market St., Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Matilda glanced at her phone again, rolling her eyes. The text read:
Sweetie, can you pick up "Hair of the Dog" ingredients from the grocery store? Your dad needs to mix it after yesterday's job interview. X((( -Mom
Leave it to her own parents to go "benevolent day-drinking" during an obstetrical panel interview. Literally, how was that even possible? Not to mention, her mom always seemed the straitlaced sort.
"Everything ok, Val?" Wyatt's voice echoed concern. She had agreed to let him tag along on her lunch break and hoped she wouldn't regret it. While sorting out "exactly where they stood" and all that.
"Yeah," responded Matilda, as she began scouring the market shelves for Bulldog Gin, lemon juice, hot sauce, and fresh chili pepper.
"Your family sure is interesting," he remarked, as Matilda plucked the wares from the shelves.
"Don't get me started," she muttered as they entered the queue for the self-checkout line.
12:15 pm, Market St. Grocery, 435 Market St., Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Just then, Matilda spotted a familiar shellacked blue visage among the sea of Pittsburgh commuters out on their lunch break. Shit—had Parker, Portender—whatever he was—had he been canvassing the area?
Wyatt gently nudged her; realizing she was next, she retrieved her wallet and hurriedly paid as Wyatt grabbed the items and followed her not to the front entrance, but toward the back.
12:20 pm, Behind Market St. Grocery, 435 Market St., Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
"Matilda—what's going on?" Wyatt followed Matilda's fast-disappearing form as she wove through the crowd and went out the back exit, as he trailed in her wake.
"Wyatt, you need to orb us straight to our office, now," hissed Matilda. "Hurry," as they ducked into the alley's shadows, narrowly avoiding being seen by the passing lapis lazuli-hued face.
12:30 pm, Matilda & Wyatt's Office, 88th Floor, Purgatory Corporation (PC), One PC Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
"Matilda?" Wyatt laid the grocery bag of items carefully on his coworker's desk and stared at her. "Is there anything I need to know?"
She deliberated on what to tell him, and if so, how much. If Parker decided to get aggressive, she could use Wyatt's protection going to and from Gateway Station, but what if Parker used his Portender powers to injure (or worse yet, kill) Wyatt? She knew that Wyatt's family couldn't stand another loss of a loved one, especially as he was the only child. Matilda also understood that Parker didn't hurt women unless extremely provoked.
That settled it then—the less he knew, the better.
Matilda seized her purse and grocery bag, fleeing the shared office, Wyatt calling after her to come back. All things considered, she was glad she traveled light that day. It would make the rest of her time at Purgatory Corporation far less awkward.
12:45 pm, 88th Floor, Head Supervisor's Office, Conflagration Department, Purgatory Corporation (PC), One PC Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Matilda twisted the crystal doorknob and entered the airy, expansive office. A transfer was in order, to keep Wyatt safe (and if she were being perfectly honest, to temper her feelings).
"Matilda," the executive office chair swung forth on its hinges, revealing Nelson in all his aged being. "What brings you here today?"
"I…" she swallowed hard and continued. "I need to transfer departments. Now."
1 pm, 88th Floor, Head Supervisor's Office, Conflagration Department, Purgatory Corporation (PC), One PC Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Nelson raised his eyebrows. "I thought your pyro training sessions were going well? Or did I assume wrong?"
Here goes nothing, thought Matilda to herself. "Um, doing fire exercises with Wyatt violates my fundamental beliefs…"
"And just what beliefs might those be?" Nelson leaned forward intrigued, his elbows now propped up on the desk in front of him.
"Fire welfare rights, y'know, animal rights, except with fire. Golf ball-sized flames aren't as cute and cuddly as puppies or kittens, but they're, uh, worth rescuing too." Matilda was BS-ing her way through her speech, and she knew Nelson could see through her shoddy act.
Are you seriously shitting me? Fire welfare rights? Nelson's expression indicated as he reluctantly approved the transfer. "I must warn you, Matilda, this transfer is approved, but can be cancelled anytime Persephone shows up. Likely in four months—or could be as early as three weeks from today." He paused and examined Matilda's withdrawn visage. "Hopefully that'll be enough time to sort through whatever danger you're in. Right?"
Matilda nodded. "Thanks again, sir. I'm much obliged."