Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High.
Summary: The simplest of events can change a person deeply. Other not-so-simple events can change a person irrevocably; even if they become someone they had never imagined. These are the events that lead to the creation of Poison and Fire, and their reign of Chaos.
Read on, oh faithful ones...
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Chapter Ten
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Layla woke up, her entire body warm, despite the fact she'd kicked the sheet off during the night. She frowned slightly when she felt an unfamiliar weight on her ribs, opening her eyes to find herself in a very close proximity to Warren's face. Unable to look down due to that fact, she came to the conclusion that his arm was around her, and the extra warmth on her back was from his hand splayed across her spine. She'd held his hand before, but until this moment, she hadn't noticed just how large Warren's hands really were.
It took Layla a moment to realise that one of her arms was resting beneath Warren's pillow, and her other one was wrapped around his body as well, as if she'd taken it upon herself to cocoon him like a flower's petals closing for the night.
"Layla," Warren moaned breathily, and she stared at him with wide eyes.
He was still fast asleep, which obviously meant he was dreaming of her, and by the sound of that moan, she had no illusions as to what sort of dream he was having. Layla closed her eyes when she felt him stirring beside her, briefly wondering if it was normal to feel pleased at the idea of someone having an erotic dream about you.
Warren opened his eyes to see Layla beside him. His dream was all too fresh in his mind, and the effects were starting to take place in his body. He unwrapped himself from around her gently, trying not to wake her, pushing away the far-too-enjoyable feeling of waking up beside her, their arms wrapped around one another.
Now, if she'd been naked the way she had been in his dream, Warren probably would have thought he'd died and gone to some twisted version of heaven. And now he was thinking of Layla with wings and a ridiculously see-through toga on. He cursed his imagination, getting off the bed quickly. He opened his chest of drawers, grabbing the first shirt and pair of pants that he saw. (He'd learned at an early age to put his clothes away, otherwise he'd wake up in the morning with his favourite shirt as nothing but a pile of ashes.) Warren left the room too quickly to notice that Layla had her eyes open.
When the door had shut after Warren's hasty exit, Layla sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the mattress. She opened her bag to pull out her two shirts and skirts from the day before. Deciding to wear her black interview shirt with her black and green skirt, Layla changed quickly, fixing her hair beneath a bandanna she found at the bottom of her school bag. The door opened just as she'd finished pulling her stockings on, and she hurried to straighten the skirt.
"Sorry," Warren said, closing the door quickly.
He wasn't thinking of her, the morning after they finally had sex, watching her pull her clothes on as he lay on the bed. He really wasn't... He wondered if they'd smell of flames and flowers.
The door opened a moment later, Layla smiling apologetically. "Sorry, I tried to be quick."
He just nodded in response, but she didn't seem offended by his silence.
"I'll make you a coffee to make up for it," she said, grinning slightly. "Black with two sugars, right?"
"Yeah," Warren answered, surprised that she knew.
She headed down the hallway, her bag slung over her shoulder. He looked after Layla for a moment, stunned that he was being rewarded with coffee after having dirty thoughts about her.
Layla was determined not to let things get awkward between them. Sure, he'd had an erotic dream about her, but she'd be lying if she hadn't thought about his arms around her before. Her resolve faltered when she made her way into the kitchen to find Ms. Peace sitting at the kitchen bench.
"Good morning, Layla," she said, looking at her over the rim of her coffee mug.
"Good morning, Ms. Peace."
"Would you care to explain why you were sleeping in my son's room?"
"We were both too stubborn to take the couch," Layla replied, pouring coffee into a mug, adding two sugars and stirring.
"Oh?" she murmured, trying not to grin. "Why weren't you at your own home?"
Layla was silent for so long that a prickling sensation began to form in her head, the need to answer Ms. Peace's question starting to overwhelm her. Taking a deep breath, Layla counted to five before answering at her own inclination.
"My Great Aunt and I had a fight, and I didn't want to go back to her house."
The prickling feeling disappeared, and there was that look of pity and regret on Ms. Peace's face again.
"She missed the last bus as well," Warren added, coming into the kitchen.
He accepted the coffee mug from Layla with a grin, thanking her. He ignored the surprised look from his mother, the impulse in his head to tell her everything, and opened the refrigerator door to get out the carton of juice. Warren poured a drink for Layla, handing it to her despite her protests that she wasn't hungry or thirsty. In contradiction, her stomach gurgled, and she took the glass with tinged cheeks.
For a moment, all Warren's mother could do was stare. Warren had her habit of small sentences and mere grunts of noise before caffeine, yet here he was, pouring juice and arguing with Layla to just drink the stuff or he'd tip it down the sink.
"So, what are your plans for today?" she asked, redirecting their attention away from what was soon to become a heated discussion over wasting food and drinks.
"We've organised a study session at Ethan's house today," Layla replied.
"I'm working tonight, so I'll be home late," Warren added, though she already knew that.
"Ethan is the sidekick who melts, right?"
They both nodded in response.
"You'll give me his number in case I need to contact you?" she asked Warren.
"I've got my phone with me, mum."
"What happens if the phone runs out of battery the moment I need you, or you accidentally burn it again?" she asked pointedly.
He sighed, searching his phone contacts to find the number. Warren wrote it on a piece of paper, sticking it to the fridge with a magnet.
"I'd better get going now," Layla said, quickly rinsing out her glass. "I want to get all of my homework ready. Thank you again for dinner, Warren," she added with a bright smile.
The plant on top of the fridge seemed to respond to Layla's smile, the leaves themselves brightening, and Warren's mother frowned briefly. She thought that thing was fake! And what did Layla mean by dinner? Had they gone on a date? Wasn't she dating Will Stronghold?
Warren saw the look on his mother's face, knowing that he'd face an inquisition the moment Layla left. "I'll come with you. I have no idea how to get to Ethan's place," he added, leaving to get his bag before his mother could make him change his mind.
"You had dinner with Warren?"
"To celebrate my job," Layla agreed with a nod. "I went to the Paper Lantern to eat, and Mrs. Woo let me go to the kitchen because they were full."
"That was nice of her," she replied, slightly disappointed that it hadn't been an actual date. Which brought her to her next thought. "How are things going with Will?"
All of a sudden, the plant on the fridge grew abruptly, turning vicious with sharp thorns and sharp teeth, a Venus flytrap that looked like it would bite through her arm if she was close enough.
"He cheated on me with Magenta," Layla said tersely.
"Ready to go, hippie?" Warren asked, not noticing the huge monstrosity on the fridge.
Layla smiled at him, and the Venus flytrap faded to it's original budding form. They both bid her farewell, and she returned it with a wave, not trusting her voice.
It took some time after the front door had closed before Ms. Peace could calm herself enough to get up and venture past the plant. She decided that watering the plant might be a good idea; she had no desire to make that thing angry at her.
...
The sun was shining, and as it was the first day of the weekend, it seemed as though everyone in the neighbourhood had decided to go out. There were no cars in the driveways, no children running about, no adults mowing their lawns. It was eerily quiet, and neither Layla nor Warren were inclined to break the silence.
"I have to remove the tree from inside the room. Do you want to go in through the front?" Layla asked as they walked up her Great Aunt's driveway to the side of the house.
"I'll go up with you," Warren said, grinning.
"All right, hold on," Layla said as a tree began to sprout from the ground.
Taking hold of the rapidly growing branch, Warren forced himself to keep his eyes open as a foothold grew beneath his feet, and they shot up into the air. Layla stepped onto the roof calmly, but it took a moment longer for Warren to relax his grip on the trunk to follow her. He grabbed a pear before the tree disappeared, watching as it sank back down into the earth as if it had never been there in the first place.
Layla held her hand against the vines that were crisscrossed over her window, frowning when she felt something sticky against her palm. She sniffed her hand gingerly, her stomach churning at the recognised smell of weed killer. The vines were screaming in pain, every cell within them dying at a rapid rate, even as they struggled to keep the life that she had given them.
"What's wrong?" Warren asked, stepping towards her.
"My Great Aunt poured weed killer over the vines. They're screaming; they're dying," Layla murmured, a small sob escaping her.
"Isn't that what you do with your power?" he asked hesitantly.
"No! I return them to whatever I make them out of; the ground, the earth, or back to nutrients in the air itself. I don't kill them!"
The vines on the window branched out suddenly, circling around Warren's feet, despite the uneven roof. They seemed to be circling, searching, as if they were trying to find a way to get inside him.
"Any time now, hippie," Warren said, not wanting to make any sudden movements in case that set the vines off.
Layla simply watched the vines for a moment, feeling that same sensation rippling beneath her skin. The feeling of waiting, of growing, of something special. She waited a moment longer, the circles becoming smaller around Warren's feet. Suddenly, they disappeared to the vines that were on the window, and without a word, Layla returned her attention to the window. She started to remove the vines slowly, not wanting to aggravate their pain further.
Warren sat on the roof, finishing off the pear. He'd seen the look on Layla's face as she watched the vines, and had no doubt that one day, she'd simply watch as they entered his body, rippling beneath his skin. Warren found that he didn't mind that thought, and put it down to sexually frustrated hormones, or some twisted version of trust.
On the day of her mother's death, he'd been too stunned by everything that had happened to move to her, and he knew that even if he'd tried, the others would have held him back. While the others had been focused on the green lines beneath her skin, Warren had watched Layla's face. She'd had a look of pure happiness and absolute completion on her face, as if having her power affect her like that was something she'd been waiting for all of her life. He hoped he'd feel the same way.
He looked over at Layla as she removed the last of the vines from the bedroom window. Warren couldn't help but wonder what the vines inside her body meant and if they were doing something to her, changing her in a way that no one could see.
"There, done," Layla murmured, the final vine disappearing into the house's wooden frame.
She opened the window and stepped into the room. Warren stood up, brushing off his pants and following Layla inside. He saw the open box, a jumper, blanket, a few photographs, books, and odd pieces of jewellery scattered on the floor.
"I'm going to have a quick shower, and then we'll head over to Ethan's, is that all right?" Layla asked as the tree in front of the door began to fade back into the wooden floor.
"Sure. Mind if I read this while I wait?" he asked, picking up one of the books off the floor.
She nodded hesitantly, trusting him to treat her mother's things with care. He sat at her desk, opening the book and starting to read as Layla went through her suitcase to find clean clothes.
"Back soon," she called, leaving to the bathroom quickly.
Warren made a noise in reply, quickly becoming engrossed in the book. It was only when he saw that he was nearly 100 pages in, that he realised he couldn't hear the shower running or Layla moving around. He set the book down, leaving the room.
He was silent as he searched his way through the house, unsure what may have happened to make Layla so quiet. The house was a two-storey, and had all manner of expensive, fancy and delicate things that made it more than obvious that Layla's Great Aunt was rich and had no children to spend the money on, or worry about breaking the ornaments. He was fairly sure that an original Van Gogh painting was hanging in the lounge room.
Warren almost walked past the kitchen, thinking it was some sort of indoor greenhouse, but the lack of plant life in the rest of the house made him double back. He stepped into the room, grass beneath his feet. The few plants that Layla had brought to her Great Aunt's had grown to encompass the entire room, the floorboards ripping up to create trees that brushed against the high ceilings.
He stopped short on seeing Layla standing at what he presumed to be the kitchen bench. Her skin was bathed in a green light from the plants surrounding her, but it was the green lines beneath her skin, and the blank look in her green eyes that made him pause. Vines circled her, as they'd done to him not even half an hour earlier, but these ones didn't seem to be looking for a way to get inside of her. They had a wide berth around Layla's feet, and as Warren stepped closer, they started to climb until they were nothing but a spinning tornado, shielding her body. He could see glimpses of Layla through small gaps in the shield, but she seemed oblivious to him. The moment he tried to move closer to her, the circling shield stopped. The thorns on the vines became sharper, and the gaps between the vines disappeared as they thickened, readying themselves to shoot at him.
...
Raising her arm back, she swung the golf club, hitting the ball with a satisfying thwack. Despite the clear sky, the wind was strong, and she watched in dismay as what had lined up as a good shot became nothing short of dismal. Her golf ball flew straight into the clump of trees on the edge of the green.
"Oh, bad luck, Greta. You know the rules, you have to play where it lands," one of her so-called friends called, grinning.
Layla's Great Aunt glowered, then turned to her friends with a smile. "Fine, I'll play from the trees, and I'll still beat you," she said, going over to her buggy.
She didn't wait for a reply, stepping on the pedal and driving down the hill. The wind whipped up her friends' laughter, mocking and taunting her with it as she headed for the trees. Muttering to herself, she stopped the buggy and stepped out, taking her golf club with her. Hitting a few dead branches and fallen leaves out of her way, she eventually found her ball. It was sitting atop a small mound of dirt and grass, resting perfectly so she could hit it out of the trees.
This was going to be far too easy, she thought to herself, grinning as she moved to line her shot up.
Raising her arm, she cried out when the club got caught in the branches of the tree behind her. She frowned slightly, certain that the branches hadn't been that low a moment ago. Jumping up, she tried to grab the club, but it seemed even higher than before. Muttering out loud, she glared up at the club, and then looked for a dead branch to knock it down with. Not finding any, she looked at the tree itself. There was a small foothold close to the bottom of the trunk, and she figured that she was just tall enough to be able to stand on it and knock the club out of the branches. Taking hold of the trunk, she pulled away sharply, the leaves stinging her hands. Thorns from the vine that was wrapped at the base of the tree scratched at her legs. The wind picked up and her golf club was blown out of the branches. She grabbed it, her vision swimming before her, and ran out of the trees, not caring about her game anymore.
There was some laughter as she stumbled out from the tree line, but it quickly stopped when her friends saw the gouges on her legs and the rash that was spreading up her arms.
"Greta!" she heard her name being shouted, but she couldn't seem to make her lips form words.
Her vision went hazy and she blacked out just as her friends reached her.
...
Layla blinked quickly, startled out of her daze by a powerful smell surrounding her. She frowned slightly on seeing nothing but a wall of vines before her, the plant starting to bloom with red, green and black flowers.
"Warren?" she called out, looking up to see smoke covering the ceiling.
"Are you all right, Layla?" he called, slowly retracting the flames from the vines.
The vines began to fall, dropping to the ground uselessly, to reveal Layla standing in the middle, looking confused and no longer green-veined.
"I'm fine. What happened?" she asked, seeing the plants that had sprouted and trees in the room.
"I was hoping you could tell me," Warren replied briefly.
Around them, the trees and plants began to shrink, returning to their original size, or in the trees' case, back into the floor. Layla looked down, realising that her hand was gripped tightly, and she saw the note from her Great Aunt.
"My Great Aunt wants to send me to a boarding school for supers," she said, smoothing out the note and attached pamphlet.
A group of girls were pictured on the front of the pamphlet, all of them identical in their clothing, hairstyles, and even their smiles. Layla felt sick just looking at them, let alone the idea of a boarding school that would have cliques that she could never fit into; the authority that she'd never accepted, not with her stubbornness, and definitely not with her upbringing at peace protests before she could even walk. Layla had never really liked being friends with girls before her friendship with Magenta (and didn't that just prove the reason why?), and going to an all-girls super school just meant that the girls would be super bitchy.
"No wonder you went all Amazonian in here," Warren muttered, glancing at the pamphlet in distaste. "What are you going to do?" he asked, looking at her and pulling her out of her thoughts.
"I'm not going to that school," she said immediately, shaking her head and stepping away from the bench.
A loud ringing noise coming from upstairs startled both of them, and Layla hurried out of the kitchen to where her phone was ringing. The caller ID showed that it was Ethan, and she answered the call quickly.
"Hey... Yeah, sorry... No, he's with me... We're still coming over... We're leaving now... Okay, see you soon," she hung up, looking over to Warren.
"You still want to go? We can stay here and trash the place," he replied with a grin, his fists flaming up.
Layla grinned, the idea making her happier than she thought it would, an image of trees and flames destroying the expensive house around them. She squashed the thrill of satisfaction and shook her head briefly. "I just want to get as far away from here as possible," she muttered, gathering her school things. "Do you think your mum would mind if I spent the night at your house again, just so I can work things out?"
Warren knew that his mother would probably inundate him with questions and presumptive glances for weeks on end, but he nodded anyway. "It'll be fine," he said, picking up his own bag.
"Thanks, Warren," she said, relieved.
Layla packed a change of clothes, underwear, and pyjamas into her school bag, along with her notebooks and pencil case. She closed the bedroom window, but didn't lock it, just in case she wanted to get in that way again later. Leading Warren outside, Layla closed and locked the front door with her key, and they headed down to the bus stop quietly.
The bus arrived a few minutes later, full of loud youths and frustrated adults. Warren glared at two boys who had their feet on the seats, not allowing anyone to sit beside them, chatting to each other over the back rest. Their bravado didn't last long against his low growl, leather jacket, and clenched fists, and in seconds, the two boys were sitting beside each other, the seat behind them empty. Layla grinned as she slid onto the seat, Warren sitting beside her, continuing to glower at the two kids.
Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the stop closest to Ethan's house, and Warren glared at the two boys again before getting off the bus after Layla. His fierce expression faded when he realised where they were.
"What's wrong?" Layla asked, frowning slightly.
"I didn't realise that Ethan lived so close to Maxville Penitentiary," he replied, looking over at the looming warehouse.
Layla was silent for a moment, and then moved to take his hand in her own. Warren seemed startled by her presence, then shook his head and continued down the road with her, their hands still entwined.
Ethan opened the door with a grin. "Come in, Zach's just finishing the omelettes," he said, leading them into the dining room.
"I've got cheese and bacon omelettes, and for you, Layla, mushroom and spinach omelettes," Zach called out.
"Sounds great," she replied, taking a seat across from Ethan.
Warren sat beside her, silent as he thought of his father, only ten blocks over. Baron Battle, who could explode inanimate objects with little more than a thought, was sitting rotting away in a prison cell, surrounded by power suppressors, the white rooms far too similar to the Detention Room at Sky High. Just the thought of that room made Warren never want to get detention again.
"Okay, who's ready to eat?" Zach asked, coming into the dining room with two plates, miniature omelette towers sitting on both.
"Oh, my god. You really did buy four cartons of eggs, didn't you?" Layla asked, wondering how on earth she was going to be able to eat it all.
"Well, yeah. One carton each," Zach said, setting the plates down. "I wasn't going to miss out just because I burnt out, and I figured you'd have more right than any of us to egg the Mayor's car," he said, shrugging.
"Are there any eggs left?" Warren asked suddenly, brought out his thoughts.
"Nah, man, I used them all up."
"Why?" Ethan asked Warren, frowning briefly.
"Because we know where Stronghold lives, and I figure he could use a few eggs thrown at him."
"Don't tempt me," Layla muttered, reaching across to take an omelette from the plate. After checking it was the vegetarian one, she started to eat, the three guys following suit.
"These are really good, Zach," Ethan said, sounding surprised.
"Thanks, man, love the faith," Zach said, rolling his eyes.
Ethan swallowed quickly, pushing his glasses up his nose. "That's not fair; I've never heard of you cooking before, how was I to know?" he argued.
They bantered for a while, Layla and Warren just watching in amusement as they ate their omelettes. Ethan stopped arguing quickly when he realised he was missing out on Zach's cooking. When the plates were empty and the table cleared, they all took out their relevant homework and assignments.
"Which villain did you get assigned anyway, hippie?" Warren asked after Zach and Ethan asked her about the sort of work she had now as a Hero.
"The Incredible Genius," she replied, reading over the article. "They don't actually tell you much about the villain in the article about their capture," Layla muttered with a frown.
"Well, that's probably one of the reasons you're given it. If you find out any more about the villain other than the fact they were caught for being dastardly to humanity, then you might actually agree with them," Warren muttered.
"W-what? You can't agree with a villain," Ethan said, shocked.
"The Incredible Genius wanted to make university free for anyone who wanted to study. Of course, attempting to kidnap the Dean of the University of Maxville probably wasn't the best way to go about it," Layla admitted, glancing down at her article. "Especially when he left the phone plugged in. He called himself a genius?"
"Yeah, well that's just one..."
"The Spinner Sisters wanted to abolish the use of harmful chemicals that industries used when making household cleaning agents, bug sprays, and the like," Layla said. "They were originally superheroes who had their own clothing store, but after their seventh appeal to the local government was denied, they turned evil. They changed their name to the Spinner Sisters, and tried to take over Maxville in an attempt to stop the industrial plants by using the city itself as a hostage."
She didn't look at Warren, who was looking at her intently. After hearing about the Spinner Sisters from Ms. Peace, she'd been curious as to what had motivated them to spin entire webs across the town, and had looked them up when she'd had a moment alone.
"Really, seven appeals?" Ethan asked, frowning as he pushed his glasses back up his nose.
"Okay, so maybe there's two villains. But what about Royal Pain, you can't agree with her, can you?" Zach asked, his tone a mix of triumph and worry.
"Of course not, she was crazy."
Zach sighed in relief, a moment too soon.
"But if she was being bullied that bad, she should have done something else about it, not try to turn all of the superheroes into babies. Besides, her plan wouldn't have worked when everyone's parents found out what she'd done. It'd be pretty hard to hide a house full of screaming infants... What?" Layla asked when she saw their faces.
"You really think everyone's parents would have cared?" Warren asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
"Yeah, I can't imagine your mum liking the idea of you being turned into a baby and being kidnapped by Royal Pain to be raised as a villain. I could probably guess what she'd do to get you back," Layla said.
"What would that be?" Warren asked, his arms folded across his chest as a warning.
Layla ignored the warning, and answered, "She'd get your dad to help find you."
Across from her, both Zach and Ethan paled, staring at Warren as they waited for the inevitable burst of flames and anger.
"Have you been sniffing weed killer or something, hippie? What on earth makes you think my mum would willingly work with my dad?"
"She loves you more than she hates him. And really, she had to love him at one point, or else you wouldn't exist... Besides, even if he's evil, you're still his son, and I'm sure he'd hate that a villain had hold of you that wasn't himself," she replied, shrugging briefly.
Warren's response was cut off by Layla's phone ringing, and she frowned as she checked the caller ID, not recognising the number.
"Hello, this is Layla," she answered politely, in case it was someone from the Mayor's office.
Zach and Ethan went quiet when they heard Layla gasp, and Warren looked at her in concern.
"I'll be there as soon as I can... Yes, thank you for letting me know," Layla murmured, hanging up.
"What's wrong, Lay?" Zach asked, frowning when she just sat there in a stunned silence.
"It's my Great Aunt... She's been taken to a hospital in Westville. She went off the green at golf to get her ball, and came back covered in a poison rash," she said, glancing at Warren.
He remembered Layla's blank expression as she seemed to see something miles away. But this... This just wasn't possible! Was it?
...
End of the tenth chapter.
Thank you for reading; I hope you liked it.
