AN: Okay, definitely my longest chapter to date. I hope you all enjoy it. There will only be one more chapter after this, and it should be up fairly soon-ish. Definitely about only a couple days wait. & The song the chapter titles are from is by The Classic Crime – Say The Word, and I do not own it.
Chapter 8. The Cost ForHerWas Way To Much To Bear
"Warren... you haven't said anything"
"What do you expect me to say? If you're right, if he has control over my powers I'm useless. I can't do anything, you might as well chase after him by yourself." Warren grumpily answered. He turned his head to look at the wall and even though his long hair shielded his face from my scrutiny I had the distinct impression that he was scowling.
What he hadn't said was you might as well go chase after him by yourself like before; before when he was being an ass hole about the whole thing. Kind of like he is now – it's pretty déjà vu.
Besides, we all know how gloriously well those efforts turned out.
I exhaled sharply, I was fresh out of the hospital and I came all the way to his house, under his suggestion, so that we could finally end this and move on. But Warren was making no effort to help me plan, if anything it's like he was slowing the process.
I was exasperated and he was cranky, without any fresh ideas all we would do was sit here and stare at each other. We both had a good idea about how that would turn out and we both were trying to ignore whatever past tensions existed among us.
I was sitting on the floor letting my back lean against his couch, on the opposite end of the room he was lounging in a recliner. On the floor between us lay an open case file and news clippings of Patrick's past heists. Maps where we'd drawn out his past escape routes, and a map to plan our offensive.
It had been the offensive planning that had halted our progress. I had to mention to Warren my theory of Patrick's ability to control his powers, while he's accepted the logic behind the deduction he took the news terribly. For a hero like himself, I imagined that he'd defined himself by his powers, just like the kids at school had defined him by his father. Without the powers he didn't know what he was, who he was, what to do with himself. And while I could understand that and feel bad an all, I was a sidekick therefore, constantly treated by the majority of the super-powered community to be only slightly more useful than a civilian.
"Look it shouldn't even matter, we can still try and tailor this to go our way!" I exclaimed.
"How can it not matter?" He flared up, "I'm gonna be all but fucking powerless and you're..." He trailed off.
I lifted my chin and eyebrows defiantly daring him to finish to sentence. When he failed to continue I asked, "I'm what exactly?"
"Nothing, never mind. How are we going to do this?"
Sighing, I pulled the map of Patrick's past escape routes before me and gestured him to come closer. We leaned over the map and his gaze followed my gesturing.
"Okay, so we know his house is right here, and all the places he's been so far have been in 10 block radius of it. He's pretty much just hitting them systematically, alternating between these two streets right here and he only has two more jewellery stores left that he hasn't been too. He'll probably go for this one right here because it fits his pattern and because the weather is so dismally bad it would make for a shorter and easier escape for him. So, the pattern we've picked out also tells us that he would either strike on a Tuesday or Thursday evening. So tomorrow is Tuesday and we'll stake out the back alley behind the jewellery store and herd him into this abandoned warehouse – which will minimize any public property destruction – and then if you can distract him or hold him down I'll cuff him with the neutralizer. "
"Fine. Tomorrow at 11 in the morning. Don't be late."
I was taken aback by his icy tone and overall gruff attitude. We had put that plan together, and we just needed to execute it. There was no need for him to be such a pain just because he couldn't use his powers. I briefly entertained the thought of 'Warren Peace – Hero Support' in my mind's eye while I gathered up all of my stuff and made for the door. The jerk was still sitting on the floor staring at the map
He wasn't even going to see me out house? I huffed and pulled on my coat, he looked up and I threw him the dirtiest look I could muster and then walked out.
I wasn't sure if he was intentionally trying to distance himself or if he really was that upset about his power restrictions. There was no excuse for his behaviour though; it just gave me another excuse for why anything I could have ever day dreamed about us would never have worked out.
As I trudged my way home through the snow ridden streets of Maxville I thought about my state of affairs. My broken friendships were nothing to be happy about. When had I turned into such a hormonal bitch? Why was I unable to keep my hands off Warren... well I succeeded pretty well just now, but earlier when it counted, I didn't. If I was going to die tomorrow would I be content? The answer was a definite no. I had to do some thing, I had to get my friends back. Especially Layla, and by association Magenta – both of them were people that I had used and lied too, and both were people that were there for me when I thought no one else was. Maybe I should start keeping a list of people I had to apologize too for things I had done – like when you're in alcoholics anonymous except I would be in 'Temperamental Teens' and it definitely was not anonymous.
I had come to the resolution that there was no time like the present to mend metaphorical broken fences so I threw off my winter gear and got out my stationary. On the top of my list was Layla, she seemed like the type of person who would appreciate a heartfelt letter considering she ignored my phone calls and I was too much of a coward to go to her house and ambush her. Of course, I had an advantage doing this because every time I decided to write something I used my powers to see the reaction on her face when she read it. The response was mostly good. Was a cheater? Yes. But I was also desperate – I missed her, I missed having friends in general.
My powers had really grown since the beginning of the year when I'd only get the odd flash to warn me off something. The more I used them the easier it got to bring them on. You'd think that with the ability to see the future I wouldn't be so much of screw up. I think the problem was that I was getting to complacent with the 'predicted' outcomes of my actions, forgetting that every time someone changed their mind, the future changed with it.
One thing I hoped would now change was the outcome of tomorrows stakeout. I saw everything happening perfectly as planned, like it was scripted. Easy takedown, easy apprehension. And then it was over.
- x-
I was fidgeting in my seat. Warren's car was old and he had the heat cranked up to the max since I'd strictly forbid him to use his powers even the slightest. His natural aversion to cold or lukewarm led him to turn the inside of his car – that we were currently sitting, or staked out in – very uncomfortable, especially in spandex. What must it feel like if he were to power up? Burning rubber. I hoped his suit his flammable, mine too come to think of it. Warren as the hero had the final nod on the costumes and I found myself worrying about my flammability, I don't know if he remembered that I wasn't fire retardant when he put the material request through. Neither of us had worn our super suits before and they were decidedly uncomfortable but we didn't want to risk losing Patrick's tail to do a quick change.
Warren had sculpted Kevlar plates like armour covered in deep burgundy spandex, with a burning flame emblem in bright crimson on his left shoulder. I say sculpted spandex because I wasn't sure if he actually had those abs or had the Kevlar sculpted so it would look like he did – it was a common suggestion for some... less built heroes. I had the feeling his were real. My costume was the color inverse of Warren's. It was completely crimson with a smoke emblem in deep burgundy on my left shoulder – completely in spandex of course, much to my chagrin but Warren refused to allow me to wear anything else stating I was trying to upheave years of 'tradition.' I told him that he was being a chauvinistic jerk. The costume made me feel like a cow for more than one reason. The smoke emblem and the colours were like brand – attaching me to Warren wherever I would go. Together we were the Arsonist and the Smoke-Seer. Can't you just see me trying to read divinations from the steam that Warren radiated?
"Would you stop moving already? You're driving me crazy"
"I'm driving you crazy? I'm going crazy! Do you know hot it is in here? I'm wearing all spandex."
Warren gave me a side look and smirked at the windshield. "I know"
My face matched my costume. "Look I'm dying here, would it kill you to turn down the damn heat?"
"It might kill me... wishful thinking?"
"Warren" I growled, I was getting testy, "Not everyone in this car is a pyrokinetic. I don't maintain an average body temperature of 109."
"So? What do you want an award for being average?"
"I want you to turn own the heat!" I wasn't sure that I looked like right then but it must have been something awful because Warren gave a shrewd glance decided I couldn't take anymore and fiddled with some switches on the drivers side. I felt the temperature drop.
"Happy?"
"Ecstatic" I deadpanned. We both fell into silence and I closed my eyes and let my head to roll to the side of the headrest. I had never been on a stakeout before and I hoped to never be in one again. When I graduated and hero I worked with would just have to wait for the trouble to start before chasing down the villain.
"Bethany?"
"Mmmph?"
"How can you be sure this is going to work?"
"I can't be completely sure. The future isn't set in stone Warren, there is no such things as fate. We craft the future with every decision we make, and every time we change our minds the future changes as well. It changes when you change."
"How do you know Patrick hasn't changed his mind?"
"Well, I haven't gotten any visions as of yet, and I was kind of scanning for them like putting a vision radar up this morning and I didn't get anything. I think we'll be ok."
We fell into silence again. I wasn't sure about him but I was nervous with anticipation, my entire body was fight or flight. To calm myself I began to gently search the future, it was a lot like scanning for radio stations you just kept looking till you got something fuzzy an the fiddling till it became clear.
I saw the warehouse we hoped to lead him into, I saw stairs, I saw Patrick on his knees subdued but maniacally eyeing Warren spewing death threats, and I saw a police office walk in front of him. I wasn't sure what it all meant but past experience taught me that it would become clear when I was in the situation.
"Bethany get out of the car. He's here."
We both stepped out at the same and Patrick had yet to notice us, but as heroes in costume it was against out beliefs to sneak up on him.
"Stop criminal!" Warren called out. Patrick paused in the back alley to look at us, probably trying o recognize which heroes we were. He pieced together what he saw and he threw black his head and laughed.
"Well well, looks like our little heroes ready to catch the big bad villain" he said mockingly, "you even sewed together costumes, wonderful!"
He threw down the two bags of loot he had to the side and gestured at us to come at him. Warren and I exchanged looks, I had seen this coming. I approached him from the side cautiously and slowly while Warren ran straight at him. He threw a punch at Patrick who dodged to the side, and I slid down and roundhoused him so he fell to his feet, I slapped a neutralizer on his wrist before he managed to scurry away. He looked pissed now, and menacing in his all black costume. Patrick took off in the direction of the abandoned warehouse and Warren and I followed after putting a call through to the local authorities for them to meet us there.
Warren got to the warehouse before I did and rushed through the open door, Patrick was in the middle of the floor and Warren rushed at him. Patrick swung at him but Warren ducked and tried to come up at Patrick but he elbowed Warren sharply in the abdomen, and Warren crouched. Patrick saw his opening and punched Warren so his head snapped to the side, and got a couple shots at his abdomen again with Warren trying to block. I came up to Patrick's side and hooked my leg around his right foot and pulled he leaned over and I flipped him over my arm on to his front. Warren and I practically threw ourselves on him to keep his thrashing figure pinned to the ground.
Job well done, I thought.
The Police arrived shortly after and Warren helped an officer lift Patrick off the ground, he was barely struggling now and I was grateful. I knew that even through our reinforced suits Warren and I would be sporting some battle bruises for the remainder of the week.
Warren came to my side and squeezed my shoulder, he went to go bring the Police up to speed on who we were and show them our heroes license, something the sidekick was not permitted to do. For lack of anything to do I watched the officer read Patrick his rights and the riot act and he made to pull his cuffs out of belt loop. There was a maniacal glint in Patrick's eyes.
I flashed.
Patrick lunged for the officer and grabbed his gun out of it's holster and push the officer to the ground. Why hadn't they cuffed him yet? He pointed and shot at Warren with deadly accuracy. I heard the three shots echo in my ears and all the other sounds was blocked out as Patrick was rushed by the remaining officers on the scene. He was finally detained. I ran to Warren's side and put my hands to his chest, he was bleeding out badly. I watched as my tears fell and mixed in with the blood that was pooling around his wounds; I had thought he was indestructible. I had to do something to stop this ---
I ran towards Patrick as he got hold of the gun. We struggled and he got a couple shots off, but I couldn't see where. I turned my head and a police officer bleeding on the asphalt. Warren was outraged and had fully powered up, but in my moment of distraction Patrick manoeuvred my hand to swipe the neutralizers on the wrist. My biometrics disabled it and it fell to the floor. I could hear Patrick laughing and saw the horror on Warren face as Patrick took control of his powers. I could feel the beginning of an explosion coming on ----
I was running out of time Patrick shoved the officer to the ground and took at aim at Warren. His fingers pulled the trigger while I simultaneously jumped. I could feel the impact of the three bullets as my body convulsed mid air and then fell to the floor. My head rolled to the side and I could see Patrick being subdued and secured; good. In the back of my mind I vaguely registered that people were crowding around me and that I was gasping for air. My vision was getting blurry so I closed my eyes. It wasn't at all like I imagined – dying that is. I thought it would be cold but I could feel an unnatural warmth spreading through my body liked I had been submerged in a flame bath. I wonder why that is?
Cause I am lost for words, the cost for her
Was way to much to bear
You're not perfect, but I don't care
A/N: Okay so to clear up any possible confusion the bit in italics are two vision that Bethany has while she is looking into Patricks eyes. There is the initial future and then she changes her mind about how to act so the outcome changes and then that doesnt work either. While she is having her visions Patrick is already getting hold of the gun so she decides to just act.