Disclaimer: I do not own Sky High or its characters, settings etc, all of which belong to Disney. Original characters and concepts belong to me.

Chapter 9: Burnout

Elizabeth Hoffman had come a long way from being the blond sidekick who could turn into a big red, white and green ball. Starting out running errands at Maxville's biggest newspaper, she had quickly worked her way up to being one of the paper's top investigative reporters. She owed her rapid success partly to the fact that she always had the inside scoop when it came to any crisis involving superheroes or villains. But, dreams of Pulitzers aside, Elizabeth's main responsibility was actually to ensure that the secret identities of Maxville's heroes and heroes-in-training remained, well, secret. At times that meant that she had to squash a story that would blow a hero's cover or endanger them in some other way, sometimes at great personal cost for a person in her profession. It might have appeared to be a small, sidekicky duty, but she knew she was doing something valuable for the hero cause. And besides, it was great fun knowing things that the other reporters didn't, and then infuriating them by not revealing her source in true journalistic fashion.

But this was one story that she wished she didn't know about.

She sighed sadly as she re-read her article for the next day's front page.

FALLEN HERO

By Elizabeth Hoffman

It was the best of times and the worst of times on Saturday evening, when the Guardians of the City finally brought down one of the most dangerous super villain families in the State. The heroes apprehended the entire leadership in a dramatic raid on the headquarters of Blaise & Sons, the law firm that has allegedly been acting as a front for their criminal activities. The FBI are currently using information found on the scene to trace and arrest the non-superpowered subsidiary operations.

However it was a bittersweet victory, as a singular act of heroism claimed the life of one of our protectors …

Elizabeth stopped reading with another sigh. She couldn't help being affected by it, even though she knew that the story was not entirely true. Before giving her the official line, Will Stronghold had told her the whole truth of the past 24 hours.


Warren's temperature had finally stabilized at 98.6, a long five hours after it began to drop. His EEG was normal for being unconscious and his pulse was strong. It seemed that his life was no longer in danger, but in fact his problems were only just beginning.

They were gathered around his bed and Will was relating to them the NCS report on how the Battle family was pretty much finished, but without the enthusiasm such news deserved. No one was really listening anyway.

Layla was holding Warren's hand and gently stroking the tattoos on his wrist when she noticed that the flame design didn't stand out against his skin as much as it used to. She frowned and reached over to his hair, separating out the streaks. They were also less red. Ethan realized what she was looking at, and he opened Warren's hospital gown for them to check the phoenix tattoo on his chest as well.

As the six of them watched in stunned silence, all of Warren's tattoos and hair streaks faded completely.

"Ethan?" asked Layla desperately and they all looked at him for answers but he was equally bewildered.

Kate ventured, "Um, the hair streaks and tattoos are outward signs of being a pyro, so…"

"In all likelihood, this means he's lost his powers," finished Ethan sadly.

When Warren woke up an hour later, that awful diagnosis proved to be correct. It was heart-breaking to see him try so desperately to power up … with absolutely no success.

Warren sighed as he stared at his hands. "Guess I got my forfeit for this one."

But this forfeit would have far-reaching consequences. For obvious reasons, he wouldn't be able to remain an active member of the Guardians (despite his argument that Magenta, Ethan and Zach didn't use their powers in hero work and yet were an essential part of the operation) and Will didn't want him to carry on working at the fire department (despite his argument that he was still a trained firefighter even if he wasn't fireproof anymore).

He lost both of those cases, however the biggest dispute was over the fear that he was in danger of reprisal attacks from the remnants of the Battle family if they found out he was vulnerable and powerless. Ethan's solution for that did not go down very well either.

"Let me get this. You want me to fake my own death – or, at least, my alter ego's – because you think the bad guys want to kill me?"

Ethan squirmed a bit under his narrowed gaze. "Well, if they think Knight-Fire is dead, they won't be after him, right?"

"And who is 'they', anyway? I thought we cleaned them out."

Will answered, "Well, we definitely decapitated them, but it only takes one bitter wife or ambitious underling to cause a world of damage."

"Plus we got some pretty colorful threats from the Battle boys themselves while we were apprehending them," Kate reminded him.

"I wouldn't take that too personally," remarked Zach, "Super villains say that sort of thing all the time."

"Zach, you know that 'no-labeling' thing I keep going on about?" said Layla. "It applies to super villains too, you know. So I think we should take the threats seriously."

"Look, I'm not asking you to change your name and move to another town," Will tried to reason with his friend. "We're just going to say that Knight-Fire is dead. You can still be Warren Peace."

"A name which, incidentally, is well-known by the Battle family," Warren pointed out.

"Not necessarily," Maj spoke up. "The younger generation and lower order family members might not be all that clued up."

Warren shot her a look that clearly indicated his doubts about that.

"But if they hear that Knight-Fire is dead they won't go searching for Warren Peace," Ethan explained.

"Either way, it's not like they're the only danger we're worried about," Layla said gently. "You've made a lot of enemies in the super villain circles, and if word got out that you're vulnerable…"

She left the end of her sentence hanging and he turned to her with a less than impressed expression. "So. You're also in favor of this very bad idea?"

Layla countered with a question of her own. "Why are you so strongly against this?"

"Why do you think?!" he snapped.

"If I knew I wouldn't be asking," she replied calmly.

He sighed heavily and lowered his eyes. "Because that would make it final," he said softly, not looking at any of them. "It would mean that we're pretty much accepting that I'm not going to get my powers back, ever."

The team shared anxious glances and Will took a deep breath.

"No, it doesn't mean that at all. It's just a cover story, like so many others we've used all these years."

"And, dude, if you get your powers back, think what an awesome comeback you'd have if everyone thinks you're dead!" Zach was trying very hard to help, but all he got was a scowl from Warren.

Layla turned to the others. "Could we have a moment, please?"

They obediently trooped out of the ward and waited at the observation window. Will wasn't sure what she was saying to him, but he privately suspected that she might be reminding him how he had felt when she had thrown herself into the line of fire (literally) with Arson the previous year.

Whatever it was, she seemed to be getting through to him, because he grimly nodded, and Layla turned to the observation room with a sad smile.

"Call Elizabeth," said Will.


Elizabeth read through the rest of her article, which was largely a tribute to Knight-Fire along with a few vague details of what had happened at the Battle family HQ, and then got up from her desk to deliver it to her editor. This would be an unspeakable blow for Warren, to lose his powers. She'd had a useless power all her life and she'd come to accept that, but for him who had been so powerful, it would be really difficult.

More than that, saving people was his life, both in hero work and in his cover job. It would be agonizing for him to just be an ordinary citizen, and watch his wife and friends go out and face all sorts of dangers … and not be able to help.


Warren spent another week in hospital while his body got used to thermoregulation at its new temperature. He eagerly read through an encyclopedia of heroes that Ethan had lent him because he wanted to look up superheroes and villains who had lost their powers for various reasons. Many of them had regained their powers, but some hadn't. There didn't appear to be much of a hard and fast rule.

Not that he really deserved to, as far as he was concerned. He'd had plenty of time in the iso ward to regret some of his questionable thinking recently, the most obvious issue being his obsession with stopping Hellfire even if it meant sacrificing his own cousin. Fortunately it hadn't come to that, but he couldn't believe he'd gone so far as to actually think it.

And, of course, there was the memory of the look of shock on Stronghold's face when he had threatened to burn the City. Although, if you looked at the big picture, one city was nothing compared to the nationwide and even global devastation that a Battle family fire elemental could bring about.

But still that wasn't an excuse. He'd been walking a fine line lately, it seemed, and maybe he had been closer to going over the edge then he'd like to think.

No, he was pretty sure he didn't deserve his powers back.


Nicola entered the isolation room cautiously. Her cousin was not known for good temper at the moment, understandably, and she'd been told that he generally preferred to be alone lately, but this was something she had to do.

Warren was busy reading a sheaf of tributes and condolences that the Guardians had received from various public figures and the general populace, which Magenta and Kate had collected together for him. He smiled sadly at something he read and Nicola wondered if this activity was possibly making things worse by reminding him of how much he'd lost.

Maybe now wasn't a good time. She was just about to leave when he looked up and gave her a slight nod in greeting.

"I guess you never find out how many people like you until you're dead," he remarked dryly.

Nicola smiled slightly, knowing what he meant. It hadn't taken her long to work out that Knight-Fire was not exactly the people's hero like Eagle was. While the public treated him with due respect, he didn't have the Strongholds' kind of popularity. So, come to think about it, maybe it was a good thing for him to find out how much people did like him.

She decided to plunge straight into the reason for her visit. "I'm sorry, Warren." He raised his eyebrows in query, and she forged on. "Well, it's my fault you lost your powers. It all happened because you were rescuing me."

"No, it was something we had to do anyway."

"Yeah, but it might have turned out differently if I hadn't been there. I feel bad."

"Nothing for you to feel bad about," he replied darkly.

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused. "What do you have on your conscience?"

Warren sighed. "I don't know whether I should tell you this, but when Hellfire had you as his hostage, I was more concerned about preventing him from achieving his goal than about you and your safety. I'm sorry."

Nicola took a moment to digest that. "Well, from what I've seen of those guys," she said after a while, "I wouldn't want them to have your kind of power … uh, what you had," she amended a bit guiltily and went on slowly, "So I suppose it's a case of sacrificing one person for the greater good and all that."

"The ends still don't justify the means," he answered heavily. "But thanks for your understanding. It's a really mature attitude." She gave a slight smile. "Of course, it's one thing to be philosophical about sacrificing yourself; it's completely different when it's someone else's life you're gambling with. So I reckon I probably got what I deserve."

"No, you didn't. I wish you didn't think that, and so do the others."

"Did they put you up to this?" he asked suspiciously.

"No, but I've heard them talking. They're really worried about you, Layla especially. She was so scared you wouldn't agree to faking your alter ego's death and that it might end up being for real."

"I know," he said quietly.

She leant over and kissed him on the cheek, and turned to go.

"Hey," he called her back. She looked around to see him take something out of his bedside drawer which he handed to her. "I don't have much use for it."

It was his lighter.

She smiled a bit awkwardly, not sure what to say. He acknowledged it with a small nod, and she left the iso room quickly.

Outside, she took a closer look at the lighter. It was black and embossed with a phoenix. Running her fingers over the symbol, she mused over how often Warren seemed to be associated with that mythical bird.

The big question was, how literal was that association?


As the first few weeks out of hospital went by, Warren was becoming more and more positive he had a shadow … or, more accurately, three shadows in rotation. He wasn't sure whether or not to be ticked off that Stronghold had assigned some undercover kids from Under The Radar to baby-sit him. If nothing else, shouldn't they be doing something useful?

So one morning he went down to the end of the street to get the morning's paper from the 'newspaper vendor' and find out exactly what they thought they were doing.

After waiting for someone to buy their paper and then checking that the coast was clear, Warren handed over the money and quietly gave the first part of the password, "To prevent war…"

"…The galaxy is on Orion's belt," finished the agent, giving him the paper which he opened and started to 'read', leaning against the news kiosk.

"New on the job, huh?"

"No, sir. Only the three most senior operatives were trusted with your case."

Warren shot him a sidelong glance and then went back to apparently reading his paper. "Don't you people have someone important to look after?"

"You are important, sir. Orders come from the top."

Ah, so this was the NCS's doing, not Stronghold.

"Must be really boring for you though."

"No, sir. It's an honor."

Warren looked at him suspiciously, but the young agent appeared entirely sincere.

"You need to get out more, kid," he said gruffly as he folded up his paper and walked off, but he couldn't help feeling touched even though there was no way he'd show it. That encounter affected him more than he realized, but his friends could tell from the way he stopped snapping at anyone who tried to help him.

But the effects didn't last long. As weeks turned into months and there was no sign of his powers returning, he began to seriously lose hope. He couldn't help wondering if maybe it had been a false hope to begin with, and his fervent belief that it was what he deserved didn't actually help much either.

Also, it was getting into winter and Warren was feeling the cold badly. He'd always hated being cold, and not just because of the effect on his powers, but now it was almost unbearable. During the winter months he practically went into hibernation, and the cold, together with his fading hope, caused him to sink into depression. When the weather started to warm up again, his spirits rose a bit but not much.

Feeling the cold wasn't his only problem. Every time he got a paper cut or got too close to a flame, it reminded him that he was no longer invulnerable. Every time Layla and the others went off to save the day somewhere, it reminded him that he was no longer part of the team. And he worried about them way too much, although he kept that to himself.

His concern for them was nothing compared to how much they worried about him. There wasn't anything they could do to make up for the fact that he'd lost his purpose in life. Will often wondered if he'd made a mistake; that his desperation to protect Warren's life had rendered that life meaningless.

But until they knew for sure that Warren would be safe – which may never happen – he just wasn't prepared to take the risk. Maybe it was selfish, but he couldn't help it. Warren just meant too much to all of them.


Warren glanced up – briefly – from his book as Layla came in the front door. "How did it go?"

"Very easy. And a bit strange, actually."

"Why?" he asked without much real interest. "Who was the mystery super villain?"

"That's the strange part." He looked up to see her pulling a confused face as she hung up her coat. "It was Brainwave," she said, naming one of the greatest criminal masterminds of the 20th century.

Warren was curious despite himself. "I thought he retired 20 years ago. Plus, trying to knock over a bank in the suburbs of Maxville? That's kid's stuff to him."

"Exactly what Ethan said," Layla agreed. She poured herself a glass of iced tea and sat down next to him.

"Could have been some sort of set-up."

"Like a trap? It could have been meant to be, but we're all fine and we weren't even in much danger. If he was masterminding something big, he wouldn't have let himself get caught."

"Maybe he's slowing down in his old age," Warren commented, and went back to his book.

"By the way, we're all going for a hike in the botanical gardens on Saturday. Want to come?"

"Not really."

"Why did I even ask?" she murmured to herself, which he ignored. On some level he knew he was being difficult, not to mention a recluse, but he couldn't bring himself out of it. His friends tried really hard, but he just wasn't ready yet.

He was distracted from his introspection by Layla standing up and tripping over the edge of the coffee table. Her glass, which she was still holding, broke between her hand and the carpet as she landed quite hard on her hands and knees.

Warren was on his feet and kneeling next to her in seconds. "Are you okay?" he asked with a gentle hand on her arm.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just a little clumsy it seems," she replied with a forced laugh, starting to get to her feet. "I'll clean that up."

"And your hand?"

She turned it over and they could both see that her palm had a number of cuts that were beginning to well up with blood. There were also some pieces of glass stuck in her skin. She looked quite surprised that it was so bad.

"You didn't notice that it hurt?" Warren asked, confused.

"Uh, delayed reaction and shock and all that, I guess."

She began to pull the pieces of glass out of her hand, making him wince in sympathy. "Want me to help with that?"

"Relax, I can do it myself."

Now suspicion took over from concern. She who couldn't bring herself to tweeze her own eyebrows was now pulling glass shards out of her palm without even flinching.

"Why aren't you feeling any pain?"

She paused, but didn't look at him. "I am," she replied after a moment, removing the last piece of glass with a pretty believable grimace.

But Warren wasn't convinced. There was definitely something … strange going on.