I apologize for not having this out sooner, guys! It was meant to come out Monday but, well, life happens sometimes, as they say lol. Hopefully you'll all find it in your hearts to forgive me and will enjoy this chapter no less for it 3 Thank you so much for the continued support!
Special thanks to analiarvb, notatroll7, icefrozenover, ashleystlawrence, thepheonixqueen, a-taller-tale, washingtonstub, anaya-of-wolves, catmoonstone, xhauntedangel, secretlystephaniebrown, waterspark357, freshzombiewriter, Yin, Kairachra1869, Kiwibat on AO3 and tumblr for the wonderful feed back! I truly appreciate it more than you know.
Double Time
Chapter Eight: Washington's Partner
City traffic was enough to make any self-respecting superhero question their methods of transportation. With half the city still trying to get to work or on with their schedules in spite or maybe even because things were burning down at the center of the city, and the other half trying to go toward the destruction for a front seat view, Washington barely had a conventional route he could utilize to his advantage.
Fortunately being a superhero wearing spandex and kevlar did somewhat give license for more unconventional emergency maneuvers.
Like ducking between cars by riding up on the sidewalk, weaving in and out of the foot and vehicular traffic as needed on his mad dash toward the capital building.
Looking to his modified dash, Wash reached momentarily for the emergency line and automatically dialed one of the only two numbers which were programmed into the bike.
He wasn't sure why he was surprised it took nearly ten rings for Tex to pick up. But his patience was nearly running as thin as his time.
"Are you seriously calling me at seven in the morning?" Tex demanded.
"Did you really take ten rings to answer an emergency line?" Wash questioned back. "Listen, it doesn't matter what time it is. Tex, the capital is on fire and there's some huge asshole calling me out by name on it. I think it may be a message."
"Wow, you think?" Tex snorted.
"It might be related to the guy you said was watching our practice run the other day with the superkids–"
"Oh, god, don't get that started as a thing. If a person in the press hears you say that out loud, it's going to be their name forever. How demeaning–"
"Are you going to come and help me out with this or not?" Wash asked testily. "I'm already on my way. ETA two minutes. It's too much of an emergency to not respond as quickly as possible, but if you get started now, I think I can keep the banter up at least long enough for you to get here–"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Tex laughed. "You think I'm coming to bail you out? What, for free? Why would I do that? I didn't come to help my friends out – like my actual friends – for four years. What makes downtown so damn special?"
"What are you saying? You're a hero!" Wash yelled at her.
"No, I'm a vigilante," Tex snapped. "Specifically I'm a vigilante for Blood Gulch. The guy wants to burn down something around here, I'll have his ass handed to him before he'll know what hit him. But I'm not going out to the middle of the city and offer my services for some kinda.. I don't know. It feels like they don't even know Blood Gulch still exists or something. Assholes. Let 'em burn."
"You can't be serious," Wash balked.
Tex hesitated. "Do… you know me? At all?"
"You absolutely can be serious," Wash corrected himself. "Jesus Christ."
"Hey, no reason to bring him into this. Aren't I judged enough?"
"You know what would probably help the city remember Blood Gulch more?" Wash demanded, looking toward the roads ahead as he continued his bob and weave. "If the people from Blood Gulch made themselves known, by helping the city at large."
Tex hummed over the line. "Dunno. Sounds fake."
"You're not going to help me," Wash clarified.
"I am not going to help you," Tex replied shortly. "Sorry to disappoint you but, well, I'm not really that sorry to be honest. We are who we are, Wash."
"And you're supposed to be a hero," Wash responded sourly.
"I'm a vigilante. I'm an artist in my own medium, I know who I am, don't really feel like trying to fit someone else's ideals of what that should entail anymore. Didn't work out so great for me at Freelancer, after all," she defended.
"That's not how I remember it," Wash said clearly.
"Oh?"
"I remember you being the best we'd ever seen. I remember you coming out of nowhere and taring up the ranks as we knew them," he told her truthfully.
"Flattery will get you anywhere but me at your side during this stupidity run you're doing for a bunch of bureaucrats who don't give a damn about our town," she informed him. "But good try. Just for that, I'll actually stay up long enough to watch you kick this guy's ass on the television. So try not to make it too boring or anything. I might nod off."
"You're useless," Wash said, coming up on the fiery scene. "Have to go. Superhero business abounds."
"Sure it does, hero," Tex mocked before hanging up.
Burying the disappointment and worry he had that he was going to have to tackle this all on his own, Wash pulled up on the scene, surprising the uniformed police officers and emergency workers who were gathered around.
"I'm Washington," he told them, kicking down the stand for his bike and heading toward the line.
An officer stepped up, looking Wash over suspiciously. "How do we know you're not a part of this junk?"
"He isn't, Officer! He's here on our behest!"
Washington and the officer both turned to look as Doyle and Kimball pushed their ways through the crowd and against each other. They struggled against each other to reach them first but once they were in front of the officer and Washington they separated and straightened out their suits.
"Mister Mayor," the officer nodded, then hesitantly nodded toward Kimball. "And… Missus Mayor… Um. Have they finished the recounts or…?"
"That's part of the problem!" Kimball cried out, throwing up her arms. "The physical ballots are in that building as we speak!"
"If the whole building burns down we'll never know for sure who won the election!" Doyle cried out. "My word, we'll have to hold another one! We'll have to campaign all over again! How can either of us afford such a thing?"
Raising a brow, Wash crossed his arms. "I'm sure these are questions that could stand to be asked later, Mayors. Right now I'm more curious about just what this arsonist seems to want with me."
Together, they all looked to the roof of the building where the black and green clad man continued to stand, seemingly unconcerned with the flames licking at the sky around him.
Wash couldn't help but give the man props for dedication to the dramatics.
"It would seem that he is challenging you as an adversary, Washington," Doyle marveled.
"Well, no shit, Donald," Kimball snapped.
"If you could just contain your vile language, Vanessa," Doyle countered.
"This isn't helping anything," Wash said, narrowly avoiding the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm going to face him."
"Should we call in the team?" Kimball asked.
Caught off guard once more, Washington looked at Mayor-ish Kimball and Mayor-ish Doyle in confusion. "The team?" he repeated before the meaning truly hit him. "The team? No. Absolutely not. They're children. They've trained all of three times and of those times they've been successful none."
"You cannot be thinking of doing this alone," Doyle tried to argue.
"There's no thinking to do about it," Wash replied, internally imagining the passive aggressive comebacks he could have in the ready for Tex when he got finished with everything there. "This is just a matter of doing my duty. Please stay with the police and help evacuate the surrounding block just in case they continue to have problems with the fire."
While Doyle seemed obviously disturbed by the instructions, Kimball immediately turned on the officers and waved them off. "You heard the man, let him through! Let him handle this! He's the professional here. We're fodder, so let's get out of the line of fire, alright?"
Washington scanned the area quickly, glancing from one end of the town hall to the other. There were multiple buildings in the immediate surrounding area and the building to the right had a fourth floor with a window facing the top of the flaming government building.
When he looked back to the building itself, he locked gazes with the mysterious man on the top of the villain. A green X covered his face and his uniform was black, bulky. He was large and imposing.
And the moment he broke his gaze with Washington, he turned and calmly walked back into the flames of the building.
"I'm going to smell like smoke for linner," Wash muttered to himself before enacting his plan.
As quickly as he could, using the superhuman agility to his advantage, Wash leaped from the sidewalk to grasp onto the ledge of the second floor window. He flipped the rest of the way up and with a more calculated jump, made his way to the third story window, but then utilized the momentum to turn himself up toward the fourth floor where he kicked off the seal to land onto the town hall ledge where his adversary had been standing.
The heat was intense and the smoke thick, but Wash could see the clearing where the responsible party had walked into.
He knew a trap when he saw one, but Washington had to keep moving forward.
There were ways to turn a trap on its head, to make a disadvantage an advantage. He just had to keep on his toes.
And, well, that was at least one thing that cats were fairly good at.
That and getting hit by cars.
"You came, Washington," a deep voice echoed through the building, making it difficult to isolate and determine the direction of in the crackling fire. "I knew you would. You are, after all, a professional above all else."
"I'd say there were other reasons for coming," Wash replied, looking around warily. "Like fire damage. Having nothing else going on. The fact that some asshole called out for me on the news."
"And still you came into a certain trap."
Wash scowled. "Well, have to say, you didn't give many options when you light a government building on fire. You really know how to set a scene, I have to say."
"That would be because I am a professional as well…"
Confused, Wash heard a large crack behind him and spun on his heels to face the approaching villain. But by the time he had turned around with a throwing knife at the ready, he saw a glowing spark set on the floor. "What the–"
He only yelled a the spark blew him back with an explosive force he was entirely unprepared for.
There was no time to think, only instinct saved him as he flipped to his feet and managed to stick the landing, scrambling to hold as many of his throwing knives at the ready as he possibly could.
Walking through the flames, the villain made his presence known again.
"You are facing an equal, Washington," he declared. "I am Locus. I, too, was born with abilities beyond that of a normal human. Born with gifts from a god who believes that it is time for the human race to take the next evolutionary step forward. The next revolutionary step forward for us all."
"Oh, great," Wash hissed between his gritted teeth. "You're one of those."
"I am," Locus replied. "And I am interested in a proposal for you – for all of our superior kind."
"No thanks," Wash replied. "I like to keep my lunacy on a less cryptically genocidal-leaning path. Like converting a bunch of clown anarchist vandals into presentable citizens kind of lunacy."
"You mock me," Locus stated flatly. "Perhaps you still don't understand what it is I offer. Or… perhaps you do."
Squinting, Wash tilted his head. "What does that even mean?" he asked.
"I suppose there is time to still learn," Locus replied. "I admire Freelancer. What its potential had been. I wonder sometimes if I may have ever been one of you. It's a question I ask myself often enough. Perhaps I shall see if I deserved the spot by taking on you."
"Hero worshiping biggotry," Wash replied dully. "Figures that the only impact Freelancer had on the world at large was negative. Great."
Locus shook his head once. "No. Not negative. Far from negative. The impact Freelancer shall have on this city, on the world, will be… rejuvenating of the entire species."
"Sure," Washington said getting into position for a fight. "If you mean that its impact was training me to stop you from doing something ridiculous and demented then I'd have to agree with you."
"It will be an honor to kill the last Freelancer," Locus replied before flicking his fingers, another spark generating from the motion and flying toward Washington.
Having learned from the previous time, Wash swiftly moved past the trajectory of the upcoming explosion and moved in for a close attack. He swiped up with his readied blades only for Locus to expertly dodge them.
Wash swiped again with the opposing arm, but each swing was a miss with Locus easily stepping back from each as if Washington was a young sidekick again, unable to stick a hit against his mentor.
"Damn it," he hissed under his breath.
Not wasting any more of the space they had that wasn't diminished to the ongoing fire, Washington pivoted forward again with a jab, except instead of landing on Locus' shoulder, the man caught his wrist between his two hands. The move was so swift and the strength so off the charts, Locus' palms nearly touched despite Wash's wrist being between them.
Letting out a yell, Wash threw his head back. "Two powers!?" he cried out in shock.
"I am far more than my appearance would suggest, Washington," Locus said lowly. "Just as I suspect you are." He threw Wash back out onto the balcony, out of the fire and smoke but back into the public's eye. "Which is why you must either join my cause today… or you must be stopped entirely."
"Heh," Wash choked out, rolling onto his knees, keeping his crushed arm close to his chest as he used the other to waveringly get to his feet. "You don't know much about me if you think I can be stopped just by… a few flesh wounds."
"Believe me, Washington," Locus said lowly. "I know far more about you than you could ever dream."
Washington raised a brow at the statement, but he didn't bother questioning it. He was in such intense pain from his wrist he barely could keep his focus. But he had to. He knew the moment he didn't give Locus his full attention, the man was going to truly blast him.
And Wash was ready for it. At least, he was until he heard a familiar noise.
A triumphant HONK came from inside the building on fire behind them.
Shocked, Washington turned his head immediately toward the noise, his heart nearly stopping. "Junior!?" he called out almost hysterical.
No matter how quickly Washington turned to look in the direction of the call, however, he found himself staring only at the flames of the building behind them. There was no Junior there.
"What?" he asked out loud. "But I heard… I don't understand–"
"And that is why you will die," Locus informed him just before Washington noticed the hiss of a spark landing at his feet.
"Shit–" Wash got out just before a blinding explosion. His ears rang and his body felt weightless for a moment. He couldn't think straight, couldn't move, only feel the momentary flicker of worry and hysteria – the mounting fear of leaving everything he had worked so hard toward behind – before noise, smell, sight – sensation all came colliding into him at once as his body hit the pavement and he rolled with the momentum – everything stinging and burning.
There were screams and gasps all around him, only disorienting Washington further.
He landed on his back, looking up at the skies in confusion and distress.
"I'm going to miss linner," he realized out loud just before he could hear the crunch of heavy footsteps coming toward him.
"Still alive, Washington? Good. I'm glad. A quick defeat was not what I had in mind."
There was another hissing of sparks but just as Wash was expecting to see them make contact with him, something else dropped into his vision.
"You!" Locus growled as a blue glow covered Wash and the new arrival from the explosion.
"Looks like I came just in time," a smug voice said in response.
Wash attempted to roll over, get a look at the situation, assess how much danger he was still in. But upon doing so, everything went black. And, just a little bit, orange.