Disclaimer: I own nothing. Based on Disney's Sky High. The movie description is of Deep Impact.
Warren breathed a little sigh of relief when Will and Layla walked into the Paper Lantern at eight fifteen on Friday night; everyone else had been there for about fifteen minutes, and Warren was waiting for the lovebirds to arrive before he told them that Emilie was going to be joining them tonight. Setting down the entrees he was holding at their respective tables, Warren then turned to fill the group in on what exactly they could and couldn't say tonight.
"Finally some service. Jeez, good help is so hard to find these days." Zach joked when he saw Warren coming. Warren just rolled his eyes, amazed that Zach's sense of humor still hadn't evolved, but noted that his friend's arm was comfortably wrapped around Magenta's shoulders, so apparently something had been going on this summer between those two. And it's about time, he thought to himself before buckling down to business.
"Cute, Zach. But really, I just came over here to tell you guys that Emilie is coming tonight," he was interrupted by Layla's squeal. "Now see, that's exactly the kind of thing I wanted to talk about. Hippie, you can't go off the deep end like that. Don't make a big deal out of this. We're just friends. And you're my other friends, and I just want- whatever. The most important thing is that you cannot, under any circumstances, mention the hero thing." He whispered the last part.
"Well, obviously, Warren. We know she's a citizen, you've only mentioned it a thousand times," Ethan jumped in, and exchanged a knowing glance with Layla. "You know though, I have a hard time believing that you're this worked up about us meeting 'just a friend.'" He teased him.
The bell over the door rang as a teenage girl entered.
"Oh!" Layla said loudly, turning around in the booth so she could see the girl. "Is that her?"
Warren's eyes had flown to the door the second he heard the bell ring, and after Layla's outburst felt immensely relieved.
"No, but thanks for keeping your excitement to a minimum. Really, don't make this awkward. Please?" Warren asked again.
"Warren Peace begging? I can totally get used to this," Magenta joked.
Taking pity on the guy, Will allayed his worries. "Calm down, we all promise to be on our best behavior. Right, guys?"
The rest of the group's answers were lost on Warren; he'd just seen a flash of bright red hair walking up to the front door. Turning so he could meet her when she walked in, he left his friends in the middle of their concessions to play nicely.
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Should have gone for comfort, I thought to myself for the millionth time, questioning my outfit choice. I hadn't wanted to do the everyday t-shirt and jeans thing, I mean, I know this isn't a date-date, but it could segue to that. Fantastic, Chinese food has now become my gateway dating drug. I tugged my snug black top down a little toward my cleanest pair of jeans, and concentrated on not tripping in my heels as I opened the door.
My gaze immediately settled on Warren who was filling up the entry way, and that silly grin I hadn't been able to keep off my face whenever I thought about tonight reappeared. Unfortunately, it was joined by a blush when I saw that he was smiling back at me.
"Hey," I said. Stop blushing. Stop blushing. Stop blushing.
"You made it." He answered as he stepped closer.
Stop blushing. Stop it! Oh no, it's getting worse. Think of calming things, sad things, anything non-Warren.
"Yeah, I had to come. I heard that there is this one waiter here," I started. Sink-holes. Butterfly gardens. Grandma's potato salad. I must look like a tomato. I flipped my hair off my shoulders hoping to cool down a bit. "And this waiter, well he looks like a bad-ass, but if you make him spill something, he cries like a baby."
Warren smirked back, "Hmm, must be the new guy." Then he put his hand on my lower back to lead me out of the entryway. The heat from his hand instantly sent my temperature out of control, and I was having trouble concentrating on anything else.
"Is it hot in here?" I asked hoping to make him think that the pink in my cheeks (and now spreading elsewhere) was just from the weather or restaurant, anything but from my reaction to him. But the second the words left my mouth, his hand snapped from my back and he backed up a few steps.
"Yeah," he said flatly. "The ovens and stuff. Well, here we are."
Confused by his reaction, and forcing myself not to overanalyze it, I looked at the people sitting in front of me. I knew enough from what Warren had said over the summer to discern them as Warren gave each of their names. Layla had deep auburn hair and was entwined with an all-American looking guy who Warren introduced as Will. On the other side of the booth was Magenta, who looked like she really liked the color of her namesake, then Zach, who looked like he really liked Magenta, and finally, Ethan, who seemed to be just taking in the whole thing. Warren then turned back to me, "And this is Emilie. Emilie, the guys."
"Ahem," Magenta grunted at Warren.
"And the girls," Warren relented. I joined in, when the group laughed at what seemed to be an ongoing battle between the two of them.
The blush finally dying down on my face, I smiled at the group, and scooted into the booth next to Layla.
"So you all go to the magnet school with Warren?" I asked trying to start up the conversation.
Ethan smiled back when he answered, "Yeah, it's pretty cool. Our subject material generally varies from Maxville High's curriculum, particularly when it comes to applied theory and concentrated prospectus in each of our regulated philosophical-based courses."
"Right," I managed, completely flummoxed by Ethan's response. After a second of stunned silence, the table and Warren, still standing at the end, erupted in sniggers.
"And translated, he just means we specialize in different courses." Warren clarified. Just as he finished, a voice yelled out from the kitchen in rapid Chinese. Warren cringed a little, "I've got to get back to work, but I think I'm leaving you in capable hands." He nodded at the rest of the table, then gave me a half-smile before heading back to the kitchen.
The second he was out of earshot, Layla, who had seemed to be just quivering with repressed excitement, spoke out, "So Emilie, tell us about yourself. Do you like school? I heard you work at the library; what's your favorite book? And you're not dating anyone, right?"
Laughing at her enthusiasm with everyone else, I started to get to know Warren's friends.
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After about an hour of trading anecdotes about high school faux pas and black sheep family members, the conversation had eased into that of informal friends- one where multiple conversations were flying around at once and all were repeatedly interjected with raucous laughter.
During a particularly funny story of Zach's that had us all straining to catch our breath, Warren walked back to our corner, finished bussing all of the empty tables. Will and Layla slid deeper into the booth to make room for him, and I followed their lead until there was enough room for Warren to collapse next to me.
The second that his body settled flush against mine, it felt like every area of contact ignited with tingling warmth that spread through the rest of me. Keep it together, Emilie. He's just sitting next to you. Try to keep the swooning to a minimum until he pins you against the wall and has his way with you. Whoa, fantastic visual, but really not helping. Think dull. Think Tupperware parties.
"Working hard?" I mimicked his usual greeting to me at the library.
"Umph," he grunted as he leaned back against the booth and rested his arms on the table. "So I take it you guys enjoyed yourselves?"
"Yes, we definitely approve of Emilie," Magenta answered, in what I'd come to learn was just her usual bluntness. Warren, however, responded to her sass with a mild glare.
"And I approve of them," I nodded to Warren, trying to convince him that I'd come to really like his friends. And you, I mentally added.
"And since we all like each other, you should join us every Friday, Emilie," Layla invited, drawing nods of agreement from the rest of the group.
"I'd like that," I admitted, but looked back a Warren to see what he was thinking, after all they were his friends. Smiling when I saw him grinning at the idea, I turned again to Layla, "Thanks."
"You're welcome," she replied. "Well, I think it's about time we headed home, don't you, Will?" Will and everyone else agreed, and soon we were all pulling ourselves out of the booth and saying goodbyes.
"Do you need a ride, Emilie?" Zach asked, his hand now interlaced with Magenta's.
Before I could answer, Warren spoke up, "It's cool. I'll walk you home."
Yes! Yes! Yes! I silently celebrated, but managed to voice my acquiescence in a fairly normal tone. Chill. Rubbermaid. Casserole dishes. Slotted spoons.
I smiled, and even hugged a few, goodbyes to everyone, until it was only Warren and I, and I think the owners, in the restaurant.
"Let me go put up my apron and tell Mrs. Cho that I'm leaving, and we can head out."
"Okay," I said, and leaned against the table to wait for him.
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After I spoke to Mrs. Cho, I swapped the apron for the clean t-shirt I always brought with me. As I gathered all my tips, I peeked through the doorway to check on Emilie. God, she looked good. She looked simple, no, classic. She looked like she didn't even have to try to look amazing; hell, I don't think she really even knew how mesmerizing she was. Most of the girls at school and the ones that came into the Lantern seemed so… trendy. Emilie was contradictory, in a good way. It's just that she seemed real and ethereal at the same time.
He could see dirt along the hem of her jeans and watched as she fiddled with her hands self-consciously, but the whole picture of her, perched against a table, haloed by her red hair that caught the light of every lamp nearby, waiting for him made him wonder why the hell it had taken him so long ask her here.
She was the one who asked, he chided himself. And it's because you actually like her. She's not just another set of legs or lips like the cryo-girl or the girls before her. You actually give a damn what she thinks of you…those legs and lips though are a perk, a really great perk.
Shaking off the internal monologue, I headed back out to Emilie.
"Ready?" I asked, and when she nodded, guided us out the front door. Holding it open for her I said, "You lead the way."
"'Kay," she answered. "But let me take off these shoes first, I think I've appreciated being five-eight long enough." She grabbed my shoulder to balance herself and I instantly felt my muscles tense beneath her hand. Once she was back to only reaching the top of my chest, she descended the steps, shoes in hand and pointed left.
"Home is that-a way."
Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I caught up to her stride.
"So, how'd you like everyone tonight?" I asked, a little disturbed by how much her answer to this particular question meant to me. Ethan, and Magenta, and everyone felt like an extended part of myself; I wanted the first friends I've ever had to be accepted by this new… friend. I should have known I wouldn't be disappointed.
"I love 'em. Everyone is nice and funny obviously, but really unique too. I mean, you can't immediately figure out how so many different people would end up as friends. My friends at school all are pretty much the same. Same backgrounds, same teachers for the past eleven or so years, same tax bracket, you know, that sort of thing. Yours cover a much broader spectrum, I like it." She answered, smiling back up at me.
She laughed, and pointed at a bench across the street that had Will's parents painted on the back, one of the many dispersed across every public area in Maxville.
"Will looks like he definitely fits right in with his family. Very normal. I swear though, you can't go anywhere without seeing one of those benches or signs. The phone number is burned into my brain."
"I know. That's the Stronghold's though, larger than life." I managed, but couldn't think of anything else to add. In silence, Emilie brought us into a neighborhood close to where Layla and Will lived, and took another left.
Think of something to say. Anything. Quit thinking about how much you'd really love to just stop here and tangle your fingers up in her curly and ironically, flame colored hair and find out what she tastes like. This wasn't even a date, so you've got to at least wine and dine her first…. Or a compromise, maybe you could ask her out and then kiss her.
Continuing to look straight ahead I asked, "Do you want to get coffee with me after school on Wednesday? Just me, though, I won't spring the whole crew on you again."
She turned to face me, beaming, "I'd love to. Pick me up at four?"
"Sounds good." And determined that she wouldn't be making any more of the first moves, I locked hands with hers as we kept walking.
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Tupperware can go screw itself. Warren Peace asked me on a date and is subsequently holding my hand. And I'm not even wearing those painful, if leg lengthening, heels.
Concentrating on not allowing my current state of euphoria to lead me to begin any exaggerated swinging of our interlocked hands, I stole one more quick glace up at Warren as we approached my house.
"This is it, home sweet home." I stopped us, a little disappointed that I had to let go of his enticingly warm hand. A hand which looked far more interesting with its tattoo and scars than my small freckled one did. Kiss me, please. I silently pleaded, looking up at him, expectantly.
"Right, 1114 Tigris. I'll remember that. So I guess I'll see you tomorrow at the library?" He answered, staring at the front of my house before returning his gaze to me at the end of his question.
"Yeah," I nodded in defeat, biting my bottom lip in frustration. Damn this unexpected chivalry.
But I saw his focus move from my eyes to my lips for just a second, conveying his thoughts. Trying to encourage the boy I never would have imagined needed encouragement in this situation, I "stumbled" just a little closer to him.
"Well, then, I guess I'll be going." But before I'd even turned a quarter of the way back to my house, I felt his hands burning their imprint on my upper arms as he firmly twisted me back towards him. Grinning the tiniest bit, my eyes fluttered closed when his lips met mine.
The kiss was quick, or at least quicker than I'd have wanted. Slut, I mocked myself. I couldn't control the urge to tug on a group of curls with my free hand when I moved back to smile up at him. Small tendrils of heat felt like they were still winding through my body, but they were no competition for the flip-flops my stomach was doing. And there was Warren, staring back, a half-grin on his face. And I put it there. Damn, I'm good.
"See you tomorrow," I reiterated, and still beaming, walked up the path to my front door and let myself in.
The second the door slammed close, my dad skidded out of his office and into the foyer.
"Did you have a nice time tonight?" he asked, and I know he was trying his absolute hardest to be "a cool dad," his words, not mine.
"Fantastic," I answered. "And I've got a date with Warren on Wednesday, which I know is a school night but you don't have to worry because we're going right after school. And it's the first week of school anyway so there's practically no homework. And, yes, I am still your little girl, and respect myself and all the rest of your 'date speech.'" I love my dad, but really, I am seventeen, and this isn't exactly my first foray into the wonderful world of men. Although this one definitely is the most… well, it's the most something.
My dad just smiled back at me. It's a smile that I knew well, the one that says "I know you're growing up, and I'm proud and excited for you, but it would just fine with me if you decided to grow back down instead of up." It's one hell of a smile, and always evokes pity from me. If mom were still here, he wouldn't feel like I'm going to grow up and abandon him. He'd still be part of a team. Sighing, I dropped my shoes by the door, and went to give him a hug. Poor guy, raising a dating teenage daughter and over-energetic nine year-old all by himself.
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I hugged my little girl just a bit tighter. I only get to keep her here for another two years, and I don't want to share her. Especially not with some hormone-ridden teenage boy, and that one I saw kissing her on my sidewalk looks like he fits that description to a T. Shrugging out of my grasp, Emilie gave me a quick peck on the cheek then walked off to her room. I heard her checking in on Eric as I padded back into the office.
Eyes locking on a picture of Elizabeth, Carson marveled at how much more Emilie reminded him of her every day. Her ever-multiplying freckles, the way her laughter would grow out of control, making a spectacle of her and causing everyone else to laugh even harder, and mostly, that irrepressible mop of red hair. That was the first thing that caught his attention about her mother. She was performing in the school play, and he had come back from college for a weekend to watch his brother in the show. The spotlights reflected off her hair from every angle, lighting it up like a beacon. He lost himself in the memory of her.
Unable to stop himself, he stroked his thumb along her hair in the photo, trying desperately to remember the way it felt between his fingers.
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Warren couldn't remember ever having a more positive outlook on any of his first days of school; he'd gotten to spend more time than usual with Emilie on Saturday, had a date with the smiling siren on Wednesday, and right now was walking up to meet his group of friends on the steps before school started. Thinking that his last two years of high school might even be enjoyable, Warren loped up to the circle. Though he was sure his face didn't betray any of his lighthearted attitude, the group seemed able to tell that they weren't going to have to deal with typical school-day-back-of-the-class Warren. When he reached them, everyone was still repeating their activities from the previous weekend; they all turned to walk into the building.
Just as they were about to split up to go to their respective homerooms, Principal Powers came on the P.A. calling for all of the students and faculty to meet in the gym for an assembly. Confused by the change in usual protocol, the gang turned down the next hall and was herded into the gym with everyone else. Settling into the bleachers, murmurs flew through the student body, wondering what was going on.
"Students and faculty, first of all, welcome back to Sky High," Principal Powers began, taking her place at the podium in the center of the floor. "As the majority of you know, an assembly such as this is generally not a common practice of ours; however, there is a vital matter which I would like to discuss with all of you in the hopes that we can most efficiently and effectively handle the situation and minimize the number of outlandish rumors that often accompany a quandary like this.
"We have recently been informed by the Superheroes Intelligence Bureau that a large number of villains, formerly united beneath Royal Pain, alias Sue Tenny or Gwen Grayson, have reconvened and are in the process of planning a massive offense against the super-powered community, the brunt of which will be mainly focused on Maxville, due to the heightened number of superheroes we house. I am warning you of this for several reasons. The first is to encourage you to increase your awareness and utilization of safety practices that come with this time of escalated threat. The second is to motivate you. Us, your faculty at Sky High, have industriously labored in our efforts to prepare you for your future lives as superheroes, and this particular peril ought to prove to even the most thick-headed of you that hazards like this are very real, and will be just as real when you graduate and are expected to face them. Which brings me to my final reason; the one I believe is most important.
"This union of supervillains has already proved themselves to be ruthless, brutal, and most dangerous of all, extremely well-organized. But they are not the first group to ever be described as such, nor will they be the last. And if you look around you, I hope you can understand why I am bringing this up. Do you see injustice running rampant? Wrongs un-righted? Does a callous and coldblooded contingent of criminals run our world? The answers to all of these is a resounding "no," and that is because the heroes who have come before you have fought relentlessly to ensure such things never will. The current superheroes in action will contest this new threat, and it would behoove all of you to take note as you study, planning for the day you become a part of that brave force." Taking a long moment to appraise the crowd of students before her, Principal Powers let out a long sigh. There was great potential to be found among the multitude in front of her, she just hoped she was doing the best by them.
Finding a lighter tone of voice she finished, "That being said, time to get to work. You may all return to your homerooms to get your schedules, except for the freshmen, who are to remain in the gym for your Power Analysis." With that she exited the gym and headed straight for her office where she knew there would be no pause in the number of teachers and eventually, parents wanting to speak with her today. She prayed that the majority of the parents would have read today's issue of Maxville's underground hero newspaper, The Signal, which detailed the whole ordeal in even greater detail.
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The second Principal Powers stepped off of the podium, the gym erupted in conversation, and while the majority of the school began a max exodus out of the gym doors in a flurry of amplified voices over what they'd just heard, the group of students who'd played the largest part in defeating Royal Pain not even two years ago all turned in towards each other.
"Gwen had a following?" Will asked, face pale. "How could the Bureau have missed that?"
"It sounds more like she was part of some sort of villain corps, like a twisted after school club." Zach responded.
"Either way, though," Layla said, eyes painfully serious, "whatever kind of coalition this is, it must be serious for Principal Powers to call an assembly. She kept reminding us of how dangerous they were and to be safe. What do you think they're planning to do?"
Will pulled Layla tighter against him, his arm securely fastened around her shoulder, bound and determined that he'd do whatever necessary to make sure that on this go-around with evil, she'd be out of harm's way. Zach looked like he was thinking the same thing, but knew that making any such notion known to Magenta would just piss her off and make her think that he thought she couldn't take care of herself. He was going to have to be smart about looking out for her. Warren was incensed; the easy manner in which he'd entered the school this morning was entirely replaced with something far more predatorial. Only Ethan seemed to be thinking constructively.
"I don't think the Bureau finds them dangerous because of what their planning, Layla," trying to voice his concerns. "I think what they find dangerous is the fact that they have no idea of their intentions. Principal Powers made it sound like a large number of villains, something akin to an organized crime group. That's rare for villains. The very nature of a villain is so self-centered that no more than a few are ever able to work together for any period of time. So they must either be related in some familial manner or all have the same goal in mind to drive them together this way."
Finding sense in Ethan's logic, the students began guessing what their motivations or obvious places for attacks would be, save one. Warren soaked up what everyone was saying, but continued in steely silence.
When Magenta noticed that the gym was almost empty except for the freshmen, she stood up and grabbed her bag. "Whatever their planning, something tells me it's going to put a serious damper on our school year." Following her down the bleachers, the group agreed, and dispersed to their homerooms.
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Warren decided that sometime in these last two years of becoming friends with Will and the rest of them, he must have gotten complacent. He'd grown so used to people finally accepting (if still fearing) him for his own sake, that when he heard frantic whispers of "Baron Battle" following him at school on Tuesday, it felt like he was back to being a condemned man. Apparently that's what the most popular theory flying through the school was: Warren Peace, spawn of infamous villain Baron Battle, was going to join the ranks of the gang of villains and turn on them all.
He didn't even know where they came up with this stuff. The worst part though was what it made him want to do. While the rational part of his brain knew that he would never do anything like what they were saying, he couldn't help wanting to scare and incinerate the hell out of everyone of the smug idiots who kept watching him, waiting for him to "show his true colors." And while his real friends tried to help (in vain) to distract him from the baseless gossip, Warren could only barely keep his anger in check and the fire in his arms smoldered. Add on top of that an untimely disastrous night at the Lantern and worry for his mom, Warren couldn't be bothered to be particularly friendly with anyone, and so he skipped his first trip to the Maxville Public Library since June.
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I sighed a little bit in relief when I saw Warren sulking up the sidewalk in my yard, unnecessarily worried that he wasn't just twenty-two minutes late, but in fact, not coming at all. Running back to Eric, who was fixated on the TV, I blocked his view to get him to pay attention to me.
"Okay, Eric, I'm leaving. Dad should be back in about an hour, but you can call my phone if you need me before he gets home, okay? And remember, no cutting your hair. Dad will have a fit if he comes home to find you've given yourself a mohawk again. Got it?"
"Yeah, yeah," he supplied, and I gave him a quick peck on the cheek before running out the door.
I walked out to meet Warren halfway up my walk, expecting a quick peck or at least some kind of salutation or complement, but all I got was a sullen expression. So I jumped right into the conversation, hoping to extract him from his stupor.
"Is everything okay? You didn't come the library yesterday, and now you seem like you just found out you got stuck with a month of jury duty." I questioned as I followed him down the street.
"I'm fine," he answered shortly.
Well, this is a great start to our first date. Maybe a little quiet will draw it out of him, I reasoned. We reached the outskirts of downtown Maxville in what seemed like an eternity of silence. And it wasn't that comfortable silence of two people simply content to be in each other's presence, it was the silence of plaguing thoughts and general unpleasantness. Determined to improve the rapidly decreasing quality of this outing, I resigned myself to making enough conversation for the both of us.
"You know how, like a couple weeks ago, we were talking about whether or not we'd take the thrilling life with an adventurous job versus the simple life, kids, regular job, etc.? Well originally I was all for skipping out on Maxville and doing something that sounded really invigorating like espionage or becoming an internationally acclaimed archaeologist, but I saw this movie the other day that is making me think twice. The whole premise was that a huge meteor was headed directly for earth and everyone was going to die except for the ones who'd been randomly picked by the government and been allowed to stay in some doomsday fall-out shelter. Anyway, the whole time I was watching it, I just kept thinking about how terrible things happen everyday that we have no control over, and I decided that the life you really want is the life you would wish you'd had if you were huddled somewhere waiting for a meteor to end your existence. That sounds a little fatalistic, but it made me realize that although it would be really elating to be some kind of jet-set thrill seeker, at the end of that kind of life I think I'd look back and regret not having a family or being part of a community. What do you think?"
I kept glancing back up at him through my babbling, but his face continued to face straight ahead; he didn't even acknowledged that I'd spoken at all. Then he suddenly just stopped and opened the door to a kind of artsy coffee shop on a people-filled street that housed a row of apartments across the way.
Looking up at him once more, a little dejected now, I entered the café, reconciled to a disheartening date. Warren led the way up to the barista and ordered a black coffee, then turned to me expectantly, his face finally expressing something other than resentment.
"I'll take an iced coffee, please," I sighed. Warren handed me my drink, and guided us to a table against the front window, perfect for watching the people passing. And I had a feeling I'd be doing a lot of that for the next hour.
"Have you heard about the supervillains they say are gunning for Maxville?" His jaw clenched and his mouth formed a tense line.
"Are you sure you're fine? You seem…cross. Was it something at school?" I asked once more.
"No. I already told you I'm fine. So if you don't mind, can we change the subject? I don't care what we talk about. Go back to your chattering." He asserted, staring past my shoulder and out the window.
"My chattering? What's your problem Warren? I haven't done anything but try to salvage this doomed date."
"I don't have a problem. Sorry that I called it "your chattering" okay? It's just that it's getting a little…incessant."
"Ouch," I uttered, hurt and increasingly irate.
"Oh, come on," he sneered, making eye contact with me for the first time today. "Fine. You haven't actually reached the point where the insipid small talk becomes incessant, but it's just starting to give me a headache."
Livid now I pushed back from the table, "Go to hell, Warren. I haven't done anything but try to improve your mood, so don't take your anger out on me. I'm gone." I shoved the chair back under the table and stomped out of the restaurant, walking past the window out front uncontrollably furious and offended.
I couldn't have gone farther than five steps when chaos erupted. The pedestrian laden street suddenly began splitting and rifting into million different levels while the ground shook like an earthquake. Joining the screams of the people all around me came the whipping of a sharp wind, which I felt immediately after hearing it. Unable to keep my balance any longer I stumbled to the lamppost in front of the coffee shop, which was still trembling from the underground tremors.
Seeing a middle aged woman crawling along the ground to my left I released my death grip on the post, and bent down to help her up and pulled her until we could both cling to the pole. After we'd righted ourselves, we watched a flash of fire scorch the sidewalk in the spot the woman had been just seconds before. Soon it was followed by more, most of the flames hit only sidewalk and were quickly extinguished, but a few hit benches, or worse, people, and caught fire.
The shouts and screams reached hysteria around me, but my mouth refused to open. I stood there, clutching the pole, taking in the whole scene and looking for the best way to get out of the disarray. Just as Warren crossed my mind, and I began to turn around to look at him, everything stopped and a sinister stillness fell over the street, I heard a collective gasp from the people around me and frantically whipped my eyes to focus in their upwards direction.
Standing on top of the row of apartments across the street were people I'd only ever seen on the six o'clock news or in a picture on the front page of the Maxville Star, villains. Shivering when I heard their unsettling laughter as they surveyed the carnage below them, I found myself even more terrified by the realization that it had only taken four of them to wreak so much havoc.
"Citizens of Maxville don't worry," said the tallest of the four, masked in black and silver. "This is only a test. It's the fault of your beloved superheroes that we're here at all; remember that none of this would have happened if they would just go away. Then we'd have no reason to trouble you. But it's time for a test: let's see how many innocent bystanders have to get hurt before they can save them from trouble they've brought upon you by living here."
With that, the two men on his left, one in airy blue and the other in charcoal gray, seemed to go into action. A gale force wind shot over my head, whipping my hair in my face, and then blew out all of the glass in the apartment windows. Simultaneously, my heart stopped as I watched the apartment buildings begin to lean and shake, dust, bricks, and glass raining down. Unable to look away from the tragedy as I heard cries from inside the structures, I saw the lone girl, standing on the lead villains' right yell out in anticipation as the top of the buildings were covered in flames. Then without a second thought, the group closed in on the leader and disappeared.
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Stunned by what had just happened, Warren was frozen, watching the impossible scene play out in front of him. People inside the café frenetically pulled out their phones, calling 911 and the Bureau's emergency hotline, while people outside were either running away terrified or standing, like him, as the apartments went up in flames.
But his focus snapped back in to reality when he saw the woman Emilie helped to the lamppost start screaming. She kept screaming in abandonment about saving her kids. He saw Emilie shake the women's shoulders and ask her something. After she had spoken something back, slowly sinking down the pole in despair, Warren watched as Emilie raced across the street, pushing people out of her way, and into the farthest apartment on the left.
The sight caused his whole body to tense and finally pulled him out of a trance; operating solely on instinct and adrenaline, Warren barreled out the coffee shop and went after Emilie.
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So here you go. I wasn't actually going to have time to write this until later this weekend, but my landlord is incompetent so I had to put off move-in for another day. Oh well, it gave me time to finish this. I've finished a full plot outline so all of the characters are being flushed out a little more. I think I've read over it so much that I can not longer judge accurately whether or not I am completely satisfied with this chapter. Hope it's as good as it looks in my mind.
Let me know what you think.
