Chapter Four:
Pressure

Disclaimer:I do not own the cartoonStorm Hawks. It and all its respectable characters are © to Asaph "Ace" Fipke and Nerd Corps. Lupin and all plot contents within are © to me. All shows/ books/ video games/ songs that are mentioned in this chapter are all © to their respective owners, I don't own them.

Note: I seriously need to thank you properly for the reviews you've left me, Hedlum. Dear god, I love them. :3 For the conversations between Lupin and Aerrow, I wanted awkwardness. She's older than him, has been in the military, and still has that "leadership" mindset from being a sergeant and in charge of younger Marines that were around his age. She doesn't quite see him as the role that he's supposed to be filling, so she's kinda treating him like she would a troop. In regards to the quotes, I love them too much to give them up! But finding the right one is sometimes a pain in the butt. As for the crystals, I always felt that they didn't delve into them enough and I hope to maybe bring in a little more flesh to them through the story, if and when I can. :D

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Character is who you are under pressure, not who you are when everything's fine.
-Dr. Sweets, Bones

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The fire blazed unhindered like a raging beast uncontained, unheeding to the sprays of water showering down on its spindly limbs. It lashed out greedily, looking for more food to support its gluttonous appetite. Her garage wasn't enough, it wanted more, more, more. It wanted everything until there was nothing left for it to devour, until it would peter out to nothing but dying embers.

Lupin stood in the milling crowd, Kosmo whimpering pitifully at her side, Aerrow and Radarr on her other, watching the firefighters trying to put out the fire in vain. She heard a woman's voice calling louder and louder above the din, fighting to be heard, until a hand jerked her arm back and Lupin was facing a plump, taller woman with worried brown eyes staring into her mismatched ones. It was Maria.

"Lupin! Lupin, honey, someone torched it—the neighbors, they said they saw someone go inside and—they-they torched it."

The werewolf blinked at the older woman, uncomprehending at first, her words taking time to register. When they finally did, it felt like a sucker punch to the gut. The shock was still washing over her like an icy wave, drenching her completely.

"Who…?"

"They didn't see, couldn't get a good look at him, but he was tall and they think…black or dark brown hair. That's all they could see. He was riding a motorcycle when he left. The police are out looking for him. Oh! Your cats—I have them in my car, they managed to get out before the fire spread."

The only thing that stuck out was the motorcycle detail, and the man riding it. Motorcycles. She was involved knee deep with people who rode motorcycles.

"A motorcycle?"

The pieces lined themselves and she whirled on Aerrow, who had been standing close by, brow knitted in worry as he listened in. She darted a hand out and yanked the front of his shirt forward, pulling the taller young man down to her level with a snarl. He yelped and Radarr yowled in surprise. Maria cried out behind her.

"Did anyone follow you when you got here? Or did you follow anyone here? Answer me!"

"What? No, we were shoved through—we didn't—we…oh. Oh no. No, no, no. It can't be. They shoved us through, how could they—?"

"It's a simple goddamned question, Aerrow. Did you follow someone or did someone follow you here, yes or no?"

"I…" She saw the hesitance race across his features, that momentary break of uncertainty. He sucked in a breath, brow creasing and lips pursing thinly and a hard look formed in his eyes. "I don't know anymore."

Lupin glowered at him, hand holding his shirt slowly loosening its grip until she finally freed it up and let it drop to her side.

"Great. Wonderful. Fan-fucking-tastic. You don't know. That's just fucking awesome." She jerked away from him, fists balling at her side as she stalked toward the street, toward the building inferno. One of the bay doors was open. Lupin hadn't left it open when she'd left, that was for sure. Whoever this dark figure was, he'd been the one to open it, to let the fresh air in and the fire out. She felt her temper rise and build, coaxed upwards like a little flame on its last legs being given new food. A growl was building up in the back of her throat.

A firefighter not manning one of the hoses spotted her approaching and quickly moved in her path. "You gotta get back right now, ma'am, it's for your own safety—,"

"Out of my way. That's my home."

A flicker of sympathy crossed his face, but it was stamped out quickly enough.

"I'm sorry, but it's too dangerous, now get back."

He made to grab her, to guide her back toward the safety line, even by force if necessary. The growl that had been building up released itself and he stopped, startled. His precious few seconds of distraction was enough for her to flick him away.

The advantages of being a werewolf, she mused bitterly. Even with all his gear, the taller man was knocked aside like a ragdoll, skidding across the asphalt in an almost comical manner. Lupin strode forward, jaw still tight and lips pressed in an angry line. The smallest ounce of regret welled up inside her for having to hit the man. He was only doing his job, she knew that of course. But she didn't have time to dwell on it.

Someone dared to enter her territory while she was away. The beast in her was appalled and furious at the blatant intrusion, the lack of respect for another's territory. She was mere feet from the licking flames when she heard the pounding of boots behind her, the angered and frantic shouts of the other firefighters. She whirled, one arm tucked close, the other outstretched and palm facing upward. Fire from the open bay sprung forward, suddenly a beast unleashed from its cage, hissing and crackling and rapidly taking shape by her will. A pull in her chest gave a twinge at the summons, a rush of blood pounding in her ears.

The three men behind her stopped dead in their tracks and backed up quickly, and she saw the flash of fear in their eyes before the dancing flames blotted their forms from her view. The crowd further back gasped, shouted, screamed.

The blaze shifted, flowed, twitched until a prowling shape condensed into a recognizable form: a snarling wolf made of the blaze. It couldn't make the noises of one, only the crackling of the fire could be heard, but the exaggerated size was enough to intimidate. A sudden hush swept across the street. Lupin's hands dropped to her sides, balled back up into trembling fists as she turned away. The fiery form dissipated without fanfare behind her as she turned back toward the gaping bay door. A split moment of abject horror lanced through her, her resolve almost weakened to simply just watch as everything burned in lieu of stopping it. I never should have gotten involved with these goddamned kids.

The moment passed and she steeled herself. She slid her front leg forward, straight and angled, the back leg bent and bearing her weight, one arm tucked closer to her body, the other outstretched again. Fire licked at bare skin, almost tickling it.

My old friend, she thought absently. Why would you ever think burning what was mine to be all right?

She slid forward the back leg, shifting weight, and struck her outstretched arm at the empty air before her, fast as a serpent. The flames responded as though it had been smacked and cringed away. She repeated the steps, the actions, sliding from one form to another until she was inside the bay where her car normally sat.

A real-life firebender, not like those kids at all. This is real, all real. The woozy thought came unbidden, and she felt a strange disconnection filling her up after that thought, taking over the brief giddiness and squashing it ruthlessly. Freak. There's nothing special about being a pyrokinetic, about being able to do this. Nothing but a fucking monster.

The anger began filling in the void again, with a forced calm riding by its side. The fire began shrinking in on itself, its heat less intense. Its groping, flicking reaches were not as long. Smoke rose in places it had been extinguished in. Charred remains crackled and withered. Embers died out. The raging blaze dwindled to faint, hissing flames in some spots, collapsing in on itself. Lupin inhaled slowly, holding her breath for several beats before expelling it. The flames winked out of existence.

Silence reigned supreme, almost as though the world seemed to be holding its breath. Lupin opened her eyes, trying to find the positive silver lining in this. What could be salvaged? What could be saved? What wasn't touched? What was destroyed? What could be replaced? What if it couldn't be replaced? What if, what if, what if?

Slowly, the implications of what had been done and the damage dealt was dawning on her, and the more it all felt so helpless and pointless to see through it to the end. She could already see it: her home was destroyed. Most likely, a majority of her things were destroyed as well. The few things that weren't would be a trivial positivity in this charred shell. Scorch marks scarred the concrete, stained the metal, melted or charred everything else. She stood in the center of the destruction, weary and aching. Thoughts churned. Where do I go? Parents? No. Friends? No. I can't. I won't.

Her problems weren't theirs. She couldn't impose on them like that. She was tired of the pity, the misplaced sympathy, the looks and words of condolence. She'd had enough of that when James—

Lupin backpedaled, trying to catch her breath at the sudden thought, feeling as though she'd been blindsided by it. A few moments passed before she couldn't feel that ache in her chest.

Her problems were her own; she would clean up her own mess. And that would start as soon as she started getting to work on what was salvageable and what wasn't.

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"You were out when this happened, correct, Miss Ferus?"

"Charlie, cut the bullshit. I just told you what happened. I was working."

"Your shift ended nearly four hours ago. I called and confirmed with your boss."

"Charlie."

"Lupin…I need you to calm down."

She pinched the bridge of her nose, fighting the urge to smack the police officer in front of her clear across the room.

"You know what? No, Charlie. I won't calm down. Someone just torched my fucking garage—my home—like it was the fucking Fourth of July. I lost almost everything. I'm practically broke and I can't replace everything, like my art. That is irreplaceable because I made it. If my mother knew where I was staying, I'm gonna have even worse problems, Charlie. And I'm going to blame you if that word got out. I will haunt you and Sara will be on my bloody side about it, too."

Charlie Stanton, outstanding police officer to the LAPD, soon-to-be detective, and rather an upstanding guy overall, sighed heavily with his shoulders drooping, looking rather beaten. He groaned, knowing Lupin had him there, because she'd follow through with that threat. If they really had a mind to it, he mused, Lupin and his wife could rule the world. She was, after all, the one who had introduced him to his wife in the first place.

"Don't bring my wife into this, Lupin…seriously, that's a low blow."

"Then don't sit there, insinuating I torched my own bloody garage. It's rude."

"I'm going through the motions like I would for anyone else. It's kind of my job. You're not special."

She scowled at him, but refrained from speaking and instead chose to take a sip from the Styrofoam cup of bitter coffee Charlie had made for her.

"Okay. So you were out working…a job. With a kid." Charlie's face, still as baby-faced as the day Lupin had met him, screwed up into a confused jumble. He looked at Lupin, flipping the report in his hands down. He glanced over at the row of chairs against the far wall, away from Charlie's desk where Aerrow was sitting, a hand clamped on Kosmo's collar. One of the officers passing him by patted the dog on the head. "Seriously, who's the kid? Please don't tell me you're dating him. Bit young for you, isn't he? Cradle robber."

"Christ no, Charlie. I ain't dating some fresh-out-high-school kid," Lupin growled. "He's the one who approached me for the job I'm doing on my off hours. Just some repairs on an old motorcycle of his."

"Motorcycle?" His eyes narrowed.

Shit.

"Yes." She held his steady gaze, not willing to be bullied into a verbal corner.

"The guy who torched your place rode a motorcycle."

"I'm aware. My neighbor, Maria, filled me in. Someone who's tall, dark and creepy. This kid's way too peppy and bright. People would remember the red hair if it were him. Besides, I can account for his whereabouts during the arson. He was with me at the time, overlooking the repairs."

"Right. Where, exactly?"

"Some place across the city, close to the neighborhood down Wilshire Boulevard, I can't remember exactly. But I doubt he could've hauled ass to torch my place and then hauled ass back for the five minutes he'd stepped away the entire time he was with me. Pretty sure he used the head in that time."

She glowered at the man, taking in the details that she'd memorized about him. He was still baby-faced, but harder features were starting to show now and his nose was slightly crooked from having been broken twice. His baby-blue eyes were kind but piercing, complimented by a strong chin and high cheekbones. His wispy dirty blond hair was trimmed, styled and combed neatly to the side. Very Captain America-esque. His uniform was prim and proper but slightly worn from everyday use, while his broad shoulders sagged a little. He always did that, hunching over, made him look smaller than he actually was. If he sat up straight enough he would look more intimidating. He sighed, eyebrows furrowing.

"You're not telling me everything. Again. God, you just love making things difficult, don't you?"

"Charlie…believe me when I say this…you don't want to know everything." Lupin lowered her voice, shooting him a pleading look. "Please. Just believe me. It's too crazy for most people to even understand, let alone accept. He ain't done nothing, and I don't know who did this. But I think they were tryin' to send a message to the kid and his friends."

"Friends? He's got friends now?"

"Don't all kids?"

"You didn't."

He seemed to realize what he'd said a little too late and scrunched his face up, looking embarrassed and apologetic. "Aw, Christ…Christ, I'm—I'm sorry, Lupin…I didn't mean it like that."

She leaned into her chair more, swirling the cup of coffee in her hand. The taste was too bitter, too burnt. Just like this night. Just like this conversation. She set it aside, looking away, avoiding his gaze. "I know what you meant, Charlie."

He allowed a few beats to pass. The quiet rush of the police station went about its business, unabashed to the tension between Lupin and Charlie. Phones rang, keyboards clattered, papers rustled, footsteps shuffled. Charlie slowly sat his paperwork onto his already messy desk and sighed.

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. But…this is a serious offense. Someone may have wanted to send the kid and his buddies a message, but you are the one being caught in the crossfire. It doesn't look good, especially—since you got a record. And I'm pretty sure it's only a very small percentage of what you've actually done, and I doubt anyone will ever account for everything."

He raised a brow at her, quite aware that many things he knew she'd done were most definitely not in her record.

"Arson wasn't ever a part of it. You know that."

"No, you're right. But your pranks throughout the city as a kid might be enough to raise questions. People might think you did it or paid someone to do it, that you're letting old habits come back and you're raising the bar in terms of misconduct."

"Of course, right, because my impeccable service in the military means nothing, the fact that I was never in trouble while serving as a Marine will have no investigative credits whatsoever, that I'm just falling back into old habits here when I could've had an easier time of it while in service. Right," she snapped back sarcastically. Okay, she'd admit it was a bit childish of her, but that insinuation pissed her off. She had been a damned good Marine, cleaned up her bad habits rather well, or at least polished them up and used them for better uses.

…Sort of.

"I don't know what they'll think. But people are stupid and they'll jump onto anything and hold on to that idea for dear life, even if they're wrong. Especially if they know they're wrong. I mean, Jesus, I haven't even gotten to the part where you literally played with fire in front of nearly a hundred fucking people, Lupin! You ousted yourself, you're probably going to show up on the evening news, your parents are gonna be the least of your worries—I mean, you just showed these people that you're a pyrokinetic." He said the word 'pyrokinetic' in a hushed voice, eyes darting around to make sure no one else heard. He sucked in a breath, brows knitted in worry.

"You're gonna have people knowing your face a lot better than before. Chances are they'll know the kid's now, too. You'll be lucky if they don't. I'd suggest hiding it out with one of your buddies for the time being, lie low, don't go out. The damned news crews are outside right now, swarming the place to try and get a look at you and probably want to sell you out as some freak of nature that belongs in a circus or worse, a lab. You know mutants aren't exactly accepted these days and—"

He stopped there. Out of all that was said, he had to stop too late, right there, on that word. He saw Lupin bristle visibly and she growled softly, tension holding her ramrod straight now.

"Don't. Call. Me. That." Every word was punctuated clearly and dripping with venom as she glowered at Charlie. He hesitated, a flash of fear dancing across his eyes. Her temper faltered at the sight, at the sudden scent of fear permeating the air around him. The falter passed and she hardened her resolve.

"I know what is going to happen to me. I'll suddenly be the pariah for being a freak of nature because you humans are nothing but bigots and afraid of what you don't understand. But let me clear something up for you to understand quite clearly: I ain't done nothing wrong and you ain't doing shit to find out who did. Find them before I do, because I promise there will be no fucking trial if I get my paws on them. I will be judge, jury, and executioner for the motherfucker who dared to destroy my territory."

The growl built in volume, and both eyes were flashing bright gold now. Charlie leaned away, his throat dry and he stared, shocked and afraid of the woman before him, someone he thought he once knew. He didn't dare tear his eyes away from her, afraid if he did, she'd make for his throat like a rabid dog. A part of him knew that she was serious and she'd follow through with her threat. She wasn't idle and rarely made them, but when she did…

Danger. Get away, his mind supplied. He resisted the urge to reach for the gun holstered at his side. Lupin may have been his friend…but she was changed, inhuman, no longer the witty little girl he once had an awkward crush on as a kid. She was so much stronger than him, he knew, because of that change, that inhumanness of her nature now. The torn conflict between remaining loyal to his job and loyal to his friend fought it out in his head. The gun at his side felt heavier all of a sudden.

"Lupin…are you threatening to kill a man?"

"I'm threatening to do your job and find the asshole who torched my place," she answered carefully back. He swallowed, his throat still dry and itchy.

"I can't just let you walk away."

"You sure as hell can't keep me locked up."

True. He doubted anyone in the department, let alone the city, could do such a thing. He didn't even think it was worth trying.

"We'll find him," he promised, leveling her with a serious gaze. "Lupin, I can promise you, we'll find out who did this. Please, just…stay out of it. Don't ostracize yourself to the public any more than you already are. Don't give people an excuse to label you a pariah and start up a witch hunt on your ass." He licked his lips and smiled nervously as he added, "Or, you know…wolf hunt."

Her eyes narrowed at him, the gold still flashing in her eyes, but he could see it starting to fade in the right eye, declining to the blue-gray default he'd known her to once have. Once, they had both been blue-gray like that, pretty and witty and always flashing with mischievous intentions. The left, however, remained gold, wolfish and feral and reminding him that his friend was no longer human, just from looking at that eye. She had never mentioned how or why the eye had changed, and he'd never had the balls to ask. He was almost afraid of the answer.

He felt a shiver run down his spine. He sometimes felt he didn't recognize this woman, this werewolf, who had once been his friend as a child, who had been smart and funny. Now she was coarse and gruff, bitter even. He wondered if it had been the change forced upon her or if it had been the Marines. Or perhaps it had been both. It hurt to see how much she had changed. He missed his old friend.

"You already have enough issues with prowling around on full moons in the city. Don't let the public know about that too," he quietly reminded her. The gold in her right eye vanished completely at that and she looked away, lips pursed into a thin, impatient line. Her small shoulders remained rigid and tight. Her hands wrung themselves in her lap, picking nervously at one another. She tugged down the leather jacket she was wearing, covering the scars on her wrists, almost too quick for him to see. And the scar on her face stood starkly against the tan flesh surrounding it, white and thin, as though a blade had been drawn across it. He averted his gaze seconds afterward, knowing how she hated people staring at it. Or any of her scars, for that matter.

"Just lie low. I'll personally take care of it instead of just handing it off. All right?"

He hesitated, but reached across the small space between them, but it felt like he was stretching across the Grand Canyon. He grabbed one of her hands into his own, and squeezed. She jolted, startled, and nearly yanked herself away, but seemed to force herself to sit still enough to tolerate the physical contact. He felt a faint squeeze back and he smiled at her, trying to look reassuring, trying to fall back into the habit he'd issue for anyone in her position.

"It's getting late. Why don't you go and crash at someone's place, get some rest? I'd…I'd offer my place, but Sara, she's…been kinda moody lately. I know she loves ya, but I wouldn't risk her wrath right now," he joked and he saw the faintest smile perk up a corner of her lips.

"I'll figure it out." She paused, looked over her shoulder to where Aerrow was. "Do you need to see the kid?"

He sighed, tempted to say yes, but one glance at the digital clock on his computer and he grimaced. He was already on overtime and he still had to finish his report before coming close to clocking out. "No. We're done for the night. Just don't skip town or it'll look even worse, for the both of you."

"Right."

He gave her hand one last squeeze, released, and stood from his seat. "Come on. We'll go out the back. Those reporters are like fucking hyenas, I swear."

"Thank you, Charlie. I…I'm sorry I snapped."

"Don't worry about it. To be honest, I'm upset too. I know how much you loved that cramped little space you called home." He paused. "And I meant what I said. We'll find him."

"I…I know, Charlie. I know."

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