November 21, 2317
Two Days Earlier
Clara glared up at her ceiling, trying her best to ignore the sound of her alarm clock's shrieking. In her mind, she weighed the merits of just not going to class. It was the last day before Thanksgiving break, after all. Unless Holl got in one of his strange moods, there was zero chance of them having a practical lesson and she wouldn't be missing much in her other classes. There was a test in Hero Etiquette, but she always failed those anyway, so what was the point?
Clara spent so long pondering the pros and cons of a lie-in that she heard the alarms of the girls on either side of her go off, which led to a grunt (probably from stretching) from Diana's side and a loud curse from Eris'. 'Don't know what the fuck she expected. She didn't even get back to her room until nearly two. That's what you get for sneaking off to suck face,' she thought, darkly amused. In the beginning, she'd hated how thin the walls were for her enhanced hearing (they were most likely fine for everyone but her and Andi), but over the past two months, she had grown accustomed to listening in on her classmates.
It helped that Diana was relatively inoffensive of a hallmate, and Eris did most of her activities out of the dorm. She couldn't imagine being stuck next to dumbass Kira or Teardrop's spawn; that would actually push her off the deep end.
With a grunt, Clara sat up and glared at the sunbeams penetrating her curtains. If she were to get even a fraction of her usual workout in before class, she'd have to move quickly. Not bothering to change out of her sleep clothes (gym shorts and a tank top), she grabbed her towel and the small bag that held her toiletries and exited her room into the relative quiet of the girl's dorm. On a normal day, she'd have already been up and out starting her normal routine, but a late start was fine every once and a while.
When she exited the communal bathrooms, she made a quick stop at her room and dropped off her bag, grabbing her phone and heading right back out the door. She'd only made it to the common room when someone called out to her. "Hey, Clara!"
"What do you want?" She huffed, turning to glare at Shaula. The Head of the girls' dorm was probably the person she had the least issues with in the entirety of the student body. She was fairly quiet and rarely bothered Clara unless she was scolding her for (admittedly justifiably) shouting matches or fights. Shaula smiled at her, her scorpion tail swishing through the air behind her.
"Got a message from the administration for you. Mr. Holl wants to speak to you before classes start. He sounded pretty serious on the phone," she trailed off, giving Clara an expectant look. She sneered and crossed her arms over her chest. 'Fucking asshole. This is probably about me not speaking to him for a month. Shitbag told me not to scream, and he can already hear my thoughts, so why the fuck would I get in trouble?'
Even in her own opinion… her reasoning wasn't the best.
Shaula frowned, then reached out and awkwardly patted Clara on the shoulder, causing the younger girl to stiffen. Realizing her mistake, Shaula withdrew her hand and smiled much more genuinely this time. "I'm sure it's nothing bad. From my experience, teachers wait until the end of the day to yell at you. It's probably just something about your grades, or he wants to review the practicals your class did yesterday."
"Yeah, sure," Clara replied, knowing full well that if anyone was going to yell at another person this early in the morning, it would be Holl. 'Guess he doesn't really yell though, does he? Just sits there with that smug ass smile and tells you everything you did wrong. Fucking dick.' Without another word to her senior, she turned and marched towards the front door. Shaula looked after her with a bemused expression until the sound of something glass-like breaking came from the kitchen. "Not again, Kira!"
"It wasn't me!"
Meanwhile, Clara stomped angrily across the mostly deserted campus towards the main school building. Several other early risers passed her on the way, each making sure to get out of her way. It had become somewhat common knowledge around the school what Clara looked like when she was on a rampage, and most went out of their way to avoid it.
Of course, there were exceptions to that. The moment Clara felt the biting November chill around her warming up, she ground her teeth together and raised her hand to give her shadow a rude finger gesture. "That's an interesting way to say 'Good morning', Clara."
"Fuck off, flame idiot. Not in the mood for you today." Without even looking back, she could tell Lyon was following her, his face surely twisted into that wide, creepy grin he wore everywhere. Of every single one of her peers, she hated none more than Lyon MacAllister. Somehow he knew how to press each and every one of her buttons and wasn't afraid of her inevitable retaliation. In fact, it was probably due to the fact that he knew he could beat her in a fight, that he pushed her as far as he did.
"Well, that is unfortunate. You see, I was actually hoping to catch you before classes today to give you a friendly warning. However, if you have no tim—" She knew she shouldn't take the bait. She also knew that, unless she did, he would never leave her alone. Lyon chose that moment to stop trailing her and match her pace.
"What kind of fucking warning?"
"Beware his influence. His judgment is askew." Clara, for once, found herself speechless. She wasn't sure what she expected him to say (probably just another thinly veiled insult), but that certainly wasn't it.
"The hell are you talking about." Lyon kept his gaze straight ahead, his fingers twitching nervously, causing sparks to shoot out. Once he realized what he was doing, he smiled again and waved his hand skyward, making the sparks shoot up and form a bird made of fire.
"There have been rumors lately that you have a secret lover. I merely wished to tell you that such things generally end poorly, so don't allow him, or her, to manipulate you. I've read all about abusive relationships, you know." For a brief moment, Clara stared at him like he'd grown an extra head before the anger growing in her gut exploded outward, and she slammed her fist into the side of Lyon's face.
"Keep your fucking fantasies to yourself, dimshit moron," she growled, stalking away from her classmate and back towards her intended target. 'One of these days… I'm going to murder that piece of shit. I'll do it in a practical, make it look accidental.' As she walked, she schemed, and as she schemed, a smile formed on her face. By the time she made it to the administration building, her mood had risen greatly from the idea of beating that pest to a sniveling pile of trash.
She gave the secretary (a younger woman with tree bark-like skin and leafy hair) her name and was granted permission to the West Wing of the building, where all the teachers had their personal offices. She already knew the way from the few other times she'd been summoned and quickly arrived at the door with "Derrick Holl" emblazoned on it in silver lettering. Without bothering to knock, she pushed open the door and entered the obnoxiously cluttered space.
Almost immediately she felt a much different vibe in the office than in the past. Holl didn't greet her with his usual sarcastic humor that made her want to blow his eardrums out, instead sitting solemnly at his desk with his fingers steepled together. At her entrance, he glanced up, and his mouth tightened to a straight line. "Take a seat, Clara," he told her, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.
"The hell did I do this time, Holl?" She snapped, trying to hide the sudden tenseness of her shoulders. Something about his tone had her metaphorical hackles rising. Holl sighed and leaned back in his armchair.
"I don't know if you were paying attention yesterday, but students who live in the New York metropolitan area are allowed to go home for their Thanksgiving breaks." Clara's brow furrowed at this. She vaguely remembered a few members of her class (Hazel chief among them) who were upset that only people who lived nearby were allowed to go home for break, but Holl had explained it was due to their patrols beginning. Still, she had no idea what this had to do with her, though judging by the anticipatory look on his face, Holl was expecting her to. After a beat of silence, his frown deepened, and he spoke again. "Your father has requested you to return home for the break."
Clara inhaled deeply through her nose, the simmering ire from her Lyon encounter boiling over. She grit her teeth and looked away from her teacher, favoring the large open window overlooking the river instead. 'Of course, he did. Fuck, I was hoping to get off free until summer break. He's more pissed than I thought,' she seethed. In her mind, there was only one reason he would be calling her back home… her performance in school and the Halloween Tournament required 'Correction" and he intended to make her know it.
"Clara," Holl began slowly. Her eyes darted back to meet his, and saw sadness in them. She cursed his telepathy and stood, her hand gripping the chair's armrest tight enough to make the wood groan in protest. "If anything is wrong… you can tell me. I'm your teacher, I can help you."
"I don't want your fucking help. Nothing's wrong, and don't pretend you care," she snapped back. Holl's frown deepened, but he nodded.
"Clara… if you truly don't want me to intervene, then I won't—"
"Good." Despite his more serious tone, Holl couldn't help but shoot her his usual reprimanding look that never seemed to have much effect on his students. This time was no different as Clara sneered at him and made for the door.
Derrick made no move to stop her as she slammed the door hard enough to shatter the glass window. At the sound of someone else shouting at her, he sighed and slumped into his chair, reaching one hand up to massage his temple in a vain attempt to treat his onsetting migraine. 'That went about as well as I expected. Fuck, Richard… I'm sorry I let you become this. No child should have to look that scared at the mention of their parent.'
"You're really alright with this? Saying nothing?" Derrick nearly leaped out of his chair at the unexpected voice. His head whipped up to see Ivanov standing at the entrance to his office, warily stepping over the pile of shattered glass. He settled into the seat Clara had been occupying and pulled out a silver and golden flask from his suit vest pocket. "Say you can help her but do nothing when she obviously needs it?"
Derrick set his jaw at the bait and shook his head. "I would just make things worse by going against her wishes. You and I both know that. Even with the fear and how far he's fallen… he's still her father. Us trying to help would look to Clara like we were trying to turn her against him, and she'd react defensively. That's not even taking into account what Richard would do when he's this frayed already."
Ivanov stared at him with a thoughtful expression for a long, long time before finally raising the flask to his lips and taking a long draw. He belched loudly and passed the drink to Derrick, who, for once, gladly accepted the alcohol. He took an even bigger swig than the Principal before passing it back. He quickly stowed it away and got back to his feet, making Derrick relax — he wasn't sure he could handle a long interrogation before classes had even begun for the day. "I defer to your judgment, as usual. Lord knows I have no idea the intricacies of the child's mind like you do. If you say that letting her handle the problem for the time being is the right call, then I'm inclined to agree. However, she's your student, so whatever happens falls squarely on your shoulders. What's a little more weight, eh?"
As much as he appreciated Ivanov as an educator, friend, and occasional drinking buddy, Derrick was not at all sad to see him walk back out the door. Even at the best of times, he was crass and unapologetic in his mannerisms. He'd always had a particular talent for making Derrick feel much worse about his decisions. 'Doubt I'd feel too much better if he hadn't shown up though.'
Once Castor and Pollux arrived to clean the mess of broken glass, Derrick lowered his head to rest on his desk, allowing himself to let out a steadying breath. He'd only woken up an hour ago but was already ready to crawl right back into bed and wait for his wife to get home to comfort him.
'Damnit. Once again, I'm useless. Ivanov is right that they're my students, but recently I've been all but powerless to help them. The Yonkers clean-up, Melody's breakdown, the patrols, and now this? If it's my job to keep these kids safe and on the right path, I'm doing a damn fine job of fucking it up.' He rolled his head to the side and found himself face-to-face with ghosts. Their smiling, young faces forever unchanged in the photograph. 'What would you guys think? I find myself wondering that quite often, in situations like these. Max and Jeanne would scold me for letting her run off like I did. Harmony would hunt her down herself and try a heart-to-heart, no matter how obvious that outcome would be. Funnily enough… I think you'd be the most disappointed with me, Richard.'
"Done."
"Clean," Castor and Pollux droned simultaneously. Derrick, startled, jumped in his seat and slammed one of his knees into the underside of his desk. After muttering a curse, he thanked the twins and glanced up at the clock. 'Ah… only a few minutes late today. I doubt I'll see her again, but I'll let Hector know tomorrow to keep a close eye on Clara on their patrol. I don't wanna think how bad of a state she'll be in mentally after being around him for two full days.'
Purpose of a Hero
Clara never did make it into class that day.
Instead, she stormed back to where she knew the 'flame idiot' trained before school every day. There was still a while until their first period, so she assumed he was still there. Her assumption was proved correct and somehow – he must have been too enthralled in whatever sort of meditation he was doing – did not notice her until she grabbed him by the front of his shirt and slammed him against a tree.
Lyon didn't look particularly surprised to see her again, though his usual smile was dampened by the growing welt on his face where she'd punched him earlier. Clara leaned in close until they were nearly nose to nose and growled. "How did you know?"
"I'm afr–"
"Don't fucking bullshit me, MacAllister. How?" She snarled. Lyon, to his credit, looked taken aback before frowning and raising his hand. Her nerves already frayed to their breaking point, Clara tightened her grip around his neck as he waved his hand, and a small ball of fire formed from a stream of embers in his palm. She glanced back and noticed the blackened grass around where he'd been sitting (probably practicing his manipulation if she really thought about it), then turned her attention back to him right as he closed his fist to snuff out the flames.
Lyon clearly hesitated before he spoke. "I… overheard some discussion while in the administration building last night. Mr. Holl sounded quite upset."
"Oh, I'm sure he was. You, on the other hand. I bet you were ecstatic to get some dirt on me, eh asshole?" Lyon frowned.
"I don't understand. I was merely trying to subconsciously warn you ahead of time," he paused, examining her livid face. "...it seems I was mistaken in my thinking."
"That was your idea of helping? Some bullshit nonsense about a 'secret lover' is your idea of a friendly warning?" Clara asked, sounding, for once, legitimately dumbstruck. Lyon did his best to shrug. With a snort, she let go of his collar and let him fall back onto the ground, reveling in the surprised yelp he gave as his back scraped against the tree's bark. "You're a fucking idiot."
"In my defense, I believed you would only have reacted more harshly if I had been the one to tell you instead of someone you less actively despise, such as Mr. Holl.." Lyon got to his feet, ignoring the wary glare sent his way. As he patted the dirt from his uniform, he hummed thoughtfully. "Perhaps I have been too – what's the saying? 'Gung-ho?' – in my altruism recently. I doubt Tamako will have a better reaction when I unveil my plan to her tomorrow. It seems a shame that that engagement will keep me from seeing your father arrested."
"Why the fuck would he be arrested?" Clara shot back, surprising Lyon. His eyes widened, and his head tilted to the side quizzically.
"You… don't intend to report him? That is… surprising. Perhaps I was wrong? On the surface, you bear all the telltale scars of an abuse victim. The aggression, lack of social skills, and withdrawn nature. Seismos doesn't have the best reputation in the Hero world either, so I just assumed…" he trailed off. Clara turned away from him, which only further piqued his curiosity. Without thinking through all of the potential ways his question could be construed as he normally did, Lyon allowed himself to simply ask, "Why?"
"Fuck off." Lyon was shocked at the bitter, desperate tone of her voice (much different than her usual fury) and examined her for a moment. It was only then that he noticed the slight tremble of her shoulders and the short, heavy breaths she was taking. After a pause, he came to a sobering realization.
"I see," Lyon replied, putting his hands in his pockets and allowing his usual smile to take hold of his expression. Clara said nothing more as she began to walk away, but she didn't go far before Lyon's voice stopped her again. "I never knew my father, nor do I have any sort of relationship with my mother. That is not for lack of trying on her part, mind you. Hence, it was very easy for me to leave home to come here. I had assumed it was the same for you, though obviously, my initial beliefs were, once again, skewed by the storybooks that raised me. I apologize if I offended you in any way, Clara."
"I said fuck off," Clara said, though her voice was much softer than Lyon had ever heard it. As she walked away for good this time, he settled back into his meditative pose, determined to make the most of his last ten minutes before class. In a rare occurrence, he spent most of that time struggling to get his flames to listen to his commands. Usually, his morning sessions were less about gaining control and more about holding it. With less than five minutes before the late bell, he gave up and lied back in the dry, dying grass. 'Every time I think I understand this world, I am instantly proven wrong. Rarely does it affect me this personally, however. How odd. It seems my relaxing retreat is just another prison for Clara. So strange how that works sometimes. What's the saying? One man's trash is another's treasure?
'I do wonder though… what would it have been like to leave if I had loved you, mother? Would I have even left at all?"
Her blood still boiling, Clara raced back to her dorm room and began packing up her essentials for the next few days. 'At the very least, I can make this bullshit visit on my own damn terms,' she thought, dumping the contents of her shower basket into her backpack. The dorms were eerily quiet now that her fellow students were up and already heading to class.
It certainly made it easier to shoulder her backpack and head out the front door without anyone trying to stop and talk to her (even though Shaula was the only one who regularly tried). Instead of going to the front gate, in her paranoia that someone would stop her from leaving, she made her way to the Eastern section of the ten-foot wall surrounding the campus. After checking the coast was clear, she tossed her backpack over and took a few generous steps back.
With a running start, she leaped and made it three-quarters of the way up, then kicked off where her foot connected to make it the rest of the way. Clara hauled herself over and dropped as gracefully as she could onto the grass below. With the hard part over, she took a more relaxed route to the nearby metro station and got in line at the kiosk.
The ride to her father's opulent Bronx mansion was spent thinking up a hundred different ways to tell her father to shove it. She was sure the children sitting across from her on the subway were more than a little creeped out by the sadistic grin on her face. Once it was finally her stop, she stood and shoved her way out of the train. She got more than a few dirty looks for doing so but couldn't really find it in her heart to care.
A brisk ten-minute walk later, she found herself glaring up at the house she'd grown up in. The place she'd come to hate more than any other. Where her father had gotten the clearance to build such a gaudy structure in the middle of the city was beyond her. She'd always loathed the gothic design for how it painted her memories in an even darker light. Clara didn't even bother knocking, instead shoving the heavy wooden doors open to an empty entrance hall. Well… nearly empty.
She hadn't even seen the well-dressed man waiting by the door when she entered, but she heard it when he took a step towards her. "Miss Clara, welcome home."
"Garrett," she hissed back. Jack Garrett was one of her father's former sidekicks turned butler lapdog. He'd been her tutor as a child… and second only to her father in terms of her loathing. The man smiled mockingly, seemingly enjoying the venom in her voice.
"You were supposed to arrive tomorrow. Though, I suppose it doesn't matter. Mr. Ramirez will be glad to see you," he said, motioning for her to follow him. Clara scowled and made sure to take her leisurely time as he led her deeper into the manor. 'Fucker knew I'd show up today. His mind game bullshit is already starting. How could I be so stupid to fall for it?' Garrett led her past her childhood room, only allowing her to drop off her backpack before ushering her along.
The doors to her father's office were just as large and even more garishly designed than the front ones. In an instant, she felt like a little girl again, terrified of what would happen when those doors opened. Back then, she would cower behind Garrett, giving up any pretense of putting on a brave face. Annoyingly, that urge resurfaced as Garrett knocked loudly on the doors, but she wasn't a little girl anymore. As her father's voice echoed from within and the door was pushed open, Clara took a deep breath, held her head high, and tried to suppress the instinctual urge to run.
Purpose of a Hero
Excerpt from the Diary of Vasily Ramirez
June 13, 2277
Every day Richard grows more and more. He's become such a lively little thing. Runs me around the house on his stubby legs all day long. Never have I been more grateful for my early retirement.
When I watch him again next week, I think I'll take him to the ice cream parlor by the park that Sergio loved as a child. Perhaps my son will come along with us…
He has been worrying me recently. Sergio has been keeping Richard at arm's length, barely showing his son any warmth. More often than not, it's me or the nanny watching over him.
I've gone to his office several times to talk to him, but they say he works from home now that he has a child. Yet, he is never at the house?
Where are you disappearing to, my son?
Purpose of a Hero
Howdy. Look, I can update in less than six months! Take that discord server!
Anyway, this chapter is a bit shorter compared to the last and while I'm not overly proud of it (might be a bit too face-paced), I tend to think poorly of everything I write. Let me know what y'all think.
I've noticed a few new people follow the story since the last update and I have no idea if they're actually still reading but it's been a while since I mentioned the server, so if you're new and interested in joining the Discord for this story, just shoot me a PM.
That's all from me. Gonna work on the next chapter of Once More Unto the Breach next, but hopefully PoaH isn't far behind.
NEXT TIME ON THE PURPOSE OF A HERO
Chapter 61: Richard Ramirez