Chapter 6: Fire and Rain
Warren's POV
A few weeks into the semester, and she still hasn't run away. Take that however you want; I probably mean it every way you can.
I mean, no one has ever even approached me before, let alone stayed, talked and interacted with me despite…well, me. One part of me longs for the isolation again, unnerved by how close she gets without any fear, and just wishes she would shut up with all her pointless small-talk that's usually exchanged between school-friends. And yet I find myself replying, continuing, even initiating conversations and feeling…lonely when she leaves my table to save one for the sidekicks. Hell, I'm even starting to feel proud of her progress in Mad Science.
I don't know, it's like she's starting to make me feel like a real valued person and if I'm honest it's scaring the shit out of me.
The thoughts of Rivers fade out and I find myself staring blankly at the textbook page I had intended to read before the next class. This is happening far too often; getting distracted by her.
I slam the book shut. "For f***'s sake, Peace." Of course, that reminds me of the joke she made about swearing, and I feel my lips quirk up for a second before I growl in frustration.
What the hell is she doing to me?
And now I even have to work with her. I'm not going to lie, she's made the workload for all of us a lot easier, and she's really efficient at washing dishes. But she's really at her best when she's out front. When she's taking the customers to their seats, when she's taking their orders, every moment of contact she has with them right up until they're out the door, she's talking to them, chatting about nothing and everything, making them smile and laugh. She's really transformed the place. Don't get me wrong, it's not like the customers were unhappy to be here before, it's just that we would serve them and leave them to whatever conversations they were having, and that was as far as mutual enjoyment would go. But now, they love her. I even had one old lady address me as I was clearing her table saying how she came to the Paper Lantern more often now because of Rivers. Or more specifically because of her smile. I remember thinking to myself at the time that I couldn't blame her, before that thought threw me completely off balance. I strode back into the kitchen, quickly dumped the stuff I was holding and changed out of my work clothes, making a hasty exit as I tossed a quick "Got homework, sorry" over my shoulder at my colleagues. Lin seemed reluctant to accept it, especially as I didn't make eye contact with either of them, but Rivers just took it, saying that she'd see me at school like my exit didn't even faze her.
Either way, she's definitely something else.
She's late today. She's usually really punctual coming out of class before lunch, like sitting here with me is another appointment she has to keep. Once, a small part of me mused that maybe she was excited to see me, that she independently enjoyed sitting with me, but then I quickly wiped that thought from my mind before I started to believe it. But this time, too much time has passed, even if she went via the bathroom. Eventually I know I won't beat the queue if I wait for her any longer, so I just get up and get my lunch. Yeah, we're doing that now, too; waiting for each other before we get our lunch. Even just thinking about it makes me want to wretch with how adorably normal it is. But whatever. I've got my lunch now – huh, lasagne; I didn't even notice when I ordered – and she's still not here. I find myself frowning before shaking my head and getting my textbook out again with little confidence that I'll be able to concentrate. I don't look up from the book as people start filing in, avoiding eye contact even as the words on the page don't register any meaning.
Ten minutes go by and the seat opposite me is still empty, and she isn't with the usual sidekick gang she hangs out with; I had a quick look. Hell, I'm even starting to get worried now. Even most of the sidekicks have got their food.
It's at that point that I hear a surprised yelp before a cafeteria tray clatters against the back of my head, its contents – luckily dry – spilling all over my stuff.
My first instinct is to be irritated; accident or not, I don't like getting rained on by food. I would have just glared at the pipsqueak responsible and hope they would just scamper off, not even bothered if they didn't clear up; I just want to be left alone. That thought leads onto the possibility that it might be Rivers – how do those two thoughts link? – but dismiss the idea as I realise the culprit's voice was definitely a guy's.
I freeze just as I reach to brush my textbook clear. That voice; I've heard it across the cafeteria for the past few weeks. I know that voice.
The white page in front of me flares red. This quadrant of the cafeteria snaps into silence as I push myself out of my seat and spin to face the pathetic blue creature on the floor. He stands up timidly, fearfully, as he takes in my expression and identity.
I sneer. Like you even knew who I was before your little posse told you on that first day, you arrogant little rodent.
"Uh, sorry," he says quietly, hopefully.
"You will be," I growl, fire in my veins.
He gestures weakly between us. "Look, let's not do this." His voice cracks.
"You think you can do whatever you want just because your name is 'Stronghold'?" I fume, my voice rising.
He tripped. I know he did. There was nothing he could have done to prevent it, and he sure as hell didn't mean to. But I'm so pissed off despite all this. The fact that I'm not sure why – and the fact that I have some idea why – frustrates me and pisses me off more in a never-ending cycle.
The rat seems to get frustrated, too. "I'm sorry that my dad put your dad in jail, but I –."
I cut him off as my anger erupts, flaring out towards my hands in preparation while I grab his shirt and pull him menacingly upwards and towards me, taking in his sheer terror with sick satisfaction.
"Nobody talks about my father," I hiss.
And then I let my anger go. Releasing my restraint, fire flares into my hands, and Stronghold jerks and wriggles out of my grasp, away from the heat. People around us scramble out of their seats as Stronghold backs away. From across the room I hear Stretch clap and say, "Oh, it is so on!". I sneer in disgust at doing anything that slimeball approves of, but it only fuels my bloodlust for Stronghold. I flare up my hands again.
That's when the chanting starts. The stereotypical high school drama of "Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!". My vision goes red.
I don't need these idiots encouraging me. And I'm not doing this to entertain you, you morons!
The ones who are smart and running away have had their head start. I throw my first fireball at Stronghold. He dodges to the side, flinching as it roars past him and explodes against a wall, the fire already catching. The idiots urging us on now realise they're idiots, and start screaming and tripping over each other in their panicked urgency to escape. I'm relentless in my assault, launching fireballs constantly, their light exploding across my vision. But even as I release my fire, more kindles inside me, bursting out all too eagerly. The more steam I let off, the tenser I feel. Even as my rage blocks out all reason, the few thoughts I desperately want to ignore pierce through the haze.
Is this it? Has she decided she's had enough? Does she hate me now? Has she just given up on me and tossed me aside because I'm not worth her time?
If there's one thing more dangerous than my anger, it's my damaged anger. I snarl as Stronghold flees across the cafeteria, feel the grim delight as the serving area explodes with my onslaught. A streak of black and white flicks in front of me as I see Stronghold faceplant again. I'm sure that colour means something, something important, but all I can think is that I need to burn that little weasel on the floor to a crisp. He flips onto his front to face me as I flare up, now half my forearms consumed by fire. He shuffles under the table, trying to find refuge like a coward. The large attack I launch just misses him as he scrambles away, eating the end of the table almost as soon as it hits. I'm nowhere near done yet though; I jump onto the table as I register him crawling under the whole row, flinging fireballs either side of the table, following him as he crawls away like the bug he is, flinching at every flash of heat. Finally we reach the end of the row, and he has nowhere to go. I power down, breathing hard in my fury. And a sentence leaves my mouth that shocks even me, behind my anger.
"Where's your sidekick, sidekick?!"
I don't care about any of that stuff, but before the shock can snap me out of my haze – even a little bit – someone to my left speaks up.
"Right here!"
The losers I see Stronghold with step forward, the hippie, the punk, the geek and the yellow weirdo, all looking sheepish but determined even as the weirdo awkwardly gestures 'come on' to me.
Oh, you're going down, little insects.
Before I can flare up though, someone interrupts us.
"And here!"
At first I don't recognise the voice. I mean, I sure as hell didn't know she could shout, especially so defiantly. Even the hippie gasps as she whirls towards the source. I turn towards her next, all those questions that had been needling me moments earlier echoing in my head. And there she is.
Rivers stands at the edge of the crowd, a space now being formed around her as she's declared herself one of my opponents. She drops her bag and her books straight onto the floor, not caring about them getting creased as she glares at me. I'm not kidding, she's glaring. Her storm-coloured eyes flash underneath her scowl, even as they quickly become a more vibrant blue, a sign she's using her powers, so she's told me.
A question burns on the edge of my tongue – "where the hell were you?!" – but then I take in her expression. She's not just defiant, not even just ready for a fight, which is stunning in itself. She sees me, eyes wild, fists clenched, standing above a cowering boy and his friends. And she's disappointed. Like I've let her down.
My arms shake. How dare you.
Even as I bare my teeth to her, she shakes her head slightly, just once.
That's the last straw.
As I flare my arms up, the water fountains on either side of the cafeteria explode, their water arcing gracefully towards her, and she has my arms wrapped in ropes of liquid before I can even react.
"Calm down!" she shouts, both begging and commanding.
I snarl at her, flaring my arms up underneath her water to boil it off. Her scowl deepens as she grits her teeth too, freezing the water around my arms and the steam I boil off. I flare hotter and she works harder to freeze it. We're at a stalemate for an infuriating ten seconds as neither of us gain any ground in our endeavours.
And then, even through my haze, I see something start to go wrong. The steam that quickly forms and just as quickly vanishes around me starts to rise from her hands, the instruments she's using to manipulate the water. The steam intensifies, and she blinks in surprise gazing down at her hands. Then her expression crumples, and the water around me crashes to the ground as she collapses to her knees, screaming out in agony and clutching her hands to her chest.
The noise is emotive enough, but I can see the pain on her face and she's in such a vulnerable position. Combine those with the fact that I had caused this reaction, and my haze shatters. My face slackens and my eyes widen in shock.
Kaitlyn.
"Kait!" I hear the hippie scream.
Oh, shit, what have I done?
Then I hear a growl from beneath the table. "Leave her alone!"
My arms and stance widen so I don't fall off the table as it's lifted into the air. Who the hell managed to get under the table? But there aren't any heroes with super-strength at this school, apart from the rock guy I heard about, and the table would be higher if it was him. Wait a second….
"He's strong!" Hippie laughs. No way.
"I'm strong?" That's definitely him.
"He's super-strong."
Before I can react, Stronghold drops his stance, throwing the table – and me – sideways. I have just enough time to protect my head with my arms before I smack into a concrete support on the ceiling, tilting wildly until the table I crash onto is flattened underneath me.
I hear applause and cheers over the vague ringing in my head. I just lie there, Kait's cry of pain and her twisted expression replaying in my mind. I did that to her. I made her cry out. I hurt her. No. No, no, I – I was just so angry if I hadn't been angry I never would have done it! How had I got so angry? Who had made me so angry?
My vision clears its blurriness as I reach the answer: Stronghold.
My skin sizzles as the internal fire reignites.
You will burn, little rat.
The metal of the table supports creaks under the clench of my fists as I pull myself halfway up, fury fuelling my task.
"Stronghold!"
The name echoes around me in deeper pitch than I'm used to, sounding more like some evil villain on a kid's cartoon than my own voice. Barely registering the cries of alarm, I zero in on the piece of scum, ignoring the other students who scramble out of my way again. Pain pulses in my forearms from where they hit the ceiling, a bellows to my rage. Grasping that hot iron, I flare up again, pushing the flames to elbows and relishing in the expressions of awed terror on the spectators. But Stronghold, now infuriatingly bold, holds his fists up. Shakily and uncertainly, yes, but he's still willing to fight. Not like Kaitlyn; she didn't want to fight, she only reacted when I made the first move. I grit my teeth and snarl.
I will burn you to a crisp!
Pouring my rage into the shot, I hurl another ball of flame at the weasel, growling in frustration as he ducks and dodges and dives away from every shot. Intent on at least singeing his clothes, I dash forward, ready to grab him while the flames snap around my arms. The pipsqueak just decks under my arms because he's so small, and aims a punch square in my chest. Pain burst through my ribs and my breath is pushed out of me. Through the creaking in my chest I have just enough time to realise I'm flying before my back receives the same welcome as my front – just from a wall this time. The cafeteria wall crumples like paper. The solid concrete wall is a bit harder, but still easily bends. I feel them both. Pretty sure there are two shapes next to me but I shrug them off along with the pain and the dust. But not the fury; I keep that.
Cheering continues as the rat celebrates his "victory", and I enjoy the looks on their faces as I call out again. "Think I can't take a hit?!"
For the third time, the cafeteria falls silent as everyone stares at my aggression. I focus on the looks on their faces both now and over my time here, their fear, their concealed hatred, their obvious want to have nothing to do with me. And then they're replaced by Kaitlyn's face, her honest eyes and accepting smile, and her grimace of pain, her scream of agony….
Pumping that fuel into my arms, I power up again, screaming out my effort, frustration and anger. My whole arms flash with fire, burning brighter than even I've ever seen them. The crowd scatters, leaving my one target right out in the open.
Perfect.
Pure fury now powering my legs, I charge towards him snarling. Something red flies at him from in the side-lines. He catches it. Fumbles with it. Juggles it. Just a few steps now. He reaches round the front –.
Gotcha.
I pounce…
…and I'm pushed back.
Holding my arms over my face, I cough at the white fumes that flood my mouth and nose. Finally the stream relents and I can breathe again, but before I can even think about launching myself at the rat, the clicks of high heels next to me sound my impending doom. Right by my head stands Principle Powers, looking as sharp and disapproving as any headmistress. Stronghold greets her awkwardly, but I barely acknowledge her presence, clenching my fists and growling lowly at the fact that, with her here, our fight has been called to a premature close.
His fate will just have to wait.
Principle Powers escorts us out of the cafeteria. I shoot glares at a few who have the audacity to stare at me. As we walk, my skin still prickles with the urge to burn him, so I do what I can to divert my attention from the discomfort; clench and unclench my fists, rolls my shoulders, scratch my forearms (carefully for the tender spots). Won't be able to beat him to a pulp right now, so there's no use in just enduring the discomfort.
She brings us to the detention room – which I have managed to avoid since starting here, despite what some people may think about me – and opens the door. She gestures us in with that weird way of seeming polite yet also not allowing disobedience. Stronghold walks in first while I glare holes in the back of his stupid head. Almost as soon as we're inside, he picks a fight.
"I didn't do anything though; he started it," he sulks like a child, his voice echoing weirdly in the room.
Seething, I immediately correct him. "Your dad started it…" Started this feud, started that fight, started hurting Kaitlyn – "…and I'm gonna finish it." I flare up.
Except I don't.
What the hell?
Vaguely aware and amused by Stronghold flinching away from me, I try and flare up again, again unsuccessfully. Before I can round on Principle Powers about what the hell is going on, she explains, infuriatingly calm and confident.
"Don't bother; the detention room neutralises all super powers." What the hell, seriously? Damn Medulla. She points at the two desks in the room. "Sit."
We both sit, and I stretch my legs out to get comfortable while trying not to glare at the Principle. She continues regardless of my foul mood.
"Here at Sky High, we do everything we can to teach you how to use your powers. But what you do with them, now that's up to you. Living up to your father's reputation or trying to live it down is a sad waste of talent. Your talent. Try to keep that in mind the next time you're about to do something stupid." She smiles haughtily, disapprovingly, and marches out of the room, the door hisses shut behind her.
Bitch. What was all that about our fathers' reputations? Who's trying to live it down? As far as I can see, it was a rematch. An epic battle between the descendants of the great Commander and Baron Battle! I mentally snort sardonically. Dad would be so f*****g proud of you, Peace.
Oh, so now you figure out it was pointless? another voice comments, feminine this time. I can't decide who it sounds more like though: my mom or…or Kaitlyn. Too little, too late, I'm afraid. The damage is done.
The word 'damage' rings in my head, and I have to stop myself from flinching at the accompanying scream of pain that I'm wondering if I'll ever forget. A sigh pushes itself out of the depths of my chest.
"Alright, look," the rat speaks up, further irritating me. "Whatever happened between our dads, it has nothing to do with us. What do you say?" He holds his hand out to me.
You're kidding me, right?
Taking a second to regard his hand with disgust, I reply in a low voice.
"I say, if you ever cross me again, I'll roast you alive."
Even after I break eye contact to look around the room, the idiot still leaves his hand there for a few more seconds hopefully. Realising I'm really not going to be friendly, he awkwardly brings it back to his desk and sits tensely. Silence smothers the whole room and I exhale harshly.
Well, this is going to be boring.
ЖЖЖ
Yep, it was boring.
Principle Powers collects us about fifteen minutes before the end of the school day, and the hours had trudged by agonisingly. An hour into the torture I had asked if I could work on something, and I was luckily granted this wish, so I didn't have to stare at blank and blinding white walls anymore. But it was still schoolwork, so it wasn't much of a luxury.
I step out of the room first, but the principle stops me as I'm about to walk off.
"Go to the nurse's office, Mr Peace; she'll see to the injuries you sustained during your little spat."
My fists clench, not only at her condescension of the fight but also at the reminder that I'm wearing souvenirs while the only injuries the rat had acquired are maybe scrapes from when he tripped or crawled under the tables. She raises her eyebrows while I seethe, so I stride quickly off in the direction of the nurse's office. I hear Stronghold step out of the detention room.
"Principle Powers, how's Kait?"
My breath catches and my footsteps echo down the hallway as I stop in my tracks.
Kaitlyn. Why didn't I ask about her?
Because you were the one who hurt her, moron. Like anyone would believe you were actually worried about her.
But my feet won't move onward, refusing to walk away until they know the answer to Stronghold's question. If either Principle Powers or Stronghold notice or object to my presence six paces away, they don't say anything.
"Miss Rivers was taken to the nurse's office, where she was treated for second degree burns that covered her hands. She was given some balm that was also applied in the office, and told to apply it herself every four hours during the day, and her hands should be bandaged for the next few days. We recommended she leave early but she insisted on staying for the full school day."
So she's still here?
My head snaps slightly towards the conversation in surprise, even as I'm wondering what to do with that information. The principle doesn't let me wonder too long though.
"The nurse's office, Mr Peace," she calls, her voice stern as she reminds me of her previous command. Turning to look at her, she gestures her head down the corridor. "Go on."
She and Stronghold stare at me, and I scowl and tighten my grip on my bag strap over my shoulder, striding away in annoyance. As soon as I'm out of their sight, I consider just skipping the nurse's office and waiting outside by the buses. But the pain in my arms and ribs convinces me to follow the principle's advice.
It's still not quite the end of the day. You can catch her after the nurse has given you something.
I knock on the nurse's door a little more forcefully than I would normally, my annoyance and urgency leaking into the action, as it does into my entering the room when given permission. I look expectantly towards Nurse Spex, as she looks up from whatever she's doing on her desk. Her eyes tighten ever-so-slightly in the corners.
"Ah, Mr Peace," she greets me, coldly, detached. My scowl deepens, and I look away from her contempt.
Seconds of irritated silence pass between us before she sighs heavily. I meet her eyes again, confused by the action, and note how suddenly tired she looks.
"Come up on the bench, dear."
Figuring there's not much point in asking her about her sudden change in mood, I let my bag drop to the floor and take a seat on the raised bench, already shrugging off my jacket so she can get to my forearms. I flip my eyebrows, begrudgingly impressed by the bold bruises I find there. The nurse pulls out some weird salve and starts applying it needlessly delicately onto my bruises, taking her sweet time. I huff in frustration and glance at the clock.
"I wouldn't go and look for her today, dear."
The nurse's voice snaps my head to her, my glare obviously demanding to know what she means.
She sighs again, continuing her work. "She came in here, arms cradled gingerly against her chest, all red and blistered –"
"I get it," I snap, not wanting to hear any more about Kaitlyn's hands being burnt.
I could swear I see her lips twitch, but her face grows tired again and she continues before I can ask her what the hell is so funny.
"She wasn't hurt though. Sure, she was wincing and hissing from when she came in and sometimes when I was applying the burn cream. But that wasn't the expression on her face for most of the time. She was sad. Like something she cared so much about, something she had been working on so hard had been completely ruined. As if someone she cared about betrayed her."
I remember her disappointment when she announced her presence, confusing and enraging me further. I still don't really understand now. Why was she disappointed? Did she expect something from me?
"She talks to me, you know," the nurse continues. "I can guarantee I know more about what she goes through than you do. She's stronger than you can ever imagine."
"Bruises," I mutter, recalling how we first properly connected.
Her eyebrows raise slightly. Her smile is sad.
"Yes, dear, you know more about her than others, than even the rest of her friends. But you still only know the surface. And you don't know why."
I'm almost shaking with the urge to press the nurse to tell me what she knows, but only the knowledge about how I'd feel if someone else, even if it was her, started snooping around about my personal life holds me back. Nurse Spex notices my struggle and smiles, then her face turns serious.
"What you did today – and I'm not just talking about how you burnt her – I think that really knocked her confidence. She's spoke of you often to me, and spoke of you warmly, as a friend, saying that you're nothing like what other small-minded people say you are, or at least that you're not as bad as they think. You proved her wrong today, and proved them right."
I sigh heavily as she steps back from treating my arms, and nods down to my stomach. I blink at her, and she raises her eyebrows.
"I know the boy hit you there, too. Play the tough guy if you want, but you'll really feel it in the morning if you don't get this cream."
Scowling, I hesitate a few seconds before lifting my T-shirt, exposing the massive purple blotch.
"When I first walked in here, I thought you hated the sight of me, now you're making sure every single bruise I got is treated. What changed?"
She doesn't look up from her task. "I'm the school nurse; it's my job to treat injuries of any kind to the best of my ability." She sighs. "And I wasn't exactly pleased to see you. As I said, Kaitlyn and I have become close over the past few weeks, and I've come to care for her. Anyone gets angry when someone hurts someone they care about, no matter how brief that anger is."
Nodding, I glance out the window at nothing in particular. "Agreed."
She stands again. "And maybe that's why you seem to hate yourself at the moment."
My eyes flick back to hers, alarmed by her sudden insight into something I wasn't too sure of myself. The truth of that statement hits me harder than any of Stronghold's punches and I swallow, staring at my hands in my lap.
"So what now?" I ask. "Are you saying it's all over?"
She sits in her chair. "You asked me why my behaviour changed from when you entered to now. It's because that I care for Kaitlyn and, even though you hurt her, Kaitlyn cares for you. She was so sad that you had changed from the kind if slightly prickly young man she had come to know into the bully that everyone believed you were. But she's spoken of you so fondly, and is such a forgiving girl, that I doubt she'll have only given you one chance. But you need to talk to her, to tell her you know how much you've hurt her and that you're sorry. Not today, though, dear; both of you need let your wounds from today heal."
I run my fingers over my palms in apology and sympathy for Kaitlyn's. Thinking over the nurse's words, I try not to let the strangely desperate optimism in me latch onto them too eagerly, like a drowning man to a lifesaver.
"…Tomorrow?" I repeat, still staring down at my hands as I fiddle with them.
A pair of wrinkled but gentle hands rest on top of mine, stilling their agitation. I lift my eyes to her incredibly pale green ones. She smiles gently.
"Tomorrow," she nods.
Hey guys! So, a bit of action going on there. I always thought it would be cool to get the fight from Warren's POV, so I thought I'd give it a go. Obviously he's motives in my fanfic don't match up to the ones in the film, but I hope you liked it anyway!
Leave a review if you think it's worth it. Constructive criticism or just plain compliments are always welcome!
Fly on,
NitnatRide
