A/N: Onward we go! Enjoy.
They Call Me Pyro
Chapter 12
Thirty to Sixty
After putting some distance between us and the officer we assaulted (I, just a mere accessory, by the way), I pulled over and drove off the main road into the woods. Once the car was in park, I killed the engine. Mystique got out to deal with the license plates. I, too, exited and purposely left the driver's side door wide open. The keyring twirled around my forefinger as I hiked farther into the woods for some privacy to take a leak. Leaves and sticks crunched under my boots while a group of birds communicated loudly overhead. As soon as the car was in my wake and out of view, I secured the key safely in a pocket and then picked a tree at random to take care of business.
When I return to the car, Mystique is waiting for me in the passenger seat. Her yellow eyes locked onto my every step, never wavering. As I neared the vehicle, she outstretched her arm to me over the middle console with the cop's bodycam in her hand. "Take care of this," she told me.
I accepted it with a grin. "Gladly." Unsure of the magnitude of my reborn power, I took several backward steps from the vehicle, holding the cam cupped in both of my hands. Flames burst from my palms and engulfed the video evidence of our physical run-in with the police officer. I separated my hands shortly after to let the cam drop to the ground—I'm immune to the flames, but not the melting metal. I continued to douse it with fire until it was completely unrecognizable. The flames ceased as commanded and I shot Mystique a glance to see if her reaction altered. It didn't. Bits of grass were singed but without my control and manipulation, there would've been significantly more noticeable damage.
"Do you feel any different, Pyro?"
"No."
She regarded me silently and after a few moments said, "Move that lump of metal somewhere else and go against your instincts to make sure it's not going to start a forest fire." She paused but her facial expression remained neutral as she continued, "I know that's not your nature but you'll have plenty of other opportunities to . . . light shit up."
I couldn't help but laugh. The last three words sounded so unnatural coming from her that I can only presume I've uttered those words in the past. Her face clearly read that none of what she said was amusing but eventually I sobered up. "Our mission is to destroy secret government agencies that threaten mutants, not forests. I'll try to remember that," I teased and tended to the task she asked of me.
After about a mile and a half of walking through the forest a second time since taking a driving break, I discarded the burnt and unidentifiable object (to anyone other than me or Mystique) on the ground, but as I walked away, I thought better of it and dug a hole to bury it instead—sure, an animal will probably come across it at some point but at least it's not just sitting there out in the open from my incompetence. Before I covered it with soil, I wiped it down of possible fingerprints. During the walk back to Mystique and the car, thoughts rolled around and around. Even though the test went well earlier when I used my gift, why during this time did it go without a hitch? Why didn't I lose control? Is it because I'm free and not confined to four walls? Was what happened at the mansion just a temporary mental breakdown or episode, and I'm now cured?
While lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice the car until the very last moment. Mystique eyed me but didn't say anything so I took my place behind the steering wheel since it was unoccupied.
We racked up miles and more miles as we continued south. She never said where we were going (I didn't ask), but I was guessing Manhattan despite it being heavily populated with residents, tourists, blue-collar workers, business professionals, everyone in between, and all of the other essential workers that keep cities thriving. At some point, I pulled over to the shoulder so that Mystique could take over the driving. My eyes needed a break. Plus, this way I could just sit back and relax . . . or so I thought. Thirty minutes later, I experienced that feeling again that I noticed at the diner but this time it was unmistakable. Then I saw the black billowing smoke on the horizon ahead.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
Taking a moment to consider my reply, I answered indistinctly, "Not sure but I think I'll know more once we get closer." A borderline white lie. Deep down I knew but chose to keep this new extension of my power to myself momentarily.
Mystique increased the car's speed. From what we could see, it was an open road. As we neared the scene, that inner pull amplified to my very core. I couldn't decide if it was comforting or the opposite but now was not the time to mull it over. A semi-trailer truck lay on its side. Smoke and flames poured out in a vigorous rush. Nobody else was around but us. Two mutants. And I could help . . . might as well rake in some good karma. The driver lucked out because their vehicle could've exploded by now. Mystique stopped the car in the grass a good seventy-five feet away. Then she changed her look. The woman she morphed into was broad-shouldered with plain facial features and stringy straight dark hair. Taking care of the blaze was easy and all done from the seated comfort of the inside of the car—I didn't even have to move a muscle to perform the action. No words were spoken when I followed Mystique at a jog to the accident site to get hands-on and personal. She immediately climbed the vehicle to look down into the semi's cabin. "The driver is knocked out. I think the easiest way to get her out is to pull her out, but first, we need to make it look like the fire was put out by an extinguisher." When Mystique descended into the cabin, I climbed up. She tossed up the red can to me. I shot her a quick grimace but didn't waste precious time displaying my detestation toward extinguishers as I complied. We had to do this rescue fast before anyone saw us—we didn't want to answer questions or be further delayed and I definitely didn't want my face on someone's dashcam or cell phone video. The grimace on my face remained as I sprayed the white stuff onto the appropriate areas. Then I put the extinguisher to the side and out of the way in consideration of expected emergency personnel. I climbed my way back onto the semi truck's side and then got to my knees to get a closer reach inside. In a quick motion, Mystique swiped at the sweat that gathered on her forehead and then hauled the unconscious driver to me as I hooked my arms under hers and pulled her out after a struggle or two as I did my best to get stationary, proper footing. Once the driver was ninety percent out of the cabin in a seated position by my assistance as I held her, I heard Mystique use the CB radio to call for help. After she told them the location, Mystique emerged from the cabin gracefully (even in her current broad-shouldered look) and mindful of the driver's legs hanging down by the knees, on her own. Lastly, she helped me get the driver safely onto the grassy area and away from the big rig.
Yellow eyes met mine when she said, "Let's go."
In a blink, she disappeared, and the next thing I knew she was behind the wheel driving toward me. As my body aligned with the car, I hopped in and we were gone in sixty seconds or less. Around a half mile later, Mystique changed her look back to what it was before we aided the truck driver.
We racked at least fifteen miles before my voice cut through the quiet, asking, "Why did we do that? Why did you do that?"
"What?"
I elaborated, "Together we saved a human's life." There was a sliver of disbelief coating my voice.
Her right shoulder rose and fell in a half-shrug. "You handled the most difficult part of the whole rescue mission and you didn't even have to lift a finger." She turned her head, winked, and added, "For that part." Then her focus returned to the road.
"Should we chalk it up to the right place at the right time?" I offered.
"Sure."
In the earlier silence, I decided that while having an inner fire alarm detector is annoying, it doesn't cause me physical discomfort. "I can sense fire," I blurted out of the blue, revealing, "I first noticed it at the diner, but I didn't put two and two together then; I must've felt the burners being turned on."
"I presume within a certain proximity you'll feel it, and depending on the scope."
"Mmm," I agreed. Shortly after, my eyes widened in realization. "It would extremely suck if I felt it every time someone lit up a cig or candles on a birthday cake."
"With those examples, I doubt it, but probably with a 3-alarm fire depending on the location," she replied.
Guess we'll see, I thought, and then said out loud, "However, when I use my power, I don't sense that inner tug."
A few heartbeats passed when Mystique said, "So when the fire is under your manipulation you're not affected in that way. Hmm. It sounds to me that the addition to your evolution is a fail-safe to alert you of potential harm since those flames are not controlled by you."
I nodded. "Insightful. So much so that I can't refute it. Okay. From that perspective, I shouldn't view it as annoying but as a beneficial tool."
"Precisely," she simply said in acknowledgment, and then she pressed a button on the steering wheel that activated the radio. A melancholy song filled the car for a moment before she searched the stations for local news. After the weather segment and sports, they talked about the semi.
'A semi-truck driver was saved by unidentified good samaritans today. It is assumed there was more than one as the rescue couldn't be accomplished by a single person. The truck's dashcam was not working. Clare Morgan, forty-seven years of age, survived an accident with her rig. It is still unknown how her truck ended up on its side at this time. The police believe she might've experienced a health complication. When paramedics and firefighters arrived at the scene, Clare was found outside of her vehicle unharmed but unconscious. She was taken to a nearby hospital and is expected to make a full recovery.'
From that information, we would remain anonymous and our efforts to help made a huge impact on Clare's outcome. Mystique changed the station on the radio back to music and hummed along with the song. My eyes closed and I didn't fight the need to keep them open as my head made contact with the headrest. As a general rule, sleep was always welcome.