Intoxicating Fear (Prologue)
Master-Post // Chapter one
Oh yeah, we're doing prequels now baby... just a little extra chapter for IF fans, I am working on the redraft atm and I hope you accept this as an apology for the absurdly long wait... but it shows the new route that IF is taking, with more plot and character development... whaaattt crazyyy
Also sorry for all the spam, I need another place to ramble for all my thoughts instead of here... if only twitter still existed, sigh...
*~*~*~*~*
Atlas ducked as another ball of flame was hurled at his head. He could feel the heat of the fire as it roared over his head and past his wall of refuge.
“Come out, come out little hero. I promise I won’t burn you alive, maybe scorch you a bit. Scars build character, Atlas, or are you too young to know that yet?”
Atlas huffed, his ears straining to hear when the stream of fire lessened over the villain’s stupid monologue. Too young to know about scars? What a dick. Atlas waited for the stream to burn out, listening as the roar from the fire-villain Arson lessened. The heat rippling in the air diminished as Atlas waited, before the absence altogether.
And then.
There.
Atlas vaulted the wall, clicking his fingers and relishing the familiar sound of cobalt electricity crackling around his hand, spreading up his arms to his shoulders. He sent one quick bolt of lightning towards Arson as he landed on his feet and kept running. The second one he aimed at Arson’s head.
His aim was perfect; Atlas didn’t have to check to make sure. He watched as the electricity touched the villain’s face and simmered away. Atlas’s eyes widened as the villain laughed, his mouth lighting up like a jack-o-lanterns on Halloween. “Uh-oh Atlas... My turn.”
Atlas was too slow. He was too slow in moving to get out of the way and he saw the flames coming and he was too slow. He was going to burn. He may even die. No.
The wind was knocked out of him as he felt someone barrel into him just before the flames hit him and drag him behind the safety of an alley.
Archangel panted slightly, a smile on his face. “You were too slow.”
“My electricity doesn’t work with him,” Atlas replied mutinously, glaring at his hands, his traitorous fingers curled into fists. He was too slow. “I didn’t – I froze…”
“I saw.”
“Where’s Tempest when you need her?” Atlas asked, wishing the water hero was here to douse out the fire villain. He could hear the sirens in the distance, no doubt the fire trucks and police finally on their way here.
“Are all the civilians cleared?” Archangel asked. Atlas nodded.
“Yeah, I got ‘em out before he started burning down the entire block.”
Archangel nodded, pressing his back flush against the brick wall. He tucked his giant, white-speckled wings in tight so they wouldn’t be exposed to Arson’s attacks. “Good. Then we can wait him out.”
Atlas’s eyes widened, head snapping to his boss. “Wait him out? He’s going to destroy every building if we wait!”
Archangel threw his hands up. “What do you want me to do? Hmm? Your electricity doesn’t work, and I can’t get to him without at least a distraction or back-up.” Archangel muttered, his wings flaring in irritation. “We want to keep casualties to a minimum. It’s not always about catching the bad guy.”
“Stop speaking to me like I’m your sidekick,” Kit hissed. “I know it’s about saving people, but the emergency responders are coming now. We have to stop Arson or at least incapacitate him before they come.”
Archangel stared at Kit for a long time, and for a moment his gaze softened behind his mask. “God, I’ll never escape Noble with you around,” he grumbled fondly. Kit smirked at the number one hero.
“Not a chance,” he replied. Atlas scanned the alley they were in. It wasn’t closed off at the end, the grey concrete floors and walls led to a corner at the back into another alley. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. You slip behind the building and fly up and tell me when you’re on the roof. Then I’ll step out and distract him and you can attack from above.”
Archangel nodded. “You’re right. Nobody ever looks up.”
Atlas pressed himself into the wall as Archangel passed him, wings tucked in as he disappeared around the corner.
“Have I frightened you, little hero?” Arson yelled. “Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of prodigy?! Noble’s apprentice, right?”
Kit’s blood ran cold at the mention of his Mentor. He remained silent as he waited for Archangel’s confirmation he was in position. The hero had wings, what was taking him so bloody long?
“You are, aren’t you?” Arson cooed, a smile in his words. God, Kit wanted to punch him in his mouth until he choked on blood, until he couldn’t speak anymore. “The original hero and see how far he’s fallen. Hmm? Tell me, what does he spend his days doing now? Wiping drool from his chi–”
Kit burst from behind the wall, moving with the improved currents in the night air, and before Arson could get a stream of fire off at him, Atlas’s fist already connected with the villain’s jaw, and they went down.
“Atlas! Shit,” Archangel muttered through his earpiece, but Kit didn’t care. He couldn’t use his lightning alone to hurt the Villain, so instead he charged his muscles with it, using it to make his punches harder, to enhance the impact, the pain.
Arson’s head whipped to the side and straightened, and Kit punched him again and again and again, until Arson couldn’t move his head back; until blood splattered across Kit’s skin that was visible through his fingerless gloves, pinpricking the flesh with vermillion speckles. A flurry of wings and wind, but Kit didn’t get off Arson. Not when he knew he was down. Not when he knew he wouldn’t harm anyone tonight again, at the very least. Not until he felt hands on him, fingers digging in.
“Atlas. Atlas. Atlas!” Archangel yelled, grabbing Kit by the arms and dragging him up.
“Wipe the drool off your own chin now, motherfucker,” Kit growled as Archangel pulled him away from the fire villain. Archangel spread his wings wide, shielding the villain from Kit’s wrathful gaze, forcing the young hero to look at him.
“What the hell was that, Atlas?”
Kit pulled free of Archangel’s hold, just in time as a bullet whizzed right where Kit was standing not two seconds ago. Once again, the breath was stolen from his lungs as Archangel grabbed him and shot backwards, away from the unseen shooter. No doubt Arson’s accomplice. Shit… can this night get any worse?
When they were successfully shielded from the shooter, a few bullets going wide, their radios cackled to life, scratching and cracking and behind it a voice. “—the old…” Both Atlas and Archangel leaned into the walkie talkie, ears straining to make out the choppy voice. “by the ferris…”
More interference cut the rest of the sentence off, but Kit and Archangel’s eyes met over the receiver. That was Tempest. Kit flinched as a bullet almost grazed his ear as it shot by and made a circular shaped dent in the concrete.
“Another Attack—”
Kit stood up. Archangel stared at him. “I’ll go.”
“No—”
“I’m useless here anyway,” Kit protested. “Tempest needs me. If I can help her, at least I’ll feel like I’m not completely useless.”
Archangel’s eyes softened. “How many lives did you save today? Hmm? Do you think saving people is useless?”
Kit waved Archangel away. “You know what I mean. I’m restless anyways, helping Tempest will help me calm down at least. Update us when this is clear.”
Kit met the fire trucks and ambulances as he rounded the corner, heading south towards the old pier. Tempest said it was next to the old Ferris wheel, and luckily there were only two Ferris wheels in the city, the old one by the pier which had been closed for years now, and the new one they moved up town, closer to the wealthier district. The pier became the shipping docks and people got tired of seeing crates being hauled in when they were trying to have a romantic date.
The old fairground was only a few streets from where Kit and Archangel were fighting, and with Kit’s abilities, and the amount of static charge in the night air he was able to propel himself faster than an athletic civilian. Though nowhere near as fast as Blitz whose power was super speed, or Crowe who could travel through any shadow, but still. Kit enjoyed the wind on his face, the power in his veins almost singing as he turned down a street and saw the Ferris wheel on the old fairground come into view.
His radio crackled to life again. It was Tempest her voice quieter now.
“Atlas… no, all heroes, stay away,” she whispered, the signal better the closer Kit got to her location. “Stay away from the old pier. I think…” Tempest cut herself off with a gasp, static crackling as Atlas pumped his legs faster. He never heard Tempest so scared in his life. “I think this villain is Omen.”
And it was as if all the wind had been stolen from him, ripped away in an instant. His power stuttered in his limbs, and he almost tripped over himself with how quickly his electricity cut out of his limbs like an old engine sputtering and spitting to a stop. The rails outside the fairground ticket booth acted as the final breaks as Kit ran into them, his heart thundering in his ears, the waves echoing back his terrified heartbeat to him.
Omen. Omen… Omen was a ghost story, he wasn’t… he wasn’t an active Villain anymore. The only time he… God, Kit wanted to be sick. The only attack Omen was known for was his fight with Noble. Noble’s final fight that ensured he never worked again. That he didn’t even get to remember his own name sometimes, that he would be left, stuck, in a prison of his own mind.
“Atlas…” Kit’s earpiece cackled to life, the sound of bullets and wind in the background as Archangel spoke to him. “Don’t go there. Wait for back up. Do not face Omen, do you understand me?”
Kit’s eyes narrowed into a glare as he surveyed the wooden boardwalk. “Atlas! God damn it, for once just listen to me. I am your superior. Noble wouldn’t want you to–”
“Noble doesn’t want anything anymore,” Kit replied, voice cold. “Omen saw to that.”
“Atlas!" He heard Archangel curse over the receiver. "Damn it, Kit! Don–”
Kit unhooked the wire from his earpiece and turned off his walkie talkie. This wasn’t about helping Tempest, or Archangel, or his helpless restlessness anymore. No, this was personal. Kit jumped the railing onto the boardwalk, before he could talk himself out of it. His body screamed at him to wait, to fall back, but he couldn’t. He refused.
For Omen to appear one night, as if out of the woodwork itself… that wasn’t a coincidence, and it wasn’t a coincidence that Kit happened to be on patrol so close to him either. Despite his fear threatening to choke him, and his limbs feeling a little lighter from exerting his power, Kit continued down onto the boardwalk, scanning the kiosks and listening for sounds of a fight between Omen and Tempest over the waves lapping against the rocks below.
*~*~*~*~*
Continued here
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