Post by Pyro on Sept 2, 2006 2:30:18 GMT -5
[NPC assistance from Kaylan again - MWAH!]
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Two years.
Two years he had been living on the streets. And in that time, John Allerdyce had turned from being a gawky, uncertain boy into an arrogant teenager, who commanded a surprising amount of respect once word of his mutation slipped out. He'd given himself the sobriquet 'Pyro' which had stuck to him like napalm.
He never became part of any of the gangs, but neither did they particularly give him any trouble. Right up until now when he found himself being goaded.
Pyro didn't take being goaded very well. He didn't have the strength of character to just walk away and right now he stood, his hands clenched into fists angrily at his side.
"I'm not gonna do it," he said. "No way, man."
A crooked smile revealed a mouth that was full of crooked teeth - well, mostly, there were a few missing - as Jeremy held out his hands in supplication. His friends had suggested the plan, but he was the only one with enough balls to actually try getting Pyro in on it - and someone of his talents would be well worth having.
"Seriously, man, it'll be easy. We'll clean the place out, mess it up a bit, you do your thing once we're done and it looks like an accident." The Chinese take-away was quite popular, took in a lot of money. It was Sunday night and they'd had a busy weekend, which meant that there was plenty of cash until the owners could get to the bank in the morning. Seemed like the perfect plan to him, especially since it was known that all they had was a lock box - too stingy to put a proper safe in.
There were a few glitches, such as the security bars, but one of the boys reckoned he had them covered. The quicker they could get the fire happening afterward, though, the less obvious it would be that they'd robbed the place - and a pack of matches and a bit of gas wasn't quite the effect they were looking for.
Despite his reservations at getting involved in this particular brand of criminal activity, Pyro could feel a sense of interest beginning to rear its head at Jez's words.
He folded his arms across his chest and studied the other boy for a few moments.
"Two conditions," he said. "First of all, I'm only gonna let the place burn for a few minutes. Secondly, I want thirty five percent of whatever you take out of there."
"You get it nice and hot, and sure." Pyro didn't have to know the exact figure of what was taken out, after all. Thirty five percent of what they told him was the take wasn't too bad a deal for a decent cover, though Jeremy was glad that they hadn't brought the whole gang along. Divvying it up between all of them could make the pickings very slim indeed, once they took out John's cut.
"Hang around here while we go in, we'll give you the signal when it's time." Loping off across the street, Jez nodded to Ryan to go ahead and do his thing. It was noisy, but thankfully didn't take long, and Jeremy glanced around nervously before ducking into the building. No heads poking out windows, that was a good start.
Pyro remained outside, rubbing his hands up and down his arms which were uncharacteristically cool. In the past year particularly, he'd realised that his body temperature was just that little higher than anybody else's.
All was quiet for some time, until he heard a whistle from down the street. The young mutant dropped to a crouch, pressed up against the wall of the alleyway opposite the takeaway. Part of the plan had been for him not to act until he was given the specific sign, a shout of his name. The whistle, he understood, was an alert that someone was coming.
The whistle pierced through the silence inside the store, making Jeremy straighten up in panic. The problem was that he was currently crouched under the counter, tugging at the piece of wire stuck into the lock of the cash box. He hit his head and swore, bringing a hand up to feel blood. Yeah, probably not the best place for him to be, but their plan had involved leaving the box where it was and filling it with ash so that it looked like all the money had been burnt up. Apparently the plan wasn't as good as they'd thought.
Grabbing the whole box and letting Ryan go to work on it, Jeremy went to the front of the shop to peer through the windows. He heard an audible pop as the box snapped open, and he returned to smile at his friend. He stuffed the wad of bills into his jacket, ducking out the front door and across the street to Pyro. He hadn't seen anyone, but they'd seen him. None of them would know that until it was too late.
"Do it now!" He hissed, pulling the cash out of his jacket to quickly divvy up. Thrusting a wad of bills at the mutant in front of them, he spoke slightly louder. "Now!"
Pyro snatched the handful of cash from Jeremy and flicked open his Zippo. Unfortunately for him, he had picked up on the other boy's sense of panic and the fireball that he loosed towards the store was perhaps more powerful than he could fully contain.
The impact blast knocked the young mutant backwards off his feet and slammed him into the wall, leaving him dazed and confused as his fire took hold of the store mercilessly.
"Gotta control it, gotta control it..." Pyro mumbled, blood running down his face from where he'd smacked his head against the brickwork.
The call had been an interesting one - some kid ripping the security bars right off the window of the Purple Dragon Chinese Restaurant, and it had quickly been dispatched to the nearest car. That car happened to contain a thief in the back waiting to be taken to the station, so one of the beat cops had been called instead. Charlotte was close enough to take a look, but she'd called in backup as soon as she saw what was going on. This wasn't a situation that she could handle on her own.
The tall woman had watched and waited until the building burst into flames. Yelling into her radio for a fire crew and backup, she pounded down the street to where the boys had gathered, pulling out her gun as she ran. As soon as she arrived, they scattered, but not all of them managed to get so far as the others. In a move that made her think of a cop show, Charlotte whipped out a pair of handcuffs and grabbed the nearest kid, cuffing him to a pole.
"Where the hell is my backup?!"
The young mutant was dazed by the explosion so didn't struggle when the female cop grabbed him and cuffed him to the pole. What he did do was mumble something about needing to take it back. But he was injured and more than a little scared - and the fire he had created flared viciously in response to his emotions.
"Gotta take it back," he said, a little more clearly. "Let me get closer."
OK, so the kid was crazy, not unusual out on the streets. He wasn't a face she'd come into contact with before; probably one of the unfortunates who just kept themselves to themselves.
"I'm sorry, son, but it's dangerous." Charlotte bent down to pat him over, jaw set in grim displeasure when she found the lighter and the wad of cash. She could see the insanity plea already, wondered if this was all part of an elaborate act to keep himself out of trouble.
Finally, she could hear the sound of sirens wailing, police and fire on their way to the scene. Took them bloody long enough.
With a slight shake of her head, Charlotte fixed on the kid, lighter and cash held out in front of her.
"You want to tell me what happened?" She wondered what kind of excuse he had, but the evidence seemed pretty clear that he was involved with the robbery and the arson. Not a happy combination, especially if he had a record, but she hadn't found any ID.
"You've gotta let me get closer," he repeated. "It's mine. The fire. I can deal with it. I can take it back. Let me get closer." He seemed oblivious to the questions she was asking him, at which point she realised that he was, in fact, injured.
He began to tug at the cuffs, the skin on his wrists breaking after only a few pulls and more blood beginning to well up. "PLEASE." He turned a pair of green eyes on her.
Something in them touched her. Not the fear: she'd arrested enough street kids to be unmoved by that. No, it was something else, something indefinable.
"I know it's yours." She was saddened by the idea that a kid like this would turn to arson, but then it could be part of his obvious mental illness. What she should have done was turn him around and read his Miranda rights, but instead she unlocked one of the cuffs and let him away from the pole. Recuffing his other wrist, she called in for an ambulance to treat the wounds, looking up irritably when a cop car finally arrived.
"Took you long enough. I need you to bag and tag these." She pushed the cash and the lighter toward them, marching the kid to the end of the alley and closer to the building. "Fire department will be here soon." He had a couple of minutes to stare at the pretty flames and sort out his head, but then she'd have to bundle him into the back of a squad car. She couldn't quite figure out why she hadn't done that already.
"I need my hands," he said, staring at the fire. He didn't know, this early into his mutation, that his control over fire was by thought alone. Using his hands gave him a focus. "Please, I'm not gonna run. I promise."
He sounded calm and he sounded lucid - and besides - there were only two ways to run - into the flames, or straight back to the waiting cop car. "I can stop this. I can stop it now. Please. Take the cuffs off."
Staring at him suspiciously for a good while, Charlotte took out her keys and carefully unlocked his cuffs.
If he runs... There was every likelihood that she'd lose her job, letting a confessed arsonist go just because of some sense of pity and an odd feeling that he actually could help. The fire department was on their way, but the flames were already threatening nearby buildings. She was just glad that the owners didn't live above the shop, like so many seemed to around this neighbourhood.
Pyro rubbed at his sore and bleeding wrists and held his hands out in front of him.
Almost instantly, and much to Charlotte's unmitigated shock, the flames began to die down. She could almost feel the kid's body temperature increasing as he seemed to absorb the inferno back into himself.
Not only was he an arsonist, it was evident that the kid was a mutant as well.
It was too much for the young man. He'd never employed his mutation as intensively as this before and that, tied in with the light concussion and otherwise confusion caused him to sink against Charlotte, then slide down her to his knees, blinking rapidly in an effort to stay conscious.
"Alright, come on kid." She leant down to support him, not entirely sure what to do. Sure, he'd brought the flames down, but he was still an arsonist. They might be able to organise some kind of deal with him if he told them who else had been involved in the robbery. It was an ethical dilemma that Charlotte hadn't ever faced before.
"Come on, you come with me." The least she could do was get him sitting somewhere more comfortable than the ground, and get some sort of first aid until the ambulance arrived. His wrists were still bleeding, not to mention the slow seeping wound on his head, and she pulled him up carefully to walk him over to the open back door of the cop car.
"You'll be right soon." She realised that she didn't even know his name. "I'm Charlotte."
He didn't put up any sort of struggle as she helped him along. In fact, he seemed to take some sort of strange comfort from the fact that she was helping him at all. "I'm Pyro," he said, giving her the name that in a few short years she'd hear again and remember him, this crazy kid in an alleyway. "John, I mean."
The boy stumbled. "John."
"John." Charlotte nodded, accepting the first aid kit from the other officer without looking at him. She pulled out a dressing, starting to wrap it around his wrist. It was an almost tender gesture, her touch gentle as she exerted a slight pressure to stop the bleeding. "You did a good thing just then, John."
She didn't notice the flashing lights until an ambulance officer took her arm gently, taking over. A fireman was pulling her by the elbow, bringing her over to the charred building to tell him what had happened and why it wasn't... well, on fire anymore... But she couldn't keep her mind on the job, couldn't help but wonder if they were really doing the right thing arresting him.
If it was up to her, she wouldn't have done it. But it was no longer in her hands.
At some point whilst she was away with the fire officer, the kid passed out, albeit only briefly, exhausted from the sheer exertion needed to draw back the fire in that building and now sat on the ambulance steps, an oxygen mask over his face, white as a sheet.
He'd only give people his first name and no more. He didn't protest his innocence or try to get away as other street kids did. He was in no state to argue anyway, but he was deeply bitter that he was going to end up taking the rap for something that he'd resisted in the first place.
His number was definitely up.
----------------
Two years.
Two years he had been living on the streets. And in that time, John Allerdyce had turned from being a gawky, uncertain boy into an arrogant teenager, who commanded a surprising amount of respect once word of his mutation slipped out. He'd given himself the sobriquet 'Pyro' which had stuck to him like napalm.
He never became part of any of the gangs, but neither did they particularly give him any trouble. Right up until now when he found himself being goaded.
Pyro didn't take being goaded very well. He didn't have the strength of character to just walk away and right now he stood, his hands clenched into fists angrily at his side.
"I'm not gonna do it," he said. "No way, man."
A crooked smile revealed a mouth that was full of crooked teeth - well, mostly, there were a few missing - as Jeremy held out his hands in supplication. His friends had suggested the plan, but he was the only one with enough balls to actually try getting Pyro in on it - and someone of his talents would be well worth having.
"Seriously, man, it'll be easy. We'll clean the place out, mess it up a bit, you do your thing once we're done and it looks like an accident." The Chinese take-away was quite popular, took in a lot of money. It was Sunday night and they'd had a busy weekend, which meant that there was plenty of cash until the owners could get to the bank in the morning. Seemed like the perfect plan to him, especially since it was known that all they had was a lock box - too stingy to put a proper safe in.
There were a few glitches, such as the security bars, but one of the boys reckoned he had them covered. The quicker they could get the fire happening afterward, though, the less obvious it would be that they'd robbed the place - and a pack of matches and a bit of gas wasn't quite the effect they were looking for.
Despite his reservations at getting involved in this particular brand of criminal activity, Pyro could feel a sense of interest beginning to rear its head at Jez's words.
He folded his arms across his chest and studied the other boy for a few moments.
"Two conditions," he said. "First of all, I'm only gonna let the place burn for a few minutes. Secondly, I want thirty five percent of whatever you take out of there."
"You get it nice and hot, and sure." Pyro didn't have to know the exact figure of what was taken out, after all. Thirty five percent of what they told him was the take wasn't too bad a deal for a decent cover, though Jeremy was glad that they hadn't brought the whole gang along. Divvying it up between all of them could make the pickings very slim indeed, once they took out John's cut.
"Hang around here while we go in, we'll give you the signal when it's time." Loping off across the street, Jez nodded to Ryan to go ahead and do his thing. It was noisy, but thankfully didn't take long, and Jeremy glanced around nervously before ducking into the building. No heads poking out windows, that was a good start.
Pyro remained outside, rubbing his hands up and down his arms which were uncharacteristically cool. In the past year particularly, he'd realised that his body temperature was just that little higher than anybody else's.
All was quiet for some time, until he heard a whistle from down the street. The young mutant dropped to a crouch, pressed up against the wall of the alleyway opposite the takeaway. Part of the plan had been for him not to act until he was given the specific sign, a shout of his name. The whistle, he understood, was an alert that someone was coming.
The whistle pierced through the silence inside the store, making Jeremy straighten up in panic. The problem was that he was currently crouched under the counter, tugging at the piece of wire stuck into the lock of the cash box. He hit his head and swore, bringing a hand up to feel blood. Yeah, probably not the best place for him to be, but their plan had involved leaving the box where it was and filling it with ash so that it looked like all the money had been burnt up. Apparently the plan wasn't as good as they'd thought.
Grabbing the whole box and letting Ryan go to work on it, Jeremy went to the front of the shop to peer through the windows. He heard an audible pop as the box snapped open, and he returned to smile at his friend. He stuffed the wad of bills into his jacket, ducking out the front door and across the street to Pyro. He hadn't seen anyone, but they'd seen him. None of them would know that until it was too late.
"Do it now!" He hissed, pulling the cash out of his jacket to quickly divvy up. Thrusting a wad of bills at the mutant in front of them, he spoke slightly louder. "Now!"
Pyro snatched the handful of cash from Jeremy and flicked open his Zippo. Unfortunately for him, he had picked up on the other boy's sense of panic and the fireball that he loosed towards the store was perhaps more powerful than he could fully contain.
The impact blast knocked the young mutant backwards off his feet and slammed him into the wall, leaving him dazed and confused as his fire took hold of the store mercilessly.
"Gotta control it, gotta control it..." Pyro mumbled, blood running down his face from where he'd smacked his head against the brickwork.
The call had been an interesting one - some kid ripping the security bars right off the window of the Purple Dragon Chinese Restaurant, and it had quickly been dispatched to the nearest car. That car happened to contain a thief in the back waiting to be taken to the station, so one of the beat cops had been called instead. Charlotte was close enough to take a look, but she'd called in backup as soon as she saw what was going on. This wasn't a situation that she could handle on her own.
The tall woman had watched and waited until the building burst into flames. Yelling into her radio for a fire crew and backup, she pounded down the street to where the boys had gathered, pulling out her gun as she ran. As soon as she arrived, they scattered, but not all of them managed to get so far as the others. In a move that made her think of a cop show, Charlotte whipped out a pair of handcuffs and grabbed the nearest kid, cuffing him to a pole.
"Where the hell is my backup?!"
The young mutant was dazed by the explosion so didn't struggle when the female cop grabbed him and cuffed him to the pole. What he did do was mumble something about needing to take it back. But he was injured and more than a little scared - and the fire he had created flared viciously in response to his emotions.
"Gotta take it back," he said, a little more clearly. "Let me get closer."
OK, so the kid was crazy, not unusual out on the streets. He wasn't a face she'd come into contact with before; probably one of the unfortunates who just kept themselves to themselves.
"I'm sorry, son, but it's dangerous." Charlotte bent down to pat him over, jaw set in grim displeasure when she found the lighter and the wad of cash. She could see the insanity plea already, wondered if this was all part of an elaborate act to keep himself out of trouble.
Finally, she could hear the sound of sirens wailing, police and fire on their way to the scene. Took them bloody long enough.
With a slight shake of her head, Charlotte fixed on the kid, lighter and cash held out in front of her.
"You want to tell me what happened?" She wondered what kind of excuse he had, but the evidence seemed pretty clear that he was involved with the robbery and the arson. Not a happy combination, especially if he had a record, but she hadn't found any ID.
"You've gotta let me get closer," he repeated. "It's mine. The fire. I can deal with it. I can take it back. Let me get closer." He seemed oblivious to the questions she was asking him, at which point she realised that he was, in fact, injured.
He began to tug at the cuffs, the skin on his wrists breaking after only a few pulls and more blood beginning to well up. "PLEASE." He turned a pair of green eyes on her.
Something in them touched her. Not the fear: she'd arrested enough street kids to be unmoved by that. No, it was something else, something indefinable.
"I know it's yours." She was saddened by the idea that a kid like this would turn to arson, but then it could be part of his obvious mental illness. What she should have done was turn him around and read his Miranda rights, but instead she unlocked one of the cuffs and let him away from the pole. Recuffing his other wrist, she called in for an ambulance to treat the wounds, looking up irritably when a cop car finally arrived.
"Took you long enough. I need you to bag and tag these." She pushed the cash and the lighter toward them, marching the kid to the end of the alley and closer to the building. "Fire department will be here soon." He had a couple of minutes to stare at the pretty flames and sort out his head, but then she'd have to bundle him into the back of a squad car. She couldn't quite figure out why she hadn't done that already.
"I need my hands," he said, staring at the fire. He didn't know, this early into his mutation, that his control over fire was by thought alone. Using his hands gave him a focus. "Please, I'm not gonna run. I promise."
He sounded calm and he sounded lucid - and besides - there were only two ways to run - into the flames, or straight back to the waiting cop car. "I can stop this. I can stop it now. Please. Take the cuffs off."
Staring at him suspiciously for a good while, Charlotte took out her keys and carefully unlocked his cuffs.
If he runs... There was every likelihood that she'd lose her job, letting a confessed arsonist go just because of some sense of pity and an odd feeling that he actually could help. The fire department was on their way, but the flames were already threatening nearby buildings. She was just glad that the owners didn't live above the shop, like so many seemed to around this neighbourhood.
Pyro rubbed at his sore and bleeding wrists and held his hands out in front of him.
Almost instantly, and much to Charlotte's unmitigated shock, the flames began to die down. She could almost feel the kid's body temperature increasing as he seemed to absorb the inferno back into himself.
Not only was he an arsonist, it was evident that the kid was a mutant as well.
It was too much for the young man. He'd never employed his mutation as intensively as this before and that, tied in with the light concussion and otherwise confusion caused him to sink against Charlotte, then slide down her to his knees, blinking rapidly in an effort to stay conscious.
"Alright, come on kid." She leant down to support him, not entirely sure what to do. Sure, he'd brought the flames down, but he was still an arsonist. They might be able to organise some kind of deal with him if he told them who else had been involved in the robbery. It was an ethical dilemma that Charlotte hadn't ever faced before.
"Come on, you come with me." The least she could do was get him sitting somewhere more comfortable than the ground, and get some sort of first aid until the ambulance arrived. His wrists were still bleeding, not to mention the slow seeping wound on his head, and she pulled him up carefully to walk him over to the open back door of the cop car.
"You'll be right soon." She realised that she didn't even know his name. "I'm Charlotte."
He didn't put up any sort of struggle as she helped him along. In fact, he seemed to take some sort of strange comfort from the fact that she was helping him at all. "I'm Pyro," he said, giving her the name that in a few short years she'd hear again and remember him, this crazy kid in an alleyway. "John, I mean."
The boy stumbled. "John."
"John." Charlotte nodded, accepting the first aid kit from the other officer without looking at him. She pulled out a dressing, starting to wrap it around his wrist. It was an almost tender gesture, her touch gentle as she exerted a slight pressure to stop the bleeding. "You did a good thing just then, John."
She didn't notice the flashing lights until an ambulance officer took her arm gently, taking over. A fireman was pulling her by the elbow, bringing her over to the charred building to tell him what had happened and why it wasn't... well, on fire anymore... But she couldn't keep her mind on the job, couldn't help but wonder if they were really doing the right thing arresting him.
If it was up to her, she wouldn't have done it. But it was no longer in her hands.
At some point whilst she was away with the fire officer, the kid passed out, albeit only briefly, exhausted from the sheer exertion needed to draw back the fire in that building and now sat on the ambulance steps, an oxygen mask over his face, white as a sheet.
He'd only give people his first name and no more. He didn't protest his innocence or try to get away as other street kids did. He was in no state to argue anyway, but he was deeply bitter that he was going to end up taking the rap for something that he'd resisted in the first place.
His number was definitely up.
