Cammy followed her super through the metal door from the alleyway into a dimly lit storeroom lined with stacked books, cardboard boxes, stackable bins, and iron-bound wooden trunks along with a lot of odds and ins she couldn't make heads or tails of. Metal shelves laden with various dusty boxes bisected the room, some open, some closed. There were railroad ties, long metal posts, a roll of barbed wire, and several different axe heads lined up on the floor along the left hand wall as well as what looked like a commercial fishing net hung up on hooks, presumably to keep it from tangling. A blackened tin mailbox with a painted '49' on its side sat atop an old metal filing cabinet as well as what looked like a thick tree branch with yellow crystals that seemed to erupt from within to stab out from the grain of the wood.
FIrebreak picked his way through the junk carefully but quickly, seeming to know where things were without looking. “Sorry about the mess," he said, nudging a dust covered basket of plastic tubes aside to clear his path. "I spend all my time making the other parts of the shop look presentable and kind of use this room as a catchall.”
He limped past the big metal shelves and wheeled an old rolling chair out of his way to get to the corner where a long, rectangular wooden sign leaned against the wall. It read "Eckles-Cross Elementary" in faded white calligraphy.
Cammy tilted her head and examined it more closely, gasping when she remembered where she'd seen it before. "Is that what I think it is?"
"Huh?" Firebreak frowned and turned to see where she was looking. "Oh, yeah. It probably is."
"I almost didn't recognize it without the rubble in the background, and-" She hesitated, not knowing quite how to say it.
He nodded and put out his free hand out to brace himself on the wall as he took a swig of the coffee Cammy had brought. "And the bodies. Yes. I guess that photo is the way most people recognize this sign. You don't have to worry about what you say around me. I wasn't there."
Despite his words, Cammy still chose her next question carefully. "Why do you have it?"
"Oh. Well, even though the sign is famous because it's in all the history books, I wanted it because my mother painted it. She worked there."
"Was she-"
Firebreak shook his head. A dark expression crept onto his face, and he looked far away for an uncomfortable series of seconds, seeming to retreat into himself. Cammy made a note not to bring the subject up in the future. Then the super blinked, seeming to remember that Cammy was there. "I don't know if she was there when it happened. I like to think that she wasn't, but it was a school day." He shrugged, reaching down to pick up a dirty, black duffel bag from the floor, hardly seeming overbalanced at all despite his injuries.
“Okay. You ready? Oh, God. Mm-” He sipped the coffee again. “Thank you. I needed this.”
She tilted her head and arched an eyebrow. “Am I ready for what?”
“We’re going to the range,” Firebreak answered with noticeable excitement. “I’m certainly not going to work my mojo around here.” He gestured to all the stacks of comics and cardboard displays packed together like a packrat’s dream home. “My insurance premiums skyrocketed once they learned about my powers, and I don’t want to explain another fire.”
Glad for the change of subject, she looked around at all the incredibly flammable materials he kept back here in the storage area and nodded. “I guess we wouldn’t want to set fire to three buildings in as many days.”
Firebreak coughed into his fist, then opened his duffel bag and rummaged around inside. The contents made little clicking sounds as they got shuffled. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, the super headed back the way they’d come, brushing past Cammy on his way back to the door.
“Isn’t it a shorter walk if we go through the interior?” she asked pointing toward the only other door.
Firebreak shook his head. “Nah. I’ve got it locked up already, and I don’t want to bother with the keys. Come on. We’ll take my truck.”
“Since we’re not going super hunting, can I bring Banks?” Cammy asked.
“I’d rather not. I figured we’d talk about the Maldonado Job- working title by the way- while I showed you my stuff.”
“You’re certainly being free with information this morning. And here I thought you didn’t trust anyone with your secrets.”
He never broke stride heading to the door as he spoke. “Well, you’ve already run me down, drugged me, and grilled me, Agent Johansen. My pyrokinetic power is stronger now than when I got it, but it’s got some weird caveats, ones I don’t particularly want shared around the Company water cooler. I came to the decision last night to go full-disclosure with you and only you.”
Her eyes narrowed as she watched him limp away. Cammy could understand his reluctance. A lot of supers, especially the weaker ones, were particularly sensitive about sharing the ins and outs of their abilities, so as not to give anyone an opening to exploit their vulnerabilities. However, Cammy had already guessed that the man’s fire powers were more substantial than he let on, and she'd said as much. Was he ready to tell her about this aspect of his abilities because it was exactly what she expected to hear? Was he hiding something else? She wished she had Banks with her to analyze this interaction, but the tablet was back in the origami beetle.
“What are you playing at, Firebreak?” Cammy asked reluctantly. She couldn't get a good read on Firebreak's intentions here, so she thought maybe the straight forward approach might shake loose more answers. Instantly, she wished she could take the question back.
“What?” He turned around wearing a pained look on his face. It was hard to pin down, but he looked… disappointed? Hurt maybe.
Was she assigning motive to the man unfairly? He seemed genuine in his desire to show her what he could do. Maybe the physical and emotional labor of hiding his secret from the world had taken its toll on him, and she was the first person he’d ever shared this with.
Or this was a ploy.
Damnit, she really should have brought Banks.
Of course, they were still so early on in their relationship. A show of trust right now could strengthen their bond and bring them closer as a team. All the best liaisons were close with their supers, and Firebreak seemed like he could use a friendly presence in his life.
Cammy blew out a long breath then smiled. “Sorry. It’s just such a change from yesterday, I didn’t know how to take it. Lead on.”
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“Groovy,” he said, turning on a dime, grinning as he stepped through the doorway and into the alley. “My truck is around front.”
—----------------------------------
Joseph and Agent Johansen bounced in their seats as the truck climbed up the last rocky draw before they would arrive at the range. Although Joseph had engaged the 4-wheel-drive a half mile ago, the tires still slipped and slid on the dew-wet stones and dead leaves. Spots like this were the last places to dry out after the sun hit the valley, but they should have an easier and safer time getting back down than they did getting up.
Johansen for her part sat quietly, one hand on the door handle and one on the dash to steady herself. Her window and her half of the windshield were fogged to the point where they’d had to use a towel to clear the glass a couple times now. She looked pale and cold, and she sneakily shot worried glances his way from time to time.
Joseph grimaced, knowing the Company woman felt uncomfortable. “Again, I’m sorry about the state of the truck.” The heater hadn't worked for a long time, and the seats smelled like mildew.
“No worries,” she said through chattering teeth. “You’re not cold at all?”
He could certainly feel the cold through the wet parts of his t-shirt and sweatpants, but it was a distant thing that never reached deeper than the surface of his skin. “I don’t really get cold. It was one of the first things I noticed about my powers back when I was a kid. I guess it’s a sort of passive use that never allows my body to fall below a certain temperature. Within reason of course.”
“How nice for you,” she deadpanned, pausing for a moment as the truck climbed over a fallen log, nearly bottoming out before finding purchase on the other side. “How cold does it have to get for you to feel it?”
“Oh I feel it. It’s just not as big of a deal for me.”
“So we should be using you for missions to the Antarctic or maybe Mars-Gah!” A particularly steep drop at the crest of the rise caused the truck to fall suddenly, causing Joseph’s stomach to slide up into his esophagus. Johansen probably experienced the same.
“Maybe I would need to bundle up for Mars,” he contemplated. “For the nights at least. I camped in the Cascades a couple times, and the worst part about it was the melted snow. I got wet and stayed wet all night.”
Johansen sat there for a moment staring into the fog covered windshield. “I skied there a few times during Christmas," she said, her tone noticeably different. Distant perhaps. "My parents would drop me off at a cabin and I would stay out on the slopes all week. Wet and cold all the time. I only stopped to sleep.”
Joseph thought perhaps he hadn’t understood correctly. “They dropped you off?” He asked.
“Yep.”
“Oh,” he said. It was all he could think to say. He didn’t want to pry into Johansen's family life. Hell, what would he know about healthy familial relationships? Mercifully, the truck left the wooded slope and the terrain flattened out as they entered the developed area next to the old quarry. The appearance of their destination saved him from further uncomfortable conversation.
“We’re here,” he declared, putting the truck into park on the old gravel road that lead into the cut.
The quarry was cut in a blocky U shape directly into the side of the mountain range on the western part of the valley. The pale stone was all right angles and protruding edges that went up for about 150 feet and terminated at a lip of soil, pines growing right up to the edge with exposed roots hanging down over the edge. In certain parts of the quarry, where sediment tended to trickle down with precipitation, black stains formed shadow colored waterfalls that terminated in a dark puddle at ground level. Trees surrounded the quarry as well with the exception of on the old road that zigzagged down the mountain. The lingering fog in the air collected into little droplets on all of the greenery and cast all of the valley in a haze, farther up the mountains especially.
Johansen opened her door and stepped outside, alternating between rubbing and stretching her arms and legs in an attempt to get the blood flowing in them again.
Joseph got out and reached around the cab into the truck bed to grab the duffel bag with his workings inside.
“So, this is where the magic happens?” Johansen asked, coming around to meet him.
“No such thing," Joseph scoffed. "What you’re about to see is good old fashioned superpowers,” He hoped he sounded convincing with that line. The first rule of Magic Club was that you never admitted there was a Magic Club. Joseph would know. He was the only member of Magic Club and, by default, its President.
“You know people have been calling it magic since day one, right? What you first generations do still has scientists scratching their heads and finding religion. There’s even a psychological phenomenon associated with it.”
“I’ve heard," he replied with a sigh. He'd had run-ins with the Church of the New Gods a couple times in the past, and the most pleasant part of those interactions was putting them behind him. "Well, whatever you want to call it, I do it here. It’s out of the way, and there’s not a lot of combustibles.”
Johansen looked around at that, seeming to want to confirm. The place was empty except for giant chunks of fallen rock and a burned out dump truck whose tires long ago rotted away. “Why didn’t we take the road here?” she asked.
“After the quarry shut down, there was a rock slide that buried the road further down the mountain. No one bothered to clear it away, because there’s nothing else up here. The way we came is pretty much the best way to get up, as far as I know.”
“So, that wasn’t just to torture me.”
Joseph didn’t bother to answer. He reached into his duffel bag and brought out one of the tubes, an orange. He popped it open and tipped the container to let the rolled up paper slide into his hand. He held it tightly right in the sweet spot on his palm. “Still cold, Agent Johansen?”
He had Johansen’s full attention now. Her eyes were locked on his closed fist and waiting for him to do his thing. She looked like a kid on Christmas, at least from what Joseph knew about kids on Christmas. He didn't remember any of his.
Holding his hand out as far from his body as possible, he summoned his fire and felt the working flare to life, consuming the paper and leaving a building pressure where it once was. An orange, wobbling semi-liquid dribbled through his fingers and ran down his hand to fall to the ground with a his to form a steadily growing pool on the rocky ground. The heat slowly grew more intense, rising from the construct to caress his legs and the arm he held over it.
Johansen was down in a crouch now, scrutinizing the fire puddle as it congealed and wobbled in its pool. She extended a finger, reaching down to touch it. Then she pulled up at the last moment, hesitating, looking up at Joseph for confirmation.
“Go ahead. Only take a little,” he ground out through his teeth. His hand shook with the effort it took to keep his fist closed and the working alive. “Better hurry though. It gets hotter the more there is.”
The company woman took off one of her gloves and used it to get a dab of the liquid to examine. What she got was maybe a nickel sized glob of the stuff that seemed to slip over the surface of the leather like mercury, always drawn downward. “It’s warm,” she gasped, laughing. “I mean. Of course it’s warm. But-”
“Hang on,” Joseph grunted, shaking his fist to get the last bit of heat he could out of the working then allowed his hand to pop open. There was a flash and a muted *bumf* of displaced air, then there was nothing in his palm. The glowing orange pool was a good size now, About as wide as Joseph was tall, and hot, violet flames now danced on its surface. “There,” he said, shaking his hand to get some of the feeling back. “This can keep you warm while we do the demonstration at least.”
Joseph grinned. He couldn't help it. Working with fire, or 'Heat' if he were to use the terminology he'd developed working with the spectrum, was a joy. He'd had his fire his entire life and manipulating the stuff with his workings came more easily to him than any of the others on the spectrum. His comfort with it didn't lessen how dangerous it was. Far from it. However, he felt his fire workings, more than any others, had style.
Johansen watched as the little globule of fire slid down the finger of her glove and fell to the ground to then roll its way to join the rest of the construct. Then she turned her attention back to Joseph. The look on her face was one of utter bafflement. Her mouth tried to form words, but sound didn’t seem to be forthcoming.
Joseph held up a finger in warning. “If you say the word 'magic' we're getting right back in the truck."