Firedrake Chapter 28

Drake had located the gymnasium at the Hurst Academy, and the discovery was one that did not disappoint him. The main room housed a basketball court with attendant bleachers. Digital scoreboards hung on the walls to either end of the court, and the flooring had the marks of long use evident on its rubberized surface. Beyond that were doors leading to a pool area with an in-ground heated pool. Separated locker and shower rooms fleshed out that portion of the gym. Drake kept exploring, his claws clacking loudly on the floor.

It was just after two in the morning, and Drake was wandering the campus, partially out of a need to know what was there and partially to let himself think. He had jumped at the chance to talk to these kids, to maybe teach them a little of what life was really like, but now he was beginning to wonder whether or not he had made the correct decision. He had been at Hurst for four days now, and Hart had made no attempts to contact him. A shared exchange of e-mails through a private service had assured Drake that so far Monster had not been moved and that - for the moment, at least - he was still being guarded by Sala.

The discovery that Sala was rebuilt in a Clinic lab had come as a bit of a shock to Drake. She had explained that her particular talent after Emerging was the absorption and reconfiguration of foreign material, and that she had used her contacts within the Clinic to gather enough raw materials that she might replace her arm, damaged in a battle outside Chicago. Once the internal reconfiguring of the Clinic was completed, she would be recalled there, but for the meantime, she was holding her own - due in no small part to other of her contacts and the pull they had with certain highly-placed officials at Justice.

Thinking of that made Drake pause. Perhaps he should spend less of his own time fighting the system and more to figuring out how to use it to his own advantage. Certainly the people he had met who had devoted themselves to meshing with the others around them seemed to be in a better position to call their own shots. Still, he could not bring himself to freely embrace the organization that, in essence, held his younger brother hostage to ensure his cooperation.

He was still pondering his position in the Department when he entered the training room. Packed with exercise equipment, the room responded to his entry as had all the others. Motion and heat sensors in the doorways registered his presence and overhead lights flickered into life. A grin split his face and he strode purposefully toward the heavy bag that was suspended from thick steel chains. It appeared to be made of a Kevlar weave dyed blue with a red striking area. He had no idea if it was filled with sand, steel shot, or something else, and at the moment he did not care which it might be. Pausing only long enough to wrap a couple of loops of tape across his gigantic knuckles, he set into the bag with a vengeance, driving powerful fists into it in a series of rocking blows that echoed in the room. As thoughts of home and his own situation chewed at his thoughts and burned in his heart, he continued the onslaught, hammering again and again into the swinging bag.

He saw the disciplinary session with Hart replayed in his mind. Her comments tore at him and he responded by slamming his fists harder into the resistant material of the bag. His lips peeled back across teeth clenched so tight that air barely passed them. Caustic spittle dripped from the sides of his mouth to smoke on the floor as he pounded over and over. Years ago, the bag had proven a valuable ally in exorcising Drake’s personal demons, and he vowed silently that today would be no different. Striking in rapid blows that rattled the chains suspending the bag, he began to pace back and forth, hitting from different angles and driving his blows in with trip hammer force. As his arms began to ache and burn with the constant strain, he added his tail to the mix, using the tip to slap at the bag after every few shots from his hands. A few minutes after he had begun that attack, he added in the occasional knee strike. Soon he had thrown himself wholeheartedly into the assault on the bag, his body a mix of flying fists, elbows, knees, kicks, head butts, tail strikes and shoulder checks. He maintained just enough of a grip on reality to avoid biting at the bag, but beyond that, he let himself fall into the near-berserk state that had once been his forte.

It felt to him as though the room was growing hot as he pushed himself further and further. His mind swirled with images from his past and he let them all come: his past mistakes, the people he had harmed, the apparently unwinnable situation with Hart and the Department, his own inability to care for Monster. As each thought came to mind, he forced it into the assault. Fleeting thoughts became violent action and washed away from him in the fury. The tape had long since shredded away from his knuckles and bits of it hung from his quivering fists in tiny white scraps that fluttered as he threw blow after blow.

“Little tough on it, aren’t you?” asked a quiet feminine voice from behind Drake. It was accompanied by a rush of warmth and a ruddy red glow that reflected from the walls. “It’s just a bag.”

Drake stopped in his tracks, head snapping around. “Bla—” he began to ask, eyes widening before he took in the image of the girl before him. “Sorry, thought you was someone else,” he muttered, panting from exertion.

She stood a hair above five feet in height, with skin that appeared almost to be cracked stone of a charred black hue. Orange traceries like veins were visible along her exposed skin, and shimmers in the air belied the heat that she was emitting. She had no hair, and her eyes were the same glowing orange color as the lines visible on her rocklike flesh. What clothing she wore, and there was little enough to speak of, was made of what appeared to be flexible metal of some variety.

“It isn’t often I’m mistaken for anyone else,” the girl noted, grinning. Her teeth were backlit by the orange glow, giving Drake the impression of an odd jack-o-lantern.

“Been a while since I thought about some folks,” he admitted with a shrug. “Old friends. They sometimes come back to me.”

“When you see a living volcano?” she asked, her voice taking on a teasing tone.

“It’s the fire,” Drake said. “Knew a girl once that had the fire thing going on. Couldn’t control it well, and it bugged her a lot. Felt the heat, heard the voice, and my mind was somewhere else. Kind of added up right.”

“Sorry if I brought up anything painful,” she said, adding in a shrug of her own as she saw his expression.

“Ain’t no thing,” he said with a shake of his head. “Name’s Drake, by the way.”

“Lava.”

“Given name or taken?”

“Taken,” the girl replied. She tapped a black finger against her arm. “I would have thought it was a giveaway.”

“I don’t judge based on appearance. Drake’s another name for a small dragon. Some folks figure I took it for that reason. Fact is, it’s my name.”

“Well, my name is Amanda, but I’m kind of used to being called Lava,” the girl said. She pointed to his hands, hanging down at his sides. “You gonna be okay?”

Drake held the giant mitts up for her inspection, flexing them to show that they still functioned as required. They were undamaged from the lengthy battle with the heavy bag. Only the shredded tape and a dull ache remained to remind him that they had been involved at all.

“They still work,” he said. She seemed satisfied with the answer.

“You’re the new teacher they brought in, aren’t you?”

“Guilty,” Drake replied with a nod. “Patr - Mister Salvatore asked me to sub in for a few classes.”

“So what do you think of the place?” she asked.

“The school’s fine,” Drake said. His breathing was beginning to return to normal, and he noticed almost unconsciously how much his pulse had slowed. “You a student?”

“That depends,” she said, the teasing tone once more evident in her voice. “Are you going to write me up for being out after hours?”

“Not my place. I figure if you’re up, there’s a reason for it.”

“Yeah. I don’t sleep much. A couple of hours every night and that’s about it. Then I’m up and drifting. I caught a burglar last year,” she added with a touch of pride.

“Figuring on making that a part of your life? Catching burglars, I mean.”

“Not really. I know he couldn’t really hurt me, but it was scary,” Lava told him.

“That’s cool. I was just going to tell you some people to stay away from if you had.”

“So what is it you had against the bag, anyway?” she asked, gesturing to the heavy bag. Drake half-turned to glance at it, swallowing as he saw the abraded surface where his scales had taken away bits of the outer covering. Beneath it a small quantity of sand had leaked out onto the floor to form a tiny pile.

“Thought it called me a name,” he said with a chuckle. “Figured I’d best teach it a lesson.”

“Yeah? Remind me not to call you names,” Lava said, laughing aloud. The sound was deep and soft, with a throaty power to it.

“No, actually I was just letting out my frustrations,” he admitted. “I used to do it a long time ago. Helps clear my head.”

She laughed again. “Looks like your head certainly needed some clearing,” she said.

“Been a rough week,” he replied. He stripped remnants of tape from his fingers; gestured to the slightly worse-for-wear bag.. “Did you want to have a go at it?”

“I don’t hit things.”

“Ever?”

“Not any more,” she said. Her voice cracked slightly as she said it and Drake switched subjects to avoid any sore subjects.

“So what are you studying?” he asked, smiling. He had given up trying to avoid scaring people with his expressions. As the silver-skinned Lucille Wilshire had told him when he arrived at the Academy, most of the students could not care less about his appearance, due in no small part to their own.

“The usual stuff,” she said, waving a hand. “College core curriculum, mostly.”

“Yeah? So what do you wanna do?”

“Rodeo clown,” she said, blank-faced. She held the expression for a few seconds before cracking a smile. “Actually, I’m looking into medical school.”

“Sweet,” Drake said, peeling away the last of the tape. He tossed the fragments into a nearby wastebasket, making a face when part of his shot missed and fell to the side. He marched over and picked it up, dropping it into the canister. “So you want to be a doctor, then?”

“In truth, I want to be a medical examiner,” she said after a moment’s pause. “Don’t tell anyone, though. Doctor works just fine as far as everyone knows. People get weirded out when you say you want to work with dead bodies.”

Drake nodded. “I used to want to be an actor,” he admitted.

“What happened to that?” she asked.

“Reality. First off, all I’d get to play would be monsters, and secondly…I suck at acting.”

That same throaty chuckle sounded again. It cut off after a few seconds, and Lava cocked her head to the side, an expression of concern crossing her features.

“Hear that?” she asked in a whisper.

Drake tuned out the sound of the ventilation fans and the soft buzz of the fluorescent lighting, listening intently. He could hear a quiet whistling sound and a murmur of voices.

“People,” he noted.

“After hours,” she added.

“You’re up. So am I. Nobody else gets to be?”

“It’s rare,” she said.

“Fine,” Drake said, scratching behind one ear. “I’ll check it out. You stay here.”

“No way!” she replied, eyes widening at the thought.

“Yes way. You’re a student, I’m not. Besides, this is kind of what I do.”

“I’m coming with you,” she declared, turning on one heel and walking for the door ahead of him. Sighing in exasperation, he took two long strides, passing her on the floor and interposing himself between her and the door.

“At least stay behind me,” he said. Lava nodded and together they exited the room.

Drake made little attempt at stealth, his claws on the floor enough to betray him at the best of times. Instead, he did his best to appear nonchalant, as though he were simply out for a stroll. He even whistled off-key between his teeth. Behind him, Lava winced at the sound, doing her best to remain on her tiptoes.

“They’re gonna hear us,” she whispered urgently. Drake merely shrugged. A few steps later, he leaned forward just a bit, still maintaining the tuneless whistling. Turning his head, he winked at Lava and then threw himself into a run, jamming a heel against the floor after only four paces and pivoting hard to his left.

“Federal Agent! Hands in the air!” he shouted, the words echoing several times within the confined space of the hallways.

The four students cowering against the unmarked door before him shrank back at his sudden appearance, letting out squeals of shock and surprise as he loomed over them without warning. Hands shot skyward a second later in delayed response to his bellowed command.

“Ari?” asked Lava from behind Drake. One of the youths, clad in a FreezeFrame fan club t-shirt and khaki shorts, turned his head toward her. His eyes were milky-looking and seemed to wander in their sockets.

“Uhh, hey, Lava,” he said lamely. His voice was quivering.

“What are you kids doing down here?” Drake demanded. He widened his stance and placed his fists onto his hips, allowing his wings to spread slightly to further emphasize his bulk.

“We were…we…” began one of the kids, his voice fading to nothing as his head angled toward the floor. His eyes shut tight and he took in a slow, ragged breath.

Lava edged past Drake and leaned her head down to make eye contact with the teen. “Hey,” she said softly. “Hey, buddy, it’s okay. Nobody’s gonna hurt you.”

“Kinda the point,” Ari said, turning his head to face Lava.

“What do you mean?”

“Nobody’s gonna hurt us. That’s what we’re here for.”

“Somebody been tagging on you?” Drake asked. His wings slipped back against his spine as he dropped to one knee to better converse with the much shorter students. The group held their silence, but no one would make eye contact with either Drake or Lava.

“So you came down here to what? Train? Learn to fight? Team up to protect one another?” the big booster asked.

Ari nodded briefly, still not looking at Drake. “We figured if we stood together -” he began.

“Yeah? Fine damned job you’re doing of it,” Drake interrupted gruffly, standing once more. He folded massive arms across his chest and snorted. Lava gave him a horrified look.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Stay out of it, kid,” Drake told her. He reached out with one hand, poking at Ari with a talon. The boy was knocked back a full step by the force of the blow, his hand coming up to clutch at the point of impact.

“Stop it,” Lava ordered. Drake ignored her, reaching out to poke Ari in the chest yet again. The reaction from the youth was the same as it had been to the first assault, and Drake directed a withering gaze on his partners.

“This is what you’re gonna do?” Drake asked the other three. “Stand around with your thumbs up your asses when one of you is threatened? Hey, that’s a pretty novel defense mechanism. Sort of the, ‘I can wet my pants if you bug me’ school of martial arts, huh?”

He poked Ari once more. Tears shone in the milky orbs of the boy’s eyes. He had backed away from his associates now, and Drake was between him and them. The reptilian booster showed no signs of ceasing his attacks.

“Please,” Ari begged, his voice pitifully weak.

“Damn it, Drake,” Lava shouted, grabbing at his shoulder. “Stop it!”

He wheeled on her, towering over her and glowering down at her with an expression more fierce than any she had ever seen. His teeth clacked together dangerously an inch from her face.

“Stop me,” he challenged. He turned that ferocious appearance on the others present. “You’re here to protect one another, right? So get off your sorry asses and do something!”

He turned back toward Ari, driving another claw into the boy. His frame rocked a second later as he was struck from behind. The blow was ineffectual, but it got his attention. He turned, half expecting to see Lava there, but instead found himself looking down into the furious gaze of the smallest of the students, an Asian boy of about thirteen. The student had eyes slitted like the pupils of a cat. He was drawing back his fist again, though Drake could see flecks of blood on the knuckles where it had scraped against his scales.

“Leave him alone,” the boy said in a low voice.

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you’ll have to deal with me.”

Drake chuckled, the sound sinister and dark in the hall. The scent of sulphur drifted from his mouth as his lips peeled back in a terrifying rictus. “So you’ll what? Tickle me to death?” he asked.

The hallway lit with dazzling brilliance as a glittering arc of energy erupted from the outstretched fingers of the dark-haired boy who had earlier tried to explain their presence. It struck Drake in the left thigh and he jumped backward, surprised at the amount of pain generated by the attack.

“That feel like a tickle to you?” the boy asked, glaring angrily at Drake. Beside him, the third youth opened his mouth. What seemed to be liquid darkness poured from the orifice, pooling on the floor and appearing to crawl across the concrete. It reached Drake’s feet and slithered over them, though there was no accompanying physical sensation. Drake suddenly found himself quite unable to move from his present position. His feet felt as though they were glued into place.

“My turn,” Ari said. He swung a fist that grew to massive proportions as it moved. By the time it reached Drake, it was larger than Drake’s own fist, and it struck with a force that rivaled his own as well.

Drake rolled with the punch enough to shake off the energy of it, then laughed aloud. This time the sound was not mocking or frightening, but had a genuine feel of mirth.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” he crowed. He pointed the claw at Ari once more, this time using it to indicate rather than assault. “If you’re gonna do something, do it right. That was a nice hit, by the way.”

“Wh-what?” stammered Ari. He looked confused.

“And that darkness thing. That was pretty sweet,” Drake praised, nodding to the youth who had emitted the binding attack. He turned his attention to the dark-haired student. “You got some kinda power going there, slick. Felt like a dozen cattle prods all at once.”

“Yeah, well, I…”

“But you,” Drake continued, reaching across to place a hand on the shoulder of the Asian with the cat’s eyes. “Let me guess. You don’t have any kind of flashy power or super attack or anything, do you?”

“No,” said the teen, his tone challenging.

“And yet you were the first one to do anything. Knowing that I could probably squash you like a bug, you still stepped up. Nicely done.”

“Am I missing something?” Lava asked.

“Probably,” Drake said with a small nod.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Car keys, maybe? A favorite sweater? How am I supposed to know what you’re missing?” he asked, winking to let her know he was only teasing. “If you’re asking about these guys, though, they needed someone to come in and shake them up a little. Planning and pledging to help one another’s all well and good, but it don’t mean jack shit unless someone steps up and makes the first move - like this guy did,” Drake said, patting the back of the youth again.

“Nice job, Cat,” Ari said.

“So you were -” asked Cat.

“Shamming? Yeah. Pretty much. I figured you guys would jump in eventually. Just didn’t know how long it’d take.”

“But we could have hurt you.”

“Yeah,” Drake acknowledged. At his feet, the inky blackness that had so enveloped him was fading away into a thin smoke that dissipated in seconds. “Been hurt before, though. Thing about pain is, it goes away. It is a great motivator, though. Y’all didn’t like the pain you were in from watching someone bully your friend, so you got motivated to do something about it.”

“So it’s okay then? To, you know, do what we did?” asked the energy projector.

“This time, sure. On the other hand, you have to always keep in mind what you’re doing and who you’re doing it to. You gotta take care not to go too far. It’s called the force continuum, if you want to get all technical about it. Basically, it means you don’t use more force than necessary to stop what’s going on. You don’t wanna cripple some monkey ‘cause he called you a name. Around here, all you really need to do is stop what’s happening and get away. Real world? You may have to incapacitate someone for a while, depending on what they’re doing. It’s something you’ll get a handle on eventually, as time goes by.”

“Are you going to teach a class about it?” Lava asked. “Or maybe one on how to lie? I mean, I thought you said you weren’t a good actor.”

“I ain’t.”

“You put on a wonderful performance just then,” she countered, gesturing toward the four teens. “They bought it. I bought it.”

“Well, I can scare folks pretty easy. That part I’ve always been good at,” Drake explained with a laugh. After a moment, the others joined in.

“So now, what I need y’all to do is tell me who‘s been messing with you,” Drake said. “What is it causes you to come down here and start your own secret little fight club?”

There was silence from the quartet, and more than one of them bit their lip as they looked toward the floor. Drake let them stand like that for a minute, then nodded sagely.

“All right. Y’all don’t wanna tell me, you ain’t got to. I understand not wanting to be a rat.”

“We, uh, we don’t use that phrase around here,” Lava corrected gently. “You see, Sharon McAlister, in my homeroom, well she kind of looks like a mouse. Fur, tail, whiskers, the whole nine. It’s considered insulting to her if you use the word ‘rat’ in a derogatory manner.”

“And the learning just keeps on coming,” Drake muttered, shaking his head. “Look, kid, I’ve got respect for you guys and what you’re dealing with, looking all funky like we do, but I ain’t one for all the politically correct BS, you know? Fact is, you’re all gonna get called names. Trust me. Been there, done -”

The cell phone in his pocket vibrated and emitted a single chirp.

“ - that,” he finished, fumbling in his pocket until he emerged with the phone. The text message still glowed on the screen and he scrolled through it with a sigh.

Booster hit in Philadelphia. It looks related to your mall event. Your suspension has been lifted by my authority. Procure transportation to Philadelphia at nearest FBI field office. Depart soonest to debrief the subject. Hospital name and coordinates will follow.

Not surprisingly, it was from Colleen Hart.

Drake muttered a curse and returned the phone to his pocket.

“What’s the matter?” Cat asked him.

“Nothing, little man,” he answered, managing a smile. “Lets get y’all back to your dorms. Anyone asks, you were with me. Important civics lesson or something. I’ll fade the heat.”

Inside, he was seething. The larger part of him boiled with anger at Hart and her wishy-washy stance on his suspension. If he was so bad that he needed to be removed from service, then remove him. Simply dropping his suspension when he was once more needed seemed more than a bit childish to him. The other part of him, however, was angry more at the fact that the parties from the mall incident had struck again, and so soon after that disaster. Silently, he promised himself that next time would be different.