Disclaimer: I don't make any money from this. I'm not that talented.
Fallen Angel, Risen Devil
Francis Stone isn't what he appears. Hell, he isn't even human.
Chapter One: The Prophet
"Give it up Hotstreak. There's no way you can win against us both." Static taunted from the air, hovering just out of Francis' range.
"Yeah, you'd better just surrender." Gear added, jetting into the air next to Static, fingering a zapcap in his hand.
Hotstreak picked himself up off the ground and stumbled to get his footing. This probably hadn't been the brightest idea he'd ever had. His head was pounding and it seemed as if his body had reached its limit. He hated to admit it, but the heroes were probably right. The reasonable thing to do would be to just give up now. He could go to jail without any more added injuries.
Unfortunately for Francis Stone, he had never been a reasonable person.
He raised his head and smirked at the heroes through his drooping red and blond streaked hair. "Make me."
Static looked at Gear and shrugged. "Alright, but only because you asked so nicely."
They both shot at the pyro, firing up their attacks.
Hotstreak took a step back and conjured a fireball into both hands. The three collided in a flash of color, red from fire, blue from electricity, and the yellow flash of the zapcaps springing open.
Gear spun out of the way and threw another zapcap at Hotstreak who shot it out of the air. The grenade blew up in midair and Hotstreak rolled out of the way. Static came at him again from behind with a fistful of electricity and Hotstreak didn't turn in time. Static caught him across the back of his head and he lurched forward, hitting his forehead on the sidewalk. Electricity surged through Hotstreak's tired body for a brief second but it was enough to make the pyro clamp his mouth shut, resisting the urge to scream. Hotstreak sat back and rubbed his head with a wince.
"How 'bout now?" Static asked innocently.
Francis shot him a wry grin. "Not yet."
Gear and Static exchanged worried looks. They didn't really want to hurt him. Finally, Gear pulled a few more zapcaps from Backpack, thinking to end the fight quickly for both sides. "Catch." Gear tossed them at Francis. The pyro watched them come…and then watched them stop in midair.
"What the…?" Francis pushed himself backwards and half-turned in confusion. Behind him, a bright white light suddenly sprang into existence and engulfed the pyro. Hotstreak threw an arm up in front of his eyes and groaned. Of course it would have to happen right now.
Static flew down to Gear and stared at the light, his face a mask of confusion. "Ummm, should we do something?"
Gear shrugged, running tests on the light through his visor's computer screen. "I dunno V. I'm not picking up anything weird. It's just a light. No chemicals, no metahuman readings, it's just...a light."
"Yeah but I can't even see Hotstreak in there. What if he's hurt? What if this is a new attack?" Static exclaimed in frustration.
"There's not much we can do bro. If we went in there, I'd bet we would be blinded instantly. Let's just wait."
Static crossed his arms stubbornly and squinted at the strange light. It didn't seem evil or dangerous in any way. In fact, the light seemed to soften as he looked at it and a wave of serenity washed over him. His face cleared and his arms dropped to his sides.
"Whoa."
Hotstreak sat up and crossed his arms lightly on his knees. "This was really bad timing y'know."
It looked as though Hotstreak was talking conversationally with the light, which would have been crazy, except for the fact that a thin man with blond hair stepped out of the light as if from thin air and regarded Hotstreak with a cool demeanor. He wore a simple white t-shirt and white jeans, his feet were bare and there was a faint golden aura emanating from his muscled body.
"Sorry, time and dates seem to be flying by faster than usual up top." The man stepped forward again and extended a hand to the pyro.
Hotstreak took it and the man hauled the red-head to his feet with ease. "Jason, right?" He asked carefully.
The man, Jason, nodded. "You know me. That's surprising. I thought you weren't up to date on the goings on of above?"
Hotstreak shrugged and winced, rubbing his head absentmindedly. "I try to keep in touch when I can."
Jason reached out a hand and touched Hotstreak's forehead. A white light, much like the one encompassing them, shot out of his fingers and into Hotstreak's head.
Hotstreak stepped back and rolled his neck experimentally. His pains and aches were gone, as he knew they would be. "Thanks."
Jason nodded. "You know why I'm here of course. I was given the task of reminding you, Francis Stone, of your impending duty. Your choice rapidly approaches." He looked at what looked like a watch on his wrist but the screen displayed not only the time, but the month, year, country, latitude and longitude, a compass, and several other things that Francis couldn't identify. "Only three weeks until the date."
"I know. You don't have to keep sending reminders." Hotstreak scowled.
Jason frowned. "We prefer the term prophets. And you know as well as I why we must keep coming to you. Your choice, your destiny, has been a matter of great debate both above and below. Only twice in the history of this planet has such a choice occurred. A lot hangs on your decision."
"So no pressure." Hotstreak frowned and turned away. There was quiet for a moment, excpet for a faint musical sound that came from the light, Hotstreak would have guessed a lyre.
"Have you come any closer to a decision?" Jason asked slowly, treading lightly on a sensitive topic.
Hotstreak shook his head. "No."
Jason sighed. "My time here is almost up." He looked at his watch again. "You know that in the next few weeks, the powers of heaven and hell will descend upon this city, luring you. The sooner you decide, the sooner balance will be restored."
Hotstreak spun on Jason, green eyes flashing dangerously. "Yes, I know!"
Jason nodded. "Good-bye then Francis."
Hotstreak didn't get to say good-bye back. The light imploded and Jason vanished.
Hotstreak was left staring at the empty sidewalk, and then he noticed Static and Gear standing nearby as well. The heroes were shielding their eyes and hadn't seen him yet. Hotstreak blew a stray piece of hair out of his face and turned on his heel, running as fast as he could away from the scene.
Virgil threw himself onto the couch and groaned. "I can't believe Hotstreak got away."
"So you guys saw the news then?" Frieda walked up to them, a bowling ball in her arms.
Virgil and Richie were lounging on one of the couches in the bowling alley, tired and sore from their fight with Hotstreak.
Virgil shot up. "Oh no. Was our re-match tonight?"
Frieda frowned. "Yeah, it was. Don't tell me you guys just came in here to crash? That's pathetic."
"That's what your homes are for." Daisy added, shoving a bowling ball at Richie. "Now get up and bowl."
"But I'm too tired." Richie complained.
"The news?" Virgil asked.
Frieda nodded. "Yeah, Channel 9 caught the fight live. Do you have any idea what that freaky light was?"
Virgil shook his head. He hadn't seen any cameras.
"Well anyway, you guys ready to get your butts kicked all up and down this alley?" Frieda asked smugly and she and Daisy walked towards their lane.
"I don't think we have a choice." Richie finally said.
Virgil groaned again. "We don't seem to be having a lot of choices lately."
The two boys struggled to their feet and staggered over to the girls. They were busy imputing their names into the machine, apparently this week they were going with superhero names. "Virgil, I guess you can be Static. I call Wonder Woman." Daisy said as she typed.
"We are such dorks." Richie muttered.
"I wanna be Storm…from X-Men." Frieda shouted.
"Rich, anything you want to be in particular?" Daisy asked.
Richie shrugged. "Well now, there are so many. The mental prowess, the dashing good looks, the physicality…"
"Just put him as Spiderman. He's dorky enough to be Peter Parker." Virgil interrupted.
Daisy laughed and typed in the name. Richie frowned. "Well that wasn't quite what I had in mind."
The game started and as predicted, the girls got off to an early lead and held on to win the match. The boys were just too tired to care that much about a game of bowling, even if their prides were taking a beating.
"So when we tally the scores that's…242 for the girls and 197 for the guys." Daisy did the math quickly. "You guys must have really been off your game."
"What are you talking about? We're just too good for them keep up." Frieda laughed.
Virgil frowned at Richie and got up, stretching his back. "Well, this little torment has been fun. See you at school tomorrow?"
"Yeah okay. Maybe we should walk them home Daisy, looks like they need help getting anything done right lately." Frieda prodded at their wounded egos.
"Har har." Richie and Virgil pushed past the laughing girls and out of the bowling alley. "Is it a little colder than when we came in V?" Richie shoved his hand into his pockets.
Virgil blew on his hands. "A bit. Don't worry about it. Forecasters all say temperatures in the seventies this week."
Virgil was wrong about the weather. Very, extremely, disastrously wrong.
One day the temperature could be a scorching ninety degrees and the next a freezing twenty. It snowed, it rained, it was so windy tiles flew off rooftops. There was an ice storm and hail. Lightning storms rained down on the city all night and several buildings caught on fire.
The hospital was overcrowded and the police force and fire department were swapped. Petty criminals took advantage of the confusion and broke into unguarded shops without getting caught. Houses could burn for hours before the fire department showed up, still covered in ash from the last fire.
People began staying indoors, afraid to be caught off guard outside from a sudden weather change. Scientists from around the world tried to explain the strange occurrences in Dakota but none of them could find anything wrong. Some attributed it to global warming and other proclaimed the apocalypse had arrived. Nevertheless, it was all contained within Dakota; no other part of the world was being affected.
"Bro, this is so weird." Richie complained, leaning his head against the window and watching acid rain splatter against the sidewalk. What few people were outside quickly ran under doorways in fright as the rain burnt their skin.
Virgil paused the video game and joined Richie at the window. "I know Rich. This is getting to be too much. Do you think it's some new crazed up metahuman messing with all of us?"
Richie frowned. "A Bang Baby who could control the weather? That would be destructive but I doubt it. I would have picked up some readings or something."
"I guess…" Virgil trailed off, staring out the window.
"Virgil. Are you gonna help me with the dishes or aren't you?" Sharon walked into the room and threw a dishtowel at Virgil's head. "I cook dinner, I do the laundry...I am not doing the dishes too!"
"Coming Shar." Virgil grabbed the towel from around his shoulders and stood up. "You know what Rich?"
"What?"
"All this funky weather started the day we fought Hotstreak. Remember? It got really cold. And there was that light."
Richie's eyes lightened. "You're right! It's the only thing we've thought of that might explain it. Do you want to check it out? I'm sure we could find Hotstreak somewhere."
Virgil grinned. "I'd better do the dishes first, but yeah."
Within the hour, Virgil had done a shoddy job of cleaning the dishes and shoved his costume into his backpack so he and Richie took off, shouting out a lame excuse of going to Frieda's. Mr. Hawkins wouldn't let them out of the house without an umbrella, coats, and sunglasses. One had to be prepared these days.
The two heroes dumped all the stuff in the alley next to Virgil's house and changed into costume, charging upwards into the dark clouds forever hanging in the skies these days. Luckily for them, the acid rain had stopped just a few minutes before.
"Y'know V, I've been thinking."
"Shocker."
"Quiet. Anyway, what if all this weather stuff gets worse? What if it expands into I don't know, tornadoes or earthquakes? Everyone could be killed, or the city could be wiped out." Gear dodged around a particularly fluffy cloud, laden down with who knows how much acid rain.
Static frowned and shook his head to clear the terrible thought from his mind. "I don't know Rich. I've gotta hope that won't happen."
Gear nodded. "Okay I hear you." He looked down at the city below them. "Ummm…where do we start looking?"
Static stopped in mid-air so Gear backtracked to hover beside him. "As far as I know, a lot of the metahumans live on the south side of Dakota. That's where the gangs ran before the Bang and most of them stayed there. I don't know if Hotstreak was on of 'em though. He's only seventeen. Shouldn't there be a record we can trace? Former addresses?"
Gear relayed the command to Backpack and the super-computer on his back went to work. A moment later Gear read the information streaming across the screen in his visor.
"Well?" Static prodded.
Gear shook his head. "There's only a mention of an orphanage in Gotham ten years ago. Must've moved to Dakota after that but never registered a residence."
"He's an orphan?"
"It would appear so. Which just makes our job harder, there's no way for us to track him." Gear said sullenly.
Static brushed a dread out of the way and sighed. "Well, there's one way."
"Yeah?"
"We find some other Bang Baby and make them tell us where Hotstreak is. Anyone who runs with Ebon has to know where to find other memebers of the Breed."
Gear nodded. "Let's do it."
The two shot off towards the south end of town, undoubtedly the most rundown and dangerous part of the whole city. They flew low over the tops of the buildings, one eye on the ground and one eye on the sky should the clouds open up again.
After two hours of staring at deserted streets, Static was lucky enough to spot Ferret ducking out of a convenience store with an armful of snack food.
"Hey Ferret, the munchies acting up again?" Static flew lower and dropped in front of Ferret.
Ferret squeaked and dropped the food, turning to run the other way. Gear was blocking his path with a knowing grin. "Sorry to ruin your snack. We'd like to ask you a few questions."
"I'm not answering' nothin'." Ferret said stubbornly.
Static zapped a broken pipe out of an alley and wound it around Ferret's shoulders before magnetizing the struggling metahuman to a fire escape. "Okay, I feel more inclined to cooperate." Ferret muttered, kicking against the wall angrily.
"Good. Where does Hotstreak live?" Static stepped off his disc to stand at eye level.
"Hotstreak? What do you want with Hotstreak?" Ferret stopped struggling in confusion.
"Just tell us." Gear said.
"Well…right now? Geez, he's doesn't stay anywhere for very long." Ferret shot the heroes a look.
Static rolled his eyes. "Okay fine you scrounger. We'll give you a 24-hour head start if you tell us where to find Hotstreak."
Ferret smiled. "He's crashing with Shiv last I heard, apartment building on Wallis and Trenton. Though he's probably not there right now."
Gear groaned. "Where would he be then?"
"There's a bar on Stallworth, likes to go there during the day unless Ebon needs him for something." Ferret said quickly, knowing he was pressing the heroes' leve of tolerance, and he really didn't want to get zapped again.
Static looked at Gear, who nodded. "Okay, your 24 hours start right…now!" He dropped the magnetism and the pipe fell to the ground. Ferret didn't need to be told twice; he scooped a bag of Doritos off the sidewalk and dashed down the street.
"I hate letting them get away." Static muttered.
"Forget it, we got what we needed. Want to check the apartment first?" Gear placed a reassuring hand on Static's shoulder.
"Yeah, Wallis? That's like, three blocks to our right, right?" Static jumped back onto his disc as Gear punched in the intersection.
"It is indeed. Let's go." They shot off again, this time with a destination in mind.
When they got to the apartment, Gear looked at the buzzer plate at the bottom and saw Shiv's real name listed for the sixth floor. "Sammy Chung, huh." He muttered and then shrugged. "Sixth floor." He reported to Static.
They flew a lazy circle around the sixth floor of the building, peering into windows. They finally found Shiv's apartment. How did they know it was Shiv's? Because Shiv was lying on the couch by the window in nothing but boxers, snoring the day away.
"Oh my eyes." Static groaned, popping the metal lock and easing the window open.
"Let's not wake him." Gear said quietly once they were inside. Static nodded quickly.
They tiptoed around the messy apartment looking for signs of Hotstreak. All they found was a few pieces of clothing they assumed to be the pyro's.
"The bar?" Static asked after they had looked through all the rooms.
Gear nodded and they jumped out the open window, leaving a sleeping Shiv behind.
It took them only a few minutes to find the bar; it was just around the block from the apartment. "Soooo, we go in with guns blazing?" Gear asked sarcastically, surveying the perimeter.
Static shook his head. "Nah, look. Something's actually going to be easy for once today." Gear followed Static's gaze and saw Hotstreak slip out of the bar, zip up his worn bomber jacket, and head in the direction of the apartment.
"Yippee kay eh. Let's go." Static flew down with Gear right behind him.
"Now there's no way you're old enough to be frequenting bars firebug." Static taunted from just above Hotstreak's head.
Hotstreak stopped and looked up frowning. "Sparky, what an unpleasant surprise."
"You know me, just full of surprises. Gear?"
Hotstreak spun around and caught a zapcap to the chest. "Oh, shit."
Tendrils shot out of the grenade and wrapped themselves around Hotstreak's chest and arms. "Timber!" Static poked him in the back and Hotstreak stumbled forward, falling on his face.
"Ow. What the hell? I didn't even do anything." Hotstreak turned on his side and scowled at Static.
"Sorry but it had to be done. C'mon." Static grabbed one of Hotstreak's arms and Gear grabbed the other. Together they dragged the larger teen into an alley.
"Okay so listen up. We could take you to jail right now for last week. But we'd rather find out what the hell happened that's making the weather act all screwy before we dump your butt behind bars. So here's how this is going to work, you tell us what's up and we'll drop you off at the state penitentiary." Static started.
Hotstreak raised an eyebrow. "Not liking the choices so far."
"Shame, that's your only one." Gear quipped.
"What makes you think I know anything about the weather? Go talk to Slipstream or Permafrost if you're that curious." Hotstreak said, anger rising in his voice.
"The light. And don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. It's the only thing we can think of." Static said.
Hotstreak sighed and opened his mouth to respond when a particularly strong gust of wind nearly knocked them over. They raised their heads to the sky, a drop of rain landed on Statics nose. It stung.
"Ow!" Static swiped the liquid off his skin. "Acid rain's back. We've got to get inside."
"We're going to your apartment." Gear grabbed Hotstreak again and heaved him into the air. "We'll have to kick Shiv out."
Both of Hotstreak's eyebrows shot for his hairline. "First off, it's not my apartment. Second, Shiv's already gone. Ebon would have picked him up three minutes ago and I was supposed to be there too."
"Apologies all around. Let's just go!" Static grabbed the other side of Hotstreak and they flew back to the apartment, trying to dodge around the fat drops of hazardous rain.
"In you go." Static and Gear heaved Hotstreak through the still open window. Hotstreak bounced on the couch and flopped to the ground before settling on his back, growling lowly at them.
As Hotstreak had said, Shiv was gone. The apartment was empty. Gear shut the window behind him as the rain picked up in intensity and with the wind, the rain came down at an angle, soaking the cushions on the couch.
"This is really no way to ask for information." Hotstreak muttered and pushed himself into a sitting position.
Static looked at him. "You're right."
"I am?"
"He is?" Gear looked just as surprised as Hotstreak.
Static grinned and disappeared for a moment in the direction of the kitchen. He came back with a bucketful of water.
Hotstreak saw the bucket and squirmed, a look of panic springing across his face. Gear laughed and grabbed Hotstreak's shoulders, holding him against the couch.
Static dumped the water over the pyro's head. Hotstreak spluttered and swore while the heroes laughed. Hotstreak shook his head to clear the water out of his eyes and glared at Static. "Asshole."
Static's grin got larger. "Release the catch Gear. He can't ignite."
Gear flipped a switch on one of the tentacles and they popped off, retracting back into the grenade which Gear pocketed.
Hotstreak shook his head again and brushed drooping red spikes out of his face, rivulets of water still streamed down his face and his clothes were soaked.
"See? Now we can ask you, you'll be comfortable, and we'll be happy." Static sat on the floor in front of Hotstreak, Gear still resting on the couch behind them.
"This is what you call comfortable?" Hotstreak shrugged his jacket off and tapped at the puddle forming around him. Static shurgged. "Anyway, doesn't mean I'll answer shit from you two." The pyro was determined to be as stubborn as possible.
Static sighed. There was no way Hotstreak would go for an offer the same way Ferret had. The older boy wasn't a genius, but he was smart enough to see a trap like the one they'd set for Ferret. Gear had tagged the annoying metahuman with a tracker as he ran away so they could find him in 24 hours.
"Listen, people are getting hurt out there. If you know anything to help us, we'd really appreciate it. I don't want people suffering when there might be something I can do to stop it." Static tried sincerity, fairly certain it wouldn't work.
It didn't. Hotstreak laughed at him. "There isn't a way to stop this mess, at least not for another two weeks."
"What's in two weeks?" Static asked confusedly.
"His birthday." Gear said, scrolling through what little file there was on Francis Stone.
Hotstreak craned his head back to look at Gear. "Right on Brainboy."
"I don't get it, what's so important about your birthday?" Static asked.
Hotstreak looked at him and suddenly Static didn't see the half-sane pyro who usually delighted in blowing things up. There was understanding, fear, guilt, anger, and dozens of other emotions in his green eyes that Static had never seen there before and he felt like he was looking at the strange light again.
"Whoa."
Hotstreak looked away and sighed, bringing his knees to his chest and clasping his hands around them. "I'll be eighteen in two weeks. On my eighteenth birthday, I-I have to choose."
"Choose what?" Gear asked.
Hotstreak smiled faintly. "Whether to be an angel or a devil."
Author's Note:
Again, I don't know if anyone is interested in this story at all. You'll have to let me know WITH REVIEWS. I was just thinking back on some of Hotstreak's characteristics in the show and a lot of the time I feel he's torn between good and bad. Alva's island, the tanker, Aqua Maria, Madelyn. There are a lot scenes where he's on the verge of being a good guy. So I naturally think, what if there are supernatural causes behind this indecision. Half-angel, half-devil. Then, of course, I had to write about it.
Note: This story is in no way meant to be religious. I know very little about angels and all that so if I offend someone with my lack of knowledge, it was unintentional.