Besides writing this for my (dedicated) readers, I also wrote this for...

Are You Crazy Enough to Do It Challenge?: 594. (word) Particular

Also changed title format.

the path to heaven runs through hell

Word Count: 4,461

(inspiration for title) "The path to heaven runs through miles of clouded hell right to the top." -Imagine Dragons, It's Time

...vVv...

Henry was soaring through an endless sky. His arms and legs were spread-eagled like wings, gliding through the air effortlessly. The wind whooshed through his hair, giving it a windswept shape.

Puffy snow-colored clouds were within his reach. He unhesitatingly brushed his fingers against one, enjoying the split second of cool air on his fingers before the cloud morphed.

White slowly darkened, lightning fizzling and crackling with electricity. His hair stood on end, vibrating with the strong charge the lightning emitted. A claw-shaped bolt struck the sky, spreading the darkness to the remaining clouds. The wind increased in intensity, causing him to swerve and tumble through the air. His visibility was limited due to the fierce wind forcing his eyelids shut, rendering him unable to navigate through the blackened clouds.

In the center of the mayhem, a colossal hurricane was unleashed. Heavy sheets of rain whipped his face. A feminine scream rebounded through the clouds, until it reached his ears in a deafening burst of sound. His blood chilled as he recognized the familiar scream. He would recognize that scream anywhere; it was a sound that sent his heart into hysterics.

Chaos reigned around him, and it was petrifying. In just moments, the serenity had shattered and reconfigured into a grave darkness.

Henry's eyes snapped open and he sat up abruptly in bed, his breathing irregular. He inhaled deeply, trying to placate his heart, which was pounding rapidly against his sore ribs.

Coughs racked his body. A burning sensation encompassed his throat, and he fell against his bed, spasms rocking his body.

"Here." A steady, cool hand rested on his shoulder, while the other passed him a glass of clear water.

He gulped it down appreciatively, his body relaxing upon the water coming in contact with his flaming throat. He guzzled down the whole glass in a few ravenous mouthfuls, but he didn't set it down, clutching it in his hand. He needed something solid to grip on to shake away the horrific nightmare.

The comforting hand released his shoulder, and Henry received his first look at his surroundings.

He was in Swellview Hospital. How did he know? The area was spotless and almost too white. Of course, that was a stereotypical way of identifying a hospital, but it was a characteristic of all hospitals.

White drapes hung stiffly over his window, effectively allowing no natural sunlight to filter in. The lights were fluorescent and shining directly into his eyes, nearly blinding him. He shielded his eyes with his arm.

This wasn't Henry's first impromptu visit to the hospital, and it would certainly not be his last.

The identity of the man turned out to be Ray. The superhero was sitting in a solitary swivel chair next to Henry's bed, eyebrows knitted together with concern.

"What happened?" Henry let the question fall from his lips into his glass, a hazy recollection swirling in his mind.

An unreadable expression painted his face. "I need to clarify something first. What is my name and occupation?"

"Ray." Henry was appropriately puzzled. "You work at Junk-N-Stuff, but that's just an alibi. You're actually Captain Man, the resident superhero."

Ray's taut muscles loosened at the adequate description. "Good. The doctors wanted to ensure that you didn't induce amnesia. Your body took a nasty battering."

Henry grimaced, feeling the bandages wound around his head. His bandages were sticky and made his forehead itch. His head was throbbing.

"What was the damage?" Henry asked, wincing as his hand touched a tender spot.

"Concussion," Ray reported, "A moderate one, since you didn't become amnesiac. We would've been in serious trouble if you'd lost your memories. You also received some minor scrapes and scratches, but those should mend within a few days. We were extremely concerned about your head; the doctor told us there was a possibility that you may have lost all of your memories."

Henry shuddered. "I'm glad I didn't. That would've been a real catastrophe. When are these bandages being removed, by the way? I feel like they're compressing my head."

"Be prepared to feel like this for a few days," Ray advised, "The doctor—who is quite gorgeous, by the way—said you would be stuck with these bandages until Sunday, so you'd better get accustomed to them."

Henry groaned. Today was Thursday, if he'd calculated right.

Henry surveyed the room. It was oddly quiet, considering that no one else was in the room. A thought occurred to him.

"Where are my parents?" Henry queried, "They must be worried sick."

"They're here, and they already came and checked on you. I fed them a story about you accidentally stumbling and hitting your head on the register. If they ask you questions, just play along, okay?"

Henry hated lying to his parents, but he'd been doing that for quite some time now (he's sixteen, and he started this job when he was thirteen), and he had to keep a tally of the lies and excuses he and Ray were cooking up for Henry's parents.

"Of course," Henry promised.

Ray stood, stretched, and Henry watched as his muscles rippled beneath his sweatshirt. He wished he had muscles like that. Sure, they were developing, but he would certainly attract the attention of more girls (there was one in particular, but he wasn't sure if she liked that in a guy) if he actually did build muscles. Spontaneously, Henry vowed that he would work out every day for the rest of his life.

"Kid? You still there?" Ray's voice brought him back to the present.

He nodded wordlessly. Ray's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he refrained from asking.

"Do you mind if—" he faltered for a split second, and then continued, "—if I have a moment by myself? This is the only peace I'm going to receive for a long time, and I want to relish it."

Ray didn't hesitate, knowing that his sidekick's words were true. After all he'd been through, the boy deserved peace and quiet.

Once the door had closed behind Ray, Henry released a silent sigh of relief. Everything that had happened over the past few weeks were burdening his mind, and this injury was just a minor setback. It was something trivial, something readily overcome.

He looked down at himself. Who was he? Henry Hart, or Kid Danger? They were merging together so quickly. It was only a matter of time before—

The door was flung open. In the doorway stood Henry's family, minus one—but he didn't want to think about that. Not yet. He just wanted to be reunited with his parents.

"Henry!" his mother cried, "You're awake!"

For the first time in weeks, Henry allowed a genuine smile to grace his face. "Hello, Mom."

"We were so worried!" She strode swiftly to his side. "When Ray called and told us what happened, we were so frantic. We couldn't lose another child."

She hugged him fervently as Henry's happiness evaporated. A frown replaced the bright smile that had been there moments ago.

Henry's mother seemed to notice the rapid decline in his mood. She pulled back, a concerned expression on her face. "Oh, honey, I didn't mean to—"

"No, Mom, it's fine," Henry interrupted, plastering another smile on his face, "Let's not revisit that though."

"Of course not," she agreed, and for the first time, remembered Henry's father, who was watching them reconcile with a bittersweet grin on his face. He, too, had witnessed the sudden dip in Henry's enthusiasm. Regardless, he crossed the room and knelt by his wife.

"Finally remembered me, have you?" he joked and laughter overtook the room.

For that one sweet moment, Henry dared to hope They could pull through, they could remain strong. For Charlotte, Piper, and their own sakes.

A gentle cough reached the group's ears and the family separated. The doctor was standing in the doorway, waiting for the reunification to conclude.

"Henry, this is Dr. Meadows. She's the doctor in charge of your ward," Henry's mother said.

Dr. Meadows offered him a warm smile and Henry reciprocated the smile. Ray was right, she was quite good-looking, and Henry was beginning to like her already. She gave off a comforting, almost motherly aura. She reminded him a little of his former pediatrician, a woman with kind eyes and a welcoming smile every time he saw her.

Dr. Meadows redirected her beaming smile to Henry's parents. "If you don't mind, I would like a moment alone with him, please."

She was polite too, Henry observed.

Henry's parents nodded and retreated from the room, discussing what to have for lunch. Dr. Meadows shut the door and sat on a leather rolling chair which Ray had been sitting on earlier. She set her clipboard on her lap.

"I just need to perform a few tests, but they won't hurt at all." The doctor retrieved a stethoscope and lifted Henry's burgundy t-shirt in order to place it on his heart.

For the first time (yes, this was a day full of firsts), Henry noticed that he was no longer in his uniform suit. Someone had remembered to change him back. Ray, most likely. He'd have to thank him later.

She listened for a few moments and then moved the diaphragm to another spot. She repeated this a few times around various areas on his chest and then withdrew the ear pieces from her ears.

"Your pulse is steady," she informed him needlessly, because he already knew his heartbeat was regular just by putting his hand over his heart.

She then felt his forehead with her bare hand and Henry resisted the desire to shiver. Her hand was as cold as ice.

"Any fever, dear?" she asked.

"No."

"Any chills?"

"No."

"Any aches or pains?"

"My head's sore," he admitted.

"That's normal. You took a hard fall, after all."

She marked something on her clipboard, her face impassive.

"Everything seems to be in order," she said, handing a small bottle, "You'll need these painkillers. You may receive painful visions, but don't worry, these are meant to help you."

Henry eyed the medicine bottle doubtfully. "What kind of visions?"

"You'll see." She abruptly stood and collected her clipboard, stethoscope, and pen. Henry's eyes narrowed into slits.

"You're hiding something," he accused, "Enlighten me, what does this 'painkiller' really do?"

"I can't tell you." Dr. Meadows avoided his eyes and strode out the door.

Henry grumbled, massaging his temple. He would have to discover for himself what the doctor was not divulging to him.

A nurse poked her head into the room. "You have another visitor, Mr. Hart."

"Please, call me Henry," he ground out, tired from all of the interruptions.

"Of course," the nurse replied, motioning for the mystery visitor to enter.

Now Henry was curious. His awfully perceptive nose caught a whiff of—coconut shampoo?

Could it be—?

"Hiya, Henry!" a sugary-sweet voice trilled and he caught a glimpse of blonde hair.

And Henry fainted.

...Vv

Charlotte struggled against the bonds tying her limbs together. After finding that her best friend was dead, or at least close to being, she was understandably not coping well. Piper, the poor thing, had succumbed to tears after Charlotte told her about her brother's condition. At last, she had resolved to complete silence—giving Charlotte nobody to confide in about her tangled emotions.

They were fatigued and malnourished. Ringo, furious about Charlotte's adamant refusal to provide information about Captain Man and Kid Danger, had decreased the amount of food they received from a loaf of bread to a meager two slices. Charlotte always relinquished her slice to Piper, since she looked more underfed than Charlotte.

A single word escaped her, filled with desperation and hope.

"Please."

...vVv...

When Henry regained full consciousness, the first thing he heard—or rather, felt—the blonde-haired girl who had originally caused him to faint. She had laid her head on his shoulder and was gazing up at him with concerned blue eyes.

"Henry?" she asked tentatively, in that same high-pitched tone that made his ears ring.

Henry was strong, strong enough that he could push her away. Which is what he did.

Whitney fell backwards into her chair, the swivel chair that Dr. Meadows had been sitting on before.

"What was that for?" she yelped.

"Sorry, but I don't let random strangers lay on me," he retorted rudely.

Whitney pouted. "I thought we were more than that, Hen-Hen."

He had to control his gag reflex. This girl was definitely delusional.

"Since when have I given you the impression that I was even remotely interested? And don't call me Hen-Hen. What're you even doing here?"

She didn't back down from his blatant rejection. "I heard what happened, Hen-Hen," she said, completely disregarding his earlier request, "I wanted to come and see how you were."

He was going to murder whoever told this nuisance about his incident. However, he couldn't deny that she actually cared enough about him to take time out of her day to come check on him.

"I'm fine," he responded gruffly, "Now please leave me be."

"Oh, but I can't, Hen-Hen. I have a special message for you," she replied eagerly, leaning in, "It's about your friend, Charlotte." She spat out the name like it was poison.

His attention successfully captured, he listened with bated breath.

"But," she continued, and his heart dropped, waiting for the inevitable conditions he would have to accept before he could hear the message, "I need you to do a favor for me."

"What do you mean?" he asked intently, willing to do anything.

"Kiss me."

All right, he lied.

"Why?" he asked, recoiling.

"You want information on Charlotte, you have to kiss me."

He almost rejected her, but an image of Charlotte popped in his mind guiltily. He had to do this for her. She was depending on him.

Still, the thought of touching Whitney, let alone kissing her, was repulsing. But Henry had no choice.

Whitney smirked, sensing that victory was nearing. Henry thought quickly. Almost inadvertently, he thought: What would Charlotte do? She would find a loophole.

And just like that, a lightbulb went off in his head. Whitney hadn't specified where he had to kiss her…

Swiftly, he pecked her on the cheek and got out of her range as fast as possible.

A sly smile curved her lips. "Playing hard to get, I see. It has to be a proper kiss. On the lips."

"No," he stated flatly, "I abided by your terms. You wanted a kiss, I gave you one. Now tell me about Charlotte."

"Fine." Whitney exhibited a magnificent pout. "It's almost like you abhor me, Hen-Hen."

I do, Henry answered silently, but wisely didn't reiterate his thoughts. "I'm waiting."

"Okay, here's the scoop." Whitney lowered her voice conspiratorially. "My uncle's Ringo."

"What?!" Henry yelled.

"Shh," whispered Whitney, panicking, but her warning came too late. Four people came barreling in: Ray, Henry's parents, the doctor, and the nurse on duty.

All four were speechless upon seeing the scene in front of their eyes. Henry, propped up on the bed by his pillow, and Whitney, seated in Dr. Meadows' leather chair, wide-eyed.

Ray found his voice first. "What is going on in here?"

Whitney began to try and placate the group. "There's a perfectly good answer for that, Mr—"

"Manchester."

"Like I was saying, Mr. Manchester, I was just informing Henry about a recent development at school," Whitney lied effortlessly.

It sounded strange, hearing Ray being called "Mr. Manchester." Everyone addressed him as Ray, and he preferred to keep it that way.

"And what development is this?" Ray interrogated her, trying to lock eyes with his sidekick.

Whitney glanced helplessly at Henry, who thought fast.

"Jasper has a girlfriend," he blurted out.

"Who?" Henry's mother piped up with curiosity.

Henry looked at Whitney, urging her to jump in.

"Me," she said quickly.

Ray raised his eyebrows; he wasn't buying it. "Henry?"

Henry closed his eyes in exasperation and lifted them again. "Yes, she's dating Jasper," he confirmed in a strangled voice.

"Oh," Henry's mother peeped. It seemed that everyone except for the hospital staff was taken aback by this revelation.

"Well, if that's all…" Ray trailed off, still trying to make eye contact with Henry. Henry deliberately avoided his eyes. The superhero left the room, Whitney hopping off the chair to join him, giving Henry a meaningful look. She would return later.

"Well, while we're here, we're wondering what you wanted for lunch," Jake said, trying to defuse the awkwardness lingering in the room.

Henry crossed his arms. "Can we order a pizza?"

Jake shook his head mournfully. "I suggested that to your mother, but apparently this isn't the right time to be indulging in pizza."

"It isn't!" Siren objected, "Henry should not be eating things that are a hazard to his health!"

"C'mon, Mom, that's never stopped you before," Henry persisted stubbornly.

Siren's arms folded themselves across her chest. "You two are ganging up against me? Oh, I see how it is. Still no pizza."

"Darn it," Jake swore, "We were so close. One more statement and we would've cracked her."

"We could always order one behind her back."

"I'm still here, you know." Siren glared at her husband and son sternly. Henry laughed.

...vVv...

"My, my, look at this," a sinister voice cackled.

Charlotte lifted her head weakly from where she was hunched on the grimy floor, Piper doing the same beside her.

Ringo seemed to materialize from the darkness, his eyes glinting malevolently. "Two poor, helpless girls trapped by a clown and desperately hoping for a hero that will never come to save them."

Charlotte was inclined to snap back, but her throat was aching from lack of water in her body. She simply chose to glare at him.

"Of course, if they do come to save you," the clown continued, "I know exactly how to defeat them. It's a lose-lose situation for all of you."

Charlotte allowed herself to quake in fear. "Don't," she rasped.

"Why should I follow the orders of a dying girl?" he sneered, leaning against the bars of their cell, "If you don't perish from starvation, I will find other gruesome methods to kill you. The other girl can die too, as both of you are worthless to my cause."

Charlotte was having trouble coming to the terms with the word 'dying.' She didn't want to die, not just yet.

"Why'd you force me to hand over information, then?" she whispered challengingly, her scratchy voice somehow reaching Ringo's ears.

"Excuse me, I meant that you are no longer useful to my aims," Ringo tossed back casually, like they were discussing the weather, "I have all the information; now I can either kill you both of you or use you for ransom."

There was movement next to Charlotte. She turned to see Piper struggling to get to her feet.

"Ah, the little girl protests," Ringo said, smiling in an almost lazy manner, "What can you possibly have against me, little girl?"

"Don't call me 'little girl,'" Piper retorted spitefully, with a surprisingly strong voice, "I'm not a little girl."

"What shall I call you? Would you prefer 'midget'? Or perhaps 'petite'?" Ringo smirked irritatingly, and Charlotte wanted to throttle him.

Instead of lunging at Ringo, which Charlotte was expecting, she answered sardonically, "Oh yes, that would be much better, considering they mean the same thing. It's a wonder why we hate you."

Ringo's mouth curled into a nasty smile.

"Why are you here? What more do you want from us?" Piper spat viciously at the clown, echoing the same questions Charlotte had been just about to ask.

"Nothing. I tire of your presence," drawled Ringo luxuriously, stretching and yawning. Charlotte had to commend him on his remarkable acting abilities; he could've been an evil actor instead of an evil clown.

"And we tire of yours, you malicious little—"

Charlotte tugged her ankle purposefully. Piper looked questioningly at her, at which Charlotte responded with an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Piper returned her gaze to the man still standing at the door.

"You can leave now," she said emotionlessly, positioning herself so that her body was deliberately turned away from him, but her face wasn't.

For the first time, Ringo's face adopted an expression other than his usual smirk or sneer. He looked genuinely curious as to how these girls communicated so effortlessly.

"Well?" Piper prompted, her body swinging around to face him, "What're you dawdling about for? Leave!"

Ringo bared his teeth but said nothing more. He had other matters to attend to.

…

Sunday arrived slower than a snail. Henry was finally released from his confinement and the bandages were removed from his head. He took a nice, hot bath in order to extricate the sticky feeling from his hair.

Henry was feeling refreshed, but his mind was still encumbered with thoughts and plans and whatever else Charlotte-related. He missed her more than he let on. Henry was one of those boys who tried to act like nothing was bothering him, but he was sinking into a quagmire of pain and depression so quickly it was near impossible to lift him out of it. The only thing keeping him tethered was a slim rope of hope.

Henry was so depressed he refused to answer any questions on Charlotte's whereabouts. Sure, he and Ray knew where Charlotte was (an abandoned warehouse, where Dr. Minyak and Nurse Cohort had hatched a plan to deplete Ray's indestructibility), but the media and his classmates didn't nedd to know.

He missed both of them terribly.

And so, Henry was always in one of three places: his house, school, or the Man Cave. He spent most of his time in the Man Cave, as he and Ray worked on an elaborate scheme to rescue Charlotte and Piper. He often lied to his parents that he was crashing at Jasper's when he was actually camping out in the spare bedroom in his boss's hideout.

One such night, Ray and Henry were devouring wontons and soda (actually, it was just Ray; Henry's meal was untouched and he was sipping his soda with an absentminded look on his face) when the emergency alarm went off.

"I'll get it," said Ray the same moment Henry said, "You get it." The two knew each other so well they were in sync.

Ray jumped to his feet and hurried to the monitor.

"It's a video and voice call," he announced unnecessarily.

"Make sure you don't turn the camera on from our end," called Henry.

"What do you take me for, an amateur? I know what I'm doing."

He hit the answer button and adjusted the controls. They heard some static from the other end, before a scene appeared before the pair's eyes.

It was a rather bizarre view. All they could see was blackness. Whatever the scene was being recorded on was face-down on the ground.

"I'm sorry, who's this?" Ray asked uncertainly.

A chilling voice reached their ears. It didn't sound at all frantic. "Captain Man, is that you?"

"Yes, now state your emergency," the superhero replied uneasily, glancing at his subdued sidekick.

The voice laughed caustically. "Oh, I'm not the one who's in danger," he (they assumed) said.

Ray squinted at the screen. "I swear I've heard that voice before," he muttered, before raising his voice, "Who are you?"

"You don't know me, but you know of me," the voice continued eerily, "I left you a note a few weeks back, when your precious sidekick's sister was snatched. Clearly, that wasn't enough."

Henry leapt to his feet, completely abandoning his dinner, and darted to Ray's side, his fists clenched.

"Ringo," the two snarled together, with Henry adding, "you heartless son-of-a—"

"Not now," Ringo reprimanded condescendingly, "not while there are children present. I'm sure we'll have time to exchange pleasantries later."

Henry's heart stopped. Ray's muscles tautened.

The camera swung to two girls bound and trussed to the wall behind them. Henry's eyes narrowed and he bit back a shout.

Charlotte and Piper looked awful.

Piper's cheeks were sunken as if she'd been starving herself (knowing Ringo, he made sure she was starving). She struggled vainly against the rope trapping her limbs. Her face was haggard and she looked not at all like herself.

Henry looked in Charlotte's direction for some solace, but then he quickly averted his eyes.

Henry couldn't bear to give her a second glance, because the first one told him everything he needed to know and it broke his heart. Charlotte was in a similar condition as Piper, except she was much thinner.

But what really tore Henry into shreds was the look in Charlotte's eyes. Hunger, despair, and desolation all clouded her normally beautiful brown eyes, darkening them into a pool of onyx.

His nightmare had come to life.

"Like what you see?" Ringo sneered, his face obscuring the camera, "Well, I'm afraid that's not the last you'll see of them. But I didn't call you just to let you see their faces. I have a demonstration for you to witness. Remember the baby girl that was kidnapped less than a week ago?

Ringo's face momentarily disappeared as he moved to the side. Henry's eyes were blazing with unsuppressed fury, his mouth on the verge of spitting out vengeful insults.

Ringo returned, cradling a baby girl in his arms. Neither of the superheroes could blame the girl for wailing aloud as she was manhandled by the villain.

"What's her name again? Lara, Laura—?"

"Laurie," Ray ground out, aware that Ringo knew the girl's name perfectly well.

"Aww, such a sweet baby," Ringo cooed, his lips curling into a malicious smirk, "Too bad that—"

"Don't you dare harm her, you sadistic clown," Ray spat.

Ringo's baleful grin increased in size. "What're you going to do then? What's that quote again? Ah, 'sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me.' There's nothing you can do, Captain Man and Kid Danger."

Ringo withdrew a sharp, gleaming knife from his pocket and Henry and Ray yelled out in unison.

"No!"

But their pleas fell upon deaf ears.

Ringo's obsidian eyes glittered with undisguised venom as he raised the knife. Laurie screamed louder, sensing that her death was approaching.

"Evidently, my warning wasn't palpable enough. This is a little preview of the events to come if you don't heed my request within the next week. Except, the stakes will be higher."

Henry and Ray watched helplessly as Ringo's knife was brought down, sinking into the neck of his next victim, and they listened as her last cry pierced the quiet of the Man Cave.

A shiver went down their spines simultaneously, Ringo's deadline echoing in their minds.

One week.

*cackles evilly* Welcome to the Cliffhanger Hotel, where I control how long you stay!

I hope this made up for my disappearance for the last two months.

I've been back from vacation for almost a month, but I never gathered the courage to write this up, knowing what was going to occur. But alas, I have written it and I am proud of myself.

Thank you so much to whoever reviewed/followed/favorited/read this story! Your support means so much to me!

Expect a new chapter in the coming weeks!