Fire Hazard: Cape High Book Eight (Cape High Series 8)

by R. J. Ross

  My hair lights up, flickering above me. I don’t think I can do a full body burn without another hit of Jimmi’s power, I just hope I don’t need it, I think as I see a large fist racing towards me. His speed has improved with the power boost, I note as it slams into my gut, shoving me into the air for a moment.

  “Light him up, Vinny!” Carla shouts.

  “Put your mask on!” Trent bellows. “We’ve got company!”

  I grab the mask out of my pocket and slap it on. The last thing I want is for norms to see my face on television. It’s just in time, I think as a helicopter flies towards us, hovering above as they film the fight. Tank grabs my bike, lifting it in the air over his head.

  “KID!” I yell. “SAVE MY BIKE!”

  “On it!” Trent calls back as Tank throws the bike straight at me. The Liberty boy jumps, grabbing the bike and flipping to his feet. “Safe!” he says--only to look down. “Well, other than the grip mark. Sorry, Vin, think I bent your wheel.”

  I curse and dodge another car, not bothering to try and get it saved. Tank has this look on his face that’s starting to make me worried. I think he’s lost control. He’s also causing massive damage to the cars in the parking lot. Every other car he grabs winds up with a piece pulled off before he sends it flying through the air. He really needs to learn the proper way to throw them. “I can help!” Carla says.

  “Don’t!” I say, holding up a hand in her direction only to wind up getting hit by a car. Ouch. I’m pinned to the ground for a second and I curse as I see a blur rush past me. “CARLA!” I bellow. I don’t want her hurt! The last thing in the world I want is for my little sister (or as close as I’ll ever get to one) to get beat up because some crazy norm is out of control on a power high!

  I hear a gagging sound as the car is pulled off of me and tossed aside. Trent hauls me to my feet and I look over at Tank, who’s having trouble breathing. He’s in the middle of a miniature twister, I realize as I see the afterimage of Carla pass in front of him. She’s going to suffocate him.

  I ah... didn’t realize she knew how to do that. I’m seriously betting she saw it on a movie and thought it’d be fun to try out. “Carla, stop,” I say as Tank falls to his knees, grasping his throat. He’s starting to look a bit blue. “This is my fight.”

  “But he--” she starts out as she pulls to a stop. I place a hand on her head, between those two puffy pigtails she’s so fond of. “He hurt you!” she says.

  “Nah, I’m tougher than that,” I tell her. “Have faith in me,” I say quietly, looking into her eyes. “I’ve got to prove I can keep my position, right? Go stand with Jimmi. If he goes after her, grab her and take off, got it?” I won’t let my little sister get hurt--or become an accidental murderer. I never realized just how dangerous she was until now. I’ll have to deal with that, later. Right now I’ve got a fake Tank to take down.

  “Yeah,” she says, nodding and racing away. I look at Tank, who’s already starting to recover. His eyes are wild, and I’m positive now that the excess power is more than he can handle. I rush forward, slamming my burning fists into his chest as fast as I can. I need to take him out before someone that isn’t super gets hurt. He grunts, his body jerking with each punch, but he’s still conscious, somewhat. His hand comes up, shoving me away. Even in this state his hits are pretty heavy. I definitely felt that. He’s on fire thanks to my own hits, but he doesn’t even seem to notice as he staggers forward, drunkenly. He shakes like a dog, his eyes clearing slightly. A snarl pulls at his lips and he starts forward, hands clenched in fists.

  I bring up my own fists, rushing forward and slamming one in his face, only to take a heavy hit straight to the solar plexus. “PYRO!” he bellows, raising his fists into the air and starting to bring them down, aiming for my head.

  Jimmi races forward, jumping up to grab his arm. I think she’s taking the juice he used from her, along with the flames that are trying to engulf him. “Jimmi--” he says, glaring down at her drunkenly as his arms slowly lower. “You unfaithful--”

  Jimmi glares at him with rage. “You’re not worthy of being faithful to,” she says coldly as he falls flat on his face. She steps back, looking at him with a dark expression. I almost get the feeling she wants to kick him.

  “Mask her!” Trent barks at Carla, holding a mask in the air. The mask appears on Jimmi’s face a second later. It’s just in time for the news reporter that showed up when I wasn’t paying attention to come forward, a mic aimed at me.

  “Who are you?” the news reporter lady asks me. “Where do you come from?” I look at Trent, who nods slightly. I grab the mic.

  “I come from Cape High,” I say, turning to look into the camera. “I’m a teenage cape. We heard about a group using some sort of drug to imitate us, making us look bad,” I say, pointing at the still unconscious Tank. “We don’t appreciate that sort of thing.”

  “You’re a Cape High student? Is that the school Technico mentioned?” she asks.

  “He’s our principal,” I tell her. “But we’re not done here. Speed, we’re coming after you, next,” I say into the mic, staring straight at the camera. “Either hand over the sticks or what happened to Tank will happen to you.”

  “What’s in those sticks?” the news lady asks. “Do you know?”

  “I’m afraid that’s a trade secret,” I hear from above. I look up at Flint, who’s floating overhead in full uniform. He drops down next to me, dropping a hand on my shoulder. “But the South Branch is pleased to cooperate with the Cape High students.”

  “Flameblaster! I noticed that this young man was using fire--is there a relationship between the two of you?” she asks.

  I look at Flame and then shrug slightly before speaking up. “Flameblaster has volunteered to help with my training, ma’am. We don’t have a pyro type in Central Hall.”

  “So the South Branch supports the new Cape High?” she asks.

  Flint speaks this time, “We support any form of proper training for our children--whether it’s being trained by their parents or a school. A properly trained cape is an important factor for everyone, regardless of whether they’re capes or normal citizens,” he says, his hand still on my shoulder.

  “I can’t help but notice your shirt,” she goes on, looking at Trent. “Would you happen to be--”

  “I’m acting as assistance in this job, ma’am,” Trent says with a crooked grin that looks a lot like his father’s, “not the limelight thief. This is a special training for my classmate.” He nods at me, and I nod back.

  “And do you have a name, then?” she asks me.

  “Fire Hazard,” I say, grinning wickedly. What? I like that one! I look over at Jimmi. “Did he call Speed?” I ask quietly as Flint steps up to the mic to talk.

  “I don’t know,” she admits. She walks over, poking him lightly with her foot, then sighing and pulling out her cell phone. She waits impatiently, tapping her foot, and then hangs up, shrugging at me.

  “Looks like we’re going to have to hunt them down,” Trent says silently as the cops and an ambulance finally show up. We watch as they strap Tank to a gurney. The ambulance leaves, leaving a familiar looking cop watching us be interviewed--oh crap, when did Carla get the mic?

  “I ah, can’t help but notice your... toy?” the news lady asks Carla, who had grabbed her pony sometime when I wasn’t looking.

  “It’s Rainbow Dash,” she says happily, holding it up for the camera. “And don’t tell me I’m too old--the show is amazing!”

  “That’s good to know,” the news lady says. “Do you have a name?” she asks.

  “Not yet,” Carla admits, “they told me I can’t debut until I’m older.”

  I race over, gently pulling her behind me. “I’m afraid we need to go,” I tell the news reporter. “We’ve still got some cleaning up to do before we’re done.”

  “I see--but one last question before you leave. Are the teens you’re chasing the vandals wearing the glow-sticks?”

  “Yes, ma�
��am,” I say.

  “You’ve heard it here, ladies and gentlemen. The Glowstick Gang has caught the eye of some very impressive supers. I know I feel safer already. This is Nina Cortez from Channel 10, signing off. And we’re done,” she says, putting her mic down and turning to Flint. “Thanks for the heads up, Flame,” she says. “Are you sure you two aren’t related, though?” she asks, looking from him to me and back. “You both have the same chin.”

  “Supers tend to have a chin like this,” Flint says blandly.

  “Well, whatever,” she says. “Thanks for the interview, cutie.” She winks at me, grinning widely. “And you! Can I get your signature?” she asks Trent, digging out a pad of paper and a pen. “My five year old just LOVES Kid Liberty. He’s got your posters everywhere--including on his backpack.” He takes the pad and paper with a shrug. “His name is Alex,” she adds as he starts to write. With her occupied, I turn my attention to Carla, who’s sitting on the ground again, poking her shoes.

  “V--Hazard, the tread wore off already,” Carla says.

  “Oh, right. Flame, can I ask a favor?” I ask. “Can you take Carla to the South Branch tailors and get her some shoes made for a speedster? She’s gone through two pairs already.” I move closer. “And I don’t want her involved in this when Speed shows up with the gang.”

  “If he’s like the tank kid, you might have no choice,” Flint says quietly. “Speedsters are a lot more dangerous than you think, especially to fire types.”

  “I don’t want her hurt,” I say, watching Carla. She looks straight at me and sticks out her tongue.

  “I’m tougher than you think--I’m second in command!” she says, getting to her feet and walking over. “And when Morgan’s not here, somebody’s got to protect you--that big lug just watched!” she accuses Trent.

  “He could take him,” Trent says with a shrug. “This is Vi--Hazard’s training, remember? We have to let him show off his stuff. He’s due to take on my brother when we get back home. If he can’t take out a fake tank he’s got no chance of beating Cold Steel.” He looks around. There’s a circle of norms behind a line of cops that catch his attention. “Time to leave, guys. I’ll carry your bike, since I broke it,” he adds.

  “Either you’re fixing it or you’re bringing your brother down to do it for you,” I tell him, still wincing over that. “Let’s run.” I take off, followed by the others, even Jimmi, as we race across town--Trent carrying my bike over his back. I wind up following Flint, since I still don’t know the place that well, and we stop at the back of what I’m sure is the South Hall. It’s a massive brick building with security cameras everywhere.

  He leads us to a blank wall, which swings open with a word and we walk in, only to be stopped by several guards with guns. “You’ve got to go through the scanner,” Flint says as Trent puts the bike down. “Get that fixed, would you?” he tells one of the black suits, who rush forward to wheel the bike away.

  Carla’s already gone through the scanner--several times. She keeps going in and out and looking at the image from behind the guy operating the scanner. I sigh. “Carla, he’s not looking at your bones.”

  “Yes he is!” she says cheerfully.

  “We’ll have him take a picture, then--AFTER you hold still in the scanner long enough,” I say.

  “Okay!”

  I blink as someone grabs me, jerking slightly as I look over. Jimmi is standing next to me, her hand wrapped around my wrist. She’s not looking at me, instead she’s watching Carla. She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’m sorry,” she whispers as she lets go. She heads through the scanner once they’re done with Carla, leaving a hot spot on my wrist where she’d touched. She doesn’t look at me once.

  “Can I ask why you’re here, Flameblaster?” one of the black suits asks.

  “We need a pair of shoes for the speedster girl, and a non-friction jumpsuit, I’d think,” Flint says, watching Carla with a hint of amusement. “And something fireproof and conductive for Fire Hazard. He’ll get his official uniform when he gets back to his own branch, but I’d say something in gray and orange. Honestly, for a fire mimic you only see the flames, so it doesn’t matter what it looks like.” He looks at Trent. “That one doesn’t need a thing--other than for you to fix Hazard’s bike for him.”

  “And the girl?” the black suit asks, looking at Jimmi.

  Flint hesitates, looking at Jimmi. “What do you want, Jimmi?”

  “I started this,” Jimmi says, “I should help finish it. Can I get a uniform?”

  “What colors?” the black suit asks. “I’m assuming she’s from our branch since you’re offering a full--”

  “Voltdrain’s colors,” she says.

  “That’s--”

  “Fine,” Flint says, “give her Voltdrain’s colors. Make it obvious, too. I want people looking at her and knowing exactly who she is. That is, if you know who you are yet?” he asks Jimmi.

  “I know,” she says. “I know exactly who I am, now.”

  “Good,” Flint says. “Everyone follow this guy here, he’ll take you to the fitting area.”

  “Thank you, Flame,” I say, holding a hand out to him.

  “You’ve done good,” he says, shaking my hand. “I figure we’re going to have to figure out how to continue your mentoring when we’re in two different branches.”

  “You can fly,” I say shamelessly. He gives me a dirty look that shows even with his mask. I laugh as I walk away, following the others. We’re about to get suited up for war. I look at Carla, and then reach up, dropping a hand on her head. She glances up at me, grinning widely.

  “This is going to be fun,” she says.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “HEY! I SAID TO SHUDDUP!” Speed bellows at the group horsing around in his messy front room. The house they’re in is tiny, but it’s the only thing he can afford. Somehow most of the gang winds up sleeping there, regardless. It’s not that big of a deal, most of the time. He prefers all the noise to the unnerving silence he has when he’s alone--except when he’s watching television.

  “What’s the big deal, Speed? It’s just the news,” one of the guys says, holding the last pizza slice far over the head of the guy in front of him.

  “It’s news about Tank,” Speed snaps. The entire house goes silent, since no matter which of the three rooms they’re in, they can hear him. All of a sudden there’s a rush to see the television. The screen shows Tank’s burnt up body on the concrete, completely unconscious. The camera pans over to the news lady and--

  “Pyro,” Speed says, sighing.

  “Man, you KNEW that was going to happen,” one of the boys says. “It was just a matter of time before she got tired of his lame--”

  “Speed,” Pyro says on the screen, “we’re coming after you, next. Either hand over the sticks or what happened to Tank will happen to you.”

  Speed watches for a moment longer before flipping off the television. He sits back, contemplating what he’s just seen.

  “That guy in the background... that was Kid Liberty, wasn’t it?” someone asks.

  “Yeah, looked like him.”

  “But there are only three of them! Counting the kid with the toy--”

  “Four,” Speed says. “Jimmi’s on their side.”

  “What do we do, Speed?”

  “I don’t want to give up my stick!”

  “We should fight!”

  “If that group can’t beat us, they’ll send more,” Speed interrupts. “They’ve got an entire school of them, and you saw what happened to Pyro when Jimmi gave him a boost.”

  “So you think we should just hand over the sticks?”

  Speed lets out a sigh. “Get the box,” he says, stretching his legs out in front of him. “We’re going to need it.” The roar of approval is deafening. Speed ignores it, wondering just how long they’ll wind up in prison for this. Jimmi will probably drain their sticks. Actually, there’s a good chance those other super kids don’t have enough control--his grou
p might wind up dead before she gets the chance.

  He just has no choice, not at this point of the game.

  ***

  The steady sound of a cane hitting the tiled floor of the hospital seems to ring through the ward. The nurses look up, watching as an old man makes his way to the desk. He’s got a glint in his eye that says he knows exactly who and what he is. “Excuse me,” he says, stopping at the desk. “I’m looking for a Wesley Will. He was admitted earlier.”

  “Wes--”

  “They might have brought him in under the title of Tank,” the old man says.

  “And you are?”

  “His... guardian.”

  ***

  “Look, Vinny, look!” Carla yells as she speeds past me for the fortieth time in the past minute or less. “These shoes are AWESOME!”

  The room we’re in is a massive training room, empty of practically everything except a small workout station in the corner. There’s burn marks on the walls that I’m certain Flame put there, and several dents and craters put there by other capes. We’re here to try out our new outfits.

  I look over at Jimmi, who’s wearing a hoodie like top with cat ears that glow. I... have no idea why. She flushes slightly. “Um, they set up a special battery in the coat--and since it had to glow, I thought, you know, something cute would be fun--”

  I walk around her, seeing the various glowing parts in her uniform. “This looks familiar,” I admit.

  “That’s because I gave them a hand,” Nico says, making us all look up as he walks in. “I saw the news and decided to come down. Vinny, Trent, Car--” he blinks as Carla slams into him with excitement, wrapping her arms around his waist. It says a LOT that he doesn’t even budge with the impact--he must have seen it coming.

  “NICO! I GOT SHOES!” she yells. Then she goes completely still, her expression shocked and abruptly embarrassed as she realizes that she’s not that close to the principal at all, but she’s hugging him. “I--I mean--” she says, bright red and trying to back up.