Chapter Text
This was not how today was supposed to go.
Aziraphale had planned this day for months, down to every last minute detail. He’d gotten reservations at the nicest restaurant in town, arranged for transportation from the bookshop. He’d bought a new jacket and bowtie for the occasion – the first new clothes he’d purchased in nearly a decade.
He’d even hand picked the sleek black and gold ring that now lay hidden inside his vest pocket.
An earthquake was not part of the day’s plan, and certainly not the moment after their dinner plates had been swept away and Azirapahle was reaching to pull that very ring from his pocket.
It took a few moments for him to even register what was happening. At first, Aziraphale thought it was his own leg, nervously vibrating up and down against the table, that was causing it to shake. He wasn’t necessarily nervous about Crowley’s reaction or his response. Aziraphale knew Crowley loved him. He was almost positive Crowley would say ‘Yes’. They’d talked about marriage already, in a ‘Yes, we’d love to get married someday’ sort of way. It wasn’t as if Aziraphale had marched up to Crowley and said ‘Excuse me, darling, but I’m planning to propose the Saturday after next, just in case you wanted to add it to your calendar for the week.’
How could he? That would ruin the romance.
Aziraphale forced his leg to stop moving, fingertips resting around the cool metal band. His eyes drifted to the table momentarily, watching as the ripples on the surface of their wine glasses continued to form, silverware gently rattling against the surface beneath them.
Confused, the man looked up, eyes locking with Crowley’s across the table. He had the same concerned expression on his face. Brown eyes darting to one side, as if searching for the missing piece of information that would allow their current situation to finally make sense.
It was only once the vibrations grew more intense and bottles of wine began toppling from the shelves that Aziraphale realized what was happening.
Earthquake.
Aziraphale’s first instinct was to grab Crowley and run. Get outside, manifest his wings, and fly them both to safety. It was the fastest way to ensure Crowely wouldn’t be crushed by brick and mortar if the building decided to come down around them. Earthquakes weren’t common in this city. Aziraphale couldn’t remember the last time he’d even heard of one happening anywhere nearby. And Crowley’s powers, should he ever decide to use them again, would be no help.
But doing so would bring more attention to them both than he wanted. Aziraphale would do whatever it took to keep the man he loved safe, but if there was any other way to ensure Crowley’s safety that didn’t involve exposing his hero identity to the entire city, he would much prefer to find out what that was.
“Aziraphale.” Crowley must have been thinking along similar lines, because he stood up abruptly, reaching for Aziraphale’s hand. Aziraphale mirrored his movements, feeling only the briefest wave of relief course through him as his skin made contact with Crowley’s. The foundation was still shaking beneath their feet, the sound of dishes clattering to the ground echoing from the kitchen just on the other side of the nearby wall.
Aziraphale pulled Crowley to him, their bodies flush against each other as he searched for the nearest exit. What was it you were supposed to do during an earthquake? Hide in a windowless room? Rush outside? Stand in a doorway? As a former hero of The Host, he should have been better prepared for this.
The other patrons in the restaurant had realized what was going on as well. Some of them had dropped to the floor, ducking under the tablecloths in front of them as they tried to find shelter. Others were making a beeline for the inside of the restaurant, moving away from the wide glass windows overlooking the city streets.
How long were these supposed to last? Aziraphale felt like his world had been shaking for hours. Weren’t earthquakes only supposed to last several seconds? Certainly no more than a minute or two. It had taken him nearly half as long to realize what was even happening, so shouldn’t that mean it was almost over.
Someone stumbled into him from behind, knocking the ring from Aziraphale’s fingers. His heart lodged itself in his throat as he watched the band tumble to the floor and roll under the table. Without thinking, Aziraphale dove after it, one hand reaching out and clamping around the piece of jewelry before it could get any further, the other dragging Crowley down along with him.
Thankfully, Crowley hadn’t seemed to notice a thing. His eyes weren’t on Aziraphale as they both huddled under their table, or the piece of jewelry clenched in his fist. His eyes were still peeking out from underneath the tablecloth, watching and waiting for this nightmare to be over.
“It’s gonna be alright,” Crowley murmured, giving Aziraphale’s hand a squeeze of reassurance. “It’ll blow over soon. You don’t need to worry.”
There it was again. The oh so careful choice of words as Crowley spoke. He didn’t tell Aziraphale not to worry, because doing so would make it such that Aziraphale couldn’t worry. Crowley phrased things in such a way that always gave the people around him a choice. Aziraphale didn’t have to worry if he didn’t want to. But he could, and Crowley took great pains to ensure he always had that choice, no matter what situation they found themselves in. No matter how much care he had to take with the words he chose. Always thinking before he spoke. Always being aware of the implications of what his powers could do, and always choosing to hold them back, as difficult as that might be.
Aziraphale loved him all the more for it.
Just as suddenly as the quaking had started, it stopped. Forks and knives stopped rattling. Tablecloths stopped swaying. The earth once again felt stable and Aziraphale felt himself breathe a sigh of relief. All was calm - silent - as the city seemed to do the same.
Until a voice appeared over the radio.
We interrupt this broadcast of ‘Classics in Concert’ to report that a devastating earthquake has just struck downtown. Several buildings, including the convention center and surrounding office buildings have sustained severe structural damage, injuring many and trapping an unknown amount of people inside.
Aziraphale’s heart seized in his chest. How terrible! Had people been killed in the collapse? How many people were trapped? Surely members of The Host had been alerted and were on their way to help first responders. Without seeing the damage in person, he had no way to know how much help would be needed, but Aziraphale was sure that if asked, Archangel and Beelzebub would be there as fast as their powers could carry them.
Emergency personnel are on the way, alongside several members of The Host. Reports are coming in of several closed roads due to fallen debris and damages to the pavement, making it difficult for first responders to reach the needed destinations. Even with the superpowered back up, it might take days to uncover everyone who’s gone missing and weeks or months to clean up from such a disaster. Hospitals are surely to be overwhelmed as -
Aziraphale stopped listening, the pit in his stomach growing deeper by the minute. By all rights, he was retired. He’d hung up his cape as soon as Metatron had been handed over to the authorities and The Host had been handed over to Archangel and Beelzebub. Aziraphale was enjoying his retirement. He liked minding his bookshop and going for walks in the park. He liked attending events at the library and coming home to cook dinner with Crowley. Aziraphale couldn’t remember a time when he’d been happier, just being an ordinary man in his ordinary life. He had no desire to return to the way things were before.
But this - this wasn’t about him. People’s lives were at stake. More than just a single house fire or convenience store robbery. A natural disaster had hit their city and people were still in danger. He couldn’t just sit by and do nothing.
Slowly, Aziraphale’s eyes drifted back to Crowley’s face, surprised to find his partner’s attention had turned back towards him. Crowley was gazing over at Aziraphale, a soft smile on his face, the keys to his Bentley already dangling from his fingertip.
“What?” Aziraphale asked, glancing down at the keys, then back at Crowley, confusion etched all over his face. His partner simply laughed, in a way that filled Aziraphale’s entire being with warmth.
“I know you, Angel,” Crowley murmured, keeping his voice low. “And I know that you won’t rest until you’ve done all you can to make sure people are safe.” He paused, lifting the hand still intertwined with his up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on Aziraphale’s knuckles. “There’s a small button on the inside of the glove compartment. If you press it, you’ll find everything you need.”
Aziraphale’s eyes widened. How had Crowley known he would need his suit today? What would have prompted him to hide it away such that Aziraphale might find it while they were out on a romantic dinner?
“I had an extra made,” Crowley said, answering his unspoken questions. “Just in case.”
The hero leaned in and pressed a kiss against Crowley’s lips, relishing the way the sensation still caused his heartbeat to increase and his stomach to twist in excitement. Aziraphale wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to such a wonderful feeling.
“I love you,” he murmured breathlessly as he finally pulled away. Crowley simply grinned at him, handing over the keys with what could only be described as pride shining in his eyes.
“I’ll catch up with you,” Crowley assured him as he started crawling out from under the table. The radio broadcast was still playing, detailing which roads were currently blocked and alternative routes that could be taken in their place. “I know you’ll want to get down there as fast as you can, and I’d hate to hold you up.”
Aziraphale quickly followed Crowley out from under the table, surreptitiously slipping the ring back into his pocket when he was sure Crowley’s attention was focused elsewhere. There would be time to propose to Crowley another day. One that didn’t involve natural disasters and rescue efforts and one specific hero coming out of retirement. Another day when the pair could be alone, somewhere quiet - like a picnic in the park. Or a peaceful evening at home. A day like that would come soon enough, Aziraphale was sure of it.
He just had to be patient.
This was not how today was supposed to go.
It was Adam's 13th birthday and Sarah had spent weeks preparing for the special event. She’d handmade the invitations, set up all the decorations, assembled the goodie bags, planned the party games, and spent literal hours baking Adam’s cake. She had gone all out, mostly because it was summertime and she was bored. University didn’t start for another two weeks, so when their mother had asked for help with the party, Sarah had jumped at the opportunity to do something productive.
An earthquake was not supposed to strike in the middle of the party, right as Sarah was transporting the thirteen layered cake - an insane request by Adam and one she had been out of her mind to agree to - from the kitchen and out the back door. Her entire house suddenly shaking at its foundation, violently enough to toss books from their shelves and pictures from the walls, was not something the twenty-year-old had at all been prepared for. So, naturally, her attention shifted the moment the first crash sounded behind her and she lost her footing, losing control of the plate between her hands and the highly anticipated dessert that sat on top of it.
Thank Someone Remi had been there to catch her.
An arm that was much stronger than it had any right to be wrapped itself around her waist, steadying her as the house continued to shake around them. A single hand flew out with lightning fast reflexes to help catch the cake before it slipped from Sarah’s hands. For the briefest of moments, Sarah felt her heart lodge itself in her throat, both at the sudden contact and the realization that Remi’s help would be a split second too late.
She squeezed her eyes shut, wincing at the inevitable disaster that was about to befall their evening. The soft thud of pastry hitting the ground. The feeling of frosting splattering against her bare legs. All that work for nothing .
Just as quickly as it started, the rumbling stopped. The house stilled, and Sarah opened her eyes to find Remi still standing, arm around her waist, free hand secured directly beneath the center of the platter, keeping it aloft and in one piece.
“Watch your step there, Bambi,” Remi teased, brown eyes twinkling in amusement, her arm twitching against Sarah’s waist. “You’ve got a small army of teenagers out there that might revolt if they don’t get a slice of this amazing cake they’ve been promised.”
Sarah rolled her eyes at the nickname, trying her best to keep the smile from her face. She had met Remiel her freshman year of university at a renaissance festival in town. The pair had been in different friend groups at first that had come together by the end of the day. Remi had taken one look at the antlers on her head - an integral part of her very well designed faun costume, Sarah continued to argue every time it was brought up - and the rest was history. In the two years since, she’d yet to shake the name, choosing to simply live with it.
“Only half of them are teenagers,” Sarah pointed out as she finally stepped away. She had somehow been spun around so she was facing the inside of the house. Remi had been standing behind her when the earthquake had struck, helping clean up as much as she could in between events. Sarah’s eyes slid from her friend’s face and to the kitchen beyond, littered with broken cups, plates, bottles - almost as if every single thing within every single cabinet had taken the opportunity to launch itself to the floor amidst the chaos. They were going to have a long night once this was all over.
“Besides,” Sarah continued with a grin, forcing away her weariness to be dealt with at another time. Her focus right now was making sure Adam and his friends had a good time. “I’m sure if the worst were to happen, you and I could take them.”
Remi laughed. “Oh? So what, am I being promoted now? To your knight in shining armor?”
“More like demoted,” the blonde girl clarified. “I think you’d make a fantastic sidekick.”
That earned her a playful scowl from the shorter girl, which only amused Sarah further. As much as Remi liked to tease her, she truly was Sarah’s best friend. The girls had grown close in the two years since they’d met, spending nearly every weekend together in addition to the time they saw each other at school. They were studying different subjects - Sarah pursuing a degree in Biomedical Engineering, while Remi spent her time exploring the world of finance. Two very different areas of interest, but somehow that didn’t seem to affect how well their personalities meshed. If anything, those differences gave them the space from each other throughout the week to keep from driving each other crazy.
The first thing Sarah noticed as she stepped outside was the gaggle of children huddled around the oak tree at the edge of their property. When she was Adam’s age, and Adam had been barely 5 years old, their father had tied an old tire to one of the lower branches. She’d spent more hours than she could count pushing Adam on that swing over the years. Listening to his boisterous laughter and pleads for her to push him higher.
Against her will, Sarah’s heart clenched painfully, the smile slipping from her face. Just over two years ago, her entire world had been turned upside-down when she’d learned that Adam wasn’t actually her brother at all. He’d been switched with another baby at birth - on purpose - as part of Metatron’s scheme to build his superpowered empire.
What would her life have been like if that switch had never happened? Furthermore, what would it have been like if she hadn’t been injected with a serum as a child that caused her DNA to mutate and manifest powers? She loved the time she spent as a hero for The Host. Sarah was grateful her abilities allowed her to help people in a way not many could, but there were moments where she wondered what life would have been like if she’d stayed normal. If she’d been allowed to grow up with the baby boy her mother had given birth to thirteen years ago.
Seconds later, Sarah felt her heartbeat spike as she realized those children were not huddled around the swing having a fun time, but because the tree it was attached to had been split clean down the middle. A giant scar running from the base of the tree up to the topmost branches. Several branches littered the ground around the base of the tree, having been knocked off with the force of the disaster that had just passed them by.
“Is everyone alright?” Sarah called out, placing the cake on the nearby table before she picked up her pace and headed their way. Remi was already running, pushing past several of the teenagers to get a better view.
Adam and his friend Pepper were seated on the ground, appearing as if they had experienced a near miss with one of the limbs that had fallen. Immediately, Sarah was beside them both, kneeling on the ground, eyes scanning for any sign of injury. She felt guilt tugging at her mind, feeling awful she’d been so worried about a stupid cake when her own sibling had been in danger.
Her feelings were short-lived, as Adam sat up and flashed her a grin. “We’re fine, Sarah. Not a scratch on either one of us. Pepper has fast reflexes.”
Sarah hesitated, not sure she entirely believed him, considering the look of confusion Pepper didn’t even try to hide as she looked in Adam’s direction. But both kids stood up without issue and began corralling the rest of them back towards the picnic table and the long awaited dessert they had been promised.
“Lucky break,” Remi murmured, offering her hand to help Sarah stand. She took it without hesitation, dusting the clumps of grass from her shorts as she turned back toward the rest of the group. “That branch could have caused some serious damage.”
Damage Sarah probably would have been able to heal, if she wasn’t so concerned with keeping her normal-self and her hero-self as separate as possible. As much as she loved her life as Seraphim, her life as Sarah Young was just as important.
“I suppose it’s a good thing they were able to jump out of the way in time.”
From the corner of her eye, Sarah watched as Remi’s gaze shifted to her face, an expectant expression on her face. She said nothing, though, and soon enough had turned her attention back to the birthday boy, who was already halfway through lighting his own candles.
From there, the party commenced as if nothing had happened. Sarah stood off to the side as they sang, her blue gaze fixed on Adam’s face as he beamed in the firelight, heaving a great huff of air as he tried to blow the candles out in one go. Once again, her heart felt infinitely heavier as she thought of another boy - one she had met by happenstance in the midst of a burning building. One that she’d had no idea who he was to her and how much she would grow to miss him.
At the time, when Metatron’s secrets had been revealed, Sarah had chosen to do nothing about the information she’d learned. Now, as she watched Remi step forward and start serving the cake to Adam and all his friends, she felt a deep yearning within her to find Warlock Dowling again, if only to know the kind of person he was becoming. And to make sure he was alright. He was her brother, after all, just as much as Adam was. And with each birthday that came and went, she was losing whatever time she had left with him.
A sudden, synchronized beeping sounded nearby, interrupting the hero’s saddening thoughts. Sarah reached down to silence the alarm on her wrist, just as Remi moved to do the same.
Both young women locked gazes with each other, the panic already rising within Sarah’s chest, though she did her best to hide it. If The Host was calling her in so soon, the disaster must have been worse than she’d originally thought.
“Shoot,” Remi mumbled, fumbling for the words to say as she began to inch toward the garden gate. “That reminder is for my - my cat. Gotta dash home to feed him. Must have totally slipped my mind.”
“Yeah,” Sarah responded, scrambling for her own excuse to slip away. “No worries. I just realized we’re just about out of ice. I should probably run down to the corner store and grab some.”
Naturally, both were lying, and neither one was willing to admit the truth. It had taken Sarah three similar coincidences within the first few weeks of knowing Remi to uncover the fact that she was Tempest. There was just no other way this could keep happening. And Sarah was almost certain Remi knew she was Seraphim. Despite how much her friend liked to goof off, Remi wasn’t an idiot. She might have even figured it out before Sarah had, yet not a word had been spoken on the subject. Even with all that the heroes had discovered about how they came to be, and all the information that had been revealed to the public, The Host had kept everyone’s identity hidden. It felt almost blasphemous to reveal it now, even to someone Sarah considered her closest friend.
Once that information was out in the open, there would be no way for her to take it back.
“Catch you tomorrow,” Remi called as she rushed out of the yard. “Bye Adam! By Adam’s friends! Happy Birthday!”
“By Remi!!” The group called in unison, directing their attention immediately back to the cake as they argued over which of the thirteen flavors was best. Adam’s eyes flicked up to Sarah’s face momentarily, flashing her a swift wink before she, too, made herself scarce. He had been with her the day she’d arrived at The Host for her initial interview. Adam was fully aware of his sister’s alter-ego and she trusted him to have her back no matter the circumstances.
“Hang tight and I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she assured him. “Stay safe and for the love of all that is holy or otherwise, do not eat that entire cake before I get back. You’ll be sick all night.”
Sarah simply shook her head at the chorus of agreement that met her ears, knowing full well there would be nothing left of her masterpiece by the time she returned home. She supposed, in the grand scheme of things, a group of teenagers dealing with upset stomachs was the least of her worries considering whatever it was that waited for her downtown.
Whatever may come, Sarah hoped she was up to the task.
This was exactly how today was supposed to go.
Or, rather, Warlock had no reason to believe it wouldn't go this way. Why wouldn't an earthquake strike the moment he crossed over to downtown, surrounded by dozens of skyscrapers and billboards and any number of things that could topple over on him, squashing him like a bug? He was supposed to be dead, after all. The fire in his apartment building two years prior would have made sure of that if he hadn’t been rescued. Rescued by man made superheroes - people with powers that had no right to exist.
That fire should have been the end of things for him. It was only a matter of time before the universe realized its mistake and his luck ran out.
It had been a shock to everyone across the city when the news outlets had started reporting on stories of the newly discovered superhero origins. Stories of how they had been hand-picked by Metatron himself, synthesized in a lab. Unknowingly drugged as children, all so one man could climb the ladder of power and live out the superhero fantasies of his youth.
Warlock supposed he should be grateful the heroes were still out and about. It would surely make any potential rescue much easier than simply waiting on the firefighters and other rescue workers to arrive on the scene and dig him out from the rubble he now found himself in. He was trapped somewhere in the sewers, if he had to guess. One minute, Warlock had been walking down the street, heading for the corner convenience store to spend a five dollar bill he’d found on some kind of birthday treat, and the next the ground had opened up beneath him, nearby building crumbling to the ground and trapping him beneath the rubble.
What a way to spend his 13th birthday.
Not that spending it without a natural disaster occurrence would have been much better. School was out for the summer, which meant that Warlock was on his own during the day while his mother worked her series of odds and ends jobs. Most days he roamed the streets looking for anything of use people might have dropped he could repurpose or spend on the ever growing list of things they needed.
Since the fire that had destroyed their apartment two years prior, Warlock and his mother had been homeless, unable to find another place to settle down. Rents had skyrocketed over the past few years, and despite working two to three jobs at a time, his mother was unable to pay for both a roof over their head and put food on the table.
So, she chose food, and she and Warlock made sure to secure themselves a pair of beds at the city’s shelter each night, hoping that one of these days their luck might finally turn around.
Considering where he’d ended up, Warlock felt it was safe to venture that today was not that day. He blinked in the darkness, realizing that such an act would hardly benefit him considering how freaking dark it was down here. How in the world was he supposed to find a way out when he couldn’t even see his hands in front of his face?
“Hello?” Warlock called, voice echoing in the void around him. “Is anyone there?”
Surely there had to be someone else down here. Downtown was never a ghost town. Especially not right before dinner. There were always people milling about. He’d seen them right before the disaster had struck. Logic stated that if he hadn’t been alone up there, Warlock shouldn’t be alone down here. But the only thing he heard was the echo of his own voice.
If only he had some sort of light source. Something to help him see where he was going. Feeling around the rubble would only get him so far, and if Warlock had any hope of seeing the sunlight again, he had to get closer to the surface.
Slowly, he took a step, hands tracing the concrete to one side, picking his way forward bit by bit as he tried not to trip over a metal bar or giant rock and faceplant onto the ground below.
Without warning, Warlock took another step forward and felt an immediate tingling across his whole body. It felt as if every one of his cells had fallen asleep and happened to wake up at the same time, circulation returning to them all at once. Warlock gasped at the sensation, shoulders tensing as he willed it away. Thankfully, the feeling faded as quickly as it began, allowing Warlock to focus once more at the task before him.
Trying to gather more information, Warlock raised his other hand out in front of him, eyes widening in shock as a small flame appeared in his palm. Light burst forward from it, dancing across the stone and cement and bits of glass that littered the space around him. For a moment, the boy stood transfixed, not believing what he was seeing. What was happening? How was he doing this?
Did he have superpowers ?
Without another thought, Warlock began channeling all his energy into the flame, tripling its size in a matter of seconds. The extra light spread across the rubble around him, allowing the boy to pick his way forward one inch at a time, listening for sounds of any other life around him.
“Hello?” He tried again minutes later when he thought he heard the faint sound of alarms sounding above. Had he made it to an extraction point? Were rescue workers on their way to try and clear the rubble? Was it better for him to stay put and wait for someone to appear? Or should he try and find a way out? Out of all of the emergency drills they reviewed in school, the aftermath of an earthquake was not one of them. Warlock didn’t know what to do other than continue to breathe in deeply and keep himself calm. That was the only way he was going to get out of this. He needed to remain calm.
Suddenly, a second sensation flooded the boy’s body. This time feeling like he’d just been doused with a bucket of icy cold water. Starting at the top of his head and rushing all the way to the tips of his toes. For a moment, Warlock had to pause and make sure that he hadn’t, in fact, accidentally found a burst pipe and been soaked head to toe with its contents. His investigation came up with nothing. His clothes were still dry, if not a bit dusty from his initial fall.
A breath later, the light in his hand snuffed out.
He tried to summon it again with no success. What was happening? Where had the fire gone and why couldn’t he bring it back?
Warlock was no expert in superheroes. He’d read a few comics here and there, but had never been obsessed with The Host like some of the other boys and girls in his class had been. Did he even remember anything about their origins and how they learned to control their powers? And if he did, was any of it even real?
Come to think of it, why had he been able to manifest fire in the first place? Wasn’t that Hellfire’s superpower? No one he could think of, in the entire history of superheroes in their city, had the same powers. It didn’t make sense, but Warlock was sure he hadn’t imagined it.
The boy frowned, directing his attention back towards the surface, trying his best to ignore the fear creeping into his chest. He was alright. He wasn’t injured. There was no immediate danger. This wasn’t like the fire that had burned his apartment down. There were no flames trapping him inside. No smoke threatening to suffocate him. He was stuck, sure, but not currently in harm’s way.
“You’re ok,” he reminded himself softly as once again, Warlock reached out in front of him and felt for a path forward. If he remembered correctly, there was a pile of crumbled bricks just ahead. If he could manage to climb over it, maybe he’d be able to find a way up and out of here. “Everything’s alright. You can get yourself out of this.”
Once again, without warning, the tingling sensation returned. Warlock leaned into it, imagining the flame in his hand once more. Maybe people got their powers in waves at first? He was only thirteen after all - one of the youngest ever that he knew of to exhibit such abilities. Was it possible the earthquake had triggered something inside him and awoken them earlier than usual? Is that why they were acting so unpredictably?
Instead of a flame appearing in his hand, Warlock felt a rush of wind in his ears. A faint popping sound echoed around him, like the feeling of a pressure change when taking off in an airplane. One minute he was standing in total darkness, and the next, a soft golden light was filtering in through a crevice in the ceiling above him.
Warlock looked behind him, surprised to find he was on the other side of the pile of bricks he’d seen earlier. Had he just…teleported? How was that possible?
This had to be some sort of fever dream. What else could explain the fact that he’d just used two sets of superpowers in the past ten minutes? And powers that didn’t belong to him. Powers that belonged to others in the city. Hellfire and Vista - the newest member of The Host.
Dream or no dream, Warlock was hellbent on getting out of here. How did Vista’s powers work again? They’d only joined The Host in the past year or so. There hadn’t been much time for them to be seen in the public eye. Now that he knew how far the surface was, could he simply will himself to be there? Did he need to be able to see where he was going? Or could he imagine any location and make himself appear?
It was now or never, he supposed. Hellfire’s abilities hadn’t stuck around long. If Warlock wanted to get himself out of this mess, he had to do it now, before he lost his chance.
Closing his eyes, the boy took a deep breath and jumped. Instantly, he felt the same rush of wind and ‘popping’ sensation, as if his entire body was disappearing from one location and materializing in the next.
A sudden rush of sound assaulted his ears and Warlock knew he’d been successful. He opened his eyes, squinting at the sudden flood of light. He’d made it. He was back up on the street where he’d been right before the earth had split open and sucked him under.
The surface was absolute chaos. Hundreds of people gathered in the streets, most of them with torn clothes or cuts on their arms, legs, or faces. Emergency personnel had arrived in droves, bringing with them cars with sirens and flashing lights and uniformed people with megaphones doing their best to take charge of the situation. Warlock spotted several heroes in the immediate area. Vista was the closest to him, easy to identify in their telltale turquoise and purple suit. They were currently phasing in and out of existence, bringing more and more people with them each time they reappeared on the street.
Warlock also spotted both Seraphim and Tempest arriving on the scene, seemingly coming from a similar direction. With all the injuries he’d seen already, he supposed it was good the blue-clad hero was one of the first to arrive. He hoped she was up to the task. Seraphim’s healing would come in handy on a day like today.
In the chaos, no one had seemed to notice his sudden appearance out of thin air. Warlock wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but he was still too wound up from everything he’d just gone through in the last thirty minutes. He needed a moment alone to think. A moment to figure out just what the hell was going on.
So, without looking back, Warlock turned away from the cracked roads and crumbled buildings and chaos spreading throughout the city, and slipped wordlessly away down the nearby alley.