Firebug: Ch. 35 - Phoenix

This was bad. Roman was outnumbered a hundred to one against a roomful of agitated, high-strung Pyros, and nowhere near the exit. His instincts battled it out tooth and claw within him, one set screaming at him to fight and the other to run. As a result, he was deadlocked in place. The room was only getting hotter by the second, and the rain falling heavier.

Roman might've been paralyzed by panic and indecision, but for now the Pyros seemed no better off. No one made a move toward him, their wild eyes bouncing erratically from Roman to Volkan. Almost like they were waiting for Volkan to sound the attack first. Roman knew almost nothing about Elemental politics - if there were any to speak of - but it wasn't hard to figure out Volkan was pretty high up on the totem pole.

If Roman stood any chance of getting out of this alive, he'd have to win over Volkan first.

"Look, um... I come in peace," Roman insisted, raising his hands over his head slower than a glacier, "Can we just... talk? Please?"

Volkan's proud, rigid frame shook as he barked out a dismissive laugh. "Talk?" he spat, "What use is it when action speaks volumes louder?!"

In the blink of an eye, Volkan tugged off one of his gloves with his teeth. By the time his hand fell level with his waist again, a fireball was swirling dangerously in the center of Volkan's palm. It clearly hurt like hell to manifest, based on the barely-concealed grimace on his face. Volkan didn't seem to give a damn about it, though.

When he cocked his arm back to launch his flaming sphere of death, Roman flinched. Hard. It was a reflex - pure and simple - and it wasn't the only involuntary action he took. At exactly the same time, a lightning bolt struck the theater's roof. The decrepit old building shook like a bomb had just gone off, throwing half the Pyros to the floor. Volkan would've joined them in a heartbeat, if the two schmucks in trench coats on either side of him hadn't grabbed his arms.

The good news was that Volkan's fireball snuffed itself out from the sudden shock; the bad news was he looked more outraged than ever before.

Roman took a deep, slow breath, flexing his hands to hide how much they were shaking. The sky still rumbled loudly over the old theater despite his efforts to keep a calm, cool head. He was scared to death, but he knew he couldn't risk losing control. Clearing his throat nervously, he tried again.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said, his eyes darting to every face in the room, "...any of you. Honest. Someone already tried to kill me tonight, and-"

"Liar!" A frantic-looking blonde woman shrieked, "You're an outsider! Outsiders can't be trusted!"

A few voices raised in agreement, but all were silenced when Volkan's still sizzling hand shot sharply into the air. His blazing copper eyes never left Roman's for an instant, piercing the teen deeper as he took a few steps forward.

"What are you?" Volkan demanded, "Your aura is strange; unlike any I've read before. Regardless, your intrusion here is a blatant violation of the Treaty! Tell me where your allegiance lies... so that I may return your charred corpse to the appropriate Meeting House!"

Roman's head spun like an out of control carnival ride with loose bolts, trying to make sense of anything Volkan just said. "Aura" was easy enough to understand, but "treaty"? "Meeting house"? He had no clue what either of those were referring to. Desperate, he turned to Nurse Flanagan, frozen in place like a living statue at his side. She was the reason he was even there to begin with, after all. Thankfully, she pulled through.

"He's seeking asylum," she announced, "The Hydros have marked him for death, over an act he couldn't control. Moreover, the assassin who tried to off him threatened one of ours. That's reason enough to take him in."

"One of ours?" A brown-skinned boy roughly Roman's age echoed, his dark eyes narrowing in confusion, "Who?"

"Nonsense," Volkan snarled, "He is our enemy! We will not shelter him under any circumstances! Especially not if the Hydros want him dead!"

"Volkan... enough."

The calm, hoarse voice echoed through the entire theater, making it hard to tell where it came from. Eventually, Roman caught movement on the stage. A figure shuffled out of the wings into the lights center-stage, allowing him to see who had spoken. The instant the lights hit her face, every Pyro in the room hit their knees. Not knowing what else to do, Roman followed suit.

The skinny chick was a lot younger than Roman expected based on her voice; twenty-five, maybe twenty-six tops. It could've just been her baggy jeans, cropped hoodie and dirty sneakers, making her look younger than she really was. Her thick, wavy mane hung nearly to her waist, mostly black with a shock of silver across her forehead and over her right ear. The left side of her face stayed mostly hidden behind her bushy bangs, and she made no attempt to push them back. Roman figured she had good reason not to. Both her hands were full, wrapped tightly around the handles of a set of forearm crutches.

The visible parts of her face were smooth and round, and honestly very pretty. Despite her youthful appearance, though, her slumped shoulders carried the weight of a woman three times her age. So much sadness and pain shone from her dark emerald eyes, and a wisdom that outshone her short years. The longer she studied Roman, something else bobbed to the surface, too: curiosity.

"Is Birdie telling the truth?" the woman rasped, "Do you seek protection?"

Roman wet his lips, choosing his words carefully with a nod. "Yes," he said, although it came out as more of a question, "Look, I, uh... I only just learned who... er... what I am a few days ago. I know literally nothing about your world, except the few bits and pieces she's told me. Honestly, I'm scared to death, and I need help... and if she says you can help me, I believe her."

"Bridget Flanagan, you have committed treason!" Volkan roared, "The fact that this interloper even knows about our Meeting House compromises everything, and everyone here! I say we execute them both!!"

"Silence, Volkan," the woman ordered, her whispery voice chilling Roman to the bone, "You will not be warned again."

Volkan's face twisted up in an ugly snarl, but shockingly he obeyed her. It didn't make a lot of sense, considering he was easily ten years older than her. Whoever this woman was, she obviously carried a lot of clout. A realization that both intrigued and terrified Roman to his core.

Her steely gaze suddenly lifted from Roman's face, drifting to the door on the far side of the room. Roman hadn't heard it open, but he looked over just in time to see it snap shut. Red the bouncer was working his way to the stage, dragging a much smaller figure with him by the collar.

"Found this one wandering around in the alley," Red announced gruffly, "I think he's with them. What do you wanna do with him, Madame Phoenix?"

Roman's heart crammed itself behind his tonsils, beating faster than a hummingbird's wings on Red Bull. His eyes locked onto the soaking wet Brit, but it took Theo a few seconds longer to recognize him through his waterlogged glasses. Although he said nothing, Roman could almost feel the terror and confusion radiating off Theo.

The second their eyes met, any hope of keeping his cool went out the window.

"Let him go!" Roman demanded, "I might not be one of you, but he is! He's no threat to you! Nurse Flanagan... Birdie, tell them!"

Nurse Flanagan glared at Roman sideways, looking like she might punch him for calling her "Birdie". Instead, she hopped over the seat in front of her and ran up the aisle to Theo's side. As soon as he was within reach, she slapped Red's meaty paws off the trembling, panic-riddled blond.

"You were supposed to stay in the car," she growled. In the same breath, she pushed his wet curls out of his face and sighed, "Are you okay?"

Theo nodded, rubbing his neck and shoulder with a dry swallow. "I-I didn't intend to cause any trouble," he said, "Both of you were just gone when I awoke, and... w-well, I got worried. I was barely out of the car for a minute when that hulking great plonker grabbed me."

His wide blue-green eyes darted all around the decrepit theater, lingering on Volkan and the mysterious Madame Phoenix. When his gaze finally ended on Roman's face, Theo looked a little calmer but still very confused and uneasy.

"What is this place?" he asked, "Where are we? Will someone please kindly tell me what the bloody hell is going on here?!"

"What's 'going on' is you're trespassing," Volkan hissed, "Are you guilty of consorting with our enemy as well?!"

Theo's brows furrowed for a moment, his pale cheeks flushing under his freckles. "I dunno if 'consorting' is the right word," he admitted, "...but we are involved, yes. Deeply so. He's..." Theo hesitated for just a second before smiling shyly, "...He's my boyfriend."

Roman felt his own face get a little hot, and it had nothing to do with the small army of Pyros he was staring down. That was the first time he'd heard those words from Theo in a public setting. He never dreamed it would feel so good to hear that out loud from the Brit. If the situation wasn't as borked as it currently was, Roman would've run over and kissed Theo on the spot. The only thing stopping him now were the aforementioned Pyros, and their leader.

"This meeting is adjourned," Madame Phoenix announced, "Go home. Now. All of you."

"Stay where you are!" Volkan demanded, his copper eyes flashing up at Madam Phoenix. "Nina... Sister... be reasonable! You cannot just let this go! What if there are others?! We could be surrounded! Do you want more bloodshed on your hands?! After what happened last time?!"

Roman blinked involuntarily as a rush of hot, dry wind slapped him right in the face. He didn't even know what happened before he was suddenly choking on smoke. When the thick cloud finally dispersed, Volkan was on all fours... with a brand new, smoldering hole the size of a watermelon burnt into the back of his expensive-looking suit jacket.

When Roman looked at the stage again, Madame Phoenix had two young women on either side of her gripping her arms. Her crutches had fallen to the stage, as she was clearly too busy coughing to remember to hold onto them. Roman was positive his eyes were playing tricks on him; with every sharp, ragged cough, a little puff of smoke curled out between her grimacing lips.

The other Pyros immediately shuffled toward the exit: heads down; hands in pockets; not daring to make a sound. Within two minutes, the theater was empty. The only stragglers were Roman, Nurse Flanagan, Theo, and Volkan. Roman and friends were too stunned to move. Volkan, on the other hand, was just picking himself off the floor. And he was obviously pissed.

"If I say the meeting is adjourned," Madame Phoenix wheezed between coughs, "...then it is so. Challenge my authority so wantonly again, Brother... and I won't be so lenient."

Volkan shot her a look that could kill a charging bull elephant at a hundred paces. It looked like he still had plenty to say - and none of it good - but he kept his mouth shut. With an unintelligible growl, he snatched a long black coat off the stage's steps and made a beeline for the exit. The door slammed so loudly behind him, it made everyone except Madame Phoenix jump.

Although she seemed ready to drop, Madame Phoenix beckoned weakly to the remaining trio.

"If you want asylum... you have it. Follow me... I'll take you somewhere warm and dry."