Life for the fallen (Onomatopanik)

The sky was overcast, filled with massive clouds threatening to spill over with rain down on the sprawling city below it. Nathaniel considered the black clouds above with a sort of baleful hatred, silver eyes narrowed in annoyance as the brilliant gold tinged flames danced around in the 50-gallon drum containing the flame. A few people within his same station of life sat around the source of warmth, not exchanging a word, but being able to offer someone a moment of warmth was more than enough for the male. He pulled his ratty jacket closer to his body, doing so more out of habit than any actual need for warmth, knowing that his gift was nothing else if good for fighting off hypothermia. Settling their little gathering under a bridge was something, though he had a feeling this wouldn’t offer protection from the rain for long, so he was already thinking of what to do next.

Even if he made distance from the flame, it would likely burn through a night anyway. Nate had never really thought about something like that, so he let his mind wander more towards what he would eat for the night, if he would even have anything to eat. He couldn’t help blaming his brother for misfortune, more than likely was his fault to begin with. It was easier to blame someone else, than blame a person that he couldn’t divorce love from. A part of him desired to fly, free himself from the constraints of this world and yet he walked like normal. Having people point at him, further separate him from humanity was not something that he wanted to deal with now of all times. So the young metahuman offered those sitting around the proverbial campfire a wave goodbye before walking off, moving among people along the sidewalk before he even knew it.

Some had umbrellas at the ready and others were totally not ready for the rain that would come. He would need to find some shelter from it soon, but for now he was just wandering. Life had become a succession of wandering from one place to another, searching for a red haired cambion and yet he found that slowly it had become less worth it. Somehow he always escaped, and that left Nathaniel even angrier, but the anger did not remain forever. Now he wondered if it was truly worth it, though it took being in what felt like the pit itself to finally have that feeling overwhelm him. Perhaps he could go digging through a few dumpsters for something, if there was anything and at worst he could maybe try to use his superhuman abilities to get some manner of job. Maybe something that required heavy lifting, or maybe he could make use of that nifty healing ability of his.

Some of it felt rather wrong, and yet he wasn’t sure if he had much of a choice. With a sigh, he pulled the hood of his hoodie up, letting it rest over his forehead with only a small amount of somewhat messy hair peeking out from underneath. Without think he had slipped into the stereotypical alleyway, more caught within his own thoughts than what he was actually doing. He only really snapped from the train of thought when someone ran into him, Nathaniel blinking a couple of times and looking to see what looked to be someone around his age, maybe a few years younger and standing a few inches shorter than him had ran into him. ”Excuse me.” he said looking a little confused as he took note of the what looked to be three people chasing after said youth. He quickly became aware of what looked to be bruises, which then brought him to clarity.

”Stand back.” Nathaniel stepped past the kid, removing his hands from his pockets in a casual manner. ”Excuse me, you wouldn’t happen to be the ones beating up on a kid would you?” He asked, seemingly calm and somewhat light in tone.

“That kid owes us a lot of money.” One of them spat at him, the brass knuckles adorning his fists becoming more apparent. Nathaniel frowning, posture staying non-offensive as he spoke up.

”That might not be a very smart idea. I think you…three should just walk off before you get hurt.” One of them laughed, and brought their pipe down across his face. It stung, forcing his head to whip to the side as he heard someone inhale in surprise and partially fear. One of his teeth had accidentally bitten into his lip, bringing out coppery blood to his mouth as Nate slumped against a wall, more out of shock than anything else.

Duncan walked down the street at a slow pace, with his gaze locked onto the clouds above him. It was going to rain, no doubt about that. A dull sickness formed in his stomach. About ten years ago, he found rain to be peaceful. Sometimes, he would run out into the pouring rain and feel the water on his body. Now, bad weather sickened him. Thoughts drifted back to his time on the streets. While he spent most of his time in a shelter, the few weeks on the streets stuck with him. In the back of his mind, with vivid detail, he could remember all the time he spent put outside, as if he never left the streets at all.

Oppression never leaves. It sticks to your body like a leech. Some had more leeches than others, but even one leech could send someone to the grave. Duncan shook his head, a passerby gave him an odd look. He hated thinking like this, but the rain always brought him here. There was something better to do right now. Groceries needed to be purchased, food needed to go in his stomach. Without a car to drive around in, he could only carry so much.

There was a deep irony to the powers he possessed. He could do impossible actions with a thought, some words, and quick movement, but that couldn't help him carry groceries back home. All they were good for was fighting. Not that there was anything wrong with fighting. Punching villains and fascists became his new favorite pastime. There was something oddly satisfying about stopping crime, which started a pattern. Derelict buildings, back alleys, black markets, abandoned parks, they called to him time and time again. A sense of purpose rose from this calling; it completed him. He sighed. The Hero's Paradox was more relevant than ever.

As he walked past an alleyway, one that used to be his old haunt, he a heard commotion. Without breaking momentum, he turned right around and headed deep into the dark alley. A few of the homeless people ran past him, away from the disturbance. Some stayed and watched, forming a blockade in front of him. Duncan pushed past them and got a good view. There was a kid, whose back was turned to him. The kid reminded Duncan of when he was first homeless. The sick feeling in his stomach turned into an empty feeling. Ahead of him, there were three goons surrounding another kid, probably five or six years younger than him. Something was wrong here.

He put a hand on the younger kid's shoulder. The kid jumped and turned around. Bruises and injuries were visible on the kid's face. Emptiness in his stomach dissipated as anger flooded through Duncan's body.

Duncan cupped his hand around the kid's ear and spoke softly."You're going to want to move back some more," he said. The kid did as they were told. Without prompting, Duncan rushed forward and kicked, aiming his boot at the nearest goon's backside. No powers needed to start a fight, just a good old kick to the ass. Adrenaline filled his body, he felt more alive than ever in these moments. Grocery shopping could wait.

Like a maelstrom his thoughts bumbled through his skull, some of them becoming nothing more than continual incoherence. Not that pain was anything new, but he let that stun him for a few seconds as a third party managed to insert themselves into the situation. The injury would heal rather quickly, though the blood beginning to well up from his lips had already spilled out from within their confines. It was red like blood, but obviously tinged with gold. Luckily, he didn’t chip any teeth, though he did have to wonder if those would heal as well if he broke any of them. ”Okay, that kinda hurt.” He said seething through now clenched teeth. He looked down to see one of the guys knocked forward, pushing themselves up best they could. ”You should probably stay down.” He slammed his foot onto the guys hand, causing the pipe they were holding to be released from his grasp.

There was someone else, though his kicking one of the thugs down suggested that he was on his side. Nate, considered the purple haired male for a second before turning attention to one of the thugs that had pulled a gun of all things on them. Well, a gun was not too impossible as far as weapons someone could use. Not even needing to put thought into his action, Nathaniel stepped forward, slamming the back of his hand into the gun. The strength behind it was enough to knock the gun from the man’s hand and slam it into the wall. It all happened within one, fluid and quick motion that the thug likely didn’t have the time to follow as the next strike found its mark within his gut. He was sent flying backwards, leaving what seemed to be one person though he was already trying to run away.

He wanted to chase after him, but there was also worrying about the kid that they were likely bullying in the usual thuggish manner. Just thinking about those kinds of people managed to piss him off. ”Yeah, you better run.” He said with a faint amount of self-satisfaction within his actions turning to…his mysterious person that kicked thugs in the ass. ”Now, what to do with you two.” He mused out loud, turning a wilting glance to one of them slowly trying to crawl away, or rather had grabbed onto their weapon, swinging the metal again. Only this time a hand had caught the thing midair, bending it with what looked to be ease. ”He’s…going to get some help, isn’t he?” The guy nodded, Nate ripping the weapon from his hand and tossing it over a building, the sound of a cat yowling audible.

Duncan felt like his satisfaction with booting the goon in the ass bordered on sadism. Nothing felt better than trying something new and succeeding on the first try. He started to move towards another goon, but that's when the older kid... Well, maybe he shouldn't call him a kid. With a better look, Duncan could tell that he was at least an adult, but still in his teen years. The other victim flew into action, taking down the other goons without much effort. Not much of a victim, after all. Even with a gun brandished, there was little hesitation in his ally. The other two were chased off, but there were going to be more. With the little time they had, Duncan needed to know more.

He folded his arms and smiled."I hope you're not going to do to us what you did to them," Duncan said. "Seems like I got here just in time. Now let's figure out what happened here." Duncan fixed his gaze on the floor for a few moments. "I heard a commotion and ran here, to see three goons tag teaming you, there's also a kid here with bruises." He turned to the kid. "Mind telling me what's going on? You're the one who seems to be the cause of all of this."

”Don’t plan to, unless you also want to pull a gun anyway.” Nathaniel said with a faint smirk, not sure he was even making a good joke. There was the mention of finding out what happened, but he honestly did not have too much of an interest beyond the fact that he was helping someone. It fit with his personal justice, though maybe he was also dealing with one of those more involved heroes. ”Looked like some punks were chasing this….kid. Don’t know why they were but seems pretty suspicious.” It was suspect to him, though Nate was just chalking it up to him trying to cope with a difficult life. A question had been asked about what was going on, the kid averting their glance for a second as if hesitant to really say anything.

“I…might have …gotten involved with the wrong people.” He took note of the features of the kid, dirty blonde hair with odd grey eyes thought nothing that marked them as any kind of metahuman. “Didn’t exactly give them the money they wanted and…they took exception to that.” He ran his fingers through the short cut dirty blonde hair, looking down to the ground. “They’re part of a gang, work for some lady that calls herself the Queen of Cinders or whatever. You probably don’t want to piss them off.” There was obvious hesitation, though Nathaniel likely understood his fear of large organized crime groups when they were likely to have some metahumans on the pay roll.

”Didn’t know criminals made their money by beating up teenagers.” Nate derided with a shrug. ”Oh, um…thanks for the help….” He turned to Duncan, waiting for him to offer his own name.

Duncan patted his body."No guns needed here," he said. There was a hesitation when the other guy said, "punk." Punk tended to be used on criminals and villains, but it wasn't quite the right label. Punks were dedicated to fight against the mainstream, making a name of their own. Of course, like all groups, they then became their own movement that had its own norms inside of them. Punks were the new normal, queer punks and afro punks weren't very welcome, the cycle continues.

The temporary ally got the kid to speak up. Duncan listened closely to the kid's tale. Nothing too different from his own tale on the streets, but then again, he didn't stay long enough to get into the deep shit this kid found themselves in. When the kid spoke of the Queen of Cinders, he leaned forward, thinking on the name. He didn't recall any gang leaders he encountered in the past, it was something to look into. From his back pocket, Duncan pulled out a small notebook and pen. He wrote down the Queen of Cinders' name on a separate page. If she was pulling kids into her operations, or at least willing to hurt them, then she needed to be stopped. His ally made a comment on the gang.

"Gangs will do anything to get their money," Duncan said. "Especially prey on the most vulnerable."With a flip of the page, Duncan began to write down his phone number. He ripped it out of the notebook and handed it to the kid. "If you need to get off these streets and get some protection, I have you covered. Duncan then turned to face his ally, holding out his hand. "My name's Duncan, by the way. It's nice to meet you."

Nate looked a little amused at the thought of someone bringing around a notebook to write things. ”Leave it to the cowardly to prey on the weak.” Nate shrugged at the mention of gangs doing anything they needed to get money, which was something that made sense. The youth took the number given to him, giving Duncan a sidewise glance and running off to do whatever it was that he was doing. The thought that he was going back to his wayward style of living was likely, but Nate said nothing, only crossing his arms over his chest.

”It’s nice to meet you Duncan. Nice to meet another hero around here.” He extended his hand for what seemed to be a handshake, likely his heightened body heat becoming more apparent from the brief contact. Pulling back his hand, he buried them back into his pocket. ”I..kinda feel like we should clear out before they bring any more of their friends around.” Nate mentioned, picking one of the guys they had beaten up by the back of his shirt. ”Oh great, now it’s raining.” He grumbled, feeling raindrops beginning to fall from the sky.

”Well, this night is going to really suck.” Nathaniel muttered with a deep frown, blinking as if remembering to say something. ”Oh, your hair, I like it.” The sounds of rain falling became louder . ”So, what do you think we should do with these two?” He then asked, looking to Duncan as if he would know something about how beating criminals up worked afterwards.

Duncan's new acquaintance shook his hand for what seemed like a second, then pulled it away. Duncan couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something off about the handshake. He coughed. His ally mentioned clearing out before anybody else showed up. Before he could reply, it started to rain. Duncan felt the emptiness in his stomach again as rain dripped onto his head.

The strange guy commented on the rain, his hair, and the goons. "I hope you're not too far from home," Duncan said. "As for my hair, it's about to get gross any second, rain tends to hate my hair."All of the work he put into styling his hair was soon ruined by the rain. He ran his fingers through his wet hair and gave up on fixing it.  Duncan looked over at the goons. "I would call the police, but they don't do anything useful. Usually they make it worse. Just moving them out of sight is the best thing to do. Let's move them over to the dumpster over there." Duncan pointed to the dumpster in the alleyway.

”Not even close to it.” Nate said without even thinking about it, the compulsion to tell the truth something that he could not exactly escape. The rain came down, seemingly messing up the males hair, though the angel boy didn’t seemed bothered by, though he was never one to care about things like messy hair. His hair would likely end up messy as well actually, not that it was well styled to begin with. Duncan had suggested they take them over to a dumpster, something that he agreed to with a nod, lifting the top of the dumpster and throwing them in as softly as was possible without breaking anything.

”Yeah, cops usually aren’t exactly very  well inclined towards metahumans.” He said, drawing upon prior experience with the whole heroic experience.  He suddenly became aware of someone around, a shadow in his peripheral vision.

“Finally, someone putting them where they belong.” A feminine voice noted, Nathaniel turning to see a figure wreathed within shadows standing at the lip of the alleyway, only her black hair made readily obvious. He didn’t recall her being there before, or the other one standing to block there way from the opposite end. It was either some manner of teleportation or he was just getting rather careless. He slipped into what appeared to be a defensive stance, shifting ever so subtly.

”I suppose you have something to do with these two.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be entirely wrong.” There was the glint of a weapon, making him wonder why she had a blade instead of some manner of gun.

“We were watching these three to make sure they could take some money from a child, but it appears good help is just so hard to find these days.” The other noted, slamming their fists together, faint light revealing they had long blonde hair. “It looks like we have to clean up two heroes now.”

Duncan took note of Nate's response to the home question. Maybe he lived in the suburbs? A closer look showed that might not have been the case. Was he homeless like the rest of them? A metahuman who was just thrown into this situation? Too many questions and not enough answers.

He was silly to call the cops; they never did anything good for him. The number one rule for dealing with cops: Don't deal with cops. The number two rule for dealing with cops: Hope your ass isn't full of bullets by the end. Interactions with police can vary wildly, especially if you're a person of color, especially if you're queer, especially if you're a punk. A bad attitude can spell doom for those unfortunate enough to have them. With all of these people running around with powers, there were much better people to call on when he needed help. There was a sense of community in relying on others, rather than some government group to help out.

His companion noticed something. Duncan followed his eyes to the woman standing at the edge of the alley, then to the goon on the other side of the alley. Something was very wrong. He knew this was the backup that was mentioned before, but they looked much more powerful. The woman... could she have been the Queen of Cinders the kid spoke about earlier? Either way, they were blocked off on both sides. Duncan's ally called out to them and he didn't like their answers. A fight was starting, but maybe he could talk them out of it, or at least catch them off guard.

"No need to clean up anything," Duncan said. He gestured towards the goons by the dumpster. "We took care of them already, they're useless to you. Just leave them here, some cop will pick them up and they'll be out of our hair. Find some other goons to work for you, instead. Duncan tried to toughen up his posture and stance. The last thing he wanted to look was weak in front of them. But it felt off to him, he didn't have to force himself to look intimidating. Intimidation didn't work well with a pink tank top and purple hair. He was on guard, waiting for them to pull a move. If they even tried to touch him, they would be in for a hell of a spectacle.

“They are useless but their worth is unimportant. When an underling fails, you have to teach them the price of failure.” Nate assumed that the dark-haired female had said that, standing there in an almost menacing fashion. If there was a fight, he didn’t want to end up dealing with anything like breaking any bones. “Also, you two are bad for business it seems. You heroes always are in the end. It starts small, but things always escalate until the entire project falls in upon itself.” This was likely to escalate into a conflict, made clear by how readily she brandished what looked to be a weapon.

“Oh, love it when these heroes try to play tough.” The blonde said with a manner of wistfulness, making the beginning motions of a dash towards them. It was difficult to fully grasp when she had begun moving, becoming more blur than human as Nathaniel forced himself into motion as well. The attack was aimed for Duncan, so he did what seemed like the smart thing at the time, moving in front of the attack, and catching the fist. His palm stung from the impact, but that aside it gave a better glimpse into what this metahuman could do. “Should worry more about yourself little man.”

Suddenly the fist he had caught ripped itself from his grasp, followed by a leg slamming into his side, follow by him hitting what seemed to be the brick wall. The impact stung, but not as much as the hit that had been dealt to him. Luckily there was no apparent internal damage or broken ribs, though that was just from a single strike. ”Ow, that actually hurt.” He growled,  pushing himself off from the wall and swinging his own kick at the blonde, something that was rather easily moved out of the way of.

Not missing a beat, the other moved but with far easier to track speeds with the what looked to be blade in hand with a stroke meant to cut the purple haired heroes legs out from under him.