For evey place a thing
Mar. 24th, 2014 11:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
noteasytobepinkWho: Clarice and Bill
When: Two years after Clarice lands in Bill's world.
What: Clarice has a moment of wondering if she could actually stay here in one world.
Fire...fire was a terrible power. It was more common than water powers and more immediate and gratifying than earth powers...and terrible. She used to pity fire bugs. They were weapons in most cases, people of instant passion and careful, hairline control...
...because fire was hunger and there was ALWAYS a point at which it escaped. Knock out a telepath and the mental assault would stop. Drop a teleporter and there went the war. Remove a fire user and suddenly the fire was bigger and badder, free and ravenous for more. Fire bugs never controlled their powers in the end; they rode them like fractious horses never broken.
Eventually they all fell and when they did, well, the worlds burned.
Even little Mariko on her team had been a tragedy waiting to happen, the laws of nature could be bent, but Nature was a far stronger and immensely more canny bitch than any living thing could comprehend...and Nature had her rules. Clarice could count herself lucky that she'd been torn from her team before Mariko had her brightly burning moment.
She'd never been overly fond of fire. Give her a good electric stove any day, or a carefully tended and small enough to go unnoticed camp fire. Anything more was too great a risk. She'd been with the ranger service for close to eighteen months, and the sheriff's for twelve, when the call came in. The Parson house was on fire.
Bill didn't need to glance her way before she was pulling pencils out of her drawer and skipping across town to take in the situation. She couldn't put out fires, no, but fire followed rules. It consumed, it needed air, and if you moved fast enough you'd be okay. There was a tree behind the Parson house that led right up to the second story eaves, in kinder times she figured the family snuck out using this method, tonight it might just save their lives because it meant one pink skinned hero could get inside and take in what was happened.
And that could be summed up as 'nothing good'. She wasn't an expert in flame, if it wasn't caused by a mutant she had no clue, but she did know that 'upstairs' was a bad place to be trapped. "MOVE!" she yelled across the billowing smoke that had been the banister. "GET HIM OUTSIDE!" Because Mr. Parson had his young son in his arms but was standing like an idiot as he looked around.
Fear did that to people sometimes.
"GET HIM OUT I HAVE YOUR WIFE AND DAUGHTER!" Sure, it was a lie right now, but she would have them, one way or another before this was done. She was saved from his attempt to pass the boy to her by a beam falling on the stairs between them; through the swirling, crackling sparks and gouts of smoke, she watched his face crumple as he headed for the door. Mr. Parson was a grocer...he didn't have it in him to fight her orders too long.
Everyone wanted to live after all. Everyone.
So where did that leave her? A lone sheriff's deputy in an already smouldering uniform standing at the top of a set of stairs that could have graced any building in Hell...yeah, seemed about right. For the first time in a long time she felt...normal. Adrenaline and urgency paired with the need for planning and care. Oh God she was screwed up in this world wasn't she?
Planning, right, flame.
She didn't know where the two ladies of the house were, upstairs being her only clue, but she'd need to see and she'd need them not to burn. Right, first stop, if memory served her properly, was the bathroom. No doubt the Parsons would be surprised at how well she knew the inside of their house. From her time as a florist to her time just visiting everyone she could find and excuse to visit, well...she had a good memory. Even in a roaring inferno that was eating away at the walls she passed her feet took her to the slight respite of tile. Even that was heating though, "figures." Of course it did. Here was to hoping the piping hadn't warped yet!
Luck was with her in that the tub and sink would still run, so she dumped every bit of toweling and fabric she could find in the basis while the seconds were chewed and whittled away. Time time time...how long could humans survive in an environment like this? Probably not long enough. She left the taps running and draped a long towel over her head, shivering slightly at the drip of water across her heated uniform, more towels were draped over her shoulder as she dove out the bathroom door once more.
That was her, terrible force in the night, diving from the bathroom...yeah. She'd missed this. If Bill and the precinct had arrived she couldn't hear them over the roaring flame, and the fire department was down at the front door, she could see the bow and lick of flame as it reached for the abundant air past the front door...they wouldn't make it in time. She was faster.
Hopefully fast enough.
She found Megan, the girl, as a feebly moving lump under her bed. Better air down there, though there was little enough to consider 'good'. She screeched weakly when Clarice dropped a towel on her, but settled soon enough once strong arms hefted her up to be carried through the blaze she couldn't see through the fabric. Better the kid didn't see...
...no, best the kid didn't see this at all because Clarice found Mrs. Parson partway down the hall. A roof beam had fallen and pinned her, and she could make out the stench of burning flesh past the reek of crisping wood and plastic carpet fibers. That wasn't good. She knelt to view the situation, ruthlessly forcing her mind to ignore the creeping, advancing flame as she ran plans through her head.
Hell.
"GOTTA PUT YOU DOWN A MOMENT SWEETIE!" She yelled to be heard over the roaring beast that was hunting them.
"NO!" The girl clutched at the uniform she was wearing despite the drying folds of toweling. Well, that was cute.
"I JUST NEED MY HANDS TO GET YOUR MOM. BE BRAVE FOR ONE MINUTE, COUNT TO TWENTY!" It was the best she could do. She unpeeled her hands from the child and faced the beam, pulling one of her last pencils from her boot. She couldn't send the beam far without spreading the flame, but a bit further down the hall would work...it was the best bet, and yet it would still probably bring the roof down on them.
See? Fire users were to be pitied. No one won with fire, everything got eaten up. "Eleven...twelve..."
Good girl. She laid the rest of her towels over what she could see of Mrs. Parson then took as deep a breath she could through her toweling and teleported the beam with a soft 'pop' of inrushing air. And then the roof creaked. OH HELL! There was no time for gentleness, hopefully the older woman was unconscious because burns like that would hurt like hell once she was tossed over Clarice's shoulder in a fireman's carry. One arm to steady the mother on her shoulder, one to grab the kid back up, two seconds left on the clock..."CLOSE YOUR EYES!"
Teleporting was a girl's best friend. Given her hands were full she barely got her last pencil off in time, but just as the house gave a final shudder and started it's inward fall, the ragged, smoked trio stumbled onto the grass right beside the tree she'd climbed earlier. That was still too damn close to the fire for comfort, once they were outside she started them limping further from the screaming fire behind them.
God she hated fire.
"NEED AN AMBULANCE!" she called as they rounded the corner toward the fire trucks. That was all she managed before she was coughing on the smoke she had still managed to inhale. Fun. "NOW" Sooner was better, yes. And then she could give the girl to her father and the wife to professionals and...
...go lean on Bill, damp towel and all as she tried to catch her breath. "Mission accomplished, Sheriff..." she wheezed at last. He'd sent her ahead, knowing her skills. He trusted her. That was a...big thing. There would have been at least one dead tonight if she hadn't been here, and that was nothing to sneeze at, right? So what if this wasn't a world with mutants?
...she could still be herself, and that was a hero. "Next?"
When: Two years after Clarice lands in Bill's world.
What: Clarice has a moment of wondering if she could actually stay here in one world.
Fire...fire was a terrible power. It was more common than water powers and more immediate and gratifying than earth powers...and terrible. She used to pity fire bugs. They were weapons in most cases, people of instant passion and careful, hairline control...
...because fire was hunger and there was ALWAYS a point at which it escaped. Knock out a telepath and the mental assault would stop. Drop a teleporter and there went the war. Remove a fire user and suddenly the fire was bigger and badder, free and ravenous for more. Fire bugs never controlled their powers in the end; they rode them like fractious horses never broken.
Eventually they all fell and when they did, well, the worlds burned.
Even little Mariko on her team had been a tragedy waiting to happen, the laws of nature could be bent, but Nature was a far stronger and immensely more canny bitch than any living thing could comprehend...and Nature had her rules. Clarice could count herself lucky that she'd been torn from her team before Mariko had her brightly burning moment.
She'd never been overly fond of fire. Give her a good electric stove any day, or a carefully tended and small enough to go unnoticed camp fire. Anything more was too great a risk. She'd been with the ranger service for close to eighteen months, and the sheriff's for twelve, when the call came in. The Parson house was on fire.
Bill didn't need to glance her way before she was pulling pencils out of her drawer and skipping across town to take in the situation. She couldn't put out fires, no, but fire followed rules. It consumed, it needed air, and if you moved fast enough you'd be okay. There was a tree behind the Parson house that led right up to the second story eaves, in kinder times she figured the family snuck out using this method, tonight it might just save their lives because it meant one pink skinned hero could get inside and take in what was happened.
And that could be summed up as 'nothing good'. She wasn't an expert in flame, if it wasn't caused by a mutant she had no clue, but she did know that 'upstairs' was a bad place to be trapped. "MOVE!" she yelled across the billowing smoke that had been the banister. "GET HIM OUTSIDE!" Because Mr. Parson had his young son in his arms but was standing like an idiot as he looked around.
Fear did that to people sometimes.
"GET HIM OUT I HAVE YOUR WIFE AND DAUGHTER!" Sure, it was a lie right now, but she would have them, one way or another before this was done. She was saved from his attempt to pass the boy to her by a beam falling on the stairs between them; through the swirling, crackling sparks and gouts of smoke, she watched his face crumple as he headed for the door. Mr. Parson was a grocer...he didn't have it in him to fight her orders too long.
Everyone wanted to live after all. Everyone.
So where did that leave her? A lone sheriff's deputy in an already smouldering uniform standing at the top of a set of stairs that could have graced any building in Hell...yeah, seemed about right. For the first time in a long time she felt...normal. Adrenaline and urgency paired with the need for planning and care. Oh God she was screwed up in this world wasn't she?
Planning, right, flame.
She didn't know where the two ladies of the house were, upstairs being her only clue, but she'd need to see and she'd need them not to burn. Right, first stop, if memory served her properly, was the bathroom. No doubt the Parsons would be surprised at how well she knew the inside of their house. From her time as a florist to her time just visiting everyone she could find and excuse to visit, well...she had a good memory. Even in a roaring inferno that was eating away at the walls she passed her feet took her to the slight respite of tile. Even that was heating though, "figures." Of course it did. Here was to hoping the piping hadn't warped yet!
Luck was with her in that the tub and sink would still run, so she dumped every bit of toweling and fabric she could find in the basis while the seconds were chewed and whittled away. Time time time...how long could humans survive in an environment like this? Probably not long enough. She left the taps running and draped a long towel over her head, shivering slightly at the drip of water across her heated uniform, more towels were draped over her shoulder as she dove out the bathroom door once more.
That was her, terrible force in the night, diving from the bathroom...yeah. She'd missed this. If Bill and the precinct had arrived she couldn't hear them over the roaring flame, and the fire department was down at the front door, she could see the bow and lick of flame as it reached for the abundant air past the front door...they wouldn't make it in time. She was faster.
Hopefully fast enough.
She found Megan, the girl, as a feebly moving lump under her bed. Better air down there, though there was little enough to consider 'good'. She screeched weakly when Clarice dropped a towel on her, but settled soon enough once strong arms hefted her up to be carried through the blaze she couldn't see through the fabric. Better the kid didn't see...
...no, best the kid didn't see this at all because Clarice found Mrs. Parson partway down the hall. A roof beam had fallen and pinned her, and she could make out the stench of burning flesh past the reek of crisping wood and plastic carpet fibers. That wasn't good. She knelt to view the situation, ruthlessly forcing her mind to ignore the creeping, advancing flame as she ran plans through her head.
Hell.
"GOTTA PUT YOU DOWN A MOMENT SWEETIE!" She yelled to be heard over the roaring beast that was hunting them.
"NO!" The girl clutched at the uniform she was wearing despite the drying folds of toweling. Well, that was cute.
"I JUST NEED MY HANDS TO GET YOUR MOM. BE BRAVE FOR ONE MINUTE, COUNT TO TWENTY!" It was the best she could do. She unpeeled her hands from the child and faced the beam, pulling one of her last pencils from her boot. She couldn't send the beam far without spreading the flame, but a bit further down the hall would work...it was the best bet, and yet it would still probably bring the roof down on them.
See? Fire users were to be pitied. No one won with fire, everything got eaten up. "Eleven...twelve..."
Good girl. She laid the rest of her towels over what she could see of Mrs. Parson then took as deep a breath she could through her toweling and teleported the beam with a soft 'pop' of inrushing air. And then the roof creaked. OH HELL! There was no time for gentleness, hopefully the older woman was unconscious because burns like that would hurt like hell once she was tossed over Clarice's shoulder in a fireman's carry. One arm to steady the mother on her shoulder, one to grab the kid back up, two seconds left on the clock..."CLOSE YOUR EYES!"
Teleporting was a girl's best friend. Given her hands were full she barely got her last pencil off in time, but just as the house gave a final shudder and started it's inward fall, the ragged, smoked trio stumbled onto the grass right beside the tree she'd climbed earlier. That was still too damn close to the fire for comfort, once they were outside she started them limping further from the screaming fire behind them.
God she hated fire.
"NEED AN AMBULANCE!" she called as they rounded the corner toward the fire trucks. That was all she managed before she was coughing on the smoke she had still managed to inhale. Fun. "NOW" Sooner was better, yes. And then she could give the girl to her father and the wife to professionals and...
...go lean on Bill, damp towel and all as she tried to catch her breath. "Mission accomplished, Sheriff..." she wheezed at last. He'd sent her ahead, knowing her skills. He trusted her. That was a...big thing. There would have been at least one dead tonight if she hadn't been here, and that was nothing to sneeze at, right? So what if this wasn't a world with mutants?
...she could still be herself, and that was a hero. "Next?"
