fanfic: "Applied Knowledge" by Eliyes
Title: Applied Knowledge
Fandom: Marvel Comics
Characters: Rictor
Prompt: No time for the bomb squad.
Word Count: 310
Rating: E for Everyone
Summary: (See prompt)
Author's Notes: If you'd like more Rictor + TNT = ♥, check out The New Mutants #76 (which I blathered about here.)
Rictor knew a fair bit about explosives -- both the kinds you can make from household junk, and the dynamite popular with his family -- but he knew even more about explosions. They were cool, and dangerous, so as a kid he'd committed to memory all the instructions he'd been given or even just overheard, and as a teen he'd regularly eavesdropped when the Beast had been explaining the physics of Boom-Boom's powers to her.
He knew about shapes charges, and how explosions affected the area around them depending on what was there. He knew about shrapnel. What he didn't know was how to defuse the high-tech bomb currently attached to one of this building's support pillars, with only seconds to go.
But he knew what to do.
From outside, this is what happened: the entire front of the building cracked open. People inside screamed as they were carried out by floors that were suddenly behaving like landslides, spilling them into the street. The roof shook, and then collapsed into a rain of rubble. The noise was monstrous, as a building never expected to have to survive an earthquake rapidly succumbed to Rictor's power.
That was nothing compared to when the bomb went off. It was literally deafening -- temporarily, at least. When hearing came back, and the ringing faded a little, the sirens of approaching emergency service vehicles were filling the air.
Out of the broken shell of the building, covered in dust, walked Rictor. He was carrying a little boy, and a women with a broken cane in one hand was leaning on him. He knew that the people who had seen him use his powers to force them out of the building would probably assume he's caused the blast -- almost no one had seen the bomb -- but he knew that he'd saved the day.
Sometimes, that was enough.
Cross-posted from my journal.
Fandom: Marvel Comics
Characters: Rictor
Prompt: No time for the bomb squad.
Word Count: 310
Rating: E for Everyone
Summary: (See prompt)
Author's Notes: If you'd like more Rictor + TNT = ♥, check out The New Mutants #76 (which I blathered about here.)
Rictor knew a fair bit about explosives -- both the kinds you can make from household junk, and the dynamite popular with his family -- but he knew even more about explosions. They were cool, and dangerous, so as a kid he'd committed to memory all the instructions he'd been given or even just overheard, and as a teen he'd regularly eavesdropped when the Beast had been explaining the physics of Boom-Boom's powers to her.
He knew about shapes charges, and how explosions affected the area around them depending on what was there. He knew about shrapnel. What he didn't know was how to defuse the high-tech bomb currently attached to one of this building's support pillars, with only seconds to go.
But he knew what to do.
From outside, this is what happened: the entire front of the building cracked open. People inside screamed as they were carried out by floors that were suddenly behaving like landslides, spilling them into the street. The roof shook, and then collapsed into a rain of rubble. The noise was monstrous, as a building never expected to have to survive an earthquake rapidly succumbed to Rictor's power.
That was nothing compared to when the bomb went off. It was literally deafening -- temporarily, at least. When hearing came back, and the ringing faded a little, the sirens of approaching emergency service vehicles were filling the air.
Out of the broken shell of the building, covered in dust, walked Rictor. He was carrying a little boy, and a women with a broken cane in one hand was leaning on him. He knew that the people who had seen him use his powers to force them out of the building would probably assume he's caused the blast -- almost no one had seen the bomb -- but he knew that he'd saved the day.
Sometimes, that was enough.
Cross-posted from my journal.