Grayscale
Title: Grayscale
Summary: "We've heard some rumors that you're going to be a pretty tough villain some day. Care for a head start on that?" - Warren must choose between light and dark, though maybe there's no difference at all anyway.
Chapter: 1/6
Note: Begins post-Save the Citizens scene. The plot slowly diverges from that point on.
-the air turns dark around you, and squeezes itself out of your lungs against your will-
The crowd was cheering, and Will Stronghold certainly looked happy, but Warren didn't take much notice, focused instead on his aching head. He stood too quickly in response to Stronghold's proffered hand, and had to make a great effort not to wobble when blackness spread across his vision, and everything suddenly seemed very distant.
He held his hands by his sides instead of clutching his head, so as not to alert anyone to his predicament, and kept breathing slowly, waiting until his vision cleared. His head still swam, but Warren thought he'd be okay.
Operative word: thought.
-all you can see is Speed, spinning round and round, and your fire is dying-
Warren miraculously made it into the locker room before he collapsed, slumping down on one of the benches and breathing slowly. He knew that it was the last period of school, and that the bell was about to ring, and that he really ought to get going, but all that was just a tiny thought in the back of his head, blocked by the swirling rush of air he couldn't quite reach.
He tried to breathe deeply, but for some reason he couldn't; his lungs felt concaved, unable to bend out properly, and he wouldn't be overly surprised if the vortex had actually snapped a rib. He had to admit it: that was a good trick Speed had there.
Warren heard footsteps approaching through the haze, and had his head not been currently splitting in two, he would have let go of it and stood up to preserve his image. As things were, he remained staring at the floor beneath his feet, hands rubbing his temples.
However, when a familiar black-and-white striped arm came into his view, in the process of wrapping around him and pulling him up to his feet, he did look up. Sure enough, Lash and Speed stood in front of him, expressions unreadable.
Warren grit his teeth. He really wasn't up to a fight right now. "What do you want?"
Speed crossed his arms resentfully, but Lash sighed, abruptly looking very tired. "To see if you're okay," he groaned, and Warren blinked - the biggest expression of shock he was willing to make at the moment.
"What?" he asked incredulously. Lash rubbed a hand over his face.
"This idiot here wasn't supposed to hurt you," he said quietly, shooting an annoyed glance at Speed, who slumped further, glaring at the ground.
Warren stared at them for a long moment; Lash's arm probably the only thing holding him up on his feet. He tried to ignore the black spots still hovering around the corners of his vision.
"Why not?"
Warren liked to think that he sounded just like he always did, and that nothing in his face gave away his weakness, and maybe he was right. Maybe it was just the fact that he didn't force Lash to drop him, but either way, an expression of worry flicked over the older boy's face, and he stepped closer, peering at Warren.
"Hey, hey," he said slowly. "Are you okay?"
Warren swallowed once. Then a few more times, because he tasted bile and the world decided to tip to the right and darken. "Yeah," he said thickly. "I'm fine. Leggo of me."
Lash frowned some more at his slightly slurred voice, and met Warren's eyes for a moment before Warren had to blink. God, his head hurt.
"I don't think you are," he said slowly, and then whipped his head around to glare at Speed. "You moron," he berated harshly, "we weren't supposed to really hurt him!"
Speed frowned and shrugged and Warren sagged slightly even as he attempted to straighten up and pull away from Lash. "How was I s'posed to know it'd affect him that strongly?" the superspeed boy asked. "As long as they don't pass out, everyone else is usually fine."
Lash sighed, arm unwinding from Warren's torso. "You are such a blockhead sometimes. What does fire need to stay lit, dumbass?"
"Air." But it wasn't Speed who spoke; it was Warren. The loss of support had been the last straw, and now he'd gotten past caring about his image, just taking slow, shallow breaths, one hand clutching his ribs. "I need air."
"Yeah, I get it, okay?" Speed grumbled. "I'm frigging sorry, quit - hey!" He darted forward just in time to catch Warren before he hit onto the concrete floor, and Warren would have been seriously annoyed by the show of weakness had everything not just turned black and fuzzy and soft and very, very distant…
-and you can feel it going from your chest with a great gasp, but nothing's there to take in-
Warren woke with a start, jerking up half-out of bed. His head swam, and he had to lean on an arm and brace himself for a long moment. His chest hurt, his head ached, and it took several moments for him to remember why. When he finally recalled the circumstances surrounding his sleep, he narrowed his eyes and glanced carefully around the unfamiliar room. His first thought would have been that Lash and Speed had done something else malevolent to him, if it weren't for the exchange they'd had before Warren had passed out - and the oxygen mask currently strapped to his face. Warren took deep breaths and relished the feeling of his fire coming back to life.
As he did so, he took in his surroundings. It looked like a bedroom, but an extremely posh one. Like the guest room of some mansion or something, or at the very least someone who wanted to pretend they owned a mansion. Regardless, it was definitely not the school nurse's office. Warren remained sitting on the edge of the bed for a while longer, anyway; it would be stupid to move and get himself in an unknown situation (especially one involving Lash and Speed) before at least getting his head clear again.
But the oxygen had clearly been going for a while, even if his body still ached, especially around the ribs (Warren wasn't worried; he was lucky enough to have two powers, though most didn't know it, and he was capable of taking a lot of damage without injury, or healing very quickly when he was hurt). When Warren very cautiously lit a candle-sized flicker on one finger, the flame worked fine without any new ill effects. Still, he waited a bit longer before pulling the strap off his head and climbing out of bed. His feet were bare, he noticed with a slight shake of his head. He could still get away if he had to, but it would slow him down - which was probably the point.
There was only one window in the room, and when Warren peered out of it he didn't recognize the neighborhood. At least there was a neighborhood, though, that was mildly reassuring.
Warren moved as stealthily as he could down the hall, feet sinking deep into the lush carpet. Around a corner up ahead he saw light, and heard voices. Warren was just wondering whether or not he should go speak to his benefactors/possible kidnappers, when a female voice called out, "Oh, there he is! Woken up already, Warren?"
Well, he had nothing to lose. With a shrug, Warren rounded the corner, straight into a lush living room occupied by Speed, Lash, some popular senior, and that cheerleading girl. On the coffee table in the center of the room were some snacks as well as a computer monitor showing a live feed of the hallway he'd just left. He frowned.
There was a pause.
"Who are you guys?" Warren asked, pushing past Lash to sit next to him on the couch. He wasn't much afraid of his fellow students, though he was aware that they had numbers on their side, even if Speed couldn't outmatch him solo. There was little point in being polite with these people, though.
The cheerleader girl looked like Warren had just smacked her. "Excuse me?" she asked. "You don't know who we are?"
"Well, no," Warren admitted. "I know those two -" he waved a dismissive hand at the black-and-white-stripe-clad boys, who grumbled in response - "but I really can't remember either of you girls' names. But actually I was really asking what sort of group this is. You clearly weren't going to take me here to play checkers, and it's pretty obvious that you -" he aimed this at the popular girl with the calm smile - "are in charge."
"So," Warren finished, leaning back and meeting her eyes, "I guess I really mean, 'what do you want?'"
She shot her disgruntled companions a look that seemed to say see, I told you so, and stuck out a perfectly manicured hand. Warren took it, and was surprised at the businesslike quality of her handshake. "Gwen Grayson," she said, eyes glittering, "and that's Penny. We've heard some rumors that you're going to be a pretty tough villain some day."
Warren narrowed his eyes, but kept his mouth tightly shut.
If anything, Gwen's smile just got wider. "Well," she said slowly, "care for a head start on that?"
-so when the air finally comes, it's welcome enough that you don't notice the taint of poison till later-
Chapter Two
Summary: "We've heard some rumors that you're going to be a pretty tough villain some day. Care for a head start on that?" - Warren must choose between light and dark, though maybe there's no difference at all anyway.
Chapter: 1/6
Note: Begins post-Save the Citizens scene. The plot slowly diverges from that point on.
-the air turns dark around you, and squeezes itself out of your lungs against your will-
The crowd was cheering, and Will Stronghold certainly looked happy, but Warren didn't take much notice, focused instead on his aching head. He stood too quickly in response to Stronghold's proffered hand, and had to make a great effort not to wobble when blackness spread across his vision, and everything suddenly seemed very distant.
He held his hands by his sides instead of clutching his head, so as not to alert anyone to his predicament, and kept breathing slowly, waiting until his vision cleared. His head still swam, but Warren thought he'd be okay.
Operative word: thought.
-all you can see is Speed, spinning round and round, and your fire is dying-
Warren miraculously made it into the locker room before he collapsed, slumping down on one of the benches and breathing slowly. He knew that it was the last period of school, and that the bell was about to ring, and that he really ought to get going, but all that was just a tiny thought in the back of his head, blocked by the swirling rush of air he couldn't quite reach.
He tried to breathe deeply, but for some reason he couldn't; his lungs felt concaved, unable to bend out properly, and he wouldn't be overly surprised if the vortex had actually snapped a rib. He had to admit it: that was a good trick Speed had there.
Warren heard footsteps approaching through the haze, and had his head not been currently splitting in two, he would have let go of it and stood up to preserve his image. As things were, he remained staring at the floor beneath his feet, hands rubbing his temples.
However, when a familiar black-and-white striped arm came into his view, in the process of wrapping around him and pulling him up to his feet, he did look up. Sure enough, Lash and Speed stood in front of him, expressions unreadable.
Warren grit his teeth. He really wasn't up to a fight right now. "What do you want?"
Speed crossed his arms resentfully, but Lash sighed, abruptly looking very tired. "To see if you're okay," he groaned, and Warren blinked - the biggest expression of shock he was willing to make at the moment.
"What?" he asked incredulously. Lash rubbed a hand over his face.
"This idiot here wasn't supposed to hurt you," he said quietly, shooting an annoyed glance at Speed, who slumped further, glaring at the ground.
Warren stared at them for a long moment; Lash's arm probably the only thing holding him up on his feet. He tried to ignore the black spots still hovering around the corners of his vision.
"Why not?"
Warren liked to think that he sounded just like he always did, and that nothing in his face gave away his weakness, and maybe he was right. Maybe it was just the fact that he didn't force Lash to drop him, but either way, an expression of worry flicked over the older boy's face, and he stepped closer, peering at Warren.
"Hey, hey," he said slowly. "Are you okay?"
Warren swallowed once. Then a few more times, because he tasted bile and the world decided to tip to the right and darken. "Yeah," he said thickly. "I'm fine. Leggo of me."
Lash frowned some more at his slightly slurred voice, and met Warren's eyes for a moment before Warren had to blink. God, his head hurt.
"I don't think you are," he said slowly, and then whipped his head around to glare at Speed. "You moron," he berated harshly, "we weren't supposed to really hurt him!"
Speed frowned and shrugged and Warren sagged slightly even as he attempted to straighten up and pull away from Lash. "How was I s'posed to know it'd affect him that strongly?" the superspeed boy asked. "As long as they don't pass out, everyone else is usually fine."
Lash sighed, arm unwinding from Warren's torso. "You are such a blockhead sometimes. What does fire need to stay lit, dumbass?"
"Air." But it wasn't Speed who spoke; it was Warren. The loss of support had been the last straw, and now he'd gotten past caring about his image, just taking slow, shallow breaths, one hand clutching his ribs. "I need air."
"Yeah, I get it, okay?" Speed grumbled. "I'm frigging sorry, quit - hey!" He darted forward just in time to catch Warren before he hit onto the concrete floor, and Warren would have been seriously annoyed by the show of weakness had everything not just turned black and fuzzy and soft and very, very distant…
-and you can feel it going from your chest with a great gasp, but nothing's there to take in-
Warren woke with a start, jerking up half-out of bed. His head swam, and he had to lean on an arm and brace himself for a long moment. His chest hurt, his head ached, and it took several moments for him to remember why. When he finally recalled the circumstances surrounding his sleep, he narrowed his eyes and glanced carefully around the unfamiliar room. His first thought would have been that Lash and Speed had done something else malevolent to him, if it weren't for the exchange they'd had before Warren had passed out - and the oxygen mask currently strapped to his face. Warren took deep breaths and relished the feeling of his fire coming back to life.
As he did so, he took in his surroundings. It looked like a bedroom, but an extremely posh one. Like the guest room of some mansion or something, or at the very least someone who wanted to pretend they owned a mansion. Regardless, it was definitely not the school nurse's office. Warren remained sitting on the edge of the bed for a while longer, anyway; it would be stupid to move and get himself in an unknown situation (especially one involving Lash and Speed) before at least getting his head clear again.
But the oxygen had clearly been going for a while, even if his body still ached, especially around the ribs (Warren wasn't worried; he was lucky enough to have two powers, though most didn't know it, and he was capable of taking a lot of damage without injury, or healing very quickly when he was hurt). When Warren very cautiously lit a candle-sized flicker on one finger, the flame worked fine without any new ill effects. Still, he waited a bit longer before pulling the strap off his head and climbing out of bed. His feet were bare, he noticed with a slight shake of his head. He could still get away if he had to, but it would slow him down - which was probably the point.
There was only one window in the room, and when Warren peered out of it he didn't recognize the neighborhood. At least there was a neighborhood, though, that was mildly reassuring.
Warren moved as stealthily as he could down the hall, feet sinking deep into the lush carpet. Around a corner up ahead he saw light, and heard voices. Warren was just wondering whether or not he should go speak to his benefactors/possible kidnappers, when a female voice called out, "Oh, there he is! Woken up already, Warren?"
Well, he had nothing to lose. With a shrug, Warren rounded the corner, straight into a lush living room occupied by Speed, Lash, some popular senior, and that cheerleading girl. On the coffee table in the center of the room were some snacks as well as a computer monitor showing a live feed of the hallway he'd just left. He frowned.
There was a pause.
"Who are you guys?" Warren asked, pushing past Lash to sit next to him on the couch. He wasn't much afraid of his fellow students, though he was aware that they had numbers on their side, even if Speed couldn't outmatch him solo. There was little point in being polite with these people, though.
The cheerleader girl looked like Warren had just smacked her. "Excuse me?" she asked. "You don't know who we are?"
"Well, no," Warren admitted. "I know those two -" he waved a dismissive hand at the black-and-white-stripe-clad boys, who grumbled in response - "but I really can't remember either of you girls' names. But actually I was really asking what sort of group this is. You clearly weren't going to take me here to play checkers, and it's pretty obvious that you -" he aimed this at the popular girl with the calm smile - "are in charge."
"So," Warren finished, leaning back and meeting her eyes, "I guess I really mean, 'what do you want?'"
She shot her disgruntled companions a look that seemed to say see, I told you so, and stuck out a perfectly manicured hand. Warren took it, and was surprised at the businesslike quality of her handshake. "Gwen Grayson," she said, eyes glittering, "and that's Penny. We've heard some rumors that you're going to be a pretty tough villain some day."
Warren narrowed his eyes, but kept his mouth tightly shut.
If anything, Gwen's smile just got wider. "Well," she said slowly, "care for a head start on that?"
-so when the air finally comes, it's welcome enough that you don't notice the taint of poison till later-
Chapter Two