capeandcowllogs | Fighting fire with...not fire

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Fighting fire with...not fire

WHO:

a_relative_hero and OPEN
WHERE: A less nice part of the City
WHEN: Really late Friday Night/Early Saturday Morning
WARNINGS: None predicted
SUMMARY: A building is on fire. People need saving. Time to do some superhero-stuff that doesn't involve punching and blasting and stuff. Houston's pulling people out of danger and could use a little help.
FORMAT: whatever

Houston hadn't seen what happened as he'd been a block away stopping a mugger. But he heard it. And when he showed up on the scene, a bystander filled him in on what was the cause of the current problem. Two cars had smashed into one another on the street, one flipping over and blocking the street. The other went and ended up jumping the curb before slamming into the wall of a building. And to make matters worse, it quickly caught fire...and then that fire moved to the apartment building it crashed into.

Now there's a burning apartment building. While several people made it out on their own, there are others still needing rescue. Houston's rushing in and out of the building, carrying people and pets to safety but he could probably use a hand. Even with his speed he can't be everywhere at once and there are people stuck on the higher floors that could use rescue.

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"Four minutes, fifty two seconds, approximately." Ghost takes his hand, phasing them both out into the hallway, hearing the supports creak alarmingly; both the kids are crying again as Ghost lets go of Houston.

Houston nods, waiting until they're back in the hall to speak. "More than enough time," he replies with a smile. He turns to the kids and moves to pick them both up. "We're all going to be safe so no more tears, okay? You two just need to hold on tight and I'll get you outside where there's no more fire," he speaks to the kids in that same reassuring tone he'd been using inside the room. "I'll be right back," he comments to Ghost before activating that power of his and starting to zip the kids outside.

Another slow scan of the building so far as he can see it, hearing the wail of the fire engines outside, and although it was a long time ago, he remembers another 'accident' quite vividly as he drifts through the wall/floor to the lower level, shifting phase to invisible as firemen rush in. He slips out through a broken window, becoming visible again and landing, turning to survey the building from outside.

All the possessions, family heirlooms, pictures, books, furniture, some lifetimes of effort and work up in smoke and slag. Meaningless in comparison to the mother's relief for her children, of course, but...

He thinks of Shana, and hates that he still wonders if she died instantly, or if she knew what was happening the moment before the blast.

Then he looks around for Houston, shaking off the cobwebs of memory. Needing a distraction.

Houston pulls himself away from a few grateful people, blushing despite the sweat and soot covering him. He speaks with them a bit more before looking around to Ghost and jogging over.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asks, ignoring the fact that he should be resting himself. He's lightly burned and probably inhaled more smoke than he should have but he's doing his very best to ignore that right now. "Thanks for all that help in there."

"Hm." Ghost looks down at him, hunching his shoulders in and evaluating Houston with the tech at his disposal, LEDs dimming a little, "Intact. And in less singed condition than you. You should rest, perhaps."

There's an awkward beat at the thanks, Ghost nodding his head twice, then alighting gently. "That is what your kind does regularly. The dangerous civilian rescue. We aren't so different."

"I am getting a bit tired. Using my powers so much..." Houston trails off, looking from Ghost to the fire and back again. "Once I'm sure they don't need anymore help, I promise I'll get some rest."

He blinks a few times, looking a little confused. "My kind? What do you mean?"

"Your abilities have a fatigue limit? What is their source?" He follows Houston's glance at the fire, "My scans show the building is now unoccupied."

A longer, measured pause, before Ghost fades to invisible--across the street a local news crew has arrived, which might have something to do with Ghost's desire not to show up on TV. He speaks after a second, the tinny mechanical voice still loud and clear. "You work outside conventional law, disguise your identity and act on your own moral code." A moment of silence, then a soft rustle, possibly a shrug, "I have seen the inside of prison walls for the same."

"I get tired running around so much if that's what you mean," Houston replies. "No idea about my speed. The Porter gave me those powers," he explains, a little embarrassed by that bit of ignorance. He nods when told about the building, happy about that.

He blinks when Ghost fades out but doesn't seem startled by it. He's too used to his brother doing the same thing back home. Noticing the TV cameras makes the goggle-wearing teen blush a moment though but he shakes that off and clears his throat. "Oh man, I'm sorry," Houston replies, assuming that Ghost just comes from an anti-superhero world. "Hopefully the same won't happen here."

"Metabolism-based, then." Ghost sounds like he's pondering, "The Porter AI has an interesting array of ability samples."

"...don't be sorry." Ghost becomes visible again standing behind Houston, watching him intensely, then starts to float lazily off down the street away from the cameras and building both. "I thought it was interesting." Whether this concludes their conversation or not isn't exactly clear, but he doesn't seem like he'd object Houston following.

"Maybe," Joel shrugs, really not knowing. "Well, think about it. The Porter has access to all of the comic books, movies, books, TV shows, and everything else she can make vanish, right? So she's got all those places to peek at for ideas."

Houston jumps, whipping around quickly. He blinks before following along. "Interesting? Being in jail was interesting?" he asks as they go.

"She is an impressive intelligence, yes." Not the first A.I. he's met, of course, not even the first evil, imaginative A.I., but the first one with that kind of power.

"Not incarceration. That was unpleasant." He elaborates gently, opening his hands as if embracing the City, encompassing it, gloved palms upward to the sky, and then looks over his shoulder at Houston. "This place, and our aims - to bring liberation to our brothers and sisters. What drives you?"

"Oh," Houston replies, a little embarrassed that he made the mistake. He looks around at the City as Ghost gestures, nodding. "What drives me?" he repeats. "Well, I've always wanted to be a superhero. And now that I'm here, I actually have powers and can do it. So...I'm helping as much as I can," he replies, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ghost doesn't seem bothered, showing a decisive interest in Houston's answer as he orients himself to float backwards and keep his gaze on Houston--passing through a stop-sign, thoughtfully, "Helping by maintaining interpersonal accord without expectation of reward."

He points back at the building, "You could have died in there, but you took that chance for strangers. And you showed no interest in the cameras."

Houston glances back at the stop-sign as they pass it, smiling a moment before turning his attention back to Ghost. "Of course I don't expect a reward," he replies with a smile.

The goggle-wearing teen glances back when Ghost points, smile fading. "Well, I've had more than enough media exposure back home," he's not a fan of that. "But...those people needed help. So I helped them. It was the right thing to do."

"What do you expect?"

He stops again for a second, watching Houston expectantly, "What would you do for larger social problems?"

"I'm not really expecting anything," Houston shrugs. He's looking a little lost. "Am I supposed to be?"

He arches both brows at the next question. "Well I guess that depends on what problems you're talking about."

"Everyone has a motivating force." He did find himself accepting of a wide range of behaviors, though, and it was probably both a good and bad thing. "At least one. Some have more than one."

Ghost's thin shoulders bob briefly in a shrug. "Global poverty?"

"Is that motivating force always expecting something in return?" he quirks a brow. "I'm not doing any of this for a paycheck. I have a job for that," he sigh. The job is not doing well. "And I don't want fame either. I just...want to help people."

Houston thinks a moment then shakes his head. "I think that problem is one a bit too big for any one person to do anything about."

"The motivating force is the return. Money, or a warm feeling. A sense of purpose. A cause." He floated along again in silence, listening to the sigh and looking curiously over.

"A very small group of people have created the problem. I believe a very small group of people can surmount it."

He looked down in thought for a moment. "If it has to be one of those...then a sense of purpose. A reason to be," he replied. It seemed the most fitting.

"Only takes one person to start a landslide but more to stop it."

"I see."

A silence, a long, long silence this time, "And if someone had a habit of starting landslides? Repeatedly? What would you do?"

Joel looked down. "First they need to be caught and stopped. The reason for the landslides needs to be discovered and then a fitting punishment be given. Jail time or something like that. They'd go to trial to decide."

"Ah. You believe in the justice system." It was almost a sympathetic tone.

"For some things," Houston replied. "They do some really dumb things sometimes."

Indeed. Such as allowing the rich to buy themselves out of legal trouble. These--culprits of landslides have a system favorable to their ends. A vigilante's actions aren't merely the best way--they are the only way.

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a_relative_hero - 2011-08-10 02:50 (UTC) - Expand

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