Long Time Coming

Fire Consuming

****MATURE THEMES IN EFFECT FROM HERE ON OUT****

Seeing him had been an accident; Red Riot hadn't even known it was possible for them both to wind up in the same area their section had been so large.

Originally, when he had seen the light flashing, he had thought it was an opportunistic vandal taking advantage of the ravaged hotel. It hadn't taken long for him to get to the second floor, though it had taken a bit of finesse work to get to the room; the structure was compromised, parts of the floor was missing, walls caving in.

"A lucky thief or a stupid criminal." He growled as a door fell in on him.

Down the hall he heard a muffled gasp, a frantic scrabbling.

"Gotcha." He whispered, moving silently, slowly, carefully.

"I have a body."

The voice was shaken, broken. Red Riot peered in through the darkness. Ground Zero was kneeling among the debris up to his elbows in drywall and rebar, tears leaving clean paths down his face as he worked frantically to dig out the body. His hair was greasy and matted, stained with dirt. His uniform was more of a brown grey, parts ripped and frayed, others damp straight through. His gloves had held up but his face was bruised on the cheek, his arms scraped where they were exposed. A single jagged long cut stretched over his collarbone angry and red.

Ground Zero's single minded, emotional response to one lone casualty left Red Riot reeling.

Red Riot clenched his fists, his pride warred with his heart. He should leave. He should turn and walk away... but he couldn't.

That's not what heroes did.

"Let me help."

Ground Zero's hands paused, pulled away. He was trembling. He wiped at his nose, his face. He looked like he had seen a ghost; his eyes widened when he realized who was kneeling beside him, like he was looking at someone who shouldn't exist. Red Riot was used to that look from people he had rescued, it was unnerving from a fellow hero.

Ground Zero's hands clumsily removed debris as Red Riot pummeled through it, ignoring the emotions the rose in him as the two worked together; a perfect team, working in harmonious synchronicity as they always had. It felt so wrong in how right it was. All the hurt and anger Red Riot thought he had put aside steadily began to rise anew.

"Fuck-" Ground Zero gagged, running for the blown out wall.

Red Riot rolled his eyes, pulling the broken body out of its tomb. Its bones had been crushed, the blood had pooled in his lower half making him exceptionally stiff and bloated, difficult to drag and lay down properly. A maggot fell out of his mouth.

"Gross." Red Riot closed his eyes, breathing shallow to avoid the stink. "Body has been recovered." He announced to the earpiece, looking up as EMTs arrived with a stretcher. "EMTs on sight."

"Good work. We're wrapping it up over here. Maybe another half hour before we call it quits. Any survivors."

"None so far." He grunted, loading the body. "The hotel was pretty well evacuated. This guy must have come back for something."

"Okay. Good job. Be careful."

Red Riot peered over his shoulder at Ground Zero. "Sure."

He turned back to one of the paramedics. "Do you need help getting him out?" Please need help. Please say yes.

"Nah." She turned, flapping her wings. "Just need a large enough path for these babies."

Of fucking course. His face went blank, "Oh good. Be safe, thank you."