12-04-2014, 09:50 AM
Xena- he really should try to find out her name. He didn't remember her giving it to the Cap. Then again, a lot was going on that night.- anyway, Xena seemed to physically take control of herself. Back to business, looked like.
He shrugged. He couldn't really blame her. He was a stranger. And when you had a job to do, you just did it. Couldn't let things get in the way. You grieve at home.
He smiled at her mothering/bossy tone. Then again, he liked strong women. Strong people in general. As long as they didn't try to take charge of him. Well, mostly, anyway. He smiled at a few memories.
Looking around the room though, there was just no telling what these things were. He wanted to call it in, get the Cap's secret monster disposal unit, or whatever had taken those things from the other night, but he didn't know the department number. He was pretty sure Cap would not appreciate his calling over the radio. "Yeah, this is Sarkozy, badge 103098. I need a monster clean up crew down here in the tunnels."
Cap said this was on the DL; PT. As in, not on any books. Calling attention to this would end his career in Domovoi before had even started. That left only one thing.
He touched Xena lightly on the shoulder. "I'm gonna torch this room. Let's move to the entrance."
She complied and they stood just out of the room.
The power still was with him- thank God- and he drew on it, pulled and pulled until he felt near to bursting, like when he did preacher curls and the skin around his forearms and bicep felt just about ready to pop from the engorged muscle underneath. It was a good feeling but bordered on painful.
The room seemed nearly light as topside and sounds thundered in his ears- his own heartbeat, Xena's hissed breathing, the vast weight above pressing on the air around them. The power roared in him and it was glorious. He felt power incarnate, a god, able to unleash destruction from his fingertips.
As if a summons, threads of fire formed at the tips of his fingers, thick and red, mixed with air, until it was a massive roiling firestorm. It shot out from his hands into the room. He felt the air rush into the room from behind him him and he fed more and more until the room blazed, the very air aflame.
The heat on his face was from a furnace and he stepped back, brushing Xena back as well. He directed the weave to the lumps of flesh and burned them until they were blackened char, burned the scattered smoldering debris, the walls and the blood on them until even they darkened and he heard the crack of brick. He gloried in it, could almost feel that his eyes and body glowed with the power of creation and destruction in his hands.
Minutes could have gone buy. Hours. He had no sense of time. But he felt his strength waning. The fire began to dwindle as the fuel he fed it was used up, as he could no longer keep them up.
He let the weaves dissipate, and a moment later, felt the power itself drain away from him. He felt flaccid and wrung out, weak. The room radiated heat like an oven, the warmth nearly a tangible barrier, covered in char. He became aware of the heat in his face, the feeling of raw tenderness, the sweat dripping down from his hair and cheeks, wetness around his neck and collar.
He stepped back and looked at Xena, smiling weakly at her. "All done."
He could feel the quiet around him.
He shrugged. He couldn't really blame her. He was a stranger. And when you had a job to do, you just did it. Couldn't let things get in the way. You grieve at home.
He smiled at her mothering/bossy tone. Then again, he liked strong women. Strong people in general. As long as they didn't try to take charge of him. Well, mostly, anyway. He smiled at a few memories.
Looking around the room though, there was just no telling what these things were. He wanted to call it in, get the Cap's secret monster disposal unit, or whatever had taken those things from the other night, but he didn't know the department number. He was pretty sure Cap would not appreciate his calling over the radio. "Yeah, this is Sarkozy, badge 103098. I need a monster clean up crew down here in the tunnels."
Cap said this was on the DL; PT. As in, not on any books. Calling attention to this would end his career in Domovoi before had even started. That left only one thing.
He touched Xena lightly on the shoulder. "I'm gonna torch this room. Let's move to the entrance."
She complied and they stood just out of the room.
The power still was with him- thank God- and he drew on it, pulled and pulled until he felt near to bursting, like when he did preacher curls and the skin around his forearms and bicep felt just about ready to pop from the engorged muscle underneath. It was a good feeling but bordered on painful.
The room seemed nearly light as topside and sounds thundered in his ears- his own heartbeat, Xena's hissed breathing, the vast weight above pressing on the air around them. The power roared in him and it was glorious. He felt power incarnate, a god, able to unleash destruction from his fingertips.
As if a summons, threads of fire formed at the tips of his fingers, thick and red, mixed with air, until it was a massive roiling firestorm. It shot out from his hands into the room. He felt the air rush into the room from behind him him and he fed more and more until the room blazed, the very air aflame.
The heat on his face was from a furnace and he stepped back, brushing Xena back as well. He directed the weave to the lumps of flesh and burned them until they were blackened char, burned the scattered smoldering debris, the walls and the blood on them until even they darkened and he heard the crack of brick. He gloried in it, could almost feel that his eyes and body glowed with the power of creation and destruction in his hands.
Minutes could have gone buy. Hours. He had no sense of time. But he felt his strength waning. The fire began to dwindle as the fuel he fed it was used up, as he could no longer keep them up.
He let the weaves dissipate, and a moment later, felt the power itself drain away from him. He felt flaccid and wrung out, weak. The room radiated heat like an oven, the warmth nearly a tangible barrier, covered in char. He became aware of the heat in his face, the feeling of raw tenderness, the sweat dripping down from his hair and cheeks, wetness around his neck and collar.
He stepped back and looked at Xena, smiling weakly at her. "All done."
He could feel the quiet around him.