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Thundercrash (w/DeviousFish)

As she watched the brutal display rolling on the television, Dawn's mouth went dry and her stomach churned. She knew his power. He didn't have to kill those men. It would have been easy enough to simply restrain them. Insects, he had called them, and it seemed at the moment that they really were. Writhing, helpless pests crushed and broken before the might of a superior being. For a second, Dawn thought she was going to vomit, right there in the store. Not because of the barely discernible gore on the grainy feed, but because she felt deeply and personally responsible for all of this. They died, because she had failed.

Her stomach quailed again and her heart swelled with pity when she heard that he had taken a hostage. As she listened to Sergeant Wrede explain the situation, her mind drifted to the dark subway station where she had been captive to him. She had a few, very clear ideas what he might want to do with Mrs. Jackson. The woman was only human, not nearly as sturdy as Sparkler, could she even survive him? Closing her eyes, she tried to push the images out of her mind.

Breathing slowly and steadily, she calmed her rising nerves. Looking down at her armload of groceries, she questioned herself. A madman and killer was rampaging through her city and what was she doing? She was standing in line at the Quickie Mart to buy lime soda and ramen noodles. What kind of hero was she? Her own shame and humiliation was surely nothing in the face of this threat. Was she not the city's guardian and savior? This was not the time to hide.

When the news broke for commercials, she slowly tore her eyes away from the screen and looked around the store. Several people were chattering in hushed, concerned tones about what they had just seen. They were worried, frightened. Enough. Enough, Dawn thought. There was no time for her to wallow in self pity. She had a job to do. These people of the city weren't insects, they were helpless children before a vicious monster. Her children. And they needed her to be strong. She snatched up her purchases and marched back to her apartment with a determined look in her eye.

When she returned home, she ripped off her wig and pushed her tangled blue locks into a rough pony tail. Time to get back to work. It had been only two days since her assault, but she couldn't waste anymore time. She had to stop Silver Soul and soon. But she would be careful. No dashing off half-cocked and impatient. She'd take the time to make a plan and do a little research. Shuffling through her bedside drawer, she pulled out a small phone and dialed the number to her contact at the police department. When the other end picked up, she spoke with a voice that was clear and confident.

"This is Sparkler. We need to talk."
 
"You're damn right we do." came the harsh reply. Her source, Detective Jim Hannigan, was a gruff man in his early fourties. Although he was a fine cop now, he'd made some mistakes early on that had almost ended his career. But by all indications, he'd been on the level for at least a decade, and his shady past had left him with connections and informants that none of the other detectives had. And yet, he was still viewed with suspicion by many cops. With the way his fellow officers had turned their backs on him, it was little wonder that Hannigan had found an ally outside the force.

"It's been two days since I gave you the information about the storage crate, and you haven't so much as called to follow up. Even if you didn't find anything, you ought to tell me about it. Did you find anything, by the way? I mean, I assume it didn't lead you right to him, or we wouldn't be having massacres in banks, but did you find any new evidence?"
 
Dawn frowned. It was highly irregular for her to not check in for such a long time after receiving a lead. Normally, she would have called the minute she had anything, so the police could come and pick up the criminal once she was done. Considering how things had turned out, she was glad she had not done so. She didn't need him giving her grief about it.

"Look," she said, trying not to sound impatient. "I just wanted to follow up on a couple things. No point in calling you until I had something certain, right? As it so happens, I think I might have a pretty good idea where he is now."

She would have to be careful how much she told him. If he knew the truth about what had happened, he'd be understanding, but she'd never be able to look him in the eye again. When she had first met Detective Hannigan, he'd been ambivalent about her motives and abilities. And due to his shady past, she'd been slow to trust him. Over time, as they achieved better and better results, they had earned each others respect and trust. He was pretty rough around the edges, and by no means a saint, but he was a good person and an excellent cop. Outright lying was out of the question, he knew her too well and was a shrewd man. Deceit might damage the working relationship they had developed. But maybe she could hold a few things back.

"I'm gonna go after him, but I need some help to make sure no one else gets hurt."

Herself included.
 
Hannigan gave a satisfied grunt. "Now that's what I like to hear. Now, what have you got and what do you need? In that order, mind you. I'll be glad to do whatever I can, but first you gotta tell me what you know."
 
"I spoke to some sources who knew about the storage unit," she said, vaguely. "I've narrowed it down to a few blocks. I can find him pretty easily from there."

She thought a moment, trying to decide what else she should tell him.

"I also learned he has a triangular scar or tattoo on the palm of his left hand. This could be a small clue to his identity. It's unusual enough, that it might show up in medical or arrest records."

It was a long shot, but Dawn hoped she could learn something about him before she faced him again. If she could find out something, anything, about his normal life, it would make him seem so much more human. There was also that nagging at the back of her mind, the things he had said about her being made for him. She had to debunk it, or at least understand it. If Hannigan could help her with that, she might risk one more piece of information.

"There's also this thing... it might be completely stupid..." she began tentatively. "Do you remember a freak lightning storm that passed through about nine years ago? It left a huge trail of destruction to the south of here. Its possible he's connected to that...somehow." Or not. Dawn wasn't sure the storm correlated with her own powers or if it was just the triangular object. She had left that as mystery unsolved all these years. "If anything... weird sticks out about that day, could you pass it on to me?"
 
"Lightning storm? I guess I can look into it... but that thing about his hand, that's really good. I'll put the description out, start in Walker City and expand from there. As for the location, just give me an area and I can get a search started." There was a momentary pause, and when Hannigan spoke again, it was with genuine concern. "You know you don't have to do this alone, right kid?"
 
"Good," she said, smiling. "Hope you can find something."

She winced when he mentioned starting a search. The last thing Dawn wanted was more potential victims crowding the area. It was bad enough she was going to have to deal with a hostage, having a squad of police officers, that she wasn't sure she could protect, would be too much.

"No, no search," Dawn said quickly. "The last thing we need is a heavy police presence over there. He could run, kill the hostage, or both. I think I can find him and take him by surprise."

Hopefully, he wouldn't push the issue.

"I know," she said, smiling into the phone. "That's why I'm calling you. What I need is... I need a way to starve him."

When she saw the arcs of electricity on the news, she had realized that he could gain power from other sources besides herself. She had a plan to protect her own power, but if he could take it from the city, it would be pointless. There would be no wearing him out.

"He feeds off electrical power. I need a way to shut it off - just for a little while - to a few specific blocks. I could do it myself, but that would be... messy," she said, chuckling. "I don't know if the power company would cooperate or not... but it might be worth a shot. It's been done in the past before, hasn't it?"
 
Hannigan was quiet for a moment, probably pondering the idea and how he would go about it. "I don't know if it has, but all things considered, I think I can arrange something. I'll give you a call when I have something, whether it's the power or the hand or the storm. In the meantime... don't do anything reckless, kid."
 
"Alright," she said. "I'll wait as long as I can."

With a sigh, she hung up the phone. Dawn was keenly aware that every minute that ticked by was another minute Mrs. Jackson had to spend with that monster. Of course, she also knew being hasty was a sure way to get them both into trouble. For now, she would wait and she would plan.

Tucking the phone into her pocket, she peered out the window. It was pitch dark. She could safely fly to her hideout without being seen. There was something she needed to retrieve from there. Carefully, she shimmied out the open window and took off into the night.

The place she had dubbed as her hideout was an old radio tower in the woods that bordered the north end of the city. It had long been neglected and abandoned, the company that owned it had even gone bankrupt. All roads and paths leading to it were now overgrown with thick weeds and fallen trees. The building was ancient and the windows were busted out. But the basement was in surprisingly good shape. It was there that she had set up her secret base of sorts. When she was on patrol, it was risky to fly back and forth to her home for breaks and making calls. So, she would come here. It was clean and neat and had a computer with satellite uplink, boxes of old cases and assorted trophies, a change of clothes, and a small stash of food. Her home away from home, as it were.

When she arrived, she zapped an old marine battery that was connected to the electronics, and the lights buzzed on. She went straight for a set of boxes and started combing through them while she waited for Hannigan's call.
 
It was about an hour before the phone rang. It was Hannigan.

"I couldn't find anything on that storm you mentioned, but I may have found something better. Some professor from Walker City with a triangle scar on his hand. Made some threats against some of his coworkers, not that anything stuck, but he's still in the system. Hardly sounds like a stone-cold killer, I know, but he's got the mark and something else. This guy's an electrical engineer. Professor James Con... Connie... it's like Russian or something, I can't say it. But he might be the guy. And more good news: we're ready to cut the power to those blocks on your signal. The power company only agreed to five minutes, though, so you gotta make this good."
 
While she waited for the call, she had found what she was looking for - her old suit. It was the same blue and white color scheme, but was a skin tight body suit made of a cotton sateen material that was supposed to be electric arc resistant. It had been a real problem, when she first started hero work, for her to accidentally let loose an electric jolt or two during combat. These slip-ups had damaged equipment and put innocent bystanders at risk. The suit couldn't stop her stronger attacks, but it did inhibit the flow of electricity from her body to the outside. As she learned to control her power (and became more confident with her body) she had shifted to the more flexible and less expensive lycra leotard. Now, however, she saw that it might be useful again. It was sturdier than her other suit and its arc protection would hopefully prevent her from accidentally feeding him.

She was shaking out the suit when her phone rang. Quickly, she fished it out of her pocket and answered it. Listening to what Hannigan said, her lips broke into a grin.

An Electrical Engineer? Of course he was. Due to her powers, she'd considered the profession for herself. Only problem was she sucked at math, the intense course load would have left no time for hero work, and she'd probably fry every piece of electrical equipment she came in contact with anyway. So, she had settled for a Communications degree and a few Geology courses with some pie-in-the sky idea of writing for a natural science magazine someday. She sat down at her computer and began to type his name.

"That makes a lot of sense. Can you spell it? Or send me a picture of him?" she wanted to get a look at the real Silver Soul. Of course he'd had his mask on before, but she'd seen him very close, and she was sure of the shape of his face. If she saw a picture of him, maybe with dorky glasses and a pocket protector, then she would know. He was just a normal person... like her. Only he'd let his ego get the better of him and gone nuts with that power. But he was still only human, very mortal and quite vincible.

When Jim mentioned that the electric company was willing to cooperate, Dawn became almost giddy. Everything was falling into place. Then she heard her time limit.

"FIVE MINUTES?" she yelled into the receiver. "You can't make toast in FIVE MINUTES. Ugh."

Her breath huffed into the receiver, exasperated. She had been hoping for half an hour minimum. How was she going to wear him down in that amount of time? She was fast, but not that fast. What if he had back up generators that had to be accounted for? Did the company NOT realize what was at stake here? If she were the FBI or something, she bet Faire City Power and Lights would have HAD to comply, she thought sourly. As it was, she realized she was probably lucky to get that measly amount of time. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Sorry. I know it was probably like pulling teeth to get what you did. Thank you. I'll just have to make it count, like you said." she laughed a little, but was feeling worried again.

She looked at the clock, it was 9:15. If she hurried, she could get ready and fly over there in about twenty minutes. But she wanted a little more leeway than that. If she could, she'd like to get there when he wasn't home. That would give her time to get the hostage out of harms way before the battle started.

"Give me an hour," she said. "I'll call at 10:15 with a more specific time. How much warning do they need before the power is cut?"
 
"Not a lot. We can cut it within a minute of your signal. Here, let me get you that name." After a few seconds of rummaging around, Hannigan spelled out the name Konietzko. A quick computer search led her to his page at Walker University. It was Silver Soul, all right, short black hair not withstanding. But if she was expecting a nerdy professor in outdated clothing, she was much mistaken. Without the mask, his handsome features were all the more striking, and he peered at her from the screen with a confident smile that was only slightly less disconcerting than the one he wore in person. It didn't even look like it was taken by the same photographer as the other dull faculty photos; it looked more like an ad in a magazine, trying to sell her something expensive.
 
"I can't be sure, of course. But I bet that's our guy," she said, her throat suddenly dry.

Contrary to what she said, there was no doubt in her mind that was him. Her stomach had clenched when she saw his devilish smirk and she swallowed a lump in her throat. For a moment it seemed his face, all at once so beautiful and dreadful, was bent over hers again. She could almost feel him inside of her, thrusting, insistent, and tearing her apart. Closing her eyes, she shut the vision out. It worried her that the mere sight of him brought such a palpable physical reaction. Would she be able to fight him like this, or would she crumble into a hysterical mess?

Shaking off that thought, she went back to analyzing the picture. She noted the professional quality of the photo. When she was on camera as Sparkler, she certainly did a fair amount of preening to look gorgeous, but in her everyday wig and clothes she appeared fairly plain and normal. She wondered if, in his vanity, he had hired someone specifically to make him look good. Suddenly, the thought of him fooling around in photoshop to get the lighting right or instructing the photographer to "get his good side," made her laugh. It was her weakest attempt by far to lessen him in her mind, but it successfully lightened her mood a bit. He was human, damnit. As flawed, weak, and silly as the rest of the world. This photograph, however beautiful, was evidence.

"Good. As I said, I'll call you in an hour to report," she said finally. It was time to get back to business. She started to hang up the phone to get ready. Then another thought occurred to her. "Those coworkers he threatened? They still in the land of the living?"
 
"Looks like. Or if any of them did kick it, their deaths weren't considered suspicious, because I know those investigations would have turned up our Professor here, and that would have shown up when I searched. So apparently he's not a man who keeps his promises. Bet he's a real heartbreaker." A noise like a hairball being coughed up assaulted her ear; it was something Hannigan did when he was displeased, which was fairly often.
 
"Heartbreaker... yeah... right," muttered Dawn and she forced an ironic laugh.

She wasn't sure what she was expecting. Killing people close to his real identity would have aroused too much suspicion, so it only made sense to leave them alone. He just didn't seem like the sort to make idle threats. Certainly his words had held true thus far. You're going to end up just like Larksong. Except for those. Larksong was presumably dead and whatever else she had endured, Sparkler was still alive and kicking. Dawn smiled a little smugly at that thought.

"I need to go now," she said quickly to Hannigan. "An hour's not a lot of time. Should be enough, but I can't stand around chit chatting."

With that, she unceremoniously hung up and set to getting dressed. The body suit was a bit more of a pain to get into, yet another reason she had abandoned it. Unzipping the back, she slipped herself into it, one leg and arm at a time. The material was supposed to be only natural fibers to prevent arcing and melting under heat, but it must have had some synthetic because it still stretched to hug her curves tightly. When she had squeezed herself in, the next step was zipping it and that was always a nuisance. After some cursing and twisting though, she pulled the zipper up until it reached the high collar at the back of her neck.

"Ugh." she groaned as she flexed and stretched in it. The thing covered her from her ankles and wrists to her neck and was hot as hell. She was going to be a sweaty mess when time came to peel out of it. How other heroes ran around all day in even heavier material than this, she didn't know.

When she had slipped on her boots, gloves, and belt, she was almost ready to go. She picked up a pouch and tied it onto her belt. Inside was a flashlight, a pair of night vision goggles, and watch. Nothing military grade, just some cheap ones she bought at a sporting goods store a long time ago. She had tried to think of absolutely everything. Picking up a box with Theresa's coat and a new one in it, she shot up the basement stairs and out the door.

During her flight, she kept high in the clouds out of sight. Normally, she liked to let her presence be known, but this was not one of those times. When she reached her destination, she descended quickly and lighted on the rooftop next to Theresa's abode.

"Theresa?" she whispered as she descended into the alleyway. "Are you down there?"
 
"Well where else would I be?" came the grumbled reply. Theresa peered up at Sparkler, clearly confused. Then her face cleared as she apparently came to some sort of understanding. "I know I said to find a change of clothes, but what's that you're wearing? You work for the circus? I certainly wouldn't want to walk around in that getup. How you feeling, girl? Did you go to the hospital like I told you?"
 
"Circus? But I'm-" Sparkler began to explain, then shook her head. She guessed she did look a bit like a trapeze artist. She chuckled. "Something like that. I'm on my way to see a real clown right now."

Placing the box down in front of her, she pulled off her glove and showed Theresa her perfectly healed hand. "I'm feeling great. All better, see?" She ignored the hospital question. Then gestured at the box. "I brought your coat back. And bought you a new one too. In case the blood stain didn't come out of the other one."

Then, looking over her shoulder, she could just see the building that belonged to Soul. Theresa could probably see a good bit of it from where she sat.

"Say," she said, jerking her thumb towards it. "You see anyone coming or going from that place today?"
 
Theresa seemingly went rigid, then vigorously shook her head. "Nope. No. Don't see anything going on there. Thanks for the coat. Coats. That's real nice of you." Theresa took the coats from Sparkler and took a few steps back, pressing her back against the alley wall as though she could melt into it. He eyes were fixed on the building.
 
It was clear the homeless woman knew something, but wasn't willing to tell. Sparkler stared intently at her a moment.

"Look, I just need to know if anyone's there or..."

Sparkler sighed heavily. Of course the woman was frightened. Who knew what she had seen or who had threatened her? Theresa wasn't just some criminal that she could shake down for information. Besides, the woman had helped her enough already. It wouldn't be fair to keep pressing her. Life was hard enough on the streets without drawing attention from some villain.

"Okay," she said, smiling weakly. "I'm not gonna push it. I understand. If you think of anything, I'll be close by. Take care of yourself. And thanks again."

With that, Sparkler glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone was around. Seeing no one, she sprang softly into the air, gliding up and onto the roof of the next building. From there she crouched and peered at the empty building. Now what? She glanced at her watch. In about twenty minutes, she needed to call Hannigan and set up a time to kill the power. By then, she needed to have a plan to get in. Waltzing in through the front door and down the hatch like last time seemed like the most foolish thing ever. Yes, she planned to face Silver Soul, but on her own terms and only after the hostage was safe.

Damnit," she muttered and put her head in her hands. "Didn't think this thing through, did you?"

If she'd had time, she could have planned more thoroughly. Maybe contacted Mass Transit or the Historical Society for a map of the old subways. Found another, less obvious way in. Soul had escalated things though, when he had taken a hostage. A fact she suspected he was keenly aware of. As she crouched on the roof, she could feel her courage failing. What if her plan failed? And everything happened just like before? Fifteen minutes. She needed to call in fifteen minutes. By then, she had to make a decision.

She slipped back down from the roof and crouched on the dumpster next to Theresa. "I know I said I wasn't going to ask again, but are you SURE there wasn't anything you saw? Even if it seems weird or unimportant? I won't tell anyone." Her plan of attack hinged on whether or not Soul was home and she needed some clue to his whereabouts. Or maybe she was just stalling and waiting for inspiration.
 
Theresa barely glanced at Sparkler as she flew back into the alley; she was still a bit fixated on the building. Finally she looked at the heroine. "You promise? You won't think I'm crazy? I didn't want to say it because they might put me away, but..." She looked back to the building. "Every day I see the angel of death leaving that place in shining silver armor. He goes to collect souls, and sometimes I see him bring them back."
 
"I don't think you're crazy at all," said Sparkler smiling. Theresa might not be quite in tune with what was going on in the city, but she saw more than most people. "When was the last time you saw the angel leave today? Has he come back?"
 
"Just... curious," Sparkler decided there was no point in explaining everything to her. She'd only be worried or try to talk her out of it. "Thanks for talking to me."

Without another word, she flew back up to the top of the roof. It would seem he wasn't home. Now would be the perfect time to break in and get the hostage. She was hinging a lot on the accuracy of Theresa's information, but she didn't see what other choice she had. There was no time to make another plan. It was 10:15 on the dot. Quickly, she flipped open her phone and called Hannigan. When he picked up, she was brief.

"Tell them to cut the power in twenty-five minutes, unless I call back," she said quickly and hung up. If she had stayed on the line, he would have asked where she was or for a more detailed status report. She didn't want to give him that yet. Not until she had Soul beaten or... whatever else she planned to do.

That was it, though. She was on a clock now. Turning off the phone, she hid it on the roof for later. If all went well, she'd bring Mrs. Jackson to safety, call it in, then wait to confront Silver. Pushing down the lingering fear in her gut, she took off into the sky. Rather than go straight at the building, she made the block and came at it from behind. Then, trying her best to stay unseen, she hovered around the top floor looking for a loose window. It wasn't foolproof, these were just as likely to be monitored as the front door, but waltzing in like she owned the place seemed reckless and stupid. She wondered why she had done it before.

Finally, she found a window that was cracked open. Maybe the workmen had left it that way when they were painting? Too convenient? Probably. But she slid it open and slipped in anyway. Now she just had to make her way to the ground floor and into the hatch that led to the basement. Was it too much to hope that he hadn't repaired it yet? Having to bust it open again would waste time and cost her more in stealth. If only she had looked for a back entrance when she had been there last! No point in worrying about that now. She zipped down to the first floor and looked around.
 
From the outside, the building looked the same as it always had, but as she hurried down the staircases, she could see equipment set up in some of the offices, in areas where the inner walls of the building blocked it from view. On the first floor, there was quite a surprise waiting for her: not only had the hatch not been repaired, it had been completely removed. The staircase leading into the darkness of Silver Soul's lair was in plain view.
 
As she descended from the top floor, she stopped to peer into one or two of the rooms. This was definitely different. None of the machines were anything she recognized immediately, though. Worth looking into? Probably. But she was on a specific mission. Nothing she laid eyes on seemed like a place to hold a woman hostage and that was what she was looking for. When she got to the ground floor and found the entrance to the basement gaping open, she paused. Was he not even trying to hide anymore? The stairs were just there, practically inviting her in. Still, it had only been two days... maybe he hadn't repaired it yet? Or maybe...

Trap. Trap. TRAP. SUPER OBVIOUS GODDAMN TRAP.

Her brain screamed at her to turn around and fly away now. There was nothing she could do. He was waiting for her, down there, and everything was going to happen just like before. She'd be caught, helpless, hopeless, and powerless. For a minute, panic gripped her so strongly she couldn't breathe.

No. I know what I'm doing this time. I have to go. Its my duty. My job. My life.

Fumbling in the pouch at her side, she fished out her watch. Nineteen minutes left. She pulled out her flashlight, so she wouldn't need to generate any electricity to see. Then, swallowing her fear, she plunged into the abyss.
 
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