C5 Sage

Firebreath.

Vinny let out an audible scoff at the name, watching as Kailan slung his bag over his shoulder and left in a haste. An immediate silence took over the room once he was gone, and Vincent let his glare fall comfortably to the sweating sheet of glass beside him.

The city was busy as usual, even though the Space Needle was poking through a foggy overhead in the distance. It was Seattle, after all. No one feared the rain, and umbrellas weren't worth the effort it took to carry them.

Speaking of which, a downpour sounded nice right about now.

Vinny leaned his head against the glass, the cool sensation calming his nerves. He had always been a fan of the cold. Or, really, just a fan of anything not-hot. With the gloomy weather ahead, it seemed like a better time than ever to go see Sage. His fingers pressed to the glass as the first flicker of rain pelted the window. Its brothers and sisters followed soon after, and Vincent felt satisfied with the quickly dampening conditions.

He took to his feet and left the room, sauntering the halls with his hands warm in his jean pockets.

"Hey, Vinny!" a familiar voice hollered from behind him, and Vincent spun on his heels.

"Jeff." He gleamed, catching his acquaintance with a bump of the shoulder. "How's it going?"

Jeff was an average-Joe. A scrawny, stereotypical college kid, nothing too unique about him. He did manage to throw the wildest college parties in the entire northwest, though. Vincent was always his VIP guest, because in Jeff's words, 'You bring the babes'.

"How you feeling, man?" He laughed, sweeping short brown locks from his face. "You were slammed last night.

"Won't be touching booze for a while." Vincent scowled.

"You should reconsider." Jeff passed him that same mischievous smirk he always had when there was something dubious up his sleeve. "Football season's starting. A bunch of the cheerleaders wanted to throw a party to celebrate the team. What do you say?"

"I'm not really into football."

"But you're into girls. And there will be lots and lots of girls."

Vinny turned down the hall with a smirk, calling over his shoulder, "I'll consider it."

Though Vincent got along with most people he met, the testosterone-pumped, meat-headed jocks were a completely different story. Some of them weren't bad, and over the course of the last year, he had unwittingly befriended them, only to make the harebrained mistake of fooling around with the one or two of their girlfriends. In his defense, he'd had no idea they were dating.

Ever since, he's steered clear, despite the hard-hitting shoulder bumps and sneers on the small occasion that he did see them on campus. He never cared much for their company anyway, and they seemed to only enjoy him because of his uncanny ability to attract girls.

Long ago, it was his money that brought them around, but now he blamed his dangerous appearance; his messy locks of platinum blonde hair, his various piercings, and the small array of tattoos that had been etched into his arms over the past few years.

Most recent was the tattoo he had dedicated to Sage: a fully detailed monarch butterfly needled into the nape of his neck. A design based on one of her earlier sketches—one he admired very much. Every fine line was detailed and crocheted together, the wings bleeding into black macabre charcoal. But the most astounding element of all were the eyes dormant within the piece; they watched subtly from behind nature's noisy motif, nestled in the heart of the leafy wings. Sage's work was always cryptic this way—beautiful none the less, but underlaying something arcane.

A monarch seemed most fitting. She adored every aspect of the creatures. Even loved the grimy little grubs they bloomed from. If there was ever a person to be so compassionate toward any and everything, it was her. She found beauty in the ugliest of places. Even in him.

The thought made him ache as he stepped inside of the elevator, laying his head back against the vinyl walls. When Sage crossed his mind, it took a lot to shake the morbid thoughts from his head. He could have stopped her. He knew he could have, if only he had been there. Where had he been? Sleeping around with a third-year med student who was engaged at the time.

What a piece of shit I am.

Before his hostile thoughts could grow, the doors swung open and Vincent took to the streets. It was an especially long bus ride to Lake View Cemetery, namely because of the pent up traffic that crammed Seattle's winding roads—the exact reason Vincent always chose to take the bus, instead of purchasing a vehicle that he could undoubtedly afford. He rarely left the city, after all.

As always, the atmosphere at the cemetery was eerily quiet. Vincent triumphed the polished grass, passing by rows and rows of neatly aligned plots. His sights finally set on the tenderly familiar headstone he had come to visit many times before.

"Daughter, Sister, Student, Friend

"Forever in our memories.

"Sage Annabeth Williams."

Vincent took a seat on the lush grass in front of her headstone. He was itching for a cigarette, but Sage was always disapproving of his smoking habits. Lighting one in front of her grave felt disrespectful in a way.

He brushed the debris from the intricately etched slab of stone, clearing out bits of dirt that clogged the impressed words. He wasn't able to attend her funeral; there simply wasn't one. Her death was kept rather private, her family wishing for a peaceful mourning alone.

Seeing as Sage was a Wicked like himself and Kailan, It made sense to him. It was because of the animosity for the Wicked race that her funeral surely would have been picketed or crashed by a hate-group or two. Still, it was disappointing that he couldn't pay his respects to her.

He laid back against the soft blades of grass, eyeing the foggy grey skies above him. "Kailan's back," he murmured, his lenses scraping the sea of milky clouds. "Sorry I couldn't kick his ass for you."

A stiff silence rang in his ears, and he let out a deep breath. Talking to emptiness always felt outlandish to him, but venting to Sage was something he missed all too much. She was the only one who knew how to react without setting him off. She could keep a secret, even if it meant having her tongue cut clean from her mouth. And she understood the emotions inside of him that he himself couldn't comprehend. His eyes fell to the portrait on her headstone. Her smiling face, and features that could mimic Vinny's own. Often they were mistaken for siblings.

She was his sister, for all he cared.

Soft droplets of rain kissed his face, and began to dampen the ground around him, but Vinny didn't move. There was a reason he wanted to visit during the rainstorm. He raised a hand in front of him, rubbing his fingertips together. Gentle hues of orange rippled up his index finger, as though his skin was drenched in gasoline. They collected at the tip, creating a small flame that danced away from the droplets of water and fought to stay alive, despite the harsh repellent of rain. As the drizzle turned into showers, and the showers turned into the downpour he had predicted, Vincent watched as the little flickering flame was torn to bits by each new droplet. Eventually it died out altogether. This was exactly what made the rain so wonderful. He didn't have to fear fire when fire's weakness was all around him.

And as any normal person would seek cover, Vincent reveled in the icy waters that pelted his face and soaked his clothing flush against his skin. He hadn't anticipated the strange looks he'd get from his fellow bus passengers hours later.

Drop. Drop. Drop. Drop.

The bus was chock full of passengers, but not a word was spoken. They were all staring at Vinny, wondering just why the hell he looked as though he had jumped straight into a pool of ice water. The temperature had plunged dramatically, and though Vincent loved cold weather, he was still a human being. Blue lips trembled as water trickled from his clothing and the matted strands of his hair. The poor woman sitting next to him had edged herself as far away as possible, in an effort to keep her attire dry. Luckily, the bus ride back was much faster, and soon Vincent wandered the halls of the dorm, leaving puddled footprints behind him.

As he threw the door open, he peeled his damp shirt off, ditching it to the hardwood with a splat. For a second there, he had totally forgotten about Kailan, until he took a glance at the boy who had returned from classes and expired to the couch with his cellphone in hand.

Looking up, Kailan raised an eyebrow at Vinny, eyes lingering a second too long before they returned to the screen of his phone. "Did you have a nice swim?"

"Hah," Vincent laughed sarcastically, though his tone quivered with chills. He ripped his belt off, leaving a trail of water behind him as he disappeared into their room. It took no time at all to change into something warm, before he trudged back to the kitchen and raided the fridge for a can of soda.

He cracked it open, downing most of the contents before letting out a gruff sigh. From behind the kitchen counter, he could assess the picture displayed on the television. The evening news was playing, a female anchor he recognized all too well speaking with a bleach-white smile.

"Still going on about building that tunnel?" he grumbled absently. "They're going to tear the city apart with that fuckin' thing."

He didn't need much of a response from Kailan, though. The image on the screen said it all.

"...Richard Lockheart had just celebrated his fifteenth birthday, before the incident occurred. Loved ones of the deceased are still in shock, many gathering to mourn for the young boy, who was adored by his entire community. Police are still unaware of how he came across the gun, but our sources have told us that high school rumors suggesting Richard was a Wicked may have had some play in the decision to take his own life."

Vinny furrowed his brows.

As of late, the news had been exploding with talk of 'Wickeds'. Those like Kai and himself, who had powers that normal human beings weren't capable of. Some were simple, harmless things, like advanced hearing. Some Wickeds were a bit more dangerous. Wickeds like himself, for instance. Wickeds who could combust objects with their mind, or drown small towns with the flick of a wrist. Hardly did the alienated beings ever cause distress, but even still, society had begun to fear them—and the Wickeds, well, they feared themselves. Their numbers were dipping well below three percent of the population, and the suicide rates rising rapidly. It almost seemed as though every media outlet in the U.S. was getting a sick thrill out of reporting each new statistic. Perhaps Vinny wouldn't have cared so much, if it weren't for Sage. But every time one of these incidents came up, he found himself clenching his jaw until his teeth hurt.

It wasn't as though they enjoyed being different. They were all still human after all. They broke and bled and one bullet to the head would do the job. It'd been proven time and time again by god-fearing sons of bitches who thought they'd be doing the world a favor. Men who fancied the idea that murdering a sixteen year old girl in cold blood would make them heroes. That taking a child's life would change their sorry asses into Clark fucking Kent. And the sad part is, that's exactly what they became. Heroes. Just as sick and corrupt as the rest of the goddamn world.

At first, every Wicked caught using their powers in public were detained. But cell block by cell block, jails were filled. Some Wickeds found their way out, but most remained submissive. Taxes rose, citizens complained, and eventually, Wickeds were left to live their lives in peace.

'Peace'.

The government may have lowered their arms, but the people never did. Hate-groups, cults, religious organizations and every run-of-the-mill business man—they all wanted Wickeds dead. Despite promises to tackle the issue of inequality, the government did nothing. Law enforcement did nothing. They weren't labeled homicides, but 'accidents'. No one cared if a Wicked had kicked the bucket. The second you stepped onto this earth, you were a felon. You were dangerous. You were evil. You were a wicked one, and the world wanted you dead.

Some just chose to beat them to the punch.