Fic-a-Day #22: The Verdict is Vengeance #1
Title: The Verdict is Vengeance
Author: JoeHundredaire (joehundredaire@tthfanfic.com)
Rating: R/FR18.
Pairings: Kit Holburn/Nico Minoru/Karolina Dean
Disclaimer: Brian K. Vaughn is the mastermind behind Runaways (which is a better comic than, if not as funny as, Young Avengers). Alan Moore and David Lloyd created V for Vendetta. And someone who's not me (but may be Joss Whedon) owns Buffy.
Joe's Note: Remember, remember the fifth of November, gunpowder treason and plot. I see no reason why the gunpowder treason should ever be forgot.
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Java the Hut was a popular spot in Los Angeles where high school and college students of all ages, ethnicities, and income levels came to mingle and hang out. At any given moment there were always at least a dozen people inside, be they college students before or after classes or the high school students who dragged themselves in for a kick of caffeination before class.
Tonight was both a normal night and an abnormal night for the coffee shop. The parking lot was full and the shop’s waitresses were running themselves ragged to try and keep up with the customers. However, the black-clad figure on the roof of the building across the street was a new addition.
For hours the figure crouched, motionless except for the fluttering of a black cape, waiting for the right moment. He was a hunter on the prowl, waiting for a very specific prey to emerge.
At the stroke of midnight, six teenagers emerged from the shop and wandered out to their cars: three pairs, each with a large boy in a letterman jacket and a giggly blonde girlfriend. They clumped together for a few minutes, finishing conversations started inside, before they paired off and went for their individual cars to leave.
Beneath a pale, immutable mask the figure grinned. “Remember, remember the fifth of November, gunpowder treason and plot. I see no reason why the gunpowder treason should ever be forgot.”
Each car started with a roar, the noise of the automobile quickly drowned out by the deep throbbing of an aftermarket stereo system. One car, book ended by two of the cars on their way out, began to chirp loudly as the bass disturbed it enough to set off the car alarm.
“Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, 'twas his intent to blow up the King and the Parliament,” the figure continued. “Three score barrels of powder below, poor old England to overthrow. By God's providence he was catch'd with a dark lantern and burning match. Holloa boys, holloa boys, make the bells ring. Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King! Hip hip hoorah!”
Reaching down, the figure pulled a cell phone from his pocket. Rapidly punching a seven digit number in, there was a pause before one gloved finger pressed ‘Send’.
Half a second later, night turned to day as all three cars erupted into massive balls of brilliant white flame. The gas tanks quickly detonated, sending flaming shrapnel and white phosphorous spiraling all across the parking lot and starting dozens of smaller fires. People began to pour out of Java the Hut, but it was already too late. There was no saving the occupants of any of the cars.
The figure rose from his crouch and leaned over, plucking a black Puritan hat from the top of an air conditioning vent. “Remember, remember the fifth of November, gunpowder treason and plot. I see no reason why the gunpowder treason should ever be forgot.”
Humming the 1812 Overture to himself, the figure strolled across the roof and dropped to the ground below, before disappearing into the night.
Author: JoeHundredaire (joehundredaire@tthfanfic.com)
Rating: R/FR18.
Pairings: Kit Holburn/Nico Minoru/Karolina Dean
Disclaimer: Brian K. Vaughn is the mastermind behind Runaways (which is a better comic than, if not as funny as, Young Avengers). Alan Moore and David Lloyd created V for Vendetta. And someone who's not me (but may be Joss Whedon) owns Buffy.
Joe's Note: Remember, remember the fifth of November, gunpowder treason and plot. I see no reason why the gunpowder treason should ever be forgot.
********************
Java the Hut was a popular spot in Los Angeles where high school and college students of all ages, ethnicities, and income levels came to mingle and hang out. At any given moment there were always at least a dozen people inside, be they college students before or after classes or the high school students who dragged themselves in for a kick of caffeination before class.
Tonight was both a normal night and an abnormal night for the coffee shop. The parking lot was full and the shop’s waitresses were running themselves ragged to try and keep up with the customers. However, the black-clad figure on the roof of the building across the street was a new addition.
For hours the figure crouched, motionless except for the fluttering of a black cape, waiting for the right moment. He was a hunter on the prowl, waiting for a very specific prey to emerge.
At the stroke of midnight, six teenagers emerged from the shop and wandered out to their cars: three pairs, each with a large boy in a letterman jacket and a giggly blonde girlfriend. They clumped together for a few minutes, finishing conversations started inside, before they paired off and went for their individual cars to leave.
Beneath a pale, immutable mask the figure grinned. “Remember, remember the fifth of November, gunpowder treason and plot. I see no reason why the gunpowder treason should ever be forgot.”
Each car started with a roar, the noise of the automobile quickly drowned out by the deep throbbing of an aftermarket stereo system. One car, book ended by two of the cars on their way out, began to chirp loudly as the bass disturbed it enough to set off the car alarm.
“Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, 'twas his intent to blow up the King and the Parliament,” the figure continued. “Three score barrels of powder below, poor old England to overthrow. By God's providence he was catch'd with a dark lantern and burning match. Holloa boys, holloa boys, make the bells ring. Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King! Hip hip hoorah!”
Reaching down, the figure pulled a cell phone from his pocket. Rapidly punching a seven digit number in, there was a pause before one gloved finger pressed ‘Send’.
Half a second later, night turned to day as all three cars erupted into massive balls of brilliant white flame. The gas tanks quickly detonated, sending flaming shrapnel and white phosphorous spiraling all across the parking lot and starting dozens of smaller fires. People began to pour out of Java the Hut, but it was already too late. There was no saving the occupants of any of the cars.
The figure rose from his crouch and leaned over, plucking a black Puritan hat from the top of an air conditioning vent. “Remember, remember the fifth of November, gunpowder treason and plot. I see no reason why the gunpowder treason should ever be forgot.”
Humming the 1812 Overture to himself, the figure strolled across the roof and dropped to the ground below, before disappearing into the night.