Peppermint

Interlude 3 - Oh, The Gods Hate Me

With Josh's warning of some kind of "double disaster" in mind, Firdaus thought she was on high alert as she followed her orders to search Maguire Mall for potential sources of even one of those doubles. Someone might have slipped a piece of plastique in the trash can, or spritzed a potted plant with smallpox, or perhaps even pumped sarin gas into the mall's ventilation systems.

Nobody, though, really guessed that when Maguire Mall became the site of one of those double disasters, her rental car would wind up becoming the first victim.

Thankfully, she wasn't in her car at the time. Not even close. But the fact that it was hers, and also the fact that, despite it being Saturday morning, the parking garage had been so crowded that she'd been forced to park in that one spot on the edge of the ground level...she couldn't help but run with a bit of conspiracy theorist's brain.

No, she didn't literally eat a conspiracy theorist's brain. Liv Moore she wasn't, though she was a big fan of that lovable office zombie of the Seattle morgue.

When the explosion boomed through the building, though, she didn't need Ahmad's frantic texts to tell her that it was her rental car blowing up. How exactly that had happened, she couldn't say, not without video footage - to which only Ahmad, currently, was privy because it was he who was holed up somewhere else, probably a stall in the men's room at Barnes & Noble, armed with a laptop to monitor all the cameras. And he was too busy blowing up her phone to really explain whatever it was he was seeing. The man fancied himself a good Zayn impersonator, with his tattoos and singing and occasional smoking (the last of which he loathed, but for image reasons, he thought he could get used to it.) In truth, he was more like Bodhi Rook, a jittery but badass geek.

Emphasis on the "jittery" part right now, though. Ahmad was probably burning through all the caffeine in his system with each letter he typed - or mistyped, in some cases. Hell, she wouldn't be surprised if part of the reason why half his texts were misspelled (for example, "ar you seeeeeg ths?" "frds youre not getttng yr dpsit bck") was because he had his phone in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other to supplement Starbucks' stimulants, and his laptop poised to slide off his legs and possibly break in half on impact on the bathroom floor.

Assuming he was in the bathroom, of course.

Whatever the case may have been, Firdaus defied reason for a moment and raced across the mall, running the whole way and knowing how odd she looked. Not only because she was a salmon swimming upstream compared to everyone else, but because she was the only one not taking wing. Well, she couldn't take wing, seeing as she lacked them entirely.

But that didn't matter. Not when she could blaze a trail just from running. A Harrison Wells kind of voice whispered in her ear as she sprinted out the door and into the rainy day beyond: Run, Firdaus. Run!

Outside, a column of smoke rose, visible even over the two-story building still separating Firdaus from the parking garage. Yeah, that looked like the place where she'd parked her car, all right. Running up to the corner where she could get a glimpse of the carnage, she saw the remains of what looked like that driverless truck they'd been talking about all over the news last night and this morning. Hadn't it been meant to simply drive up 101 from San Jose to San Francisco? Why did it take this detour?

Those questions, she couldn't answer right now. Instead, she wanted to run up and help the two boys flying down from the top of the building and attempting to put out the fire with their elementals. Then again, as a Normal human, what could she do? She had no powers. No protective gear.

At the very least, she could observe and report to Ahmad and Josh. The boys - both of whom, even at this distance, she recognized from Joey's Pizza, the guy behind the counter and that one really tan Italian-looking dude in whom Josh was particularly interested because he was some kind of "chosen one" or whatever - were no less amateur than she, but they seemed to know what they were doing.

At least, until the police showed up and made them stop and go with them. They didn't look like they were being arrested, but Firdaus couldn't help but wonder-

"Hey!"

She jumped as Ahmad ran up behind her, his backpack partly open and hanging haphazardly from one shoulder. Realizing this, he awkwardly reached around to zip it closed. Firdaus took care of that for him, however, while he slung the second strap into place. She sniffed the air around him. No cigarette stench whatsoever. She couldn't say for certain, but if he smoked at all, it would almost invariably be herbal. Less unhealthy. Though no less smelly. Was there anything that actually smelled good while burning? Besides firewood.

"You hear from Josh?" she asked him.

Ahmad shook his head. "He's gone ghost again, I think. What should we do?"

She cast her eyes around the crowded parking lot, which appeared to still be full of cars. "Where's yours?" she asked.

"Over by B&N."

What she sensed in the offing was his thanks that he was fortunate enough to have found a safe parking space. But she didn't begrudge him that. Instead, she followed him to his car, a late-model Chevy that, rental or not, was pretty well-equipped. It even had on-board Wi-Fi, so he could tap back into the network the second they were safely inside the interior. Safely dry too, because the rain, which had been off and on for almost twelve hours now, was picking up again, driving down in cold sheets.

"Can you hack into the police station?" she asked as she placed her hands on the heater vents facing the passenger seat.

"Hold on, let me try..." The keys clacked away, and she heard him muttering what sounded like swear words in Urdu for a moment before he switched back to English. "Shit. We're not in range. Uh..." He closed the laptop, put it in the backseat, and laid his hand on the shifter, ready to put the car in reverse. "The BART parking garage is closest to the police station, right? Maybe if I can...oh, but I'll probably need to physically wire in."

"You have the wires you need, then?"

He backed out and jerked his thumb behind them. "In the trunk. I'll, uh, need you to carry them for me. My arms will be full..."

She sensed his embarrassment. "It's the twenty-first century, Ahmad. Just 'cause I'm a woman doesn't mean I can't carry your techie-toys for you."

"It's not that," he said hastily. "It's just...I just realized I forgot the power tools in my room."

She sat back, heaving an exasperated sigh as he drove out of the parking lot, away from the mall, towards the hotel. "All the caffeine in your bloodstream couldn't do crap for your memory, huh?"

He scoffed. "You're one to talk. How many cups of coffee did you have this morning?"

"One!" Against her better judgment, she turned to see him serving her a questioning look that could almost be mistaken for a dirty one. "Okay, okay, it was a venti. But only one, I swear!"

"I believe you!" He stepped on the gas pedal so they could clear a stale yellow light with less than two seconds to spare before it turned red. "I'm sorry," he added. "I shouldn't blame you for my own shortcomings-"

"Trust me," Firdaus said with another sigh, "being human, we have enough shortcomings as it is." As Ahmad accelerated more, despite the road being wet and slippery, she reached up and grabbed the handle above the door.