Return of the Hero 7 - Wrong Number

Lucas plucked idly at the strings of his guitar, the instrument foreign feeling and just...off. They were horribly out of tune from years of being stored, and he didn't have the tuner to fix it. That didn't stop him from plucking at the strings, however, fingers struggling to remember the movements.

Funny how sliding back into the role of brother was so simple, despite its emotional complexities, and his admitted cowardice in sharing his history with his siblings, yet something like playing the guitar, something he did often before being called away, was difficult. Lucas rubbed his face a little, listening through the door of his room to whatever show Elizabeth was watching. He figured it was probably the news; there had been another B-Ranked gate opening somewhere in Arizona, near Flagstaff, and she was on call to head down there apparently.

Lucas frowned as he strummed the guitar idly, not in any specific tune, just playing with the strings. The gates formed near cities. Almost always, with very few exceptions that he'd seen. He didn't have access to all the data, that wasn't quite public information yet, but his gut told him that there was something there he needed to pay attention to. Another strum, the out-of-tune guitar ringing in the relative silence of his room. Maybe he could get Elizabeth to share it with him.

In truth, he had finally decided that in order to share his story, he needed both of the twins here, at the same time. Do it in one fell swoop. George had left too quick, gone on a mission, and now Elizabeth was the only one here. It felt wrong to tell one, but not the other. Better yet, he needed answers to questions he knew they were going to ask. Like why gates are appearing, and so on and so forth. He wanted to give them more than just a little "I don't know, but I'm going to find out."

Lucas strummed once more, the way mist drifted from Elizabeth's fingers dancing in his mind's eye. His own power lay coiled in his chest, not quite dormant, but waiting for him to call upon it. He had some questions that needed answering, but first...

He looked down at his fingers, imagining light spilling from them as he played the guitar. A little grin wormed its way onto his face as he pictured himself shredding while light spilled off of him and his fingers - a silly idea, he was no rock star, but sometimes you had to let your intrusive thoughts win.

He strummed again, focusing his power down into his hands, in a different way than when he opened himself up or talked to spirits. That was as side-effect of his strength, not applied power. His fingers plucked randomly at strings, the notes ringing discordantly in the air, as his skin began to glow, power pooling -

His thumb cracked. Light spilled out of the split skin, blood running down the pad of his palm to drip onto the wood body of his guitar. Immediately he pulled back on his power, but not before another split appeared on his index finger - thankfully not pouring blood like his thumb, but the red liquid still welling up all the same.

He stared blankly at the wounds, uncomprehending what just happened. Then the pain hit; a deep, echoing throb in his thumb and index. The guitar clattered to the floor as he leapt to his feet, cursing and grabbing his thumb with his other hand, putting pressure on it to stop the bleeding.

Another curse tore its way out of his throat as he pushed out of his room, pain driving spikes of anger into him. The hell was that about?! "Liz!" Lucas snapped, his sister sitting up from where she'd been lounging on the couch. "Where are your bandaids?"

Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of him - blood dripping into the palm of his hand, not pouring out, but noticeable enough.

"What happened?!" She demanded, vaulting over the edge of her sofa and rushing over to him, grabbing his hand to examine it.

"Not sure," he admitted weakly. "I think I tried to grab my power by accident, and my thumb cracked," her gaze snapped up to him, frowning, but then she refocused on his hand, gently removing his fingers from where he was putting pressure on his thumb and examining the cut.

"Thank god it's not too deep. Won't need stitches," she grumbled, dragging him into the kitchen and pulling a first aid kit out from one of the cabinets. She worked with practiced efficiency, the kind of easy movements that told him she'd done this a thousand times. The thought was a little sobering.

Not because she knew how to wrap a band-aid around his thumb and index finger, nor disinfectant or anything ridiculous like that. But because he knew where that experience came from, and the idea curled his lips into a frown.

"Now, tell me exactly what happened," she said after she was done, his thumb wrapped in a decent-sized bandage, his index finger covered as well. He stared at his thumb for a moment, deciding how to lie. Half truths were safer, until it was time.

"Like I said, I was playing guitar and I had this stilly idea to have light spill from my fingers as I played. I looked down, my fingers were glowing, and my skin cracked." Honest confusion colored his voice, mixed with frustration, as he glared down at his fingers. His control wasn't that bad. There was no reason his skin should have cracked like that, right? Unless he was missing something?

"That can happen sometimes," Elizabeth said slowly. "With children who pump too much power into their fingers." Lucas met her eyes, very slightly narrowed as they were, and had a sinking feeling in his gut.

"Oops? That can happen?"

"Most kids don't awaken powers until they're at least eighteen, in most cases. George and I were exceptions. The body just doesn't have the proper foundation to contain magical power of that level. They believe it's due to an imbalance of physical and magical energy; you're still weak. Don't play with your powers unless George or I are present, alright? At least until we know the reason," she chided, as if speaking to a child. Lucas paled. No. That couldn't....

He desperately cast his senses inward; searching past the power flowing through every inch of his body to find - imbalance. Lucas cursed, resisting the urge to slap himself in the face. Of course his body couldn't handle his power! It'd been sitting here, in the physical realm, for five years doing nothing, while his soul grew to insane proportions! Why hadn't he seen it earlier?

You had. his mind supplied. 'Why do you think you keep feeling like your soul is still settling in your body? Resisted showing them your abilities? You felt the danger there, the imbalance, you just didn't realize it. Aloud, he continued.

"So you're telling me I can't use magic until I get stronger? What do I need to do, cardio? Pull ups?" He already knew the answer to that question; he had a whole Heracles training routine drilled into him. Did they know? I bet they knew. That's why Heracles and Michael drug me into that three-week training session jsut before I left. Jerks couldn't have just directly told me?

"Yes. Exactly that," Elizabeth said, amused. But Lucas heard something else in her voice. Something that gave him a little pause. Was that...suspicion? "Though this usually only happens to people with a-class abilities or above. Maybe it has to do with your coma. Either way, no magic, alright? Not until I say."

Lucas pouted. He moaned and groaned, but eventually pretended to relent. He already knew better than to play with his magic fully at the moment, but that didn't mean he couldn't do things that technically didn't count as "magic," or "powers," in the way they understood it.

It was time to contact heaven again. He had some complaints to file.

***

It was night. Elizabeth had been called away to that gate she had been watching not but an hour ago, a military helicopter arriving on the roof of the building to see her off. Lucas hadn't been allowed to meet any of her teammates or the military personnel who had arrived to pick her up, much to his disappointment. He hadn't even been allowed up to the rooftop, Elizabeth being overprotective and telling him to stay put.

Apparently she'd called a friend to come check on him if he needed and given him the dude's number, but George would be back tomorrow morning or something. Lucas had no plans to call said friend, as he sounded like a stick in the mud. Besides, for the first time since waking up, he found himself blissfully alone.

Well, not blissfully. The constant echoing roar of the city, its natural magic energy consumed with the day-to-day emotions of the mortals living within, and the buzzing of electricity in the building walls were a constant annoyance. But at least now he had the opportunity to sit and call heaven, without risking levitating off the bed or shining golden light everywhere and alarming his siblings.

He did appreciate them, but they were being incredibly over protective. Not that he could blame them.

"Right, so, this shouldn't kill me," he muttered as he sat cross-legged on his bed, trying and failing to find a comfortable position. It wasn't like he was channeling a lot of power here; he'd experimented a little bit before sitting down, and everything he knew was telling him it would be ok. This was more like making a phone call, or extending his senses out. Not pushing it into his body and cells to rupture the physicality there.

He let out a long, slow breath, clearing his mind as best he could. The noise of the city meant he had to fight through everything; from worry over his siblings, to concerns of the future, to a thousand other minor things, but eventually he managed to get into the zero headspace he preferred.

His power buzzed beneath his skin, vastly more than this body could safely handle. He could feel it now, simultaneously nourishing his cells, encouraging his growth - instinctively hating not being at spiritual equilibrium - while eating away at his physical stability every time he tried to physically channel it.

Hello, operator? Could use some help here. he pressed his will against the universe, sending a simple message out into the world at large, seeking connection. Nothing happened. He frowned, briefly breaking his meditative trance, then slipped right back into it. Michael. King Solomon? Uh...any random spirit, he really shouldn't have said that, because immediately afterward his mind was properly assailed by a dozen spirits screaming in his ears.

"Ah!" he yelped, flinching away from the noise and flashing out an annoyed burst of spiritual energy, properly silencing the beings. The earth spirits grumbled but fell silent, Lucas' skin tingling. "Right. Ok. Let's try this again."

He let out another long, slow breath, centering himself then opening himself up to the spiritual world. His ears rang. His head buzzed. A thousand voices echoed in his mind, filled with fear and worry and a dozen other emotions - he pushed through it all, through the images flashing through his mind's eye; places in the world, news media, a social media page, a shouting match on some forum...wait, was he connected to the internet? Had he just connected himself to the internet? The entire thing felt fuzzy, like a dial tone, the sheer amount of emotions pushing down on his shoulders the moment he realized what he had connected his spiritual self to.

Lucas frowned harder, forcibly pushing it away. The hell did that even happen? What was he, a wifi hotspot? A shiver ran down his spine. The amount of emotion in that online space...even now, he could feel it in the air, buzzing like the electricity in the walls, a constant annoyance that made him feel...off, disconnected. Wait, that was it! Wifi was just waves in the air or something, right? He must have stumbled into that, so all he had to do was disconnect.

Stupid. he grumbled, recentering himself for what felt like the tenth time. This shouldn't be this hard. This time, when he opened himself up, he pushed through it all. Endured the constant buzzing, the music playing from pushing through the electrical signals in the air, plus all the emotional screaming and endless chattering of all the earth spirits to finally -

"Hello?" The voice that answered was not the one he expected. In fact, he only vaguely recognized it. It was smooth and smokey, a little rough around the edges but in a classically gentlemanly sort of way. Lucas shifted where he sat, very careful to not break the connection.

"Hello? This is Lucas Ward. I -"

"Lukey! Oh my goodness it's been ages! How has my favorite little dawnbringer been?" Now Lucas was well and truly on the back foot - how the hell was he supposed to greet this person when he didn't fully recognize their voice? Gotta come up with something. he internally panicked. "It's me! Azzy! Who gave you my number?"

Azzy? "Azazel?"

"You do remember! Oh good, what do I owe the pleasure, my good friend?" the man continued, the excitement in his voice at odds with the deep, calm tone.

"Uh, I was trying to contact Michael. Or Heracles. I would've even taken Gabriel at this point. How'd I get you?" Lucas wracked his brains; he and Azazel had fought the Unspoken Ones together some ages ago. It had been the kind of war that united even two opposed forces for the sake of survival. He'd fought with plenty of demons, actually, Azazel was only one of them.

"Straight to business, not even asking how I've been? I'm hurt, hurt I say!" Azazel cried dramatically.

"I'm just confused as to how this happened in the first place. How have you been, by the way? It's been since...the siege of the Outer Rim, right?"

"Ever since we got stuck behind enemy lines for five years, yes! Ah, those were the days. Scrounging for food. Eating spirit maggots. So many things we could freely and mercilessly kill, with no repercussions...ah, good times." Azazel said wistfully. "I've been good though! This temporary ceasefire has let me get back to my old standby; corrupting mortals. Introducing vanity to new civilizations, buying their souls, y'know, the usual."

"As vile as ever, I see," Lucas deadpanned.

"Aw, thank you! I do try. Now, why were you trying to contact heaven in the first place? Are you not there? On some secret mission, hmm?"

"I'm on vacation. Had a few questions, because things aren't quite what I remember," Lucas said carefully.

"On vacation? Wait, so, are you - you wouldn't happen to be - are you on Earth right now?" The way Azazel said that immediately made Lucas suspicious, but he had no reason to lie.

"Yes?" He said hesitantly. Silence from the other end. Then, sniffling. "Are you crying?"

"Life's just...it's just so beautiful, you know?" he sobbed.

"What are you on? Are you ok? Did you take something?" Lucas asked, concern for his own well-being swirling in his gut.

"I - I need to see you. Can I pop over for a bit? Please? I'll follow this connection, and we can catch up and - oh this is going to be so much fun! You must keep me in the loop," Azazel rambled. Lucas furrowed his brows even further.

"Only if you agree to be bound by one of King Solomon's Seals." He told the demon. Silence. The kind of silence that told Lucas he was legitimately considering it. Alarm bells started ringing in his head even louder.

"No, no, I'll just keep an eye on things from here. It's quite alright. But hey, maybe I can answer a few of your questions for you!" Azazel said happily, a sound not unlike clapping hands echoing through the connection.

"Right. Well. I had a question about my body - "

"Lovely thing, that," Lucas ignored the interruption and forged ahead.

"My physical energy is out of balance and I can't bring my full power to bear without injuring myself."

"Ah, I know where you're going with this. Yes, you will eventually be able to use your full abilities, but you will need to train your mortal body more. Blah, blah, blah, something about equilibrium and Heracles' training regimen. Anything else?" Azazel said dismissively.

"Why are there rifts on Earth?" Lucas demanded.

"That...is a touch above my pay-grade. I do know that certain worlds that were close to the front lines experienced dimensional shaking; rifts appeared on them. But a world like Earth? It was far enough away from the front lines to not be in any serious danger, but still close enough that it felt effects of the fighting. We're still cataloguing the ramifications of having so much foreign power die on our soil - it's soaking into the universe and changing the fabric of reality in some ways. Not always for the worst, but not always for the better, if you catch my drift." Azazel sniffed and Lucas sighed. That was about the answer he was afraid of, and, despite being a demon, or more accurately a fallen angel, Azazel wasn't necessarily a compulsive liar.

"I see. Thanks. I'll leave you to...whatever you were doing." Lucas started to cut the connection, but a quick call from Azazel stopped him.

"Oh, before you go, do me a favor would you? Check out Solarianism. Head to one of their temples or whatever. And call me after! Ta ta!" And with that, he cut the connection. Lucas winced and immediately closed himself off to the world at large, frowning.

Whenever Azazel got that kind of a tone in his voice, Lucas usually regretted whatever the result was. But...at the same time...

No. Lucas shook his head. He didn't need to be caught up in whatever game the fallen angel was playing. He had his own stuff to worry about right now, like starting a workout regimen.

Then he could follow up on whatever prank Azazel was trying to play on him.