Eochaid was dead. Pyralis was dead. Or so everyone believed. Six months after the disaster on Eochaid's secret base on the Moon, Rian was still holding out hope that they would return.
But hope was a strong word and a huge stretch. The belief that they would someday return felt more like a survival instinct, then any actual desire to see their two guardians ever again. Rian was happier with them gone, and wherever Pyralis was, he was certain that she was happier now that she didn't have to babysit her four charges.
As for Eochaid… Rian was a burden that Eochaid never asked for or wanted. Considering the epic failure that was their first trip to the new Moon base, it was no wonder that Eochaid left. Although Rian didn't know what exactly it was that he failed in, when Eochaid did show his face back at the boarding house, it was only a matter of time before he found out.
Watching the rain pound against his window for several minutes, Rian forced himself out of bed and into his freezing cold room when he saw Spiros's jeep rolling into the boarding house's long driveway.
Throwing his pajamas into the hamper that he fully intended on taking to the laundromat as soon as his spoon budget would allow, Rian threw on clean clothes and padded to his door. Mentally preparing himself by tapping Niamh's upside down crucifix on the wall next to his door, Rian slipped on his shoes and ventured into the dark, second floor hallway, nearly slipping on a puddle of Corey's disgusting slime.
Oh, fuck you, Corey, thought Rian, catching himself on the wall. Barely a moment later, he smothered a groan when he saw the faint outline of insulation spilling out of a new hole in the wall, courtesy of Theo. It was so deep that Rian could see the metal plate in the wall that reinforced the house; an essential, considering Spiros and Theo's rather destructive superpowers.
Fuck, thought Rian, irritably and quickly kicking what insulation he could back into the large hole. It reached almost to the floor, so he had a suspicion that Theo kicked the wall in some fit of rage. Rian hoped he stubbed his toe while doing it. Luckily, the hallway was dark from a desperate lack of proper lighting, so the full extent of the damage was not visible.
So why am I still bothering to clean? Rian had no idea. Once again, the kitchen was trashed. It was always trashed. No matter how often he cleaned, with five unsupervised teenagers living in the house, there was no end to the cycle that was the disaster zone of a kitchen. When Eochaid and Pyralis get back, we're dead meat anyway. So what's the point in trying to keep this wreck together?
Except it wasn't like the house wasn't trashed before Eochaid and Pyralis disappeared. While Pyralis could contain her rage most days to pointing violently in her victims faces and shouting, she still had a nasty habit of tossing Corey into the walls. While Corey was extremely durable and was rarely physically injured, Rian knew he still sometimes cried after it happened. Hypocrite. Pyralis'll trash the house as much as she wants to, but as soon as we do it, we get beat.
The biggest difference in the house between now and six months ago was the colorful graffiti that Spiros began decorating the walls with right before school started. That, and the lack of power or running water.
Downstairs, Rian kicked an empty bucket in the kitchen, easily catching it when it flew up in slow motion. Working in a whirlwind that was literally too fast for the naked eye to perceive, he methodically went to work on the easy stuff. Dishes and garbage. Once that was done, he worked on the harder things; scrubbing Corey's slime from every conceivable surface of the kitchen.
Ew, thought Rian, carefully dumping the dirty bucket of water into a large jug of greywater next to the toilet. Though Corey's slime was not usually toxic enough to make anyone sick from just touching it, Rian didn't like to take chances if he could help it.
Distantly, he heard Corey hopping upstairs from the basement where he slept.
"Corey, if you bring your miserable slimy hands anywhere near this kitchen, I'll cut them off!" said Rian, when he heard the boy hopping in the direction of the kitchen.
"Aright, geez," said Corey, stopping just short of the kitchen entrance, sending Rian a sour look. "No one likes the Slime Slinger. I get it."
"I don't like that I have to clean up your slime, all because you refuse to do it!" Rian tossed a soapy sponge at Corey, which he dodged like it was made of acid.
"Hey! That shit'll make me break out in hives! You know that!" Glowering darkly, Corey said, "Why do you even bother? It ain't like Pyralis is alive to make you do it. That bitch is dead and gone. Don't tell me that you want her to come back,"
"It's adorable that you actually believe she's dead," scoffed Rian, stepping forward to pick up the sponge. Though he knew it was mean, Rian took great enjoyment in flicking more soap suds at Corey. "And have you considered that I don't want to live in a bunch of slime and muck? Unlike you!"
"Have ya tried? It's kinda nice-," said Corey, only to yelp and run away when Rian threatened him with the soapy sponge once again.
"Gloves! Apron!" said Rian, displaying the floral latex gloves and black rubber apron he was wearing as Corey retreated. "Use your problem solving skills, you incompetent buffoon!"
Unlike Spiros and Theo, Rian didn't know how to fix the walls and furniture, nor did he have the patience required to learn it. But he did know how to clean.
Rian refused to live in filth or clutter. If that meant cleaning up after Corey's toxic skin secretions, so be it. After all, Pyralis was already forcing him to be the default mop. At least now, he did it by choice.
"Thanks. It looks good in here," said Spiros, entering the kitchen with two massive jugs of water. He kicked his black leather boots off at the kitchen door, causing Rian to notice a new tear in the toe region of boots. Large, rushed stitches were just barely holding the leather together. However, the evil eyes spray painted on the heels were still in good condition. "Lavender got a roast. Lamb, can you believe it?"
"Lamb? Where the hell did she get a lamb roast?"
"According to her she saw it fall off the back of a truck and they never came back for it," said Spiros, tucking a lock of his damp brown hair behind his ear. It was somehow both flat and frizzy at the same time. "I think she's apologizing for stealing the jeep last week,"
"Ah. A discounted lamb roast," said Rian, snickering. "My favorite kind of lamb roast."
"Can you run and grab something to go with the lamb?" asked Spiros, grunting as he set the jegs of water on the ground. "Something green, preferably. And definitely fennel, if you can find it."
Theo followed him with several more jugs of water as Rian began making a list. "Is fennel one of the things we grew in the garden?"
"Sure is. It had the big bulb and looked kinda like celery."
"I didn't like celery, but I liked the fennel," said Theo, who looked proud of this assessment. Spiros did, too. When Eochaid found Theo, he ate nothing that wasn't yellow, white, or beige, unless it was brightly colored candy. However, through willpower that could only have come from some sort of godlike being and the patience of a saint, Spiros had managed to introduce several herbs and vegetables into Theo's diet. "It tasted like basil. I like basil,"
"Gee, I like basil, too," said Rian, tapping his foot impatiently. Come on, Spiros. What else do I need to go get? The less time he had to spend in Theo's presence, the better. Bored, Rian took a small mirror from his pocket and began fussing with his hair. It was long, like Eochaid's. As usual, it was pulled back in a loose braid, save for his bangs, which were falling in his face.
Not good. When running at the speeds Rian ran at, bangs were the biggest annoyance in the world, and even posed a slight danger. In a flash, Rian ran up to the bathroom to grab his pomade. The air cracked like a gun. The force Rian left at sent his chair spinning. Rian was back downstairs just as the chair finished spinning a full three-hundred and sixty degree turn.
Theo set the jugs of water down where the breakfast nook used to be, before Pyralis split the table in two after Spiros mouthed off at her. Ignoring him, Rian focused on pulling his hair up into a high ponytail that would contain the longest of his bangs. It was gold, and absolutely his favorite feature.
Just ignore him. No need to get into a shouting match this early in the day. It'll sour everything, thought Rian, fluffing the ponytail. It was dry, not shiny and soft like Stacy Turner's hair. How does she make her hair so fluffy?
Though he was tempted to ask Spiros, Eochaid always threatened to put eggs and mayonnaise in Rian's hair whenever he fussed about it, claiming it to be the solution to all hair problems. While Eochaid never made good on this promise and never would, Rian was not so certain about Spiros.
"I saw a book in the library that showed you how to make radish roses. Can we make radish roses?" asked Theo, sounding truly excited about this.
Spiros nodded, "Sure, I love radishes,"
"I don't know if I like radishes," said Theo, conflicted. "But they were really pretty, and pretty food always tastes better,"
"Yup," said Spiros, his breath fogging as he leaned tiredly on the water jugs. Once Theo lumbered away to get his slushy out of the jeep, Spiros began searching through the cupboards. When he pulled a plastic container with only a handful of barley grains, he scowled furiously.
"So fennel then?" asked Rian, eager to leave the boring conversation and practically buzzing with unspent energy. After coating the baby hairs of his bangs in enough of the sticky pomade, he began doing his best to contain them in the style he wanted. Though Rian had accepted long ago that the baby hairs framing his widow's peak would never truly be tamed, they could sometimes be convinced to join the rest of his hair in making something that looked a bit like a lion's mane.
Pyralis and Niamh both called Rian vain. It was not an unfair assessment.
"One with lots of fronds if you can find it," said Spiros, voice echoing in the near empty cupboard he was searching inside. "And barley or noodles. We've got enough to throw in the stew, but we'll need more for tomorrow. And something green with lots of leaves. I need horta. Please. If I have to beg, I will. And-,"
Spiros made a strangled noise as he pulled out a container of oil. "Already-?"
"Are we out of olive oil?"
"Huh? Uh, no, we're fine-,"
"I'll grab some olive oil-,"
"No, you won't. I get paid literally tomorrow-,"
"And I'm literally about to go steal a bunch of shit. What's one more thing?"
"No one will notice if some produce goes missing. Stores throw out tons of it all the time," said Spiros, pointing at Rian with the empty container of olive oil. "But they'll probably notice when people start stealing-,"
Rian rolled his eyes, "You are such a hypocrite,"
"Fine, steal the fucking olive oil," muttered Spiros, slamming the container back into the cup, his gravitational abilities causing the house to shake. "And when ORBIT starts tracking the flashes of gold your super speed leaves behind, we'll put out a sign on the front lawn saying, 'Welcome, ORBIT Agents! You can find your local kleptomaniac speedster here!'"
Rian glowered. ORBIT, or the Oversight and Response Bureau for Irregular Threats, was created just after the New Year's alien invasion nearly fifteen years ago. Their job was tracking and controlling the absolutely massive influx of metahumans that came about from the fallout.
"Oh, my God. First of all, there's no such thing as a local speedster. We're too rare for that-,"
"Oh, you're rare, huh-?"
"Yeah, that's right! I am! And no one is going to notice if a container of olive oil-,"
"They will absolutely notice-,"
"I could also steal vegetable oil-,"
"That is dangerously close to blasphemy," said Spiros, slamming the container of olive oil onto the counter, then muttering a quick apology to it.
"How the fuck do you go through olive oil so fast? Do ya drink it?" asked Rian, deciding not to point out that the only reason Spiros was worried about ORBIT was because his temper kept setting off his gravity warping abilities. People didn't usually notice when he moved faster than them; generally, they put it down to Rian being young and hyper. But when things began flying off the shelves or objects were crushed flat, ORBIT was called in .
"I don't ride your ass for how much butter and potatoes you eat," said Spiros, huffing out a puff of air to clear his face of frizzy, brown flyaway hair. "Now kindly climb the fuck out of mine,"
Hungry, and trusting Spiros' expertise, Rian stuck his tongue out at Spiros. "So aggressive. But fine. What about onions? Do we need those?"
"Nope. Still got a crap load from the garden. Potatoes, too," said Spiros, jerking his elbow toward the pantry door. "And squash. Think butternut will go well with lamb? We've also got acorn."
"Spiros, I will gladly stuff my face with whatever the fuck you cook, so I genuinely don't have an opinion on that,"
"Theo! Butternut or acorn?" Spiros began shouting out the door. Bored of the domestic worries, Rian jumped to his feet.
Glancing at Spiros' sopping wet socks, Rian asked, "What about boots?"
"What about boots?"
"Dude. Those boots are dead. If I find you some new ones, would you-?"
"No. I like my boots, and I was going to raid Eochaid's wardrobe later," said Spiros, stooping in front of a row of cabinets to search through clattering pans. "We wear the same size."
"Yeah, okay," said Rian, rolling his eyes. Whatever. It's almost Christmas. I'll just find him a pair and say it's from Santa or something. "Be back in a minute,"
Time around Rian froze. Alright. Time for a random selection, thought Rian, pulling a small pad of paper out from his pocket and a dice. It was a list of stores. Chain supermarkets, mostly. All of them spaced far away from each other. None were in Thurston County. Thefts in Thurston County were forbidden; Rian's superspeed left too much of a visible gold trail for it to be safe. Spiros was very clear about this.
Rian rolled a twenty-sided dice. Lucky number seven. It was a 'Quicksave' in University Place; one of thousands all over the country. A detestable billion dollar chain, which meant that Rian was perfectly comfortable plundering whatever the store had to offer. Most importantly, it was also close and Rian was both hungry and impatient.
Zipping away and leaving a gust of wind and a cracking sonic boom in his wake, Rian ran to the water. Within seconds, Madrona Bay was left behind in a spray of water.