Chapter 9 - Flame-broiled Five-0

                                        

                                              

I stepped around the corner of the alley where I'd been mugged – only a few nights ago, now that I thought of it – and took a deep breath. Could I handle being here? Was I going to break out in a PTSD attack? 
"What the hell are we doing here, Mac?" Del hissed. He wouldn't go home, no matter how many times I told him I would be fine. I knew he hated being out at night, especially in parts of town he didn't know. Video games weren't just a hobby for Del. It was a way to excuse him from facing the shit the world had on offer. I couldn't blame him. Sometimes the world seemed only to have shit on the menu.
"Just shut up a second, Del." I hid behind the dumpster – the same one where the dude smashed my nose – and waited. My video game, movie-riddled brain had a whole plan in mind, something about the criminal always returning to the scene of the crime. If I could take a step back and look at myself, I'd smack myself upside the head and say smarten up. Unfortunately, when you're laser-focused on something, you won't listen to anything but the next step.
The next step involved waiting for half an hour and almost falling over when the fucker that started the whole thing wheeled around the corner and leaned against the wall.
"Is that the guy?" Del whispered. "The dude that broke your face?"
"Yeah," I hissed.
"Wait," Del said. "This guy was beating up the dude that mugged you? So you were, like, third on the beating list?"
"What part of shut the fuck up are you missing?" I waved Del back, hustling him behind me so I could see the mugger better. "Just stay here. This is going to be dumb, but I've got this."
"You've got this?" Del didn't sound convinced. "You can maybe move shit with your mind, and you shot fireballs out of your hands that may have just been an allergic reaction. How the hell do you 'got' this?"
"I don't know!" I hissed. "I just...have a feeling. I've got a hunch I need to try out, and this fucker's as good a guinea pig as any."
"Yeah, but what if your hunch ends up being bullshit, and this guy just beats the shit out of you again?" 
"I told you, Del." I reached into my pocket and pulled out another six warehouse cookies. I smashed them into my face in one bite and chewed them like a beaver on a toothpick. "He wasn't the one who beat me up."
"He just got things rolling..." Del trailed off as I took off around the corner, the heat already kicking into high gear up my arms. 
"Hey!" I barked as I skidded to a halt at the guy's feet. "Remember me?"
The dude just stared at me, his mouth hung open with a thin line of drool rolling out of it. He wouldn't have recognized me if I was his own mother. Whatever planet he was on, whatever drug he'd shoved into his body, it was already killing him. My fireballs of vengeance were way over the top. This wasn't vigilante justice. 
"Mac," Del said. I could tell he was trying to use a soothing voice. "Look at him."
I did. His eyes were barely open, and he couldn't stand without leaning on something. His hands were all curled up, but it didn't look like he was doing it on purpose. I didn't know much about drugs, but I knew that whatever he was on was fucked up. 
"Del!" The fire raged along my arms, and I had nowhere to blast the fireballs. The heat was building up to unbearably hot. "Give him some food and get the hell out of here!"
"What?" Del was always a bit slow on the uptake.
"Del! Move!" I pointed my hands straight in the air and screamed. The fireballs shot out and launched into the sky like two streaks of orange lightning. My hands smoked and fumed as tears rolled down my face.