Chapter Text
He couldn’t have been younger than twelve.
And by all accounts, he’d started privileged. In a big house, with a big family, in a big city. They had a cottage in the country. There was a farm with horses they visited every summer. He’d always liked to ride the black one.
His grandpa was retired. He had stories of the world before it burned, of all the conspiracies he’d allegedly taken part in.
His father worked for the government. A man of the people. He remembered seeing people protesting on their street more than once, signs of hateful sentiment in their hands. The words are muddled in his memory now.
His mother worked from home, most days, and was always careful to teach him and his siblings of their privilege. To remind them to be kind.
Despite their position, they volunteered often. He remembered asking her a few times if said volunteering was exclusively for the posturing. And she had merely blinked in surprise, then shook her head.
“We don’t get where we need to go by walking on the less fortunate, Lio. Lesser men have tried, and every one of them have gotten their just desserts. What we do, what we try to do, is bring everyone up with us. That’s the right way.”
He remembered the first time he watched someone flare up; the first time it wasn’t just caught on the news. It happened right before him, while out with his sisters.
“I always wondered how other cities handled it,” Galo interrupts; “I mean, it’s always been Promepolis’ biggest export, but nobody else really has identical infrastructure –”
“Dude!”
Reaching over Lio, Gueira swats Galo’s shoulder with a frown, earning a whine from the firefighter while Meis laughs softly.
“We wait this long for him to finally share his backstory with us and it takes you less than a fuckin’ minute to go all ADHD!”
“Sorry,” He huffs, then turning his attention to the blonde, his voice softens; “Sorry. Please go on.”
“It’s fine.”
Snuggling more comfortably between the three of them, Lio searches his memory again, picking up where he left off.
He can’t remember all the details, exactly. Things got loud fast; his priority was keeping the girls safe, like his mother had taught, so he hurried them behind a wall and kept himself stationed at the edge to watch for a safe opening.
Back then, the Mad Burnish were at the height of their “danger to society” and could be found worldwide. It took almost no time at all for the roaring of their bikes to herald their presence at the scene, and they’d formed a veritable wall around the new Burnish, warring all-too-briefly with underfunded police ( “That was just before Freeze Force was rolled out internationally,” ) and disappearing without a trace save for a few dying embers.
As he led his sisters out of hiding, he remembered seeing the minimal injuries; the most prevalent mark was the property damage, with broken glass and chunks out of buildings. Angry store managers accosting the police for their failure to act faster. The sirens of a late-to-arrive, overfunded yet understaffed firefighting brigade.
He hadn’t stuck around longer than that.
Months later it had happened again – though, by this time, Promepolis had begun its exports in earnest, and most city-states had conformed to their plans and ideals since they were the most effective.
He remembered his father coming home with a defeated air more often than not. Pretending he didn’t hear his mother suggesting to move out to their cottage, to acquire that horse farm, to have supplementary properties.
And then, one day, he flared.
“... That’s it?”
All three of them stare openly at him, and Lio shrugs.
“I… I just don’t remember much about the moment I flared.”
Truth be told, it bothers him deeply that he can’t remember it – what led up to it, what happened during it. It’s all a muddled mess of fear and panic and running, lots of running, until he’s able to hide and get his fire under control on his own.
Frowning, he summons his Promare in his hand. It’s quieter than usual, too, nothing more than a fretful whisper. If it remembers, it’s not telling him.
“I do remember the aftermath, though.”
He’d kneeled behind a half-wall in an abandoned parking garage, clutching his arms to his chest and trying to make sense of what had just happened. Though he’d wanted nothing more to go home, and he was sure his family would take him, he also worried about two major things.
Firstly, about getting caught on the way or once he’d made it. His parents could only do so much, and he doubted the government, made cocky with their newly acquired Prometech, would be willing to make an exception for him.
Secondly, assuming he wasn’t caught or detained, what his new Burnish… ness… Would mean for his family. The hate would double. They’d be even more in danger, not just from strangers, but from him, if he lost control – and he would not stand for that at all.
So, what then?
At that very moment, he’d heard the discernable roar of several engines, and though he’d scurried back against the wall at first, there was a feeling of heavy relief when they turned out to be Mad Burnish bikers – five of them, taking a spin at the end of the ramp and facing him with their grinning helmets.
Although he wasn’t afraid of them, he had felt heavy trepidation as he spoke.
“How did you find me…?”
“Burnish can smell each other,” One of the bikers on the far end sneered; “Like wolves, from miles away.”
“Loki. He’s a kid, lay off,” Spoke another, next to the central biker, with a feminine voice. “He’s probably freaked out.”
“Yeah, and it’s a joke! God, you’re a fuckin’ buzzkill.”
“The flames call to each other,” The leader finally spoke, rising from her bike; it disappeared in a flash of navy blue and orange, leaving her to approach him slowly; “Whenever one of us awakens, we all hear the call.”
As she stepped closer to him, her armor flaked apart around her, until she finally knelt down. She was older than he expected, somewhere between his mother and grandpa, with age in her face. Despite that, her skin was clear, and her green eyes gentle as she looked him over.
“... What’s your name, kid?”
“Lio,” He’d croaked back, and she smiled.
“Hi, Lio. I’m Maia, Leader of the Mad Burnish.”
“No fucking way.”
“Yes way. Grand Maia herself.”
“You could have told us! You should have told us! What the fuck!”
Lio laughs, watching Gueira and Meis lose their minds for a moment before he turns to Galo, noting his lack of reaction. Predictably, the firefighter looks lost, so he takes it upon himself to explain.
“Grand Maia was one of many Mad Burnish leaders. In her hayday, she was responsible for the most liberations and trade routes. She could track down anyone.”
“If you were missing someone, and couldn’t find ‘em,” Gueira says over Meis’ shoulder, “You found a waypoint and left a message for Grand Maia. But one day, she just kinda stopped operating.”
“Most people thought she was just a myth after that,” Meis adds, “Something to help ‘em sleep at night, if a loved one disappeared. I can’t believe she was real…”
Galo’s brow furrows further. “What happened to her?”
“Well, I parted ways before she completely disappeared, but I heard from a mutual friend that she got detained further north. There were no records of her on Parnassus, so she probably escaped that – but I have no idea if she’s alive.”
“Shit,” The redhead breathes, “We should get on tracking her down. If she’s still alive…”
Meis nods, then nudges Lio.
“Tell us about her.”
The Mad Burnish in Detroit were formidably massive, led by Grand Maia with her four generals – Loki, Kris, Venus, and her granddaughter Talia. Their settlement was constantly on the move, filled with otherwise ordinary people – most of whom Lio could recognize from his volunteering in the past.
Despite looking tough as nails and cool as shit on her bike, Grand Maia was incredibly soft and loving. She spent a lot of time with the people Lio would come to know as the Aunties in their “kitchen”, ushering the skinniest Burnish to eat more so they wouldn’t go out. She took babies from the arms of overstressed mothers and easily soothed them into sleep, spent plenty of time telling stories to the younger children, and taught the older kids to use their fires effectively. Any adult in fit condition was hard at work, often buzzing for her input on something or another.
“Sounds familiar,” Galo jokes, much to the snorting of his generals. Lio rolls his eyes and lightly shoves his shoulder.
“Shut up.”
After he’d had a chance to eat and introduce himself to other kids about his age, Grand Maia had pulled him aside somewhere quiet, and sat on his level to speak.
“So, kid. You got any family?”
And he couldn’t lie to her. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Thank you for being honest. You’re the senator’s son, right?”
He nodded, and she sighed, reaching back to run a hand through her hair.
“Shit. Poor kid… How much do you know about the Burnish?”
The question gave him pause, because it was at this moment that he truly realized how little he – how little anyone – knew about what it meant to be Burnish. And that had terrified him.
“Not – not much,” Lio admitted; “I know they’re people who have mutations that make them make fires. And because they make fires, people are scared of them.”
Maia nodded. “Good. And what do you feel about the Burnish?”
Again, he’d paused. Then, with a little more confidence,
“You’re… We’re just people.”
There was a long silence between them. Maia fidgeted with her hand for a minute, humming softly, before she sighed heavily, looking him in the eye.
“Look, Lio, I’ll level with you. You’re in a unique position. Most of the kids in my care either have Burnish parents, or are running from their parents. That said… I know your father, and I know he wouldn’t kick out his son for something like this.”
She paused for a second, then added, more tentatively,
“But I can’t pretend it wouldn’t be dangerous, trying to go back to your old life. Your flare was pretty explosive. So, I’m going to offer you a choice – and you don’t have to decide now,” She assured, “You can sleep on it. But I want you to really consider your options.
“Option one; we get you home. I can sneak you past the police, and Freeze Force, and get you back to your family. But you need to understand that if I do this, we can’t protect you and yours. Option two, you stay in our care here, and I send word to your folks – tell them who you’re with. I can promise you that here, with us, you will be taken care of. We’ll show you how to control your fire, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”
His choices hung in the air for a moment, and Lio was silent as the same thoughts from before – the same thoughts that drove him to run – replayed in his head.
“Like I said,” Maia started, “You don’t have to –”
“I want to stay.”
She blinked in surprise, staring at him openly.
“... You’re sure?”
“I know what people are like. My dad already has to deal with people who want to hurt him and my family every day,” He replied, looking down at his hand; “If I went home, it’d only get worse for them all. I... I want them to be safe, and they’ll be safer without me. So please – let me stay. Show me how to protect myself.”
The staring continued for another moment before she slowly nodded, taking a breath.
“... Alright.”
Lio’s phone goes off. The three men sharing his bed groan loudly, but Galo still reaches to the nightstand and retrieves it for him. Lio laughs at their misery, then sighs at the name on his screen.
“It’s the Governess. Move, I have to take this.”
There’s a lot of shuffling as he struggles out of their cuddle pile, but he manages, climbing out and preparing to answer before Gueira whistles, pulling his attention.
“Hey. You better finish this story sometime!”
Lio grins back.
“‘Course. I wouldn’t dream of leaving you in suspense.”