[Pre-canon] Cold

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In which Colin Wallis gets caught in a snowstorm
A few things before you start
Pronouns
He/Him
This story will take place in a nebulous pre-canon timeline, and will focus on the heroes of the Protectorate ENE, particularly Armsmaster and Velocity. Taylor, Scion, Cauldron and the Endbringers are not relevant to it in any way, and will not be brought up in-story.

The story is complete and entirely pre-written at twelve chapters and will update daily. Chapter length should not be the topic of discussion, please focus on the story being told.

I hope you enjoy this story and have a good time!
 
Brew
The sky is grey through the break room window, the horizon hidden by clouds heavy with snow, and Colin is out of coffee beans.

It's not important, in the grand scheme of things, not really, but the coffee on PHQ is atrocious and soon the clouds will turn into a storm and most stores will close for several days.

Colin fills his cup at the coffee machine, takes a tentative sip, and comes to the conclusion that yes, it does actually taste that bad.

He sighs, and checks the time.

It's still early. If he hurries, he should be able to get to the store he likes just before it closes. It shouldn't take more than thirty, forty-five minutes.

He leaves a note on his desk in case someone looks for him, and goes.
 
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Shop
When Colin gets out of the store, coffee beans safely tucked in his coat pocket, the snow covering the ground has gone from blanket to heavy mantle, and the rare passers-by are hurrying home.

A gust of wind slips wet cold under his clothes, and Colin spares a thought for his armor and its mechanical warmth. It would have been unprofessional to take it for a personal errand, however, and the point is moot by now.

The snows keeps on falling, and despite its wetness, Colin can't help but enjoy the way it crunches under his feet as he starts walking. He's almost halfway through and alone in the street when he hears a clanging noise in a nearby alleyway.

He hesitates. It's probably nothing, he knows, just a draft of wind sending an empty can careening on the ground, but…

It could be a homeless person. Spending the night outside in this weather… Well. Colin doesn't think it would be good for their health.

"Hey!" Colin calls out. "Is there someone in here?"

No answer. It's probably the wind.

(It might not be.)

It's not his problem, and he is in a hurry.

(Someone could be in danger. As unlikely as it is, someone could die.)

Colin enters the alleyway.
 
Eave
There isn't anyone in the alleyway. Just a cat, half-starved, with a torn ear and wet fur and a wounded leg.

Colin sighs tiredly.

"I don't suppose I could leave you here?" he asks the cat.

The cat meows. It sounds incredibly pitiful.

"Didn't think so," Colin says, and he picks up the cat.

The cat purrs.

"Stop it," Colin says. "I don't want a pet. I'm only getting you out of the snow until I can get you to a shelter, or feed you to Hellhound's dogs or something."

The cat keeps purring. Colin puts the cat inside his coat.

Over his head, the eave creaks under the weight of the snow, and falls.
 
Trap
Colin dives to the side, out of the way of the falling rubble, and it's almost enough. The pieces of plaster and concrete do not hit his head, the broken rebar does nos pierce his skin, the weight of the debris does not crush his spine or the cat pressed against his ribs.

Colin dives to the side, and it's almost enough.

Almost.

The upper half of his body gets out of the way. The lower part doesn't.

The weight of the rubble pins Colin to the ground, and there is a wave of burning pain deep inside his leg, the kind that swells when he tries to move.

Colin has been hurt often enough to recognize a broken leg.

Colin is trapped under the rubble, and the storm is fast approaching.
 
Hurt
The cat is fine. Unharmed. Or, at least, not more harmed than it already was. It did stop purring, though. Colin isn't sure how he feels about that.

"Good thing you didn't scratch me," he says to the cat. "I would have thrown you back in the snow with no hesitation."

The cat doesn't answer. Colin didn't think it would.

"At least you're warm," Colin says, and then, "I'm going to need help."

The rubble is too heavy for him to move on his own, especially with the lack of leverage imposed by his position, and any attempt to pull his legs out merely sends waves of sickening pain throughout the bone. Colin doesn't think he's going to get out of this alone.

With some effort, Colin manages to extricate his phone from his pocket.

It's broken. Unusable.

Colin tries to scream, to call out for help, but the wind mufflers his voice and no one answers in the empty streets.

Colin is trapped, and alone, and the snow keeps on falling.
 
Note
"Hey, sorry to bother you, I just need to ask you something about the schedule," Robin says as he pushes the door of Armsmaster's office.

He's answered by silence. The room is empty.

"Oh, fuck," Robin says. "Where are you?"

He's pretty sure Armsmaster isn't on patrol. Actually, he's pretty sure Armsmaster is supposed to be off-duty, but he said he'd stay on PHQ during the storm in case of emergency.

Maybe he left a note?

Robin gives a look at the desk and, between neat stacks of non-sensitive paperwork, he does find a note.

Gone on an errand, the note says in Armsmaster's neat cursive. Back in thirty. Underneath, the address he went to and the time he left at.

He should have been back almost half an hour ago.
 
Miss
"Have you seen Colin?" Robin asks. "I can't find him."

Hannah shakes her head.

"Not since lunch, sorry," she says. "What did you need him for?"

"A question about patrols," Robin says. "I wasn't sure if we'd have to do something to make up for the ones that got canceled because of the storm. It can wait, though. There's a note on his desk, saying he went on an errand, he should have been back over half an hour ago."

"Oh," Hannah says. "That's a bit worrying, yes. I'm going to call him."

The phone rings emptily. No answer.

Hannah's brow furrows in concern.

"I'm calling his house," she says. "Just in case."

No answer.
 
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Plan
"We should look for him," Hannah says. "Something must have happened. We need to find him."

"How?" Samantha asks. "Have you seen this weather? We don't even know where to start."

Hannah called Samantha to the break room to inform her of the issue, and the three of them are sitting around the table in their civilian clothes, the half-eaten box of cookies Samantha brought forgotten in a corner.

"He left an address," Robin says. "I can run on snow, so the weather shouldn't incapacitate me too much. I can try going there, retrace his step, find clues of what happened. It's a start. I might even find him."

"You wouldn't be able to carry him back," Hannah points out. "I'm going to call Shawn. He can fly, if you find Colin, he can take care of the transportation."

"On it," Samantha, and Robin gets up to put on his bodysuit.

They have a plan.

It's not much, but it's somewhere to start.
 
Look
Shawn isn't pleased that he has to leave his son with a neighbor, but he does come with minimal protest upon having had the situation explained to him.

Meanwhile, Robin puts on his mask and bodysuit, and Velocity begins the search.

It's dark outside, the sun obscured by clouds. The snowy wind whips at his hair, the cold stings at the exposed parts of his face, and he really, really hopes Armsmaster is safely inside somewhere.

(He would have called. If Armsmaster had been safely inside somewhere, he would have called them. Told them where he was, why he couldn't come back.)

Velocity starts running, and the wind and the ice do not touch him anymore, and the snow does not crumple under his feet, and he could almost go anywhere he wants, almost, but the world is still cold and the world is still dark, and he hopes wherever Armsmaster is, he can find him in time.
 
Meow
Velocity is almost halfway to the shop when he hears, barely, almost covered by the wind, a cat meows.

He stops, for a second, and buries his face in his hands as his feet sink into the snow.

He can't help that cat. He can't. He can't carry it while he runs, and he can't stop running , he can't waste time, not when he doesn't know where Armsmaster is, not when every minute might count.

(He can run as fast as he wants, but he has to leave everything behind.)

(He has to leave everyone behind.)

It's just a cat.

Velocity swallows, hard.

"Fuck!" he says.

It's just a cat.

Velocity is about to start running again when he hears a voice call his name.
 
Call
The cat won't stop meowing, and a part of Colin is seriously annoyed by the repetitive noise.

"Why won't you just stop?" Colin asks.

The cat meows.

Colin sighs.

"At least you're warm," he says.

Colin isn't.

Colin is tired. Colin is very, very cold, and even more tired than he is cold.

(He can't sleep.)

(If he sleeps, he won't wake up.)

Despite his best efforts, Colin's eyes are closing when he hears, barely, almost completely covered by the cat and wind's cries, a voice.

He knows that voice.

Colin props himself up as much as he can, and calls for help.
 
Epilogue - Warm
"Thank you," Armsmaster says.

He's sitting in the break room, wrapped in a blanket after changing into the spare clothes he keeps on PHQ. As for Robin himself, his suit protected him from the worst of the cold, so he merely put on a sweater over it in solidarity.

The room smells good, like Armsmaster's expensive coffee beans as Samantha prepares a warm drink for everyone, and the cat, newly christened "Snowy" by Shawn before he went back home, has made itself at home in Armsmaster's lap and hisses at everyone who tries to dislodge it.

"Thank you," Armsmaster says, hands absentmindedly buried in Snowy's fur, "for coming for me."

"Any time," Robin says.

He means it.
 
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