primal 1.5

Dad was just leaving when I arrived, heading for work. He had taken an entire week of his vacation days so he could watch over me when I got out of the hospital, probably the most time we had spent together since Mom died. Not that we said or did much during that time, but it was nice having him nearby. Even if it didn't help in the long run.

I made it to my room before the realisation of just what I had been about to do on that rooftop hit me square in the gut. My legs collapsed out from under me as I landed on my bed, and let myself sprawl across the mattress, a nasty sensation twisting inside of me.

What would have happened if I had gone through with it? Not to me obviously, I knew in morbid detail that which would have happened to me if I had decided to take the plunge, so to speak. It was the thought of Dad finding me like that, especially after the state he had been when I had regained coherence in hospital, that made me sick to my stomach. He had taken Mom's loss harder than I had, I think, even if it never showed, beyond how quiet he had become.

Pushing those thoughts from my head, I forced myself to stand and head downstairs. I'd skipped breakfast this morning, and there there was no better time to think than with a full stomach. Judging by the hungry gurgle that emanated from said stomach as I cracked a few eggs into the frying pan, it agreed with me wholeheartedly.

---

A cheese omelette and some warm tea later, I was sitting on the couch, pondering what to do next.

It's funny really, I was half expecting to have broken down by now; for the sudden realisation that I had been seconds away from ending my own life, to have caused a panic attack at the very least. Maybe it was that voice I had heard before passing out, or the knowledge that I had powers that was bolstering me.

Part of why I had even considered it in the first place had been the horrible lack of control. It felt like my life existed for no other reason than for me to be subjected to various torments, to be made to suffer for the amusement of others. The crippling, demoralising sense that the deck was utterly stacked against me had dragged me down.

The knowledge that I had powers changed that, somewhat at least.

Speaking of which…

A quick check of the windows to make sure they were locked, followed by the same for the front and back door, and I headed downstairs into the basement. My steps caused the old wood to creak as I walked down, the bare bulb that flickered to life when I flipped the light switch, bathing the cement-floored room in yellow-tinted light.

Old furniture, the ladder Dad used whenever the roof needed a quick patch-job and boxes of various old clothes and junk were illuminated as I stood in the middle of it all. Digging through one of those boxes, I drew out one of the pieces the wooden building block set I had when I was really small. A smile came to my face as I turned it over in my hand, the little pastel blue square reflecting my face in its varnished surface.

Stepping away from everything and into the center of the basement floor, I sat down with my legs folded and gazed at the blue cube intently. When I had been on the rooftop, it had been my frustration and anger that had brought out the fire, so that's what I focussed on. I didn't have any particular feelings of resentment or anger for this building block, so my only recourse was to dredge up various unpleasant memories from school. Not exactly a difficult feat.

I thought about my first days back from camp, when Emma first stabbed me in the back. To those first few, awful months of suffering and the destruction of not only my bags and work but my mother's flute. Then, I thought about the incident that had landed me in hospital and therapy, of the terror that I felt, trapped in the dark, and the horrendous stench that I could still smell even months later.

Above all else, I thought about them; Emma, Madison and Sophia, always laughing and smiling through it all. Dancing through life without even a harsh word to punish them for what they had done.

I heard the crackle of flames and opened my eyes, finding that now both my arms were engulfed in roaring crimson flames, all the way up to my shoulders and encroaching on my torso. It didn't hurt at all, infact it felt good to have it lick across my clothing and skin. As for the toy block, it seemed to be unharmed, which surprised me. I held it tight in my hand and squeezed, picturing it being consumed by flames, letting the anger welling up inside flow through me. My fingers dug into the wood, causing it to crack and splinter, the little wooden shards that flew out from it being consumed in my flames first. Then the roaring, hungry tongues of flame dug into what remained.

Blue wood twisted into black ash before my very eyes and still the flames fed, until even the ash was gone, burned away until all that remained was a sooty stain across my palm.

A laugh slipped free, joy suffusing my very being as I rose and went back for another block. My flames didn't seem to burn anything I didn't want them to, so as I opened up the box I willed them to leave the cardboard container and its contents alone; sure enough, I could touch them freely, not even leaving a blemish behind to mark where my hands had been.

With the box sealed up, I headed back upstairs, snuffing the flames with a few moments of concentration. There was one more little test I had to try before I felt confident enough to go experimenting with these powers somewhere outside of the privacy of home.

Back up in the kitchen, I turned on the gas stove, letting the flames on the burners blossom to life. Taking a steadying breath, I held out my hand towards the little ring of fire. I could feel the heat of the flame, not in the same sense as the prickling pain that usually accompanied being far too close to intense sources of heat, but more in that it almost felt like a part of me. I twitched a finger and watched the flames flicker towards my hand, bending and twisting to push themselves towards it. When my hand finally rested within them, I felt the flames lap against my skin gently, almost like I was running my hand under the faucet and letting warm water run across it.

I couldn't help but smile at the sensation, which was slightly ticklish, as I flexed my fingers within the fire. The flames curled around them, dancing around my hand as I felt that connection grow stronger, until I drew my hand back, beckoning the flames to follow my motions and watch as they stretched out and rose to follow my motions.

After that, I made sure to lower the flames back down to their normal size before shutting the gas off, letting the flames vanish.

My success left me feeling more than a little giddy as I stepped away from the stove, running the fingers of my other hand over the skin of the one that had been immersed in flames. Nothing. Not a single mark on my skin, no singed skin or even a heat rash.

Well, that answered the question I had been pondering; did I have immunity and control over any fire, or just what I could generate myself? It seemed to lean towards the former, but I couldn't be sure until I ran into different sorts of flame, including those that other powers could generate. Knowing that I could handle both my own and ordinary forms of fire was a good start though.

After a shower, a change of clothes, I went back to my room and brushed the slight layer of dust that had accumulated on my old computer tower off, clearing the fan's airflow. I hadn't even touched it since getting out of the hospital, but now I had some research to do, which was something the five-years obsolete machine could still do just fine.

Three hours later trawling both PHO and various other websites in general, and I was more well-informed than I had been about the various capes who called the Bay their home, along with some basic information about their powers. Even then, it wasn't a whole lot that I didn't already know from just living here; Lung's ability to ramp up in size and strength proportionate to how long a conflict dragged on for example.

A few interesting details had popped out at me as I browsed a couple of threads on the forum; I learned that apparently, Purity of Empire 88 had divorced herself from the gang somewhat, going after criminals and taking the trouble to leave them alive to be arrested rather than simply blasting them into ashes. Of course, there were plenty who countered that by pointing out how she was still targeting gang-members who were racial minorities, but it was something to consider. One less potential disaster if I ever ran into her while out and about.

Unless she was still a member of the Empire and decided to shoot on sight. But there was nothing wrong with having just a tiny pinch of optimism though.

One thing that drew my attention was on the PHO wiki section for Brockton Bay; a group calling themselves the Undersiders. Pretty much every article, save for one, was a stub or didn't really exist. Not much information to gain there, and I doubted I'd be seeing them anytime soon regardless; I wasn't about to leap into fights with parahumans before I learned the first steps of using my power.

The single most unsettling thing I learned by far, however, had to be the list of other known parahumans who had pyrokinetic ability. It wasn't all that long but it included such notable figures as Lung and, most distressingly, Burnscar. I would have to make sure nobody drew any comparisons between a member of the biggest band of monsters to roam the world and me.

Shutting the computer off, I headed downstairs again, grabbing a hoodie from my closet and a scarf. I had about nine hours before Dad got home and I was intent on using it to practice, so it was best if I used something that could reasonably hide my identity.

After leaving out a quickly scribbled note that said I would be at the library for Dad, in case he wound up coming home early, I headed back outside and made my way towards the bus stop. There was no way I'd be running all the way to where I was hoping to practice, the Boat Graveyard was too far away for me to do that and still have any energy left when I got there.

And I was going to thoroughly practice what I could do. I had powers now and I wanted to know everything I could about them.

---

A few hours later led to me leaning against one of the boat hulks, a grin stamped across my face as I dismissed the flames from my arms once more.

It was getting easier now to summon them up, the anger and frustration coming with greater speed, quickening my limbs as I moved through the old hulks of long-beached ships. They weren't all in danger of crumbling thankfully, meaning I could actually slip inside a few of their old holds to practice.

Said practice had mostly taken the form of seeing just what I could do with my flames and what form they could take when I exerted my control over them. The first and easiest had been the traditional 'flamethrower' style spray from my hand, which projected out from my palm or my closed fist. Gouts of flame had scorched the walls as I directed them, and I had discovered that while I could simply fire and forget, a little exertion of my control could actually direct the streams to move against the motions of my arms. It was sure to be a pretty nasty little surprise for anyone who was expecting for my flames to move according to my own motions, when the flames suddenly curled around like snakes before striking.

The second thing I practised had been the other well-known technique for pyrokinetics - that I knew of, at least - the fireball. Generating it had taken a bit of effort, since fire tends to want to flare up rather than shape itself into an easily-throwable sphere of flame. The first one I made had been kind of pitiful to be honest, splashing against the metal hull without leaving much of a mark, the remnants plopping into the pools of standing water with a hiss of steam.

For my next attempt, I tried compacting the flames rather than just shaping them into a sphere. It took a bit more concentration than before as I felt out the process, feeling the roiling heat as it grew and grew in my palm until it was a little bigger than a soccer ball. Setting my sights on a dangling light fixture, I drew back my arm and let it fly. The orb streaking through the empty hold in a blur of reds and yellows.

On the upside, the display this time was much more impressive. On the downside, I really needed to work on my aim, as my throw had pulled far to the left and hit another pool of water, quickly filling the place up with steam.

Understandably, I had to find a different spot to practice after that. I may be immune to the heat and not in danger of being scalded by the boiling hot steam, but it still made the hold stuffy as hell and obscured my vision. Pretty soon though, I was hitting what I aimed at more times than I missed.

I would probably have to upgrade to moving targets at some point, but I didn't want to just start hurling fireballs at the few rats that skittered their way through the place. While I'm not the biggest fan of rodents, hurting them for no other reason than because I needed practice aiming didn't sit right with me. Maybe I could rig something up or throw objects with one hand and try to blast it with the other?

Honestly, even thinking about hurting the rats made my fists clench up until the whites of my knuckles were showing, and I felt my nails bite into my skin. I wouldn't be doing it for my amusement but more or less because I could, and because it would be oh-so easy to do so. I wasn't going to be someone like that.

I wasn't going to be like them.

Digging deep down inside, I heard their mocking laughter echoing in my ears as I pressed my hands together, letting roiling flames build; from spark, to fire, until in my hands I held a grand conflagration just begging to be unleashed.

'I could do it too,' I thought to myself, a smile spreading across my face as the laughter faded, replaced with screams. 'It would be so pathetically easy. All their taunts, all their mockery, would be nothing but ash against what I can do to them.'

The flames were dancing all across my body now as I stepped closer towards my current target, a metal cross-beam that had twisted and bent until it was a crude stick-figure facsimile of a person. I held the roaring orb of fire in my hands out to it and watched the metal begin to redden rapidly. 'Let them scream, let them try to run. They never answered my screams with anything but more hurt, never let me so much as run until they were done with me.'

Metal pinged against the floor, just on the edge of my hearing, as the metal began to melt away before me. Soon it was white hot, thick gobs of molten metal rolling down the surface, like the wax on a candle. I had to squeeze my eyes closed as the flames became as bright as the sun itself, splotches of colour dancing across my eyelids.

In fact, why stop with just Emma, Madison and Sophia? They were the ringleaders to be certain, but plenty of their simpering little friends had shared in the teasing. Come to think of it, not a single person had stepped forward when I had been locked in that...filth. No-one had stepped forward or even spoken up to say a word against them, or support me when I needed it. Not even a fucking apology for their cowardice!

'We can burn them, burn all of them! Show them that we will never be weak again, that we'll never be nothing but victims! We have the power, we have the right!' My teeth were showing in my smile now, the flames embracing me in a warm blanket. 'And if any come against us, they too shall burn!'

My smile faltered.

No. That was the absolute last thing I wanted. I'd become just like them if I did that, lording the strength I had over others like some kind of mad tyrant. That was what Lung did, what Kaiser did. There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that I would ever sink to that kind of level.

Beyond that, the idea of hurting innocent people-

'Innocent? HAH! They committed their crimes through their cowardice and weakness. They saw what happened to us, they let it happen to us.'

Yes, because they were afraid that they would be the next target. I'd like to think that I would have done something, if I was in their shoes...but I don't know if I could guarantee it. Punishing them for it didn't feel right, it didn't feel just.

I wasn't going to be someone who threw their strength and power around to get what they wanted. I wanted to protect the kind of people who were afraid to stand up for me. Show them that all it took was one person standing up and doing something that could change things for the better.

My eyes snapped open as I warred with the raging flames, grasping at them and smothering them as I sucked in lungfuls of stiflingly hot air. The brightness before me dimmed, before slowly dying down like a fire bereft of fuel to keep itself going.

As I blinked the after-images from my eyes, I got a good look at just what kind of damage had been done. The cross-beam was gone, nothing left of it but a pool of molten metal all around me which I quickly stepped out of before it hardened, scraping as much as I could off my shoes, thankful that evidently my protection from heat and flames included being safe against this sort of thing.

There was a small still-smoking stub of metal jutting out of the floor which was yet white-hot and melting in spots, joining the remnants on the metal hull. Even it had begun to deform, the section where I had been standing was bowing outwards and deforming. What little sand had made its way inside the hull had turned to glass and sat, shining softly as it cooled.

Letting out a shuddering breath, I took a few steps back from what I had done. This was all just from one compressed fireball; I hadn't even let it burst out and explode. Judging from what it had done, I think that if I had, this boat would have been torn apart under the sheer heat and force of the blast. The realisation that I had even thought about throwing something like this...possibly something even worse than this, at normal people, was sobering.

I had to learn to keep control of my anger, even as I used it to fuel the flames. I had let it rage without holding on to it, and my own anger had nearly consumed me, driven me to do something that I might have regretted for the rest of my life. However long it might have been, since causing such destruction on a grand scale was how people tended to get marked for death.

That wouldn't, couldn't happen again. Not when I was out there and dealing with people, even criminals. Hadn't I just resolved that I wasn't going to be thought of as a monster?

Letting out a heavy sigh, I moved to head back out the way I had come in, when I caught sight of my hands, causing my breath to catch in my chest. Panic set in as I headed for the nearest pool of water and stared inside, my heart sinking as I saw what stared back at me; crimson glowing eyes set into dark, tanned flesh. My hands had gained long black claws that gleamed with a razor sharpness.

And I had horns. Small ones, yes, but they were there, curling up and out of my dark hair to slip free of the cover provided by the hoodie I was wearing, faint cracked lines of deep red flame running along the black, bony protrusions.

Not being seen as a monster had suddenly become much, much more difficult.

PRIMAL

1.3

---​

Staring down at the pool of stagnant water, I could feel a cold chill penetrating the warmth that was suffusing every fiber of my being. My breathing began coming faster as fear set in, the thought that I would be stuck like this was causing my body to tremble as my stomach clenched up, trying to evacuate my breakfast all over the place.

My legs slipped out from under me as I sank to the ground, back pressed to the metal walls of the hold. I couldn't even hug myself; when I tried, the dark claws on my hands had almost shredded the sleeves of the hoodie I was wearing. I didn't even want to think about what these things could do to unprotected flesh. At least they couldn't penetrate my own skin, which I found out when I balled my hands into fists...or as close as they could get with huge talons getting in the way. I could feel them digging into my skin, causing little pinpricks of pain, but no blood seemed to be flowing.

Then again, did I even have blood inside of me anymore? For all I knew I might start leaking magma everywhere if something got through the leathery hide I was now sporting.

Letting my fists unclench, I reached up again to feel over my...my horns. They weren't overly large but they were prominent. I could feel them emerging from the left and right of my forehead and then curling up and out gently, before rising to sharp points. There was no way I could hide them under a hood, let alone hide my now-glowing eyes.

My first day with powers and I'd already screwed up. I let myself get lost in the anger I was feeling, started letting the flames use me instead of commanding them...I probably deserved this for being such an idiot. I had been so angry, remembering everything that had happened to me, it must have made something 'click' inside my head, and brought on more anger so I could pay back the Trio...no, the world for making me hurt.

A part of me had gone giddy at the thought of paying them all back, of showing them that weak little Taylor Hebert wasn't quite so weak anymore. Even the thought of hurting them had felt so horribly good at the time.

But I wasn't going to go down that road. Even if I was stuck looking like this forever. There had to be a better way to use these powers, one that wouldn't result in me setting everything I could see aflame for the crime of existing. Just because the idea was appealing -- and it still was, truth be told. I could feel it at the back of my mind -- didn't mean it was a good one; plenty of things that seemed like a good idea at the time, turned out to be the worst ones of recorded history.

Of course, that still left the fact that I looked like a fiery demon straight out of hell. Trying to be a hero while looking like this was asking for some kind of confusion down the road, though to be fair, it was certainly intimidating. You could hardly ask for something more scary than a literally flaming demon, aside from the obvious exceptions like the Endbringers and various other horrible entities.

Still, if I was stuck like this, I was going to need to have an incredibly awkward talk with Dad about all this.

Letting my hands drop to my sides, I wrestled control back over my breathing, taking deep gasps of air as I leaned my head back against the beached ship's hull. Before I even thought about making my way home, I had to try and relax. My body was still thrumming with energy, the adrenaline worked up by both my practice and panic attack only now beginning to ebb.

I was still worried. If I had changed this much in such a short time, what would have happened to myself if I had let it keep building? Would I have changed even further, until I became an unrecognisable beast that didn't even look human?

A deep sigh heaved its way out of my chest as I raised one of my hands up to my face to look it over, figuring that I may as well familiarise myself with what would be my new body…

Except that the skin on my arm was already shifting back to my normal, pale tone.

It was taking a while, but as I watched, the flesh on my hand was going from a dark-brown tone to what I had before. The massive claws making up my hands began to shrink as well, losing their black sheen as they began returning to normal fingernails.

Rising quickly to my feet, I moved over to look into the pool of water again. As I stared into it, a smile broke out across my face at what I saw within; the horns on my head beginning to recede and the glow in my eyes fading slowly away. I could feel my claws shrinking too, along with my horns slowly losing mass and retracting back into my head. Which was a bit weird, since considering their size there should have been nowhere for all that mass to go...not that I was about to complain about them going mind you.

When the last of the changes had receded, I was staring back at myself again as relief washed over me.

I actually started laughing as my hands reached up and felt over my face, searching for any sign of a lingering transformation. Maybe I could have made it work, looking like a demon every day of my life...but not right now, not when I was just starting out. It would have meant never being able to hide when I needed to, never being able to go home again. The idea of leaving Dad without knowing what had happened, or of having to explain that what looked like a monster was, in fact, his daughter was one I didn't relish in the slightest.

---

Heading home was a bit slower going than getting to the Boat Graveyard had been. I had been so caught up in practice and freaking out over my temporary change, that I had completely missed the next scheduled bus. I didn't exactly feel like running home, so instead I sat and waited, replaying the events inside of the ship in my mind.

As I considered everything I had learned about my new powers, the thought that I desperately needed to learn a little self-control -- or at the very least, exercise what I had better -- before I started using my powers again. If I started slipping into that mind-set in a fight, without any chance to gather my thoughts...I didn't want to think about what would happen. For all I knew, if I slipped too far into that anger, I might never find my way back out.

Then there was the fact that my fire, while not burning anything I didn't want it to, would greedily devour anything when my concentration waned. Keeping my clothes intact was practically a subconscious impulse, but I doubted it would be the same when I was dealing with flames over a large area. Missed shots were going to have some serious consequences, as would lingering flames if I allowed them to burn without paying attention.

When the bus arrived and I boarded, I spent the whole trip back thinking of possible solutions for the more obvious issues. Maybe I should practice recalling my flames when I threw them out, or forming something besides fireballs.

In the end, I decided to try focussing on controlling myself when I was using my powers. If I could tap into my anger, without getting lost to it, I should have some finer control over what I could do. Once I had that worked out, then I could move on to practicing anything fancy with my abilities. Not just my fire, but the enhanced speed and strength that had came along with it.

That had been something I'd noticed earlier, actually, when finishing up my run and when I first started exploring the Boat Graveyard for a good place to practice. I was moving faster and landing easier when I ran or jumped, and getting into the ship's hold had required me to open up a rusted door that I couldn't have even budged before. It still took a bit of effort, but I had gotten it open.

I had to wonder if those parts of me ramped up alongside my fire. If they did, then I suddenly had a lot more options open to me than I did before. I wouldn't have to run along the ground to patrol for one thing, just leap between tall buildings to get from place to place, only using the streets when I had to. Not to mention it would give me a potentially non-lethal option for resolving fights with non-powered gang members. I couldn't exactly go around giving everyone second degree burns, or worse, so being able to knock them out or at least overpower them would be a huge plus.

It was another thing to test out in the days ahead.

---

Getting home saw me settling down in front of my computer and digging up everything I could on the best ways of managing anger and working on self-control.

What I got was mostly the usual stuff about sleeping and exercising to help manage anger, but that wasn't quite what I was after. I needed a way to harness what I had, without letting it take control and over-rule my thoughts. Granted, I imagine these kinds of courses were designed more for the average person with stress issues, rather than someone whose power literally harnesses rage as a fuel source.

Kind of makes me wonder what therapy would be like for parahumans anyway. 'Thanks for coming in today, try not to murder your therapist by accident when they discuss your deep-seated mother issues.'

I let myself giggle at the mental image I got from that, before digging back into what I had found.

There was some stuff I found which could, perhaps, help me out. How to channel your anger for purposes beyond blindly lashing out at the target of it. Using it to give yourself a little boost of strength when you had cause to let it all out. That would be more than a little helpful when I...went back to school.

The realisation crashed down on me fairly hard. Yes, I would have to return to Winslow tomorrow, as much as the thought of it brought about a physical ache in my chest. I had been riding high on the idea of having powers, such that I had forgotten what had led to me getting them. The thought of having to face down the Trio again was not one that I was looking forward to in any way, shape or form.

But it was something that I was going to have to do, unless I wanted to start skipping school. I can't say the idea hadn't come to me, even if it was a temporary solution at best. Eventually, I'd either have to go there, or find some way of making sure that I found myself at another school or managed to test out. And while that idea had its merits, it would mean having to talk to Dad about it, along with juggling schoolwork, studying for the exam, and whatever I did with my new powers.

So, testing out wasn't an option for the time being, but I could at the very least absorb all I could from these guides. Anger management to help me store my rage for when it was absolutely needed, alongside a self-control regimen to keep myself from overindulging when I finally let it all out of the bottle.

Exactly how effective those would be, I wouldn't be able to tell until the time came to use them. That was the downside of techniques like this; they were all well and good as a mental model, but then came first contact with the real world. And I knew from experience that the real world could be a vindictive bitch.

I spent the rest of the day practicing on controlling my anger. I called up every anger-inducing memory that I could while sitting on my bed and trying to hold my concentration as I did so by reading a book. The success was kind of limited but I found I could push through the anger that blossomed up inside of me, or seal it back up again if I had to.

Of course, I still got overwhelmed a few times when I remembered the absolute worst times. There was no way I was going to master controlling my anger fully right away. But I would do the best I could and keep practicing, until I could weather it without a single ember smouldering along my fingers.

---

Well, I didn't set the school on fire.

Oh, I had been tempted, don't get me wrong. I had known that Winslow likely wouldn't be doing much to be on the lookout after what happened, but there hadn't even been a token show of watchfulness.

About the only place I had any peace had been in Mrs Knot's class, since none of Emma, Madison or Sophia's friends took it, nor did any of their friends. I had used the work there as my channel for the anger that had been building in me all day, hammering out the solutions to programmes and problems. Once those were done, I had spent the rest of the period centering myself. I'm pretty sure that without that one little stretch of relaxation, I would have snapped before the final bell.

I had already come dangerously close at the very start of the day. Despite all my prep-work, all my attempts to center myself and keep my focus… it had come crashing down around my ears when the Trio had shown their faces when I entered school, right as I was passing by a row of lockers.

Ever since what had happened to me, I had refused to use lockers. I had gotten myself a book bag instead, one I was determined to keep in my sights at all times. It might not protect everything I had in the long run - they would find some way to mess with it, I was sure. I had budgeted for a new one already - but it was safer than just leaving them lying around.

That and simply being near them was causing my skin to crawl. To everyone else they were just metal storage containers...but to me, they were a constant reminder of darkness, terror and pain.

No surprise that they chose to ambush and surround me there, with my back to the lockers.

"Wow, Taylor, I didn't think you would be back so soon. Good for you~" Emma's voice was sweet, but I had learned pretty quickly after she stabbed me in the back that any sweetness from her now came with hidden razor blades.

Sophia picked up on it readily, closing in as she gave me a smile that was about as comforting as a bear trap. "Almost like all that time off was nothing but whining." A shrug followed as she continued. "Well, I might think that if I hadn't seen you screaming like a nut and clawing the janitor."

Taking a deep breath as I reached into my bag, one hand wrapping around a stress-ball I bought the other day, I fought to hold on to what little threads of self-discipline I had gained before returning here.

"Maybe she should have stayed in the loony bin." Madison chimed in, always last to pick up on the barbs but about as relentless as a starving dog with a bone when she had it, like she was trying to impress Emma and Sophia. "It's not like anyone wants her around anyway… maybe that's why her mom-"

My hand squeezed into a fist around the ball at that, deforming it as my hand twitched inside my bag, sending it crashing into one of the locker doors. The loud rattling of metal interrupted Madison before she could finish. I could feel the ball heating under my touch, the anger wrestling with my desire to keep my powers hidden. Any hotter and the ball would start to melt and blacken, letting acrid smoke work its way out of my bag for all to see.

Thankfully, the sudden slam of the locker had startled Madison enough for me to push past her. With her body blocking Sophia, I was able to slip away into the crowd of students as the bell rang. If it hadn't been for that, I don't know what I would have done...but with those few moments I was able to recover my hold on myself.

It was too close for comfort, but they had blown their big hit on me way too early. After that, the little whispers and snide remarks that I should kill myself - already tried that, you'll have to do better - or that I was a slut who had...performed...for my doctors to stay out of school longer than I needed to, those barely even registered to me.

I made sure to keep my bag with me at all times, not letting it out of my sight for even a second. I knew they would be looking for a chance to pay me back for slipping away earlier, and that sharp eye was rewarded when I managed to shift it out of the way of an 'accidental' spill of fountain pen ink from one of Madison's hangers-on during class.

As soon as I had dropped my things off at the house, I sequestered myself in the basement and reflected on the day. The stress ball wouldn't stand up to this, so I had swapped it out for a broken branch that I had picked up near the house.

Down there, in the dark, without the lone light bulb to illuminate anything, I dredged up everything that had been hurled at me that day. All of it stung, all of it hurt… but nothing was quite as painful, or rage-inducing as Madison's little implication about Mom.

When I reached that, I opened my eyes and let it flow out of my chest and into my hands. Not all at once, not yet. The entire point of this was to try and control the flow of fire and anger. To see if I could even do that without losing myself to the rage that roiled inside of me. I tried to hold on to the flames that sprung up around my hands, holding them back from reducing to the branch to nothing but ash.

It was damn hard as well. I could see Madison's little smirk as she said it, branded across my mind. That made the struggle to not burn everything around me even more difficult. I could feel the flames just begging to be let loose, to reduce everything between Madison and me to glass, before they incinerated her.

I took a long, deep breath, keeping the anger roiling as I let it trickle out from my hands. Wood crackled as gentle flames lapped at the bark, slowly climbing up the branch.

The roar of fire echoed in my ears, practically deafening as I wrestled with control over it. I relaxed my hold, letting just a little more seep out to help it climb up the branch. Madison's grin, Sophia's smile and Emma's honeyed venom...all of it fuel for the fire. Fuel that I controlled, fuel that only I could use to feed the growing conflagration. Not the anger inside of me, not them by proxy...only me.

The entire branch was up in flames now, lighting up the basement as it burned. I could smell the smoke in the air, thick with the stink of burning sap and wood. I should have been hacking and coughing as I breathed it in, but not even a single stutter came to my breathing rhythm. I guess it made a little sense that power over flames would come with the ability to filter out smoke. Either that or I was just getting lucky.

I squeezed my eyes shut and willed the flames back, bottling up the anger once again as I let out a long, shuddering breath. All of it went back inside, the heat around me slowly fading away as the hungry inferno inside of me slowly began to fade away. When I opened my eyes again, my lips also pulled back in a smile as I saw that not even a tiny ember was left on the branch.

A quick glance at a dusty mirror in the basement - after turning on the light - showed me that I hadn't started changing yet. Which meant that either I needed to use much more fire to see any effect, or it was caused by letting my rage over-take me.

Maybe I couldn't do it on the fly, or in a fight yet… but I would learn. This was my power and I was going to master it.

One way or another, the flames inside of me would obey.

PRIMAL

1.4

---​

Current Date: March 26th, 2011. Three weeks since Manifestation.

---

Opening my eyes in my room, I smiled down at the small candle-flame cupped in my hands. Its warmth was a comforting presence, as all flame had become in recent days. It was only a shame that I couldn't manifest any in Winslow, which is where I so desperately needed it… but the knowledge that it was always there, awaiting my call, was a comfort in and of itself.

Thankfully, it was now the weekend, meaning I had a chance to breathe a little easier and dedicate my time to what I was really interested in; my first night out with my powers.

School hadn't exactly been going better since that first day back. It was still a little slice of hell that kept eroding away at my mind and soul, but now I had a comfort that Emma, Madison and Sophia couldn't steal. Oh sure, even with my book-bag they found ways to fuck with me and my things; a 'spilled' bottle of water or juice here, pencil shavings dumped into my hair there. Small things when you compared them to what they had done to me in the past, but small things added up.

My stress ball had seen me through a few lunchtimes and computer class periods of dealing with that, my fingers clenching tightly around the little sphere until it deformed in my hand as I worked out my anger, without setting the thing on fire or melting it into smoking goo. If it wasn't for it — and the fact that I kept it on my person near-constantly to ensure it wasn't stolen — I probably would have had a few… flare-ups in my first few days back.

But now, I could focus on the fire within to help center myself. I wasn't smothering it per se, more like focussing it from an out-of-control inferno into the concentrated dazzling blue of a welding torch's flame. The anger wasn't forgotten, just directed and focussed. I blazed through my coursework in much less time than I had before, especially when it involved hands-on work. I had to consciously hold myself back during gym class in order to avoid standing out, lest all the adrenaline flooding through my veins give the game away.

My exercises in concentration and managing my anger had been helping, not simply with dispersing anger when it arose or helping to channel it either. Slowly at first, but with every session of practice and every act of directing my flames and anger, I was getting better and better at commanding my powers. Now, I was able to sense not only the flames inside of me, but all around the area that I was in.

I had discovered that little fact when I was in computer class, working on my concentration once my class-work was completed. Sparks had danced on the edges of my mind and with focus, I had been able to pick out which direction they were coming from, before they burst into flames great and small. Based on the direction of the stronger flames and the time I had picked them up, I guessed it was the cafeteria's ovens and stovetops being used to prepare lunch.

I could even pick up the bunsen burners in the science classes — what few there were at any rate; budget cuts, thefts and damage had seen the science labs lose more and more equipment. Especially things like acids, potential explosives, and anything that drug-crazed fiends would eagerly break locks for — when I tried to stretch out my senses.

At home the closest I could get to that, when the oven wasn't on, was the pilot light down in the basement boiler. If there any other flames around me at the moment then I couldn't sense them, meaning they were either too faint or too far away. As far as I could tell my senses only extended for about a hundred or so feet and even in that range I had trouble picking up on smaller flames. The bigger they got and the higher the concentration, the better I could pick up on them.

Practicing with the more practical side of these abilities had shown some progress as well. No longer just gouts of flame or clumsily thrown balls of explosive might; I could launch lances of fire in a line that pierced right through metal, leaving a smoking hole. A little testing with directing my anger out of my body, and I was able to throw up a wall of heat that boiled water away into steam when I was still feet away, even causing metal to begin melting and dripping.

One thing that had really surprised me was when I had been relaxing after practice one day, waiting for my changes to subside and had decided to see what my claws and horns were capable of. You can imagine my shock when, after running the razor-sharp point of my index finger over a section of hull, I saw not only the line clawed deep into the metal… but there was also molten metal oozing down the side of the ship. My touch was hot enough to melt metal on it's own, without needing to direct my flames at it. I had to flip a mental switch so that I could touch things safely in my changed state, besides my own clothes and body.

While not exactly calming my worries about being seen as Behemoth-Lite, it was exhilarating to see everything that I could do with the gift I had been granted. Plus I could see how it would be helpful in a fight; my wall of heat and flames would mean coming at me in melee would be a bad idea, so it's possible I could force criminals to surrender through fear alone. My flame-lances would be perfect for destroying guns — there was a danger that my flames might cook off the ammo, but better that than being shot at I suppose — and being capable of literal red-hot punches could be a big help.

Speaking of the fear angle… yeah, my appearance.

There was no getting around the fact that when I started throwing out my powers in any meaningful way, I began changing. I had tried suppressing them as best as I could, but they seemed to be inexorably tied to my ability to generate and control more and more flames. If I wanted to use my powers… I had to accept that I was going to be stuck with them. Oddly appropriate that fire powers made me look like a terrifying demon, and since I couldn't get rid of them, I might as well embrace what I had.

Funny thing is, after looking up some info on capes with physical changes or non-human forms, I had come across a few horror stories that made me so very glad that mine were both temporary and only helped make me stronger and faster over time.

Sighing, I snuffed out the little flame in my hand hopped up off of my bed, heading downstairs. Dad was out for a little while longer yet, meaning I still had time to put the finishing touches on what would be my costume.

Taking my changes into account while designing it had been a thorny problem on a massive scale. I was going to be sprouting horns, which meant any mask I made was going to have to expose my forehead. I had gotten around that by getting my hands on the thickest and most impact-resistant diving goggles I could that wouldn't obscure my vision, with the lenses being yellow to help me see at night. I didn't need prescription ones, or my glasses either for that matter. Ever since I gained my powers my vision had been slowly clearing up, to the point where I had sneakily replaced my prescription lenses with plastic ones.

The goggles were then incorporated into an old hockey mask from the basement that I had trimmed just enough off the top of so that it wouldn't get in the way of my growing horns. With that face protection in place, I had taken a full-face ski mask and worked on attaching the hockey mask to it. Then I swapped out the velcro that fastened it with metal clasps so that one good pull wasn't going to rip it right off of me.

Once the mask had been dealt with, the rest of my attire was a bit easier to come up with. I needed fingerless gloves to allow my claws to slip free without destroying whatever I was wearing — I knew fingerprints might be an issue but anything I got a good grip on was probably going to end up molten. Besides, I was going to be on the side of the law — and clothing that was otherwise fairly well padded.

Getting my hands on stab-proof clothing and material was a no-go on my budget. As it was, the best I could do was get my hands on protective padding on sports gear and either cut it out so I could fit it onto the costume I was making or add it to what I had.

Before getting hospitalised, I had been scrimping and saving every cent I could to upgrade my computer into something that didn't creak and clunk ominously whenever I turned it on. All of those funds, on top of any money I had gotten my hands on up until now, had gone into this.

Down in the basement, I opened up the box of old christmas decorations and drew out the little bags within that held my costume and materials.

With some stencils, spray paint and plenty of online tutorials — not to mention practice on old shirts that I was just going to throw away anyway — I had taken some padded black pants and a top, which I then marked with flaming patterns up and down the arms and legs, with one huge fireball over the chest.

On top of that, I had a hooded sweatshirt. The hood would further help to hide my hair and was an extra layer of protection for my chest and back. It was a little heavy at that point , but since I had been slowly getting stronger thanks to my practice and normal running schedule, it wasn't very noticeable. Besides, I would take a little extra weight in exchange for ensuring someone didn't get lucky with a knife when I was just starting off.

The mask was the last thing I had tinkered with. I couldn't just go freestyle or use stencils for flames on this, I had laboured for days to make it come out just right, practicing in my room with paints and paper.

And so I sat down there, staring into the yellow-lensed mask, paintbrush and paints out as I carefully drew the face of a snarling, fanged demon across the mask. I had to make sure that none of the paint obstructed the breathing holes near the mask's mouth section, so it took me a little bit of time.

When it was done, I gave everything a quick look-over for flaws or any popped stitches…. Everything seemed to be ready. Packing them back up, I stashed them in my room, pushed all the way to the back of my closet and inside of the original box my computer came in. Which also happened to be the home of the few other purchases I had made recently; bandages, burn ointment and a couple of first-aid burn kits. Even if I was going after criminals, I didn't want anyone dying as a result of my powers. That was only going to cause trouble down the road.

I would have also brought along something like pepper spray but… well the moment I fired that stuff off when I had my powers going, it was going to turn into a jet of flames. Or cause the can to explode.

Closing the box back up, I heard the sounds of Dad's car pulling into the garage and felt a smile work it's way across my face.

Making sure everything was piled back in place, I left my room and made it to the stairs in time to see him enter, laying his coat over the living room couch. "Hey Dad. Any luck today?"

He gave me a smile back as he sat down, letting out a groan as he did so, the couch creaking a little as I sat myself down next to him.

Reaching up, Dad pushed up his glasses to rub at his eyes. "A little, beleive it or not. I actually managed to get an appointment to see if I can get some of the guys contracts for temp work with Medhall." He let his hand fall away, smile still on his face, though it had faded a bit. "They're expanding to a new building pretty soon, so they'll be needing security and construction. Not to mention electricians and plumbers."

That was good news; to say that honest work in Brockton Bay was hard to find for those on the lower end of the pay scale was like saying the bay was wet. "That's pretty good though, right? Medhall's probably the biggest employer here."

A nod as Dad shifted, sitting himself up a little straighter. "It's the best news we've had in months, kiddo." He noted, fixing his glasses as they threatened to slide off nose, a deep sigh slipping free. "I just hope I can manage to get the terms we need hammered out. Even if they hire everybody, if they screw my boys on pay or benefits, then it means I've failed them."

I watched as his hands came down to rest in his lap, clasped together and shifting every so often. He was nervous, and I couldn't exactly blame him for it. This was the first real opportunity for a lot of people he worked with. People who trusted him.

We had drifted apart ever since the bullying at school had started. Since Mom had died, really.

Even then, I couldn't bear seeing him so tangled up like this, more afraid than hopeful of the first chance he had in so long to try and do some good. Slowly, I moved my arms out, pulling my Dad in a hug. It was a short, awkward thing…. But it was a hug, nonetheless.

I actually felt Dad tense up for a few moments as he realised what I was doing, before a smile came to his face and he returned it with a one-armed squeeze of his own.

"Thanks, kiddo."

After the hug broke up, we decided on using up the last dregs of pasta and whatever else was in the fridge to make lasagna. It was probably the nicest dinner Dad and I had been able to have together in months. No talking about school, no worries about my powers flaring up as I helped him cook, just a nice meal and a little conversation about meaningless things. It reminded me of better times.

The big question about telling him remained, but I think it could wait, for now. Tonight was going to be my trial run, a chance to see what I could do. If all went well, then I had plenty of time to tell him. No need to lump this on him while he was already thinking about this whole thing with the Union.

---

Dad had gone to bed about an hour after dinner, the exhaustion of the day catching up to him I guess. I waited another hour after than, about 10PM, before I started suiting myself up.

Going out the window was an option, but instead I opted to sneak downstairs and out the back-door. I had all my gear strapped to my top underneath the sweatshirt using some pouches I had picked up when I got the sports clothing and padding. Once I was outside, I vaulted the backyard fence and slipped out into the streets.

I'd like to say that, as a first-time hero in a city with a cape population as dense as the Bay had, I ran into a crime right away. But that would be an enormous and terrible lie.

The fact is that things were painfully quiet tonight. I had gone a total of nearly ten blocks via the rooftops, leaping from roof to roof and hitting the streets — not literally of course, I hadn't quite tested if I was that durable — when the need arose. The biggest crime I had come across in that time was one guy jay-walking late at night so he could reach the diner across the road.

Sitting on a rooftop that overlooked the boardwalk, I let out a sigh as I watched the tide foam and crash against the beach. A quick check of my wristwatch told me that about Four and a half hours had gone by. Four and a half hours, without a single crime between home and this side of the docks. That was practically a miracle.

Not to mention the fact that, even in the relatively cool air, I was starting to sweat in my costume. I'd had to cover a lot of areas on the ground since not every building in this area had a fire escape. I needed to take up free-climbing and running at this rate. Even with my powers I wasn't about to leap tall buildings in a single bound.

One more block, then it was time to head home. Lucky me, I pick the one night when nothing is going-

A deep rumble filled the air, alongside the shattering of glass, off to my left.

Thank you Murphy, you enormous asshole. I suppose it's my own fault for practically asking for it.

Getting down off the roof, I bolted for the source of the sound, my flame-sense picking up on small but steadily growing fires as I got closer and closer.

When one of those fires starting rising up, I thought someone was lifting a chunk of debris. Then it went higher than the buildings around it, high enough that I could see the first flickers of flame over the rooftops as I drew closer.

It was only thanks to that flame-sense that I was able to throw myself to the side in time as it came hurtling towards me, tearing through a stone wall that was blocking up an alleyway and bouncing off the road before coming to a stop.

Quietly thanking whatever gave me my powers for including good reflexes and flame-sense, I started making my way up the fire escape of a nearby building so I could survey what was going on. I actually got my first bits of intel before that; firstly, thanks to the fact that now I could feel a lot of fire nearby, meaning whatever was going on, it was bad.

My second indicator of what was going on was all thanks to the profanity that was flowing forth, bellowed so loud they could probably hear it over on the Protectorate's base.

"Mother-fucking blonde little sky-bitch! You get the fuck down here off your high-horse and we show you a better time than them limp-dicked faggots you got back at your turf!"

I mentally cringed with every word. There was only one person in Brockton Bay who had a mouth that foul. Skidmark.

Which meant whatever was going on here, it involved the Merchants, which automatically meant it was bad. It reflected pretty badly on my home city when you could say, without a shred of irony, that there was a gang who were categorically worse than neo-nazi's running around.

Making my way up onto the roof, I made my way over to an old AC unit and hunkered down, peering over the top.

Yep, there was Skidmark. He had Mush with him too and was taking advantage of the trash-gathering cape's abilities. Mush had forged a nine-foot tall body for himself out of debris from the building and was using them, alongside Skidmark's overlapping lines of force, to huck chunks of masonry and flaming debris at—

'Oh fuck you Murphy, just fuck you.' My eyes widened behind the lenses of my mask as I stared out at the clusterfuck before me. 'Fuck me as well.'

That explained where the flaming debris that had nearly smeared me across the pavement came from though.

A teenaged girl in a red and black cloak was flying through the air on a ripped-up hunk of asphalt, using the orbiting pieces of masonry and metal around her body to protect herself from the Merchant's gunfire and Mush's projectiles. Below her, kept safe from gunfire by a tipped-over white panel van and a dumpster being in the way, was an imposing figure in a shiny black uniform and a gas mask, who was currently making short work of the slow-moving gang-members around him who had decided to engage him in melee.

Then of course there were unpowered fighters on either side, some firing off guns, others brawling. A collection of leather-clad skinheads and hodge-podge wearing unshaven scum.

And all of this was being cheerfully lit by a burning building, it's boarded up windows leaking smoke into the night air, alongside a number of holes in it's walls which showed off the inferno within and what looked like the remnants of some kind of lab equipment.

Rune and Krieg, of Empire 88. Skidmark and Mush, of the Merchants. Various members of both gangs and what I can only guess is some kind of drug lab that is now on fire. In a district that was going to go up like a bonfire the moment something in there exploded.

Well, as first nights go, this was going to be interesting.

PRIMAL

1.5

---​

Watching from my vantage point, I tracked Rune as she tagged a broken, flaming couch and then shot up into the air to avoid Mush as he extended out a trash-arm at her, the impact of the blow instead flattening a stripped-down car against the wall of a building in a symphony of screeching and twisting metal.

The ruined piece of furniture then went Mush's way, Rune swinging it around any of Skidmark's lines to crash into the trash-manipulating Parahuman's side, setting a good portion of his debris-body aflame.

Responding in a fairly predictable way, Mush started shedding those afflicted parts of himself, sending smouldering detritus to and fro, not caring if they hit Empire gang members or his own.

And all the while, the drug lab burned merrily in background, a ticking time bomb.

Hunkering behind the air conditioning system that was my one shield against the craziness going on just feet from me, I bit down upon my lower lip, curbing the panic that was rising up inside of me. I had been expecting a mugging at best, maybe some kind of store robbery at the absolute worst. This had transcended 'worst possible situation' and flown, with a gleeful smile stamped upon its face, into clusterfuck.

It didn't help that my close proximity to this much fire and conflict was stirring the flames inside of me. I could feel the burgeoning inferno in the building calling to me, beckoning for me to claim it, control it, and direct it against my enemies.

'Okay, think, think for a second, Taylor.' I took a deep breath, flexing my hands into fists, holding both them and my breath, then slowly releasing both. 'You spent hours digging up all the info you could on the internet for just this kind of situation, as unlikely as it was.'

First of all; Rune. She was the most likely to see me, given that she had functional flight. Thankfully Mush — aided by sporadic gunfire — was keeping her pretty busy, the cloaked teen having to bob and weave constantly to avoid being shot or smashed, using her telekinetically controlled objects as impromptu shields when that wasn't enough.

Krieg was busy dealing with the Merchant's members who were trying to swarm him, but the SS-suited man was quick, dodging blows left and right… no, not quick. Attacks coming his way were actually slowing down, letting him flow around them. If memory served, he could manipulate kinetic force, so that explained what was going on. Especially when one almost-casual punch from him sent a pipe-wielding Merchant flying into a pile of trash ten feet away.

Slipping from my hiding place, I began making my way across the rooftops.The first few had decent cover; an old billboard on my first, then a chimney that was half-crumbled. Inevitably I came to one that was stripped bare; nothing but gravel between me and the gap of an alleyway that I would have to leap.

Sparing a glance from cover, I saw that things weren't going too well for the Merchants. While Skidmark and Mush were combining powers in a fairly effective way, their underlings were starting to come down from whatever drugs they had been on, slowing down and get picked off by the better-trained members of the Empire.

Add into that, the fact the Krieg had neutralised their better melee fighters by sapping away their kinetic energy, then dropping them where they stood, and the tides were turning against the Merchants.

Skidmark knew it too, judging by how verbose he was getting.

"Fuckin' goose-stepping shit-boots! Gonna have my trash-boy here turn you into shit-skid on the street!" The drug-dealing cape howled, brandishing a machine pistol in one hand and using the other to layer more lines of his power around the area.

"The only stain here is you, you filthy degenerate." Krieg spoke, his voice possessed of a hissing undertone thanks to his red-lensed gas-mask.

"Oh, you wanna talk now, little black-suited, slice of dick-cheese bitch?! We see how fucking big you talk when it's just me beatin' your ass, you gettin' your fuckin' grease-stained face turned to meat, and little miss fuckin' hitler-youth up there gargling my knob!" The pistol in Skidmark's hand moved up, tracking Rune's movements as Mush launched what looked like a broken TV towards her.

Rune blocked, but the shield she had used must have been on it's last legs. Cracks formed as it struck, then expanded as all the extra kinetic energy caused the chunk of damaged masonry to crumble, shards flying through the air. Most of them still seemed to be held in Rune's grip, but her flight faltered for a few moments, causing her to dip out of the air as the platform she rode upon scraped a wall. Rune's other shields began dropping away from around her too, before she sent the shards of the destroyed one flying towards Skidmark.

Taking that momentary distraction, I ran for the edge of the roof. I let the flames inside of me course down towards my legs, my heart thumping in my ears along with the roar of fire. Empty space flashed past under me as I leapt, landing in a run on the other side, legs pumping as I ran for cover.

Before I reached it, gunfire barked out in a staccato burst. My heart leapt into my mouth as I awaited either the blossoming pain that getting shot would bring… or alternatively the death they would bring, since I was fairly certain that I wasn't bulletproof.

The sensations never came.

Instead, I heard a feminine shriek of pain and the sound of stone smashing into stone, the rooftop I was on shaking as I slid safely behind another chimney.

Rune rolled across the graveled rooftop right in front of me, her black and red robe torn off at her right elbow. A nasty, ragged hole was leaking blood on her arm near the wrist, on top of little scraps from skidding across the roof.

Judging by the burns around the worst wound, one of Skidmark's bullets must have winged her arm.

A groan of pain heralded the teenaged telekinetic returning to her senses, trying to push herself up with her injured harm before a hiss of pain heralded it slipping from under her on the gravel and sending her back onto the roof. Favouring the other arm now, she levered herself up...

And I found myself staring right under her hood at her masked face.

It masn't much of a mask really, just a red scarf over her lower face and a black domino mask which covered her eyes and a little more.

I held still, crouched down behind my cover, for a few tense moments. Finally, I raised one hand and gave what I hoped was a reassuring wave. It did not go according to plan.

Rune's body jerked back, her clothes bulging out behind her as they pulled her to her feet. Two frisbee-sized disks of metal slipped free of her robes, floating in front of her as she stared me down. "Who are you? You with those assholes down there?"

The thought that anyone would confuse me with the Merchants of all people made my fingers itch. One fireball, that's all I would need. Her robes were probably nice and flammable...

Slowly, I held up my hands. I didn't need to get into a fight right here, especially not with that building getting more and more dangerous by the second. The flames were reaching higher by the second. When those things found whatever chemicals the Merchants had stored, it would go from inferno to firestorm, one that would consume this whole city block or more before emergency services got here.

"Not with them, or anyone. I heard the explosions and came to handle it." I nodded towards the burning building. "That's a drug lab, right? That means there are chemicals in there, and when the fire reaches them, this whole place is going to go up. That includes you and your guys."

Rune shifted, keeping the disks floating up at chest-level now, holding them less like she was about to hurl them at my face and more like shields. Her uninjured hand was now clamped tight around her wound, blood dripping down onto the rooftop. "Yeah, it's a drug lab. Assholes decided to set up a big one right next to our turf. Not a chance we were letting them flood the place with their filth." She then reached up, touching the scarf on her face, which flowed off to wrap around her injured arm, binding it tightly.

'As opposed to the filth the Empire floods the streets with, right.' Not that I was going to say that out loud. "Well, I can control fire. If I can get close enough to that fire, I can probably snuff it out or at least stop it from spreading." I lowered my hands slowly as I spoke, noting that Rune's discs didn't immediately fly at me, or shift to defend her.

"Yeah, well, what happens after you get all that fire on your side? You going to start slinging it at us?" The cloaked teen asked, glancing around, probably looking for something she could use to get down from here. Her uninjured hand was reflexively opening and closing. She was probably just as nervous as I was.

I gave a shake of my head, glancing from cover to see that Krieg was using his power to throw members of the Merchant's at high speed into Mush's body, using the fact that the other Parahuman couldn't absorb organic material to knock parts of the nine-foot trash form away. "All I want is to stop this place turning into a fire-gutted wasteland. A lot of innocent people could die if this gets out of control."

"Oh, you're one of those hero-types, huh?" Rune asked in response, sounding surprised. "Coulda fooled me what with the fucking demon mask and everything. Actually thought that teleporting bastard had showed up for a second."

Teleporting bas— Oh, she meant Oni Lee. "Not a lot of themes for fire controllers. It was demons or dragons." I half-lied, wanting to hide my transformations for the moment.

The gunfire down below was starting to peter off as the gang members on both sides went down, the air now filled with war-cries and shouting that all blended together. That and the roar of flames, which was now audible to everyone, not just me.

Rune shrugged, wincing half-way through as the motion jostled her injured arm. "Fair enough, I guess…" Her discs of metal shifted, moving to the roof and hovering near it. "Fuck it, that thing goes up and we're fucked anyway, we've got people down there. Not to mention that sub-shop I like's a block from here. Can't let it go up in smoke."

Not the best of reasons, but I wasn't about to argue.

I watched as Rune stepped on to the discs, one foot on each. It didn't look like the best method of travel but considering the lack of materials to work with she didn't have much choice.

"Get on. I'll fly you close enough to get in one of the holes I made in the place." She motioned with her unbandaged arm for me to come closer. "Uh...you won't roast right? I mean, you can control flames but do they still hurt?"

The idea of having to cling on to a member of the Empire for dear life, when at any moment she could decide to drop me to my death, was not entirely appealing...but it was the fastest way of getting across to the building. I could go the long way around but our little chat had wasted enough time already and my ability to concentrate was starting to fade as the flames raged higher.

"Yeah, fire doesn't hurt me." I said, standing and making my way over, awkwardly setting my feet on the floating discs, pressing myself up into Rune's back. It was weird; I expected them to shift under my weight, but either Rune's power was keeping them anchored in place or I didn't weigh enough to make a real difference.

"Just no grab-ass okay? Hands above the belt and below the tits. No homo."

Was… was that an actual joke or did she seriously think I would do that? She had sounded like she was kidding, but then again this was a member of the Empire here.

"Serious about the hold on thing, by the way." She said next, right as we began to rise. I wisely decided to take heed, wrapping both arms around the cloaked girl's stomach as everything lurched forwards, my stomach feeling like it was left behind before snapping back into place.

One second I was looking down at the rooftop, the next I had a bird's-eye view of the street below. The overturned van Krieg had been using as cover was smashed and compacted now, pushed out of the way to expose him. While he had taken out all the Merchant's members who had been brawling with the Empire, that still left the ones with guns who had retreated back out of his kinetic field's area of effect. Even Krieg couldn't stop bullets from moving fast enough to cause serious damage.

Mush, meanwhile, was running low. His trash-armoured form had shrunk by about half, the smaller bits he had been using consumed by the flames that Rune had been launching his was earlier. The larger ones were stuck in Kriegs area of effect and were returning to him… at a snail's pace.

No doubt Squealer or other Empire capes would be here soon, that or the Protectorate and emergency responders. This had to end fast before more people got hurt.

On a side note, it was actually surprisingly enjoyable to fly like this. Sure, I had to cling on for dear life so tight that Rune cursed at me and told me to ease up so she could breathe, but besides that, it was kind of nice.

I could feel the flames now; so close I could start bending the nearest ones to my will. I commanded them to die down, to begin submit to my power and snuff themselves. To cease consuming all they could—

"Shit! Jump demon-girl, fucking jump!"

Rune's shout knocked me out of my communion with the fire to see what she was screaming about; we had been seen.

Skidmark was pointing in the air and hollering at Mush to 'knock those fucking cunts out of the sky.' Mush, for his part, was gathering multiple hunks of debris, the first one already flying towards us. We hadn't reached any of the holes in the building yet, but there was a window, the boards covering it blackened and weakened by flame.

Rune was holding as steady as she could, giving me the chance for it.

I leapt.

A stab of agony pierced my leg as I felt something slam into it, followed by Rune screaming in pain as whatever it was struck her as well.

The hit knocked me a off course, sending my body twisting through the air. I wasn't going to make the window; I was going to hit the wall and plummet over three stories to the ground below. Even if it didn't kill me, I'd be in no shape to fight.

My world spun as I flailed in mid-air, the window flashing past my vision. Dammit it, I was so close. I could practically feel the fire lapping at my skin, but all that meant nothing if I couldn't reach the building! All the flames in the world couldn't stop me falli—

Clarity slammed into my forebrain, and half by instinct, half by sudden realisation, I flung my arms out behind me and pushed all the fire I had out through my arms and palms. Twin jets of flame roared to life and I shot out like a rocket, the flaming boost to my leap correcting my course and sending me careening towards the weakened window-boards…

I had about a second to realise the unfortunate flaw in my plan, before I crashed into the boards and smashed through them, sending fresh pain all through my upper body.

Cutting the jets out, I rolled through the air and across the floor when I landed, teeth rattling in my skull from the successive impacts.

Warm flames lapped around me. I could feel them through my clothing, like warm water kissing my skin. The pain throbbing through my leg and right arm faded at their touch as I become acutely aware of every trace of fire that was coursing through the building.

I had arrived just in time. I could sense the flames starting to lap their way towards big metal drums and containers full of something that my power told me was incredibly flammable. I called them off, drew everything back from that area and began gathering up the rampant inferno. I needed to work fast; the flames were already burning hot enough to eat through the walls and ignite whatever was on the other side. If it spread too much, I might not be able to contain it all.

Starting from the outside in, I coiled my will around every spark and cinder. The flames creeped back from the walls, quickly at first, but I felt the rate of progress slow as I gathered more and more fire in my grasp.

Pressure began building in my head, a dull ache that grew slowly, alongside a deafening roar of flames that was consuming all other sounds. Soon, it felt like I was being stabbed in the brain. My legs buckled, sending me to my knees, with my hands being the only thing keeping me from collapsing completely to the floor. My eyes were squeezed shut as the skull-splitting ache set my body trembling.

It was too much. I had never tried to command this much fire before. This wasn't like training. I had manipulated a bunch of fireballs, yes. I had projected heat and flame… but not this scale.

Too weak. I was too weak to hold it all at once. I could feel the flames that slipped from my grip surging back into place. They would reach the chemicals. This place would explode and probably kill me given how much debris and force would be involved. I would die on my first night out without ever accomplishing anything—

'No.'

My eyes snapped open.

I was not going to die here. Hadn't I come out here to show I was strong? That I could use my powers, powers that were supposed to do nothing but harm, to do some good?

A rasping breath slipped from my mouth as I forced myself to stands, every muscle protesting each motion I made. This was my power. These were my flames. How dare they try and slip free of my grasp? How dare they?!

Raising my hands, I let my body became wreathed in fire, dredging up every foul, rage-inspiring memory I could. Spasms wracked my arms and legs as I felt my body twist. I knew the changes were hitting me but I didn't care. These were my flames and they would bow to my will.

I took hold and pulled, drawing them into my body, feeling the sudden rush of energy suffuse me. It was like I was an empty vessel, being filled without end…

As my horns began to sprout, I threw back my head and roared.

---

Rune had been sent flying out of the air by Mush's projectiles. The demon-girl had leapt for it but Rune wasn't sure if she had made it or not. By the time she was able to glance towards the building, there was no sign of her.

She had landed, hard, on the roof of a junked car. The teen telekinetic had been lucky that it hadn't caught fire yet but she still would up with what felt like a broken rib or two and her already injured arm was now pointing a funny way.

When Krieg pulled her — carefully, yes, but it still hurt like a son of a whore — Rune bit off a grunt of pain and let her uncle sit her against the side of the car.

"That one with you. Who was it?" He hissed through the gas-mask. Rune hated the damn thing, it made it near impossible to figure out what he was saying half the time.

Seeing as she couldn't shrug at the moment without getting a fresh ache, Rune instead spat out a gob of blood mixed with her spit, her teeth having cut her cheek when she hit the car. "Some new cape; said she could control fire and that the building was gonna blow." She paused, flexing her toes just to check that, yep, she wasn't paralysed or anything from the fall. "Didn't seem to want to fuck with us, so I figured not getting myself and all our guys barbequed was worth a little air-lift…"

A moment passed before Krieg slowly nodded, glancing up at the burning building, the light of the fire reflecting off his gas-mask's lenses. Rune shuddered at the sight; Krieg played up the creepy Death's-Head thing way too much sometimes.

"I see. The flames have yet to fade, but I did see them get inside the building. Did they say how long…" He trailed off, leading Rune to turn her head to get a look at what he was staring at.

The fire was going out.

It was sputtering, drawing away from the windows and walls. The entire building wasn't extinguished, but Rune could see that something was going on in there.

Then an ear-splitting, earth-shaking roar filled the air.

Rune actually felt her heart skip a beat or two as it echoed off the walls. That didn't sound like the girl on the rooftops; this was a deep, bass tone. Hell, it didn't even sound human!

Then everything went to hell.

The wall near where she had let demon-girl jump exploded outwards, showing the area with shards of stone and metal, along with whatever debris had been inside the building. A flaming streak tore through the air, rebounding off the far wall, then another, before landing with a ground-shaking CRACK on the road below.

Rune watched as the ground cracked and cratered around the impact, before it started to melt. She could feel the heat all the way from where she was sitting; like standing in front of an open oven.

Sitting in the middle of the impact zone was a seven foot orb of flame, churning and swirling like a miniature sun. Then it erupted into a column of fire that launched itself skywards, sending Merchant and Empire members alike screaming for safety.

Strangely though, none of them seemed hurt, even the ones close enough to touch it. With that heat, as close to it as they were, their clothes should have been alight, nevermind their skin.

The flames slowly bled off, dispersing into the sky and allowed to fade away, leaving a clear view of the devastation. A ring of molten stone and tar surrounding a tiny little island in the middle of the chaos and smouldering flames.

And standing on that chunk of road was a figure. One in a hooded sweatshirt and flame-patterned pants that Rune recognised at first sight.

It was the demon-girl, and fuck if she wasn't living up to Rune's little nick-name.

Horns, massive curving ones, had emerged from under the hood of the sweatshirt. They glowed a dull red, little cracks in their bony, ridged surface showing gleaming lines of lava within. Claws, each half as long as Rune's forearm, had emerged from the ends of her fingers.

What drew Rune's eye though, was the tail. It had pushed it's way out from under the fire-controller's pants. A massive, scale and plate covered thing that had spikes traveling down its surface all the way to the tip.

Everyone there held their breath for a moment — even Skidmark, which was practically a genuine Brockton Bay miracle — before the figure moved. It was a slow, deliberate inclining of its head towards the Merchants, whilst fixing them with a baleful gaze from blazing red eyes.

Then it spoke, with a voice that mixed the gravelly shattering of stone with the hungry roar of a wildfire.

"These flames are mine; you are not permitted to bask in their glow. Leave. NOW. Or be consumed by my inferno, until only ash remains."