The villain walked in, dragging the limp body of a girl behind him. Blood smeared across the floor as he tossed her down like discarded trash. Without a glance, he flicked the switch on his control panel, the hum of machinery filling the room. He pressed the intercom button, his voice crackling through the makeshift glass tube, startling the young hero inside.

Firelight, the “bright” hero, as they called him, stood trapped. He was a shell of former hero he once was. His once shining reputation was dulled by addiction—cocaine, specifically. Hell, you could see it in his face: deep lines, sunken eyes. The crow’s feet, usually hidden under layers of makeup, were exposed now, raw and unflinching. No mask this time. No hiding.

Just the man. Just the addict.

The villain leaned forward, his voice full of mocking enthusiasm.

“So, Fireface, huh? The shining hero who thought he could take me on?” He grinned wide, shaking his head. “Well, you can’t. You simply can’t. Not like this. Not now, not ever.”

He tapped the glass, watching as the hero flinched slightly, the red ball gag between his teeth a humiliated reminder of how far he’d fallen. Humiliated, stripped of his dignity. The villain savored every second.

“I put a gag in your mouth, you see. You could burn it out, sure, but we both know you won’t. Not here.” His grin widened. “You’re in an oxygen chamber, buddy. One little flare-up, and boom. You go supernova. Well that won't work. I'm monitoring the temperature and have complete control over the room. You got a family, right? Don’t wanna leave them behind as a pile of ash, do you?”

He leaned closer, watching the panic spread across Firelight’s face.

“If you can hear me, nod your head.”

The villain released the intercom button from the remote, letting the silence stretch out. Firelight’s jaw clenched against the gag, his teeth sinking into the rubber ball as he nodded, a slow, bitter acknowledgment. Shame washed over him, his fiery powers didn’t mean shit here.

And the villain? He drank in the sight, satisfied, but not fully. Ready to inflict even more cruel torture on the man.

“Okay? Good. Thanks for playing along.” He clapped his hands together, the false enthusiasm in his voice as condescending as the smile on his face. “So, here’s the game. You burn as bright as you can for as long as you can, and I don’t kill your darling sister. Fun, isn’t it? I know, it’s great!”

He leaned closer to the glass, his voice low and thick with an unnerving disdain for the man, he wanted control over the hero. Control over every aspect of this situation. He reveled in it.

“Now, when I say go, you go. Understand? Ready?

Go.”

Firelight’s eyes darted toward the villain before locking onto the temperature monitor. The numbers began to climb—slowly. Too slowly.

“100 degrees? Really? I can do that on a sick day, buddy. Better do better than that.”

The villain gave a playful tap to the control panel, as if this were nothing more than a game.

Inside the tube, Firelight’s flames sputtered and flared, red-orange flickers dancing weakly in the choking atmosphere. His body trembled with effort, sweat pouring down his face in streams, his eyes strained and wild. He struggled to focus, to summon more heat, but the oppressive air—the ball gag strapped tight around his mouth—left him gasping. His breaths were sharp, ragged, muffled behind the gag that forced his mouth open.

The whole point was to force him to produce flames in a suffocating, oxygen-starved environment—a torture designed to break him.

The villain stood nearby, watching with casual amusement.

“200… 300… 400… 500?” He gave a mocking whistle, tapping his foot. “Well, well, look at you. You’re officially hotter than my stove. Impressive,” he sneered, his sarcastic tone slurring as he spun the gun on his finger.

But the flames remained weak, unfocused, clasping feebly at the edges of the glass chamber. Firelight was barely holding it together, his mind and will already weak from being off the drugs so long. His mind was faltering him under the weight of the moment. His sister’s still, fragile form caught in the villain’s grip filled his vision, her life dangling by a thread. Each degree he fell short tightened the noose around them both.

The villain leaned back in his chair, stretching out leisurely, his demeanor one of absolute control. He savored the moment, relishing the despair slowly creeping over his victim. “Here’s the thing,” he said, his voice lazy as he flicked his fingers in the air, as though waving off some trivial thought. “We both know your limit. It’s 2000 degrees. After that?” His tone dropped, barely a murmur now. “Well, then the hydrogen in your body starts burning, doesn’t it? You stop burning the air around you, and start burning yourself.”

What made it worse—what made it creepier for Firelight to witness—was that the villain wasn’t even talking to him. He hadn’t pressed the intercom, hadn’t even bothered to activate the button that would let his words echo through the chamber. No, this man was speaking to himself, almost like he was casually musing about Firelight’s inevitable death.

The villain leaned even closer, his breath misting on the glass as his tone shifted into something far more sinister. “So, what you’re gonna do is get to 2000, and then you’re going to keep going. Steadily rise. Okay?” He let out a sigh. “I know, I know—performance anxiety, right? It’s sad to force you to get on stage and put on a little show for us. Especially in front of your little sister, but all for the show! You had no problem doing it on national television, this is just the same thing now isn't it?” He waved his hand, as though dismissing the gravity of the situation like a bad joke. “You know you have to do it, don’t you?”

His grin widened, eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure, feeding off Firelight’s mounting terror. “You have no choice.”

The villain leaned closer, his voice lowering to a hiss, the fog of his breath clinging to the glass separating them. “Good. Do it for me… and me alone.” He ran his hand down his chest. He groped it and felt it moving uneasily. Squirming.

The flames within the chamber flickered brighter, reluctantly obeying the man. The numbers on the monitor began to climb steadily higher—1000… 1200… 1500. But the toll it was taking on Firelight was obvious, his body trembling under the crushing weight of the demand, the ball gag still suffocating his labored breaths. Desperation flickered in his eyes as they darted one last time to his sister.

Firelight’s eyes, bloodshot and wild with exhaustion, locked onto the villain’s through the thick glass. His chest heaved, fighting against the rising panic that clawed at him from within. The flames flickered, barely sustained as they hovered just below the lethal threshold. Sweat poured down his brow, stinging his eyes, but the gag forced any cries back down his throat. The pressure was mounting—physically, mentally—his body straining under the relentless heat.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

The villain paced like a predator, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. He let the moment stretch out, savoring it all. Firelight’s sister whimpered as the villain tugged on her hair, jerking her head to face the glass, forcing her to watch her brother teeter on the edge of oblivion.

“Now, now, girl,” the villain’s voice was deceptively gentle, almost tender. He knelt down beside her, brushing a strand of hair from her tear-streaked face. “I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re making it very difficult to be a gentleman with all this… sniveling.” He held in a shudder of pleasure, he knew what he was doing was wrong, which is what made it feel so good.

The numbers on the monitor wavered—1900… 1850… Firelight’s flames dimmed, his strength faltering. He couldn’t do it. Not without killing himself.

The villain noticed immediately, his smirk vanishing. A cold, dangerous look settled over his features. He stalked up to the glass, tapping the barrel of his gun lightly against it, the sharp metallic clinks echoing through the room.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he clicked his tongue. “You aren’t trying to cheat me, are you, Mister Firelight? You’re not trying to play me.” He tapped the glass again, harder this time, his expression growing darker, his patience wearing thin. “I’m not playing.”

His long, greasy black hair stuck to the sweat-slicked skin of his neck as he leaned closer, his pale face almost pressing against the glass. His voice dropped, deadly calm. “You see this machine here?” He gestured lazily toward the monitor. “It tells me exactly how hot it is in there. So, I’m going to give you one. Last. Warning.”

He cocked his head slightly, watching Firelight’s reaction with sick fascination.

“Hit 2000 degrees,” he said softly, almost sweetly, “or I shoot this poor girl’s head off.”

He raised the gun, pressing the cold metal against her temple.

A bead of silence stretched through the room, thick with fear. Everyone’s hearts were racing, everyone except the villains.

Firelight’s heart pounded in his chest, the screams trapped inside of him threatened to explode. He could barely hold onto his flames, his body screaming in protest—but he had to push harder. The only way to live. He had to keep going, for his sister especially. He knew he wasn’t the best hero but if he could save his sister now he would do whatever he could. He knew he had no escape now. He knew it.

The villain’s grin twisted into something far more sinister as he pressed the barrel harder into the girl’s skull.

The numbers flickered:

1845.

1860.

1890.

1920.

1960.

1999…

1999…

1997…

1998…

He strained and strained but he couldn’t. The lack of oxygen was too much for him. To much he couldn’t breathe, he struggled to even feel the swollen blood vessels in his face. They were expanding almost to the point of his head exploding.

A heavy sigh escaped the villain’s lips. “You don’t believe me, huh? Well, no helping it. You know what they say. Give a man a fish…”

And without hesitation, he aimed at the girl’s head and pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through her ear, taking a chunk of her with it. Blood splattered across the floor. Her scream filled the room and then dissipated. Even Firelight screamed with her, helpless in his agony, his body trembling with fury. He was sobbing, his face bobbing up and down.

“I told you what would happen, didn’t I?” the villain yelled. “Now DO IT!”

The girl’s scream turned louder, more desperate, filled with a pain that would have made any normal man flinch—but not him. Not anymore. Firelights tears sizzled as they turned to sparks against his burning cheeks. His grief ignited something dangerous within him, but he was still trapped.

The numbers climbed again:

2005.

2017.

2028.

2050…

2055…

2060.

But they began to fall once more:

2059.

2058…

The villain sighed dramatically, as if bored. “Still not enough. Alright,” he said, spinning the gun on his finger like a toy, “Now you need to hit 2100, can you do that? Or do I need to kill her for real this time?” He pointed the barrel toward the girl’s still-bleeding wound. “Next time, I’m not stopping with her ear. I’ll bring in someone else you love, someone no one can help.

You’re alone, hero. No one’s coming to save you. You are utterly, irrevocably, alone.

2058. 2059. 2060. 2061. 2063.

“Too slow now. Pick up the pace.” The villain tapped the gun rhythmically against his thigh—each tap like the ticking of a clock.

2064. 2069. 2072.

He sighed, heavy with frustration. “You made me do this.”

With one swift motion, he backhanded the girl with the butt of his gun. She didn’t even have time to cry out before the barrel was jammed into the raw, open wound where her ear once was. Her head snapped to the side, body limp, as shock and pain consumed her. A broken whimper escaped her lips. She cried.

Tears mixed with the blood on her face.

“Firelight, come on… just make it easier on yourself,” the villain coaxed, his voice full of what could only be called false sympathy.

“Do this for me, buddy. Please? We could be friends, you know?”

Even through the soundproof chamber, Firelight’s agonized screams pierced the air, vibrating the reinforced glass.

2080… 2090… 2095… 2103.

“GOOD! WELL DONE!” The villain clapped, the sound hollow and mocking. “New record, huh? But now…” He leaned close to the glass, his breath fogging the surface. “Now you need to hit 2500, or she dies. Got it?”

He grinned coldly, knowing full well Firelight had already pushed beyond his limits. Asking for 2500 was pure madness. But that’s what made it fun.

“You think this is insane, don’t you?”

I’ve already gone 100 degrees past my best, and now he wants me to go further? That’s what you’re thinking to yourself? Yeah I want you to go plus ultra young hero.

Yeah, I do. And I’m in control.”

The villain was talking to himself at this point. It wasn’t just psychotic—it was completely batshit.”

He pressed the muzzle harder against the girl’s temple. “And if he doesn’t hit it, both of you die.”

The gag burned—thin, crispy and black, melted from the heat. The black liquid melted to his skin like liquid tar. It sizzled on his skin and neck dripping a black bubbling mess infusing into his skin.

Through the glass, Firelight’s mouth trembled:

“I can’t.”

The villain’s expression darkened. He pressed a button, his voice now echoing through the chamber, cold and sharp. “But you must, hero. Everyone’s counting on you.”

2106… 2115… 2130… 2200.

“Still too slow.” The villain inhaled deeply, savoring the smell of burning flesh and salty tears.

“Well, kiddo… you didn’t make it.” He patted the girl’s head gently, a fatherly gesture twisted into something sinister. “Sorry about this.”

He squeezed the trigger.

The gunshot rang out, an unforgiving horror. She lay on the ground, twitching as life slipped away painfully. The bullet hadn’t killed her outright, leaving her to bleed out slowly.

“So painful, isn’t it?”

His voice softened, as though offering solace. He locked eyes with Firelight, giving him a smile that carried no warmth. “Hurts to watch your little sister die, huh? I know that feeling.” He sighed, as if sharing in the tragedy. “I don’t want to hurt you, you know? I just need to teach you something important.”

He leaned closer to the glass. “Heroing isn’t for everyone. So don’t fucking do it if you’re not ready for this.”

2300. 2400. 2500.

It didn’t stop at that.

2600. 2750. 2900.

3050. 3150. 3300.

Firelight’s body shook in the chamber, shook against the straps. He burned hotter than he ever has. His screams filled the villain’s ears, and he reveled in them. They were a symphony of suffering. “Kinda funny, isn’t it, pal? Your sister’s dead. My sister’s dead. Time for some family bonding.”

The villain raised his arms, spinning around and laughing like a man drunk on joy, as if he’d just heard the best news of his life. His voice rose to a fever pitch. “It’s almost beautiful, isn’t it? Almost perfection? The way their flesh melts. The way they scream as it happens. Oh, I could marry that sound.”

Firelight’s temperature spiked, his body engulfed in a light blue blaze. His once-yellow hair burned like wildfire. Now it was white, his skin bubbling and boiling, fluids evaporating from him. He screamed again, a deafening sound that split the air and seared the mind.

The girl’s corpse lay lifeless on the floor, blood pooling beneath her. The villain glanced down. “Brutal, isn’t it?” He spoke like he was offering condolences at a funeral. “But I’ve seen worse.” He kicked her body as if checking if roadkill was still dead on the road.

The chamber lights flickered as Firelight reached well over 3500 degrees. His skin began to slough off, thick, molten chunks dripping onto the floor. His eyes melted in their sockets and dripped down his face. His jaw creaked and groaned, unhinging in a grisly dance of disintegration and destructuon. Lying by one tendon swinging like a broken swingset.

Then, with a sickening thud, he collapsed, nothing left but charred bone. His sister’s blood soaked into the floor beneath him.

He collapsed on his knees, charred and hulled. Body blackened and burned. And he sat there as a statue and he’d be like that for all eternity.

The villain stood there, hands in his pockets, smiling. “Well…” He let out a slow, content breath. “My job here is done.”

With a casual wave, he turned his back on the carnage, walking away and leaving behind the wreckage of lives he had just shattered; happy and amused with himself.