Dylan flinched as he was engulfed in flame. He leapt to the side, trying to put as much distance between himself and the torrent of heat as possible.

The fire subsided after a few seconds, leaving a hazy distortion of heat in its place. Black smoke drifted up from the singed carpet, along with glowing embers.

Dylan turned, looking for the source of the fire. He would have to be careful. His suit wasn’t made to resist fire. While it would probably offer some protection, there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t end up getting cooked alive with prolonged contact. It would be best to end this as quickly as possible.

He quickly spotted his assailant. It was a short figure, wrapped in a haphazard layer of clothing, complete with a bicycle helmet on top.

Dylan paused. What?

This didn’t look like an experienced super. In fact…

Was he fighting a child?

This… Dylan wasn’t prepared for this. It’s not like his attacker wasn’t dangerous. The huge plume of flame that had engulfed him earlier proved the opposite. In some sense, seeing as this was likely somebody who had gained access to their powers quite recently, they might even be more dangerous. Powers could be very hard to control, especially when you were new to them. Dylan knew that firsthand.

But at the same time, he really couldn’t kill a kid. That would end poorly for him, on most accounts. If it came down to it, he’d do it, but Dylan felt it best to avoid that scenario as possible. He would just have to do his best to mitigate the damage. He’d have to hope that everything else turned out alright.

The kid stood there, breathing heavily. It seemed that their last attack took a lot out of them. The taste of ash filled Dylan’s mouth, nearly overpowering. He spat, on instinct, before immediately regretting it. It dribbled down the front of his helmet, back onto his face. Shit. Now he’d have to clean that out later.

Dylan stalked towards his opponent, wary of another attack. His intuition proved right, as several seconds later, another beam of flame tore past his head. As he leaned away from the bar of heat, he idly noted that its color was off. Instead of a usual red orange color, it was darker, nearly crimson. Even though the flame was dark, it still seemed to glow with an inner light, shining with a nearly impossible color. He was glad that it didn’t seem to function any differently than normal fire. He had a feeling that most super powered flames would burn straight through most ordinary metals.

Dylan dashed to the side as the bar of fire swung towards him. The next few minutes were spent ducking and dodging around the lobby of the clinic. Every time he tried to get close, however, a wide wave of flame would push him back. He tried several times to gain ground, but it’d always end the same. Dylan scowled in frustration.

He figured that he should revise his plan. He probably could have been more aggressive, and potentially pushed through the fire, but he didn’t want to risk it. That being said, he’d either have to end it in one decisive moment, or wait for his assailant to gas out. There wasn’t much else he could do with his current strategy.

Dylan continued to evade until, eventually, his opportunity came. The flame broke, and the child attacking him looked down, briefly, as if to catch their breath. Dylan, seizing the moment, bent over, and launched himself towards his opponent.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Winnie bent over, panting, frustration continuing to mount. Nothing she was doing seemed to be working. The armored super leapt out of her initial attack, basically ruining the ambush. She had hoped that would take him out, or, at the very least, injure him enough that the battle would be going in her favor.

Instead, he seemed almost completely unharmed. He’d spent the last few minutes dodging her follow up attacks with contemptuous ease, ducking and weaving as if he knew what she could do before she did it. And on the rare occasion that her fire did connect, he would quickly step out of it, mitigating any damage it might have caused.

The one thing working in Winnie’s favor was the fact that her opponent was being cautious. He seemed to want to avoid her power at all costs, which meant that, when he got too close, she’d just have to muster her will to send him dodging backwards.

Still, this hadn’t gone as she’d planned. And Winnie was rapidly getting tired. If you added up all of the times she’d used her power before today, it would be a fraction of what she had used in the last few minutes.

The one upside was that her frustration was feeding into her power, making her fire stronger, but it still wasn’t enough. At the moment, it seemed like it would come down to whether her fire would get strong enough to disintegrate the villain or she would run out of energy. Whichever came first would decide the outcome of the battle.

Winnie shot out another burst of flame, putting real effort into scoring a hit. Unfortunately, the villain was still on top of his game, and dodged it once again. Winnie bent over, panting, trying to catch her breath.

It was at that moment that her opponent made his move. He crouched down, lowering himself into what looked to be almost a sprinter's stance. Less than a second later, he blurred, shooting right at her face, moving far faster than before.

Winnie panicked, throwing her hands forwards and letting loose one of the biggest waves of fire she’d ever produced.

Her opponent crossed his arms over his head, letting the fire wash over him. He was through it in an instant, and Winnie found herself at a loss. The villain loomed over her, his armored frame making him much taller than her.

Winnie grit her teeth. She’d have to be careful, hit him with something really strong to make him back off. But, if he was this close… Perhaps this would be an opportunity. Yes, she could see it now. At this range, he wouldn’t be able to dodge nearly as well. She could finally end this.

She felt a smirk pull at the corner of her lips. Stoking her rage, Winnie felt fire pooling on her arms. She’d have to work fast, but she’d finally-

Winnie felt like she’d been hit by a truck, all of the breath in her lungs rushing out in a second.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dylan watched as the childish form of his opponent tumbled across the lobby. That had been close. He had felt like he was getting cooked when he’d been hit by that last attack. Had his enemy's next blast hit him, he’d probably be in pretty bad shape.

Well, that didn’t really seem like it’d be a problem anymore. His fist was faster than fire, it seemed. He looked closer at the little pyrokinetic, trying to make sure they weren’t queuing up another attack.

Hmmmm.. Nope. They were currently rolling around on the ground, clutching their stomach and gasping for air. Dylan paused. Had he hit them too hard? He’d tried to pull his blow, but, well, he wasn’t really used to fighting children. It would have taken a lot more than that to harm any of the other super’s he’d fought. Maybe the first one, the one he’d encountered in the gas station, would have felt it, but it would have done nothing to Dynamis, or Kasha.

Well, at least right now, it seemed like he’d succeeded. The child wasn’t dead. At least not at the moment. Dylan frowned. That might end up being a problem. He didn’t really know anything about internal bleeding. The pyrokinetic could very well end up dying, still. He doubted they were physically that much tougher than an actual child, which could honestly mean anything. Dylan didn’t know, he wasn’t a doctor.

He supposed he could stick around and ask the Dr. Baughman if he could take a look at his foe. Dylan resolved to do just that. It would be for the best if he handed the whole situation off to somebody who knew what they were doing.

He took a deep breath, trying to settle his racing heart, and immediately dissolved into a coughing fit. Dylan spent another few seconds hacking, feeling the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

Where had all that smoke come from?

Oh.

Dylan had just fought somebody who exclusively used fire as their means of attack. Inside a building. Looking around gave him visual confirmation that, yes, the building had caught on fire.

Shit. This wasn’t good. Dr. Baughman would probably be pissed. Hopefully Kasha would be able to cover the damages. Dylan certainly couldn’t. Well, maybe Dr. Baughman had insurance.

Dylan strode over to the child, who was currently in the middle of throwing up, and grabbed them by the back of their shirt, dragging them out of the clinic and into the street. They were still wheezing and coughing by the time he set them down on the sidewalk. The building started burning harder as he watched. Fortunately, it wasn’t hot enough to be felt all the way across the parking lot.

He still had the taste of ash in his mouth as he watched the clinic burn, an uneasy feeling rising in his stomach. Dylan couldn’t say that he liked it, watching the place that had helped him out burn to the ground.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

He hadn’t made the super fight him, no, but he couldn’t help but feeling partially responsible for the whole thing. The pyrokinetic had been targeting him. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps they were a new villain, or a vigilante hero, like him. Regardless, they had been at the clinic because he was there. Had he made himself scarce earlier, this whole thing probably wouldn’t have happened.

And while he probably could have prevented it, there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it. Dylan knew that, as far as supers went, he barely made it to the middle of the totem pole, but still, he was far more powerful than any normal person could ever hope to be.

In the end, though, all he could do was watch as the building was swept up in the blaze.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, watching the place burn, before he heard the sound of a car pulling up behind him. He didn’t turn around to look, until he heard the door slam. Slightly startled, Dylan spun around to see who had decided to join him on the sidewalk.

Kasha stood there, watching him. The older man looked tense, his hands flaring at his sides, although Dylan noticed that the villain kept his face purposefully void of emotion.

The two faced each other, silent and staring, for a few more seconds, until Kasha broke the still that had settled over them.

“So, how about you tell me what happened here? I sent you here, in good faith, hoping that I would never have to hear from you again. And for a while, it seemed like everything was going well. I got no complaints from the doctor, no reports of any misbehavior. And so I assumed, foolishly, it seems, that you would be content to accept my generosity, and go your own way. And yet here we stand, the clinic that I sponsor, the one I sent you too, up in flame, not 100 feet away.”

Kasha paused, and took a deep breath.

“So what happened? Was this part of the plan from the start? Heal up, and then resume your work as a vigilante? Did you think that if you managed to turn me in, they’d just forgive you? I sure hope that wasn’t your plan, Wraith. I’m not sure they’re ever going to let what you did go.”

Dylan took a moment to process everything. He turned, sneaking a glance at the inferno behind him. Yeah, he could see why this looked bad. One of his two encounters with Kasha had consisted of them beating the shit out of each other. It’s not like mutual combat was a great way to build trust. He could certainly imagine someone accepting Kasha’s deal, only to turn on him when they were healed.

Well, Dylan would just have to convince him that that wasn’t what had happened. He didn’t really know the best way to do that, but hopefully his sincerity would come through.

“Hell no, that’s not what happened. Not even close. This one-”

Dylan toed the child pyromancer, who was currently weakly trying to pull their helmet off of their head-” decided that they would ambush me as I was leaving. They have fire powers, by the way, in case it wasn’t obvious from the-”

Dylan gestured to the blaze behind him

Kasha looked down at the kid, seemingly just noticing their presence. He stared for a few seconds, before turning back to Dylan.

“Hmm. I guess I can accept your explanation. You never exhibited anything that suggested you had the capacity to cause something like this, but I did have to do my due diligence. You techy types tend to have a multitude of tools, so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that you had been the cause of this… event. But, while I will accept your explanation now, if I find out that you’re lying, I will hunt you down, and I will kill you. Is that clear?”

Dylan tensed up a bit, nodding. He really didn’t want to fight Kasha again. Whatever his power was seemed to cut right through Dylan’s armor, and the villain was experienced enough that he’d be a hassle even if his ability wasn’t so dangerous.

Kasha, seemingly satisfied, turned and started walking back towards his car. He grabbed the door handle, and pulled it open, before turning one more time, to look back at Dylan.

“Though I’ve been understanding, I’m not sure how Dr. Baughman will feel about you beating up his daughter, self defense or not. And I’m not sure that the fact that his life's work is almost done burning down behind us is going to help your case. Stick around to explain it to him or not, I don’t really care. I’ll have somebody brief him on the details later.”

With that, Kasha got into the car, shutting the door behind him with a solid thunk. A few seconds later it drove off, making a turn around a corner and out of sight.

Dylan felt quite confused. What the hell had Kasha meant, about him beating up Dr. Baughman’s daughter? He turned, glancing at the pyromancer at his feet, who had managed to struggle their helmet off in the time he and the villain had been talking, revealing long hair.

A young woman, a girl, really, looked at him with an equal mix of fear and anger. She looked to be about his age.

Dylan felt like he had been dunked in a vat of ice water. Oh. That had been what he had meant. The childlike super that he’d been fighting had been a child. At least, compared to most of the super’s he’d battled.

And not only was it a child, but it seemed like it was the daughter of the man who had saved his life, the one who had spent the last while nursing him back to health.

This would likely not go over well. It had been self defense, but if Dylan knew anything about parents, it was the fact that they tended not to be very rational when it came to their children, and Dylan doubted that the fact that the child in question had just been involved in a dangerous battle between supers would help.

Shit. Well, there was nothing else he could do but wait. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Doctors were smart, right? Perhaps Dr. Baughman would be logical about the whole thing?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dylan didn’t have to wait much longer to find out. Dr. Baughman’s car screeched into the parking lot less than 5 minutes later. He parked just far enough away from the blaze to be safe, before hoping out of his car. The Doctor put his hands on his head, leaning his head back towards the sky, and let out a series of sobbing laughs.

They subsided after a few seconds, and Dr. Baughman looked around, quickly spotting Dylan, and his daughter, lying on the concrete. He rushed over, nearly pushing past Dylan, to get to his child. He nearly reached out to grab her, but seeing how rough she looked, seemingly thought better of it.

Dylan figured that now would be a good time to speak up.

“It’s been a day. Your daughter is a super, one with the power to control fire. She ambushed me while I was leaving your clinic. I tried to tak- uh, calm her down as quickly as I could, but by the time I was able to, everything was already on fire. I tried to stop her as gently as I could, but well, it’s really hard to know how hard you can hit people, especially in power armor. She’s not dead, but you uhh, might want to check her for internal bleeding or broken ribs, or something.”

Dylan took a deep breath, about to say more, when Dr. Baughman turned, and leveled him with a glare so fierce, it instantly stole all the words from his mouth.

It was probably time to go. Dylan turned, and started walking away, as sirens echoed in the distance. It seemed like no matter what he did, somebody would be unhappy with him, no matter how hard he tried.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Winnie cringed a little when she saw her father’s concerned face hovering over her. Well, she thought that his expression was concerned. It was hard to tell with how blurry her vision was. She barely remembered what had happened after that fuckwith in the armor had closed the distance with her. She’d had some sort of plan, and then she was tumbling across the room.

She felt like she was suffocating after that, a radiating pain running from her core. From there, it was even more on and off. She remembered the how everything increasingly smelled of smoke, and recalled flashes of being dragged out of the clinic, but not much else beyond that.

What the hell had happened? She’d been on at least somewhat equal footing with her opponent, right? Yeah, he’d been dodging most of what she’d sent at him pretty easily, but he had been dodging, not just standing there or walking through her attacks. He’d felt like she posed some threat to him, right? So how had that all changed so quickly? What had gone wrong?

She’d only been hit once, yet everything hurt. Was this what it was like? Was the power difference that great? Winnie didn’t know whether the Iron Wraith was just too strong, or if she simply wasn’t used to fighting. Regardless, that had been a pretty decisive loss. She felt frustration, again, but also helplessness. What was she supposed to do? She’d been powerless, afraid, before gaining a superpower. Something that should let her turn her situation around, something that would let her be a hero.

But it still didn’t matter. Nothing had changed. Was the whole thing pointless? Would she always get pushed around?

Winnie heard voices coming from nearby. One of them was her fathers, but she didn’t recognize the others. She looked around, spotting a whole bunch of emergency vehicles, lights flashing. Why were they there?

A few paramedics walked over, and put her on a stretcher, lifting her up, before wheeling her back towards an ambulance. Before she was put in the back of the vehicle, however, she saw her fathers clinic, or what was left of it, a metal skeleton of a building, surrounded by burning debris.

Winnie felt like her vision was narrowing down to a pinprick. What had she done?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Detective Hasborough frowned as he stepped out of the car, examining the burning building. Or, well, at this point, it was mostly a burnt building. The people in this part of town tended to be extremely reluctant to call the authorities.

Luckily, it seemed like it had worked out for them. Delaying calling in a fire had the potential to end very poorly. It didn’t seem like it had spread to any of the neighboring structures, which was good. The firefighters had just started spraying the embers, in an attempt to put out the fire in its entirety.

Hasborough wasn’t really here for that, though. Sure, it was related, but ultimately, he was here because one of the callers mentioned that they had seen the Iron Wraith. Now, he doubted that the villain was still here (they actively had had a car scout ahead to make sure he wasn’t using the fire to lure them into a trap) but it was possible that he was still hiding somewhere around here.

If that were the case, Hasborough planned to get himself, and everybody else as far away from the villain as possible. They weren’t here for conflict. No, Hasborough was here to collect information. Anything that could be used to identify their culprit.

He scanned the scene, trying to find out who would be the best witness, when he spotted the perfect target for questioning. An older man, staring blankly at the charred remains of the building that had once occupied the lot. Perfect.

Hasborough glanced at the sign. Perhaps that was even Mr. Baughman himself. He stepped closer, siding up with the man, and gazed at the wreck of the clinic for a few seconds, before introducing himself.

“Mr. Baughman, I’m detective Hasborough. I’m on the case for the Iron Wraith, who, according to eye witness reports, left your clinic at the time of the blaze. I’m thinking that we should talk.”