Chemical Passion

1- I (accidentally) set a place on fire

The small clock on the wall reads 11:27 pm. Almost closing time. I stretch my arms and let out a long yawn. I charge an old lady for milk, glancing at a lean, hooded figure walking around with his back turned to me.

"That'll be $3.56," I say. The old lady pays, wishes me a good night, and walks out. The dude turns and walks towards me, pulling a gun from his pocket. 

"Cash" he demands, pointing the pistol to my face and handing me a small backpack.

I sigh, indifferent. I'm too tired for this. I reach for the backpack, but instead, with one swift movement, grab a hold of his gun. I've practiced this countless times, it's child's play. My hand begins to heat up, my eyes changing from y/e/c to neon green, and my skin getting paler. The guy's eyes widen a bit, but he isn't fazed. The metal fizzles as my hand gets hotter and hotter, melting the alloy.

What worries me though is that he doesn't let go of the pistol. People always do. They'll run away, afraid of me. But he doesn't seem as surprised as others. One look at his face makes me anxious.

"Don't–" the words barely leave my mouth.

He pulls the trigger.

I feel heat impact my chest and everything goes black. I open my eyes, the place's on fire, and the guy's laying on the ground, seemingly unconcious. Head spinning, ears ringing, and nose bleeding, I clamber to my feet, grab the dude's legs and pull him out the door. I leave him on the sidewalk and stare back at the store.

"Shit"

That never happened before.. At least not with a regular civilian. Everyone had always been afraid of my abilities. I expected him to just drop the gun and go. Was it my fault he hadn't? New York's such an odd place...

Hearing sirens, I run back to my place, only a few blocks down.

"Running from my problems... again" I murmur.

I reach my place, letting out a long sigh. I'm too exhausted to think about it, so after a nice shower, I crawl under the covers and drift to dreamland.

                      *          *         *         *         *

"What the hell..." Tony mumbles, drifting his attention from his tablet and coffee to the news playing on the TV. 

"A small store on the outskirts of town caught on fire. Neighbors say they heard a loud blast, similar to that of an explosion before the fire was reported. Although, the cause of said explosion is still unknown..." 

A phone rings, startling him. He reaches to his side where his cell lays, answering it after instantly recognizing the number.

"Tony, turn on your TV to the local news channel" a voice on the other side speaks. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm seeing it. There was an explosion and they don't know what caused it."

"I– I pointed my gun at her, a–asking for cash, but–but then the girl grabbed my gun and– and then smoke started coming out, and– and then it melt! I– I– I panicked! S– so I pressed the trigger. Next thing I know I'm here laying on the sidewalk with firefighter dudes all around me, asking if– if I'm okay and putting out a fire..... N– no, I haven't seen the girl again. She's some sorta alien, like–like the ones who attacked New York a few months ago. She's– she's dangerous, man" a young chap on the TV said. His face is covered with dust and blood and he's pressing his arm to his body, clearly in pain.

Before the voice on the phone could say anything else, Tony sighs.

"On it", he said, taking a sip of his coffee.

                     *          *         *         *         *

Laying on my bed and staring at the ceiling I think about what happened last night. I'm gonna have to leave. Again. At least I'm used to it. And it's not like I care. I hate my boss and don't have any friends, I'm broke af and a freak. What a way to celebrate my 1-year stay in NYC.

At least it was better than getting shot in the face or having to deal with boss' rage after the robbery.

I groan, pressing my hands to my face.

Perhaps, it'd just be easier if I just went back to.... I violently shake my head, hating myself for thinking that again. I made a promise...

It's 6:56 am and my stomach reminds me humans have to eat, so I get up to make breakfast. My black cat, Lewy, follows me meowing that he's also hungry. I chuckle before filling his bowl with pet food, then head to the kitchen to get something to eat and coffee. 

As I sip on the black liquid, Lewy gets up on the counter demanding a scratch behind the ear. 

I do as he requests, staring at the cat's blazing green eyes, silently judging me.

"Don't look at me like that. I don't know what a normal person would have done in my place!"  

The toaster dings. I walk over, put them on a plate, spread some butter, and take 'em back to the counter. As I munch, my mind wanders through ideas of what to do throughout the day. 

"Find a new job, I guess," I say out loud. It certainly won't be an easy task, especially considering I'm not professional at anything, nor had any proper education as a kid. I'm gonna have to get a job at a MacDonalds or something, and make sure not to burn the place down this time.

My train of thought is interrupted when a knock is heard at the door. 

I freeze.