Frost And Flame

13

I'm strapped to that table again, arms pinned at my sides, my feet tethered down. The room is freezing with Silver standing in the corner, not even doing anything. He's just watching. Creepy fuck.

I wasn't even aware of my surroundings when he brought me here. It's embarrassing how much I panicked. I normally am a lot calmer with these things so it must have been the breaking point of my stress here.

When mom got sick, I was unemployed. Apparently no one cares about hiring mechanics anymore so there was no way to treat her until I got a letter in the mail. A top secret government project that was very lucrative. Of course I signed on.

The program was not exactly what 22 year old me thought it was. In fact, it was basically a trap for human experimentation. Having signed the contract, I had no way out. I had to comply. Part of me willingly pulled through, knowing at least I would get paid. I could help mom.

Supposedly they gave me magma because of my personality, but we all know it's because I'm so hot. And supposedly I don't have any ' self control ' but I really just do what I want.

After 3 years of training, I was the only student who didn't graduate to the field special forces because it was SO rigged. All I got were these really cool powers that seem less cool the more people I meet and an only partially irrational fear of needles. And that's my story I hope you liked me trauma dumping because I had to do something to take my mind off this fucker in the corner who I swear has not blinked once since I came to.

"I'd tell you to take a picture, but I'm not sure how I feel about you owning paper with my face on it." I smirk. He still doesn't move. Is he asleep standup up or something? He does feel like the kind of guy to do that.

"Hey, popsicle, I need to pee." I announce. His face twitches ever so slightly which is ten times more terrifying than before.

"Its funny you're sensative about that." He finally says. Fucking prick! Like he has any authority on what I get to be 'sensative' about.

"I'm human too. You're not the only one who's been there." He says, his expression unchanged. Maybe he does have a slight right to talk about this but I'm still not happy with it.

"You see, the difference between us is that I feel shit and know it hurts." I counter. He begins to slowly walk towards me while I regret all of my life choices. He grabs my ankle and frost begins to spread across my pant cuff.

"I did, once." He says. And his voice is sad. I'd feel bad for him if he wasn't draining my life energy through my ankle.

"Wanna talk about it instead of torturing me?" I offer. Same vibe as asking your teacher where they were on 9/11 to duck a test. Except that works and in front of me is a man who needs a therapist if for no other reason than to cure his terrifying smile. I'm 99% sure he doesn't want to talk about it.

Rather than talking or something, like normal people do, he just comes closer. I tense up and try to pull my arms closer to myself. It feels so terrible being vulnerable with your arms away from your body.

Soon he's leaning over me, his gloves hands on the cold metal table. A single strand of white hair that doesn't quite tuck behind his ear dangles in front of his face. The maniac smile is gone but the feeling it gave me remains.

My heart is racing as my palms grow clamy. I just can't calm down. He isn't moving anymore, but he is studying me with his icy gaze. I take three deep breaths through my nose and stop myself from shaking. I still feel weak from earlier. It's starting to dawn on me that that may have been a panic attack. That's not awesome.

"What are you afraid of, Frank?" He asks. Currently? Him. Definitely him. This guy is terrifying. I stare back at him. It's not like I can answer. If I'm honest, he'll use that against me. If I lie, he'll know. There's no good ending here.

"Answer me," He demands, and the metal table begins to feel like ice. It IS ice. I force it back and respond.

"You." I reply. He shakes his head.

"Now, maybe. But what about before? Why do you always run?" He inquires, and honestly... I don't know.

He seems satisfied with my lack of answer and stands up straight.

"I can't let it slide, still. Chevy will be in here to finish the job. Next time, obey." He says and walks to his panel to open the door so he can leave.

Now, I'll be the first to admit I'm not smart. Like, I'm a genius, and anyone who says otherwise is a stupid butt faced liar. But I lack a few things some people have.

For starters, self-preservation. I care about myself. Very very much. I always look out for number one. That said, I tend to forget that little detail sometimes. Like when I stole and destroyed those vials. I did not think that through, and I ended up with a bounty on my head that quite frankly should have been triple the size it was seeing as it was ME they were after.

Also, you know how some people have a little voice in their head? Like a voice that will tell you it's a bad idea to sucker punch one of the most dangerous men alive. It's probably tied to self-preservation because I don't have that either.

When I was taught to swim at the YMCA when I was 4, they stressed this concept of look before you leap. The picture was of two kids looking into water before diving. There's a stump, some trash, needles, it's really shallow, and there's an alligator, too. Rough neighborhood, I guess. So they would have been hurt or even killed if they dove into the water there. Supposedly, that applies to the rest of life too. Think before you act. Well, I tend to think and regret WHILE I act. It is much less effective.

Finally, I am as cocky as they come. I'm proud and am kinda emotionally fragile. My go-to method of resolving hurt feelings is violence.

Using these 4 facts, it's almost understandable what happened next. I maybe sorta forced every bit of fire from my body. Every ounce of heat. Every drop of flame. I pushed it all out. Not even pointing it. Just out.

The entire room was illuminated in a brilliant red and orange spectacular show. Even I felt overheated. The lights all burst simultaneously and showers rained down, one kinda stung as it landed on my cheek. And Silver... was fine. In fact, he smiled. His suit was a bit singed, but he was unharmed. The ice along his skin thawed away, and he stared at me as the room grew dark without any real source of light. He seems perfectly fine. 

We sat on the dark for what seemed to be eternity. I could feel his hands around my throat or a knife in my chest and a million other terrifying thoughts. Until the door opened and his silhouette appeared against the light from the hall.

"I'll see you tomorrow,  Frank." He says evenly, and he walks to the right. Another figure steps into the room after Silver leaves. This one is much rounder and a bit shorter. The door closes behind him, and I hold my breath and pray for light once more as Chevy draws ever closer. Rescue is seeming less and less likely. I need to escape. Now.

Authors note:

Hey! It's me. I'm REALLY sorry this took a while to publish. I've been sick and have been working a lot too so it's been hard to get things done. I hope you enjoyed!