The Mystery agent - Shane Barrow

1- Accident

"You're not planning to kill those innocent people, I hope... Mr. Verton."

"What the—how the hell do you know my name? And who the fuck are you?"
The bald guy turned, eyes narrowing. His face was inked with all sorts of weird, creepy tattoos. He looked like a walking horror story.

"The devil himself, I guess," I replied, flashing a victorious smirk.

"Well then, fuck off, aight? Otherwise, I'll have to use my angels."
He said it more like a croak. His voice was shredded—probably from too many cigarettes and whatever else he'd been sniffing or smoking. As he unzipped his jacket, he flashed two pistols tucked beneath it.

"Oh... so you do have extra guns. Damn, I should've guessed someone like you would carry backups. Now, what am I gonna do?" I said, grinning. "How about—before you start shooting like a ruthless maniac—I show you my devils? Y'know... just to keep things even?"

"Stop taking the piss, or I'll make sure your head's off your body in a sin—OH FUCK!!"

I must've looked terrifying. Just as he was mid-sentence, I raised both hands, palms facing out. Two blazing balls of fire flickered to life between my fingers. I let them swirl for a second... then casually ate them in one motion.

Yeah. I ate fire. Don't look at me like that—I'm still human. Sort of.

The guy froze. Eyes wide. Probably wondering if the hit he'd taken earlier was finally messing with his brain. I didn't care. As long as he didn't try anything, I wasn't going to give him a front-row seat to Hell's fireworks show.

I wasn't—

"Get the fuck away from me, you cursed shitload of fuck!"
He snapped, went berserk, and reached for his gun.

(Quick note: I wasn't allowed to burn people alive unless they directly threatened my life. That was the deal. With the president. Long story.)

Anyway, as he drew, I blew the flames I'd stored in my mouth—yeah, I said stored, not swallowed—straight at his face.

And... well... pity. His face melted in seconds.

That's enough of that.

Let me introduce myself properly.

I'm Shane Barrow.
I was stillborn. For ten whole minutes.
Just when the doctors gave up, I woke up. Kicking and screaming. And since then, I've lived long enough to witness the Enfield Island Village murders.

Funny enough, they named it "murders" because of me.

Yes—I killed them.
Wait—no. It was a freak accident.
That's when I realized I'd developed something... let's just say, unusual.

I'm Shane Barrow.
The Flame Thrower.
Also known as the evil entity thrown out of Hell. Or, if you believe the tabloids...
The Devil himself.