Venomous Flame

Prologue

Noise filled the quiet neighborhood as the soldiers raided the house to find the 15 year old boy that had caused them so many problems on behalf of the rebellion. Fear gripped at Logan's chest and clawed it's to his throat and blossomed into a bone chilling scream as he struggled against the rock solid arms carrying him out of his house. Even the man dragging the scared teen away winced slightly, letting his grip falter only a little. Not enough to let Logan free himself though, and soon Logan was passed out with a bruise already forming on his jaw. 

And so the government van drove away, leaving a heartbroken family shaking in their home, a barren feeling taking over as they failed to drift back to sleep. As the sound of the engine faded away into the night, Hillary Branchester wept into the strong chest of her loving husband and let the crushing sorrow overwhelm her senses. 

Nobody got much sleep that night. The silence that followed the ordeal was more frightening the the raid itself. Every path that this ball of light crossed was left with a small smile and a glimmer of hope for the future, knowing that people like Logan existed and survived in this cruel and violent world. So of course, with such a loved presence ripped from their small community, a bond was created through the sadness as the mourned the loss of their precious friend.

Meanwhile in the Government van, Logan started to gain consciousness. He tried to sit up, letting out a pained groan as his head throbbed with every breath and movement.  He entered far into his own mind as he tried to make sense of the past 24 hours. all day yesterday he had had a bad feeling in his gut, an odd shadow of unease in the back if his head. He should have been more careful. He didn't cover his tracks properly and now he was paying for his mistakes.

"ah, you're awake." 

A voice from behind startled him out his thoughts, hurting his neck as he whipped his head around to face whatever it was. Expecting to see stone cold, 6 foot killers, Logan was surprised to see a girl who looked to be about a year younger than him, and a boy who seemed to be at least 18. 

"jeez, looks like we got a creep on our hands, don't we Isiah? Don't worry, you aren't the first teen we've captured that couldn't keep his eyes of me." I looked up from  beneath my bangs and smirked at the girl. 

"oh honestly, don't flatter yourself. The only reason I would ever stare at you is your enormous sloping forehead. Or maybe the giant L on it. Oh, maybe the rank smell of desperation and vodka that radiates off of you." 

The infuriated look on the soldier's overly narrow face was so priceless our hero couldn't help but let out a crazed cackle as a hard slap landed on his face.  But that only made his grin bigger. You see, as kind and gentle as Logan could be, there was a good reason he was so successful in completing his tasks for the rebellion. He loved pain. craved it. But he also knew when too much was. These two qualities made Logan a deadly force and a powerful aspect to whichever cause earned his respect and trust.

So he sat there, laughing harder and harder at the confused guards in front of him as they drove to the program base, trying to prepare himself, both mentally and physically as he let his magical blue flames envelope him in a burning sanctuary.