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It's a nice night to be indoors in Philadelphia. While there's only a light snow, it's still below freezing. And sadly, Calamity isn't indoors. They're trudging through the snow to get to the nearest corner store for a pack of cigarettes. It's only about 8 pm, but it's dark out, this particular block only light by street lamps and the occasional house with a tv on.
As they pass by a small alley, someone inside shouts at them. "Hey, Asswipe! I'm here for round 2!"
Calamity, despite being on the up-and-up as far as cash goes, still hasn't sprung for a winter coat. It's not really neccessary, what with global warming and all (not to mention their fire powers,) but not having one sure does make nights like tonight miserable. Add that to the fact that they've actually been out of cigarettes all day, but it's just been one thing after a-fucking-nother, not to mention that their normal go-to corner store was closed due to a burst pipe, so they're already grumbling and unhappy the moment they step out the door. Their hands are shoved deep into their hoodie pockets, their dark green bandana pulled up to practically cover their eyes, and they whirl at the shout, braced to run if they look like they're going to be outnumbered again.
Whomst the fuck is yelling at them, and is presumably still trying to get the upper hand after getting their asses thoroughly handed to them on multiple occasions?
One single Yellowjacket walks out of the alley. He's dressed in a t-shirt and shorts and shows no sign of being cold. "This time you ain't got any friends, dickweed. And I got some new tricks." He smirks, overwhelming confidence radiating off of him. "So you can either lie down and let me kick the shit out of you or I'm going to murder you. And enjoy it."
"Fuuuuck me," Calamity grumbles, and fishes the zippo out of their pocket like they're going to light up. "Didn't have any friends last time an' I'm still the one who walked away from five'a yinz. Give it a goddamn rest..." The zippo flicks into life, intimidating as a candle flame, and they hold their ground. "Sick 'a lettin' yinz shit all over our turf, should'a killed you all when I had the chance."
The Yellowjacket's smug grin only increases. "Fine. I'll kill you. Then go for your little friends." He steps back a bit and instead of going for a knife or a gun. He just extends a hand forcefully. Whatever he did doesn't seem to take affect but... did it just get colder?
Calamity arches an eyebrow when...nothing happens. Coughs once, raises their burning lighter, and blows.
They should have blown the flame out. That's how lighters work. But a massive fireball erupts from it, to the point where Calamity takes a step back as it explodes over the Yellowjacket, flames erupting from his clothes and burning his skin.
There's a moment, where they just stare. In awe of the damage they've managed to do.
The guy catches fire and falls back, on the verge of death. But as he hits the ground, icicles began to form on his body, faster than the fire could melt them. And a few seconds later, there's an immense swell of cold wind as frostbite immediately begins to spread across Calamity's body as well as the Yellowjacket's, leaving him clinging to life by a thread.
"What the fuck -" Calamity's teeth begin to chatter immediately, and they nearly drop their lighter. Luckily it's probably frozen to their bare hand, by now, as they stumble backward.
And then they grit their teeth, their expression hard. Not that the man can see it. Lighter returns to pocket, shiv slides from their sleeve, and they stalk forward until they can kneel in the ice and snow next to the man.
"Fuck you," they hiss, their teeth still clacking together, and shove the knife into the side of his neck, wrenching it out just as violently, and watching as his blood pours out into the snow.
And then they take a shuddering breath. And then another, their teeth chattering more loudly now. "Fffff...ffffuck..." they whisper, and scramble backward, still holding the bloody knife that leaves smears across the snow-covered ground. They manage to make it to their feet, shaking now, their breathing coming in ragged gasps. "Fuck I - 'm sorry - fuck -"
As if the body can hear them.
At least they don't drop the knife as they sprint away, snow swirling around them, skidding and sliding enough on the pavement to at least partially cover their tracks. And it's not like anyone is out at this hour, in the snow, looking for a guy like the one lying in the alleyway.
Right?
They run and run, their shoes crunching the snow. Eventually though, running must end. As Calamity is slowing down and heading into the park, their vision turns white. The only thing interrupting the white is a black bolt of lightning that slams into them.
A voice echoes in their brain. It sounds like someone recorded the voice and played back the same audio a second after he it talked. "They wanted you alive, young Calamity Acosta. But you will not always be so. You will be consumed by the flames you loved so much. And it will feel just like this." For a brief moment, Calamity feels the pain of their own death. Then their vision returns to normal.
Calamity screams, in that instant of burning. They stagger against the wall surrounding the park, tears streaming down their cheeks as their vision returns, teeth still clacking together with the cold they feel again down to their very bones. "Fuck -" they spit out, and check themself all over for burns and blood, and just...lean against the wall for a few moments, their breath coming in ragged gasps and the occasional cough.
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