Day 25 (goal met. Ending posted. Enjoy)

2.

Skip back a few years to where this all began. To where everything started. A few years after Pyro was born, and a few years before he went to war. A few years after his parents died. About the time he was going to his second foster home.

Foster care was not a good fit for him. He was a normal rambunctious youth, except for a few oddities that he had. Up to that point he had managed to keep most things secret. There was a reason for his going to a second foster home. The first one he lived at had been nice. The married couple that ran it were great, but some of the invalid youth that they took in were not agreeable to Pyro’s way of life. To his views. After spending a year with these children, he was tired. He was tired of people trying to bully him around. Tired of being picked on. They had no idea the power that brewed inside him, and he wanted to keep it that way.

His parent’s had known about his “special” abilities and had taught him, or at least tried to, not to use it. Not here or there. Not ever. If he was going to be a fully functional adult, then he would just have to play the game and act normal. There were a few exceptions that they allowed though. For his birthday, after the lighter was found dead in the bottom of a drawer, they did let him light the cake. Lacking fine control of his fire, he managed to set the candles, cake, and tablecloth on fire. His dad had been smart enough to have the fire extinguisher handy so the blaze was easily contained. Versus letting him practice in the back yard and hone his skills, they banned it’s use all together. He tried his hardest to abide by their rules, even after they had passed.

Jump back to the first foster home. He was frustrated. Very angry. All alone. Worst of all, tormented. He didn’t feel that he had any other way out of the hell he had been placed into. He didn’t feel good about taking matters into his own hands, but felt he had no other choice. What happened that day was not what he was expecting, nor what he had really wanted.

Pyro was not a stupid kid, but he did have some lofty ideas. He figured that if his room was not functional, then they would have no other choice, but to move him somewhere else. The hope being that he would be moved to another house. He didn’t know at the time, but the house had aluminum wiring. This would come into play later, not that anyone would have believed a young boy had set the place ablaze with his mind.

He ate his dinner. Brushed his teeth. Went to bed. Everything was normal. As his foster parents turned out the lights and said “good night.” He replied and settled into his bed. About 15 minutes later, he knew what had to be done. He started very small. He wanted to be careful. He already knew that things could get out of control if he didn’t pay attention.

A golf ball sized orb rose from his hand and hovered. He stared at it and tried to slowly manipulate it. He was pretty successful for not having done any of this in quite some time. It would pulsate and shoot little, unexpected bolts on occasion, but overall he was handling it quite nicely. After thinking about life for a while, he knew that there was no reason to destroy the whole house, just his room.

He waited until everyone was asleep and slowly looked for the best location to mount the attack. There was a outlet toward the center of the wall across from his bed. That would be the place. He wanted it to look natural. He wanted no extra suspicion cast his way. He got up and plugged in a small wall transformer. It had probably come from one of his toys, but he wasn’t sure which. He assumed that it would appear that the wiring had suddenly burst in to flames, and he’d have no query coming his way.

Sitting on top of his bed he did have a slight lapse of commitment, but it quickly passed and he hurdled a little bit of fire from his hand. The ball struck the direct center of the transformer and spread like, well, wildfire. It grew in great strides. Pyro suddenly realized that this might not work in the way he had envisioned it. Now he was worried about burning everything else down, but there was not much to do about it now. The flames were on autopilot.

He had already learned that fire didn’t hurt him so he curled up under the covers and waited for someone to come banging on the door. He didn’t want to arouse suspicion. By the time someone tried to come to his rescue, it would have been to late. If he had been a normal boy, ho would’ve been a very over cooked steak.

Everyone thought it was a miracle that he had made it out alive. His doorway collapsed, along with parts of the roof, as the firemen pulled him out. The firemen were heroes. He had been “Saved,” but he didn’t feel any different. The foster mom was a Jesus freak. She took it all as a sign that he needed to be moving on. She wished that he could stay, but there was just something telling her that it was a bad idea. So with that, he moved on through the system. He would’ve packed his bags, but all of his things had been burnt. Even his nice metal watch had melted into the foundation. So off he went to a new family. A new set of rules. A new life.

3.

Pyro made it to the new house. He was the only child being watched here. The couple reminded him of what he imagined his grandparent’s would have been like. They were older an older couple. Very sweet and understanding. The kind of household he needed to be raised in. They had their odd things as well. He had never been forced to remove his shoes at the door of any house before, but it was a requirement here. But, all in all, things were looking good.

After a year, he had gotten into the routine and it finally started to feel like home. It was a feeling that he had forgotten. It felt good. He was calm and in control of his life, at least as much as a young child can be anyway.

He had changed schools twice since his parents died. Each new house carried that baggage with it. It didn’t bother him much though. He just looked at it as another chance to make new friends. HE only had one real friend at his first school. He just always seemed to play the role of the outcast too perfectly.

The second school he attended was much worse. Shadier neighborhood. Meaner kids. Nobody that really took an interest in him. He was lonely. He did try very hard, but wondered if that was the problem. He couldn’t see changing for anyone’s acceptance, so he just did what he always did. He went to school as an invisible boy. It did afford him the time and ability to study and do well in the subjects he was interested in. Geography was one of those blessed sections.

At the time he had no idea that the makeup of the world would play a vital role in his life. He just new that it was interesting. Social Sciences were intriguing as well. The fact that there were so many different cultures excited him. He hoped that someday he could see them in person. Unknown to him was the fact that a few years later he would see all of them first hand. From the third world countries, to the superpowers that controlled everything. He was receiving the lessons that would make a major contribution to his life. He knew none of this at the time, nor did he ever think about it years later.

The third school was a new beast all together. A private school. He didn’t get the concept, or the need, but attended it all the same. The teachers here were much more attentive to his yearning for knowledge. He was so pushy at times that the teacher were a little scared of him, not that he had done anything to frighten, just that he was very insistent.

After a few months of recess, with no friends to show for it, he found a teacher who was willing to continue his lessons. He didn’t see the need to go run around like an idiot when all he would do was sit around and stare at people. This teacher would instill a desire to succeed that would follow Pyro for the rest of his life. He really liked the teacher. The teacher just felt sorry for Pyro. Sympathy was a powerful tool that he also learned during his recess study sessions.

After a year in this institution, he decided, or it was decided for him, that it was time to move on. It was not a choice that he had wanted to make, but it had been thrust upon him. During the middle of his second year some abysmal things happened which would set off the remainder of his life. He was picked up by the police on his was home from school that day. They did not handcuff him, nor were they rude in anyway, but he knew something bad had happened.

They took him to the station and sat him down with a cup of hot chocolate. They all knew they story, but were trying to find the words to relay it to Pyro.

“Pyro is it?”

“Umm… Yes?”

“How’d you get a name like that? You play with fire or something?”

“Once. My parent’s caught me playing with matches when I was three. They called me their little pyro and the name just stuck.”

“I guess that makes sense. Do you know why you’re here?”

“No. Did I do something wrong? Am I in trouble? I swear I didn’t do anything.”

“We know you didn’t son. We know.” The officer paused. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but your parents are dead.”

“They’ve been dead for a couple of years.”

“They have?”

“Uh huh. That’s why I live here now.”

“Oh. You’re adopted?”

“Don’t know, but I was brought here to live with these older people.”

The officer grabbed a picture from the desk. “This them?”

“Yup.”

The officer took a deep breath. “I guess I should have done a little more research first. Either way, you new parents, or guardians, whatever, they are the ones that passed away today.”

Pyro just stared at the officer. A stone face would have showed more emotion. He wanted to cry, but if school had taught him anything, it was that weakness was not something to go flaunting around.

“I’m sorry son.”

“Can you at least tell me what happened?” Pyro’s voice was on the verge of cracking with sobs. He had really liked his new parents and couldn’t believe that they were gone.

The officer explained the whole situation. It was a mess. Apparently some drug user, or burglar, they weren’t really sure yet, had broken into the house to grab some quick items. The plan had been simple. It was the middle of the day, and they hadn’t done their research. Pyro’s parents were at home eating lunch.

The felon’s had broken the window to Pyro’s room and let themselves in. They didn’t realize that anyone was home, so they went searching for anything that could net them a decent profit. The jewelry box was the first thing to be impounded. They cleared anything of value while scouring the rear of the house.

Dreams of a nice TV loomed in their thoughts so they made their way out to the living room. Still not realizing that anyone was there. They found what the TV and a decent stereo. Pyro’s new dad was somewhat of an audiophile. The thieves didn’t even know the value of the audio gear that they had ignored. The speakers were worth over 10,000 dollars a piece. Even the turntable was worth more than the TV, but uninformed thieves were not the best at judging quality. They would wonder who actually listened to records anymore.

As they were making their way out, with arms stuffed to the brim, the heard a noise. Both turned to see an angry, older gentleman with a large kitchen knife.

“Just put down the stuff and leave,” he said.

They dropped everything. They weren’t scared, but had been startled pretty severely. They backed slowly into the hall and just waited to see what move he would make. He lunged and connected with one of the thief’s arms. Blood started to run from the injury and pooled around his hand. The knife was dropped in the attack and the other thief punched the dad squarely in the nose. He collapsed to the floor, not dead, but unconscious. They used him as a punching bag, or kicking bag, until his body was limp and lifeless.

They heard a scream as they were just about to leave. One of the guys just wanted to get out of there. This had not been the plan at all and he was now scared of getting caught. The other intended on leaving no witnesses. Dragging his friend down the hall, he found the source of all the commotion. There was a helpless old lady curled up on the floor. She was in tears. Sobs wracked her body. She was defenseless. Shortly thereafter, she was dead as well.

Pyro listened to the officers story in a state of shock. He was sad, but mostly anger was building up in his little mind. He couldn’t believe that anyone could be so cruel. When he had been little, Pyro believed that people were good. After today that view changed. He did not know what to do, but he did have a few ideas. Nobody would be proud of him for what he was thinking, but he didn’t know that he had a choice.

It wasn’t about avenging their deaths. Well, not completely anyway. Revenge would be the start of it, but as he would learn first hand that the underbelly of society had taken hold as the status quo. There were travesties that he could not ignore. He never wanted to hear about another murder. Another rape. Another beaten wife. He was tired of all the evil that had consumed the world. No other country was any better off. He was just tired of it.

Suddenly he knew why he had the powers that he did. He was not an evil kid, and would make the world a safer place. He didn’t know how, or to what extent the destruction would be, but he knew it would end. It would end for good. There was nothing to stop him, except for the police who he was currently sitting with, and possibly his next foster family.

After talking with the state, the officer found him a place to stay for the night. He was loaded up in the car. Still trying to fight back tears, he paid attention for any opportunity that would present itself. He needed to get out of here, but wasn’t yet ready to take the blood of the innocent. Maybe the cop would need to use the restroom. Maybe he would need gas. Maybe he could reason with him, but he knew that would never work. Would the cop get hungry? Thirsty? Anything. Pyro was not going to be picky right now. He would play it cool. He would hold all the rage inside until it was time. There had to be an opening.

Pyro didn’t know how long the ride would be, but he had a feeling that it would end early as they pulled into a gas station.

Parting

Everyone met at the flagpole. They were ready to begin their journey. Ready to start their lives. Pyro placed an arm around Mary and gave her a hug.

“You did great today,” he said.

“Thanks. So did you.”

He waved everyone forward into the sun. They marched. They sang. They enjoyed life. Their day had finally come.

Mary and Pyro took the rear. They waited for a moment and said goodbye to the watchers and to this grave that they would be returning to someday. Looking at the flag brought a small tear to their eyes. He knew that he would not return here for many years and that when the time came, it would be for only one purpose.

They had not yet learned to fly, but he knew that someday they would. And so did she.