Snippet #2631568

A few minutes of concentration found Lucielle exiting a room of smoke and soot, as she carelessly breathed in the noxious fumes. She felt the fire in her heart grow, burning hotter and hotter. Hoping the excess humiliation of soot and flames would satisfy her desire for power. She certainly felt stronger, but since she usually felt invincible, this was no great feat. All she could do is wait for a perfect opportunity to burn something.

Just as she was remembering a small gang she uncovered near her home, she stepped from the burning wreckage of the foundry. A few late night stragglers that had decided to gather around the gaping hole of an entrance noticed her. Smiling, she walked through them, loving how they parted for her in fear.

But something was missing.

Turning around to face the small group, she studied them carefully.

"I wouldn' try anythin' miss," An elderly one from the back piped up, "We've called the cops. You can't touch us, I'd jus' stay right on here, n' wait for 'em ta show." He paused, adding, "Like a responsible youn' gal'."

"Oh," Lucielle said to the old man, "I'm supposed to just wait around for men with guns to come collect me?"

The crowd closed in tighter, afraid of her every move.

"Le'mme tell ya' all something," She called out into the crowd, "I'm not scared of anyone or anything. And I'm not going to be ordered around by a bunch of low-lifes!"

Her hands lit ablaze, and she sent a volley of firebolts at the old man, watching him burn to the ground with a hungry look in her eyes. Laughing, the group dispersed, each running their own direction, all ready to spread tales of the "demon-girl" they saw. She embraced her new title, hearing some scream as they got far, far, away from her. Soon the whole street was clear, save for a few abandoned cars, and a girl looking lost across the way.