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Last Super Standing, what a simple game when you are a pyro. I’m going to love being the star of the reality show. Pow, pow, pow.
“Hey Tank, want some barbeque?” I toss my heat at her, engulfing her in flames. Unlike everyone else today, she doesn’t start patting out the flames or running around like a manic.
She smiled.
“Thanks, was a little chilled after taking out iceman over there.” The tank takes one step, then another, picking up speed each pounding connection with the ground.
I could feel the studio floor tremble. The whole arena was made to hold dragon shifters. Pushing off, she leaped, raising a fist, aiming to land where I was. I moved elsewhere but not fast enough. Tanks shouldn’t move that fast. She backhanded me, sending me spiraling into the wall. The ground where she landed crushed inward. An impossible graceful leap out of the hole, perfect for the cameras made her numbers flash. I focus on the screen, squinting through the heat haze around me. Only two of us left of the twenty.
Cracking her knuckles, the tank closed. “Last super standing, and you ain’t on your feet. Wanna yield or be hospitalized?”
I scrambled backward, concentrating on pushing my power out through my hands, but my brain is too scrambled. “No, no, no.” I whimper.
(words 223; first published 11/18/2023)