The blood on Ashley's hands had long dried by the time the sirens faded into the distance.
She stood at the center of the ruined alley, surrounded by smoking debris and twitching bodies. Her red fire crackled around her fingertips—small, hungry embers that hadn't cooled down yet. The concrete beneath her boots was scorched black. She didn't breathe heavily. She didn't tremble. But her eyes... they were glazed, distant, almost bored.
Eight villains dead. Two confirmed dismemberments. One left in flames long after death.
Another mission complete.
"Too much force," her earpiece crackled with the voice of a government observer. "Ashley, report."
She didn't answer. Her hand raised slightly—just enough to wave off the heat—before it was swallowed by a flicker of blue ice fire that cooled the air in an instant.
"Same protocol," she muttered flatly. "They fought back. They lost."
Silence. Then, a sigh from the other end. "Report to HQ. Immediately."
---
Ashley sat in silence as the armored vehicle took her back to the city. She stared out the tinted windows, watching neon signs blur by. Her uniform clung to her curves—white with golden lining and scorch marks on the sleeves. She hated the spotlight. Hated the cheers. Hated how they called her a "savior" while never once asking who she was saving.
They don't know what I am.
Not really.
She remembered her mother's screams. The smell of flesh. Her own tiny hands wrapped in flame, no older than nine. That night still echoed in her skull like a lullaby. She had begged them to stop. Begged them to love her.
They hadn't.
So she burned them.
And the world thanked her.
---
The Commission
The government's headquarters was made of glass and arrogance. White floors, cold hallways, and guards who never met her eyes.
Ashley stood in front of the board—a panel of stiff-necked men and women dressed in suits too clean to understand war. At the head of the room stood a woman in her fifties with silver hair and a voice like steel.
Director Hale.
"You're unstable."
Ashley didn't flinch.
"You're a public icon. But your actions are growing darker. Your enjoyment of violence... concerning."
Ashley cocked her head. "They were criminals."
"That doesn't give you the right to savor their deaths."
A long pause.
Then Hale slid a folder across the table. Ashley didn't move to pick it up. The director continued.
"You're being enrolled in Eden State Hero University. You will attend classes, stay on campus, and interact with others your age. You will be monitored—closely."
Ashley raised a brow. "So you're grounding me?"
"No. We're saving you from yourself."
Ashley stared at the folder.
College. Dorms. Students.
She could already imagine the cameras, the smiling handlers, the fake interviews.
"Pass," she said, voice flat.
Director Hale didn't blink. "That wasn't a request."
Something inside Ashley snapped.
Without warning, her pupils shimmered like molten glass—then burst into radiant fire. A multicolored beam of laser flame erupted from her eyes, twisting with red and violet edges, vaporizing the conference table instantly.
"Burn in hell."
Panic. Screams. The floor cracked beneath her as more flames surged from her body like a nuclear heart breaking open.
But something was wrong.
She felt her hands lock.
Two older women—uniformed guards in high-collared suits—had already moved. One stood inches from Ashley, face calm, gaze motherly. The other circled behind her, hands glowing with an anti-flame aura.
Ashley froze.
Not because of the power they held—but because of their presence.
Older women. Authority figures. Unshaking. Familiar.
Her mind spiraled for a fraction of a second into memory—flashes of her mother before the abuse, brushing her hair, holding her during storms. Her jaw trembled.
Director Hale didn't move from her spot, even as flame licked the edges of her coat.
"We knew you'd react this way," Hale said coolly. "That's why they're here."
Ashley's flames flickered and dimmed, eyes still glowing with rage—but she didn't burn them.
Not because she couldn't.
Because part of her didn't want to.
Approval. She hated how much she wanted it. Hated how easy it was for the right voice to reach into her soul and silence the storm.
The two women didn't speak. Just stared. Calm. Watching her like a wounded animal in a cage.
Hale continued, tone sharp.
"You're the most powerful weapon in this country, Ashley. But you're a cracked blade. You'll either shatter… or be reforged."
Ashley hissed, turning away, fists tight.
"...If I go," she growled, "and I hate it—I will burn the entire place down."
Hale smiled for the first time. "We're counting on it."