Well... it's a take.
---
"Down on the ground!" The voice of the police officer stung in his mind. He stayed standing, rigid with fear and adrenaline, his breathing heavy and coarse. Any rational thought was fogged out by smoke, by fire, his fire, the fire he controlled. He felt like a caged animal, trapped between the bars of the officers' guns. Then all of a sudden, there was a moment of clarity and drop-dead silence as Logan was shot to the ground with a single bullet, only broken by a sharp gasp from Rogue. He felt his soul ignite, the very life within him come ablaze with a chaotic inferno of confusion and pain. His thoughts were indiscernable, even to his best friend, who was looking right at him, cyan eyes searching for some kind of peace or hope that none of this was real and that his family hadn't betrayed him and everything had gone wrong. Even though they were equally matched, he had always seen John to be the stronger of the two. "Don't do anything stupid, please..." The softest whisper he'd ever heard, surprised he'd heard it at all. Yes, that was Bobby, always looking for the quietest way out, never wanting to make a big deal out of something or start a fight, the complete opposite of his best friend. Maybe, for once, he should listen. He smiled at the blonde on the floor and went to crouch down, when suddenly another shot was fired. At precisely the same time, the bullet which had barely pierced the skin on Logan's forehead fell to the ground with a light tap, but was drowned out by the fall of the boy.
Bobby was paralysed with anxiety - was he dead, was this all an illusion? - as the one they nicknamed 'Pyro' starting convulsing violently. Rogue bit her lip so hard it almost bled as tears ran freely from her eyes. Logan lay completely still, a look of disappointment and failure and sadness in his dark eyes. "John...? C'mon, don't do this... you're alright, right?" Bobby squeaked, a frozen-solid tear falling onto the wooden porch floor. He crawled over to his best friend and stared into his listless, dilated brown eyes. "Please... no..." He rested his head on John's chest, trying to find a pulse and failing miserably, clinging to the blood-soaked shirt in agony. "Please... God, no, please..." he choked, not even realising he was freezing everything around him apart from the other mutants. It was only a tediously thin layer of ice, but it spread everywhere, covering every surface, painting every object in sheer cold. The blonde let out a quiet whine that sounded so sad it was almost suicidal in itself. From out of nowhere, the navy X-Jet whirred down into vision. "Bobby... we've got to go..." the pleading, shaky voice of his girlfriend. "Can't... leave him!" he replied, half-mouthing the words, unable to make any sense of sound. Rogue drifted her hand over John's face, shutting his eyes. "C'mon, sugah, we've *got* to go." «Don't make me leave you. Please, do something, anything... let me see you shine again, let me see you burn again...» The only fire that came from Pyro he'd ever see again would be the crematory chamber consuming whatever was left amongst the ashes.
---
"Down on the ground!" The voice of the police officer stung in his mind. He stayed standing, rigid with fear and adrenaline, his breathing heavy and coarse. Any rational thought was fogged out by smoke, by fire, his fire, the fire he controlled. He felt like a caged animal, trapped between the bars of the officers' guns. Then all of a sudden, there was a moment of clarity and drop-dead silence as Logan was shot to the ground with a single bullet, only broken by a sharp gasp from Rogue. He felt his soul ignite, the very life within him come ablaze with a chaotic inferno of confusion and pain. His thoughts were indiscernable, even to his best friend, who was looking right at him, cyan eyes searching for some kind of peace or hope that none of this was real and that his family hadn't betrayed him and everything had gone wrong. Even though they were equally matched, he had always seen John to be the stronger of the two. "Don't do anything stupid, please..." The softest whisper he'd ever heard, surprised he'd heard it at all. Yes, that was Bobby, always looking for the quietest way out, never wanting to make a big deal out of something or start a fight, the complete opposite of his best friend. Maybe, for once, he should listen. He smiled at the blonde on the floor and went to crouch down, when suddenly another shot was fired. At precisely the same time, the bullet which had barely pierced the skin on Logan's forehead fell to the ground with a light tap, but was drowned out by the fall of the boy.
Bobby was paralysed with anxiety - was he dead, was this all an illusion? - as the one they nicknamed 'Pyro' starting convulsing violently. Rogue bit her lip so hard it almost bled as tears ran freely from her eyes. Logan lay completely still, a look of disappointment and failure and sadness in his dark eyes. "John...? C'mon, don't do this... you're alright, right?" Bobby squeaked, a frozen-solid tear falling onto the wooden porch floor. He crawled over to his best friend and stared into his listless, dilated brown eyes. "Please... no..." He rested his head on John's chest, trying to find a pulse and failing miserably, clinging to the blood-soaked shirt in agony. "Please... God, no, please..." he choked, not even realising he was freezing everything around him apart from the other mutants. It was only a tediously thin layer of ice, but it spread everywhere, covering every surface, painting every object in sheer cold. The blonde let out a quiet whine that sounded so sad it was almost suicidal in itself. From out of nowhere, the navy X-Jet whirred down into vision. "Bobby... we've got to go..." the pleading, shaky voice of his girlfriend. "Can't... leave him!" he replied, half-mouthing the words, unable to make any sense of sound. Rogue drifted her hand over John's face, shutting his eyes. "C'mon, sugah, we've *got* to go." «Don't make me leave you. Please, do something, anything... let me see you shine again, let me see you burn again...» The only fire that came from Pyro he'd ever see again would be the crematory chamber consuming whatever was left amongst the ashes.