The bus lands softly on the turf of the school. The students are rushing off it in clusters. Amongst them, a boy and a girl. They stand out from the rest. Best friends. Children of the greatest super hero's known to man. The girl, Mystery Peace, heavily clad in black, her dark eyes and hair. A younger female version of her father, Warren Peace. Her mother Layla, such a peaceful woman, could not understand the youths anger, and hate. A volatile child, if their ever were one. Unpredictable. She could flame up at any moment. But then again, you could also find yourself being slowly covered in blossoming fauna. Her powers combined, made her both creator, and destroyer.

And the boy, a friendly face masked with a careless look. He walks close to her, savouring the moments that they spend. In his mind he is screaming. His heart racing, but he just walks. No body utters a word as they pass. They fear her. She is a sitting bomb. After what happened, they don't dare look in her eyes, for they see an ever present spark. A flame, dancing solely in her pupil. It is a fearful sight, and no-one wishes to be a witness to it. The boy, Drake Stronghold, son to the famous Will. His mother, also a great super hero. Died. Before he got to know her, really. When he was an infant. He has the power of Telekinesis and all the time his powers grow. He learns new aspects of his powers, new ways in which he can conquer his mind, and use them. In his great sadness, and loss of his un-known mother, he helps his friend, to help herself. He helps her understand that she doesn't need to be alone. That she doesn't have to outcast herself from her family, because she feels outcast within herself. He offers her a well needed liaison.

As they walk they are watched. People watch the odd pair, walk along the grass. Nobody speaks they just watch. Afraid. Then a remark is made. An awful rude remark to them. She flames up. Anger boiling inside her. Her eyes glowing with fire, and fury. The group of observers are afraid. A fight. She is well know for her fights. She has anger problems. Her friend says something to her, and she listens. Carefully listening to the soft whispered words being said to her. This is usually how he reaches her, and calms the ever growing fire inside her, and gets her to drop it. She loves him. Dearly. And tries to do as he says. She knows he's trying to help. A further remark is made. She flames up to her shoulders now. Throwing fire balls, in the direction of the offender. Drake tries to stop her, calm her down. She's angry. The crowd has now dispersed, not wanting a singeing. He puts his arm on her back and she flames him, unintentionally. It was the shock of being touched. He yelps in the pain, and steps back.

"I'm sorry" she says. It's the first thing she's said to him today. He just nods. Subject closed. It was they way they communicated. Sometimes they could go days like this, sometimes they just talk. And talk. It was just them. The way they did things.

The day droned on, and soon turned to evening, leaving the students of sky high to go home. Drake said he wanted to go to Mystery's. That they needed to talk.

Sitting in the lounge, he began his speech. He had to end the friendship. Cut all ties with her. He had started feeling things for her. Things over than friendship, and he couldn't handle them. He couldn't deal with thinking of her like that. He loved her, but he didn't know how to act, how to react, it was alien to him.

She flamed up. Deep down her heart was breaking. She loved him, but he wanted nothing to do with her. Her anger boiled, and for the second time today, her arms reached soaring temperatures. She threw flame after flame at him, screaming and yelling.

"I hate you!" She yelled. She was now lonely. Alone. He was her saviour, and now, she was in need of saving again. She was now completely (in her eyes) alone in the world. He tried to back away from his fumigating friend, but he had no where to go. He threw things back using his power best he could, but she was to out off control.

(Warren Peace pov)

All I heard was crashing, and yelling, and smelt a familiar smell of smouldering. I knew what was happening. She was out off control again. So much like a younger me. It pained to watch as she cut ties with everyone. She only talked to me. Her mother would sometimes get distraught, because she refused to talk to her. I think she only talked to me, because we shared the same power. She had her mothers power alright, but refused to use it. Mystery once told me, "why be a creator of such beauty if all I feel, is misery." She told me that fire was her release, and immediately I related. When I walked in, I saw her. Flaming. At him. Throwing fire ball after fire ball. I yelled at her to stop. I flamed up myself, just so I could touch her. I grabbed at her shoulder, told her to cool off. She flamed up more. Yelling at her former best friend. Asking him why?. What was the problem?. He said it wasn't her. He just could no longer stand the situation. Stupid adolescent boy. Her whole body erupted in flames.

I have only ever full bodily flamed, once. In my whole life once. And here was my sixteen year old daughter, fully flaming for the third time. Oh no, this wasn't the only time. Last time she flamed, she set the car on fire. So I had to stop it, and you know, like now.

I regret having to have to do it, but trust me it is the only way. I flamed up, and threw fire at her. I couldn't burn her. But the force would knock her back. I threw flame after flame, until I found one big enough to get a result. She turned away from him, the flames stopped, and she collapsed. Her energy totally drained. I truly regret having to have done what I did, but it was the only way. I had to protect her from herself. I scooped her up, and she slowly became conscious. I let her stand. Drake walked over, and whispered to her, as her had done many times. A grave look of sorrow spreading across his defined features. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. Her arms flamed, and she turned away. He walked away, and out of the door. Tears splashed down her face, and onto her flaming arms, hissing as they dropped.

It pains a farther to watch his daughter cry. Even one as strong as her.