A/N: This story is about my OC Nikita O'Connor. Nikita is the main character in a story I want to write. She is a neutral character but is mainly a villain thorughout the story. This part is a flashback of her past. Niki is a powerful mutant with many powers, the power mentioned is pyrokinesis (creation of flame and/or control of fire). Her more major powers include: Telepathy, Aquakinesis (Water), Aerokinesis (Air), Geokinesis (Earth), Telekinesis and Superspeed. She can create air, water and fire from her hands and can channel it through objects. Her highest speed is the speed of light, and her telepathy is capable of knocking a person out with one psychic blast. It is powerfule enough to break even the most powerful telepaths psychinc shields.

Well thanks for reading ahead of time and I hope you like.

Review it if you enjoyed it please, anything goes, I just want to know if i'm any good at writing.

Nicole xox

P.S This came to me in a dream!!! Creepy, ain't it.


I stand straight, my once brown hair now pitch black wafting in my face, my eyes now glowing an eerie crimson red. I turn my head and cast my gaze around me. I see 6 bodies lying in their own blood, drenched with it. I see a ring of fire, with flames so intense the concrete walls are beginning to melt with the heat, the flames so high they are licking the ceiling almost tenderly.

I look back at the bodies, bodies of people I hate, that are lying, drowning in their own blood and I think of the two floors below, the three dead people on each floor in the same position. My gaze flickers to my right hand where I see a once shining, solid silver dagger now coated with a crimson liquid so vile it has to be blood. I scan my eyes around once more hunting for a new target. I don't find one. I look ahead to the body of the ring leader, the big boss, dead with multiple stab wounds and blistering skin.

I don't feel guilty or scared or even worried. I am happy, exited, even relieved. I am insane and I have a disturbed mind but it doesn't matter. I don't run or hide, I walk calmly over the blood soaked floor. I walk through the flames, disappearing within them. I don't feel it, it does not hurt me, and it can't. I created it, it is my flame, I control it, and I am immune to its heat.

I laugh a truly maniacal laugh. I do not worry about the police who will certainly come after me, I do not run, I am not scared, fear is irrational, it makes no sense to be scared. To me it does not matter that I killed twelve people, I do not have a second thought, and to me they deserved it. As I walk further my laughter gets louder and more maniacal. It occurs to me I am more than insane, maybe psychotic, I don't really care. I am me and that is who I intend to stay. I can not say I will not kill again; nothing is ever certain no matter how much it may seem that way.