You want to know why I'm a Pyro? You really wanna know?
Fire is God. It's my salvation, my redemption; it's the only thing that loves me in this world. Fire is God, and I'm just spreading It's love.
Father loved fire too. He loved to watch as it burned my skin. I still have the lovely, lovely marks. He said 'God' all the time, especially when it was playtime. He would murmur it as he drug the cigarette butt across my arm, leaving burning ashes behind. He would yell it almost worshipfully as he burned the little bit of hair I had left. I had never heard of the Christian God, and in my young mind I thought he was talking to the flames that scorched me.
I hated him. I hated his grin, his whispers. I hated how he blamed me for things I didn't know I did. How was I supposed to know I killed Mother? I didn't mean to! He told me I was a whore, that I was evil, that I didn't deserve to live.
I got sick of it, the constant pain and the smiles and the lies. So one day, I whispered a little prayer to God. And that night, he burned until there was nothing but ash.
I burned the house too, leaving and not once looking back. I was a young priest, still a child, spreading the love of my God. The cops caught me a few times at first, but I always escaped. I found odd jobs, kept a roof over my head. When people tried to hurt me or use me, I cremated them and dumped the ashes in the river.
As I got older, I realized the value of education. I snuck into a school and pretended to have been homeschooled the entire time. The scars kept the other children away. I told the teachers I had been in an accident. They all bought it, and finally I could learn the science behind my love, my God. I learned the dangers of It's wrath, I learned how I could call It upon my enemies. I learned how to control It, so It would not damage It's most faithful priest. They tried to teach me other things, and I listened. But nothing they told me compared to God.
The day I had learned all I could from them, I burned them all for their blasphemy.
And then for years I roamed, spreading my God's love to all the people. Sometimes the infidel cops captured me, but I always got away. One day, I didn't.
Prison is truly Hell, for there is no God there. I saw other inmates with the vessels of my lord, but the guards never let me get near enough for a prayer. For months I was driven mad by the absence of God. No flame, no embers, not even a spark.
And then, a lady in red visited me. She wanted to help me spread the teachings of my lord to the blasphemers in blue.
How could I say no?