7 - "J"

Mr. Pine had spent a lot of time building a few very careful weapons before interviewing his next prospective.

First of all, a suit that would look dapper and professional, yet be able to withstand blasts of flame, fire, and kerosene later set on fire. He almost asked the retired fashion designer Edna Mode for help, but decided against it. Eventually he decided that dapper and professional took a back seat to the value of safety. Safety first, that was his motto always.

Next of all, he took along his voice modulator to aid in comprehension, a gas mask that matched his suit, a protective hat, and several prototype designs of his latest flamethrowers and flame-related weapons, as a peace offering. For that special little touch, he had them all monogrammed with the initial – in fact, the only known name – of his prospective:

"J."

J was a man – presumably – of few words. That is to say, the words he – presumably – preferred were short and completely unintelligible through the heavy mask. In lieu of speaking, J had shown Mr. Pine a video, lovingly hand-made, and clearly quite old, called "Why I Love Fire."

The film was actually a rather darling little thing. It started with a slideshow of a little girl. Photographs showed her at the Fourth of July, at Christmas, at Halloween, running around with sparklers, lighting up jack-o-lanterns, setting entire trees on fire with a huge grin on her face…Then words came up on the screen, like from an old silent.

"Ever since I was little, I have loved fire."

A jolt seemed to go through Mr. Pine's system. He looked from the smiling girl in black and white to the gas mask toting, heavy-breathing Frankenstein beside him. Suddenly he felt like he should really start cutting back on the Pall Malls.

More photos passed, of a teenaged girl, smoking happily with her friends and winning a chemistry award, and venturing bravely to the science faire. Next showed a news item of how the entire school where the science faire took place caught fire within five minutes of the experiment being set up.

Beside Mr. Pine, J nodded happily.

Mr. Pine swallowed hard.

Finally, after many more such images, (where the star's bright smile and once-clear eyes eventually disappeared entirely behind a thick mask), the final cards rolled.

"As you can see, I love fire very much. It has been worshipped in the olden days and I worship it now. I have given my life, most of my voice, and most of my friends to the pursuit of perfection of fire. After all, the Constitution says that we have a right to the pursuit of happiness. And this is my pursuit. God bless America."

'Well, the Soldier will like… her… at any rate,' Mr. Pine thought.

After that slide came a new one, saying, "PLEASE HIRE ME!"

Then, the film suddenly developed holes which widened to swallow up the entire screen. It melted, resulting in a single white plane with what looked like burnt caramel all around its edges.

Mr. Pine looked to the projector – or, rather, to the melted, smoke-spewing wreck that had, until recently, been a video projector. Behind it stood J. And a flamethrower.

Mr. Pine took out the voice modulator. "I believe we can come to an understanding…"

A few days later…

Johnny, Ivan, and Sean (who was trying pants on for size, instead of kilts) were doing their morning run around BLU Headquarters, loudly singing as they passed by the others in their rooms:

"Sound off!"

"One! Two!"

"Sound off!"

"Vat is dat?"

Johnny began to sing-song, "That's not accu-OOF!" he bumped into Ivan, then Sean collided into him. The two looked around Ivan, and all three jaws dropped.

At the end of the hallway, in the second-to-last room, pink reigned supreme. Pink draperies hung in the windows, a bedspread bedecked with yellow flowers was tucked in a corner, and there came a sound of humming from within.

"It's a flamer," Johnny whispered. "Sneak up real careful, boys, you don't want him to latch on you and start turning you gay…"

"Oh shut yer mouth…" Sean snuck forward, closer to the door. "Now who's doin' that humming…"

At once the humming stopped. A figure in a blue fireproof suit and wearing a thick, impenetrable mask appeared in the doorway – apparently she had been hanging up posters until a moment prior.

"Hmm…" Johnny scratched his chin. "Doesn't look like a flamer…"

"Vat is, 'flamer'?" Ivan asked.

As if in answer, the masked figure held up a cigarette lighter and flicked it on. Then, in one motion, she tossed the lighter at the three men and closed the door.

It was then that they noticed the puddle of kerosene in which they had all been standing.

A little while later, the sweet crooning of the Ink Spots sounded through the hall:

"I don't want to set the world on fire…"

At that same time, a sign appeared on "The New Guy's" door. It said,

"I am a Pyromaniac. And we are all going to be friends."

Author's note: I decided to make the Pyro female just for fun, for added creepiness factor, as it were.

I'm sorry this chapter is so late! I went back to school this week, which completely took over my mind. In a couple of weeks I'll be studying abroad, too, so that will halt updates for a while. Just warning you. Thank you for reading!