Ok, so a little more of her origin story, we're getting more into the real story now. Hope you like it, and please review.
Mallory closed her eyes, concentrating. She could feel the energy as it coursed through her. She opened her eyes, her normally black eyes glowing red, like embers in a fire. She flicked open her fist and a small fireball ignited. She held it, admiring its beauty, before urging it to burn higher, hotter. She formed it into a square, a triangle, back into a ball. The pain was coming, but she'd learned how to cope with it. She eyed the target set up across the room. With a quick motion, she sent the fireball sailing through the air and it hit the target dead center.
"Very good, Mallory," her instructor, Don, said over the intercom. "Now, try to make a fireball with each hand and combine them."
She nodded at the observation window and shut her eyes again. She split the energy, sending some to each hand. She ignited first the right, then the left hand. As she brought them together, she could feel anger building in her, a burning that she couldn't control coming from the very core of her being.
The fire started building, the flame coming out bigger than she knew how to handle.
She lost control.
The whole room was flaming in second, the pain was hitting her more than she'd ever faced before. She let out a scream and curled into the fetal position on the floor, crying as she waited for the pain to pass. The sprinklers went on and the fire gradually died down, then fizzled out on the floor, leaving her soaked and hurting. Her instructor walked in and stood over her.
"Well, what went wrong this time?" he asked with a frown.
Mallory looked up at him timidly. "I don't know. I just- lost control."
Don sighed heavily and watched her get to her feet, still in pain.
"I know that. Why did you lose control? What happened? Did you lose focus?"
The anger was coming back. She clenched her fists to keep the flames from leaping out.
"You're using your powers right now," Don said matter-of-factly when he noticed her eyes start to glow. "Why? Did I provoke you? Are you in control right now?" He kept raining questions on her. The anger built. The urge to use her powers grew.
Finally, she threw a fireball at a target to the side of the room and yelled, "I don't know!"
She stood, stunned. She hadn't meant to do that. She stared at her hand. Her powers were growing every day In the 5 years that she'd been at the school, her powers had grown so fast that she could never get ahead of them. As soon as she would develop a skill, there would be two more levels that she would have to beat. She no longer went home to visit her parents for fear of hurting them or burning the house down.
"I need a break," she said quietly. She didn't wait for Don to answer, just headed for the door. She went to the gymnasium and found the punching bag. She hit it. It was the only thing that helped her calm the anger that would rise up in her, so it helped her keep her powers under control. She hit the bag with all her strength. It wasn't fair. She was only ten. She should be complaining about school while she and her friends went out to get ice cream, not be tied to her school because it was the only thing that kept her from destroying things and being afraid to make friends for fear of killing them with an accidental fireball.
She hit the bag again. It wasn't working. She needed to get some air. She snuck down the hall. The director of the school, a short, stout man with a bald head and an underbite, was in the camera room.
Mallory sidestepped so she wasn't in the doorway and blew some hair off her face. She'd never be able to sneak out. She made her way up to the roof. The night was cool, and it soothed her skin. She couldn't get burned, but her powers caused pain all over her body, like it was burning her from the inside.
She looked over the edge. The city bustled. Metropolis never slept. Even at the outskirts of the city she could feel the energy of the people, always running around, always trying to get somewhere.
She stepped onto the ledge. It was calling her. She couldn't explain it, but she had to go look around.
She cocked her head to the side. She'd seen footage of Volcana, another pyrokinetic, using her fire to fly. She went to the center of the roof. She started small. Short flames coming from both hands. She increased the volume, but not the heat. Her feet left the ground and she was hovering on the roof, the flames leaving scorch marks on the concrete. She tried a little more. Gradually she went up, foot by foot, until she was twenty feet off the roof.
She grinned. Using her powers had never felt so‒freeing. She tried to go forward, and she found herself off the roof with nothing below her but the pavement over 50 stories below. She laughed at the chill it sent down her spine and started sailing through the night sky towards the city.
She zoomed around for a while before deciding to touch down on a deserted street. She fell the last few feet and stumbled on the landing, but she happily picked herself back up.
For years she'd learned how to make pointless fireballs and throw flames, but she'd never thought to try to enjoy her power, just try suppress it, keep it hidden away.
She walked down the street and hesitated at the corner, looking around. She thought she'd heard something. A young woman was standing by an ATM machine, two men with guns were cornering her.
"Hey!" Mallory yelled without thinking. The men turned on her, aiming their guns at her head. She threw her hands out to cover her face, pointless as it was, and accidentally threw a fireball between the men's heads. They jumped when it hit the brick wall behind them. They looked at each other before starting forward. One man grabbed her arm, the other one jabbed at her with his gun.
"Cute trick, but you'll pay for it," he said. "Come on, let's deal with her and get out of here," the other one said.
Mallory shut her eyes tight. A mistake. She should never have left the school. Oh, where was Superman when you needed him? She was too scared to yell, but wasn't he supposed to hear pretty much everything in the city? Like a gun cocking?
"Hey, she's getting hot," the man holding her arm exclaimed. He let her loose and she stumbled a little at the quick detachment. While the other one was distracted, she touched the side of the gun. It was just a quick touch, but it was enough. The man dropped it and started shaking his hand. "What did she do?" he asked.
Mallory backed up quickly. She looked for the lady who had been their original target, but she was long gone. Hopefully to call the police. Surely she wouldn't leave a kid alone with these two.
She backed up into a wall. She was trapped. She took a breath to calm herself. She had to focus, concentrate. She shut her eyes, blocking out the threats the men were hissing at her. She opened her eyes and saw the men hesitate. "Why are her eyes red?" one of the, asked the other. She smiled slightly and looked at her hand, silently praying that she wouldn't mess up. She flicked open her fist like a lighter and watched the flame turn to a fireball, then looked back at the men. They turned and ran. She threw the fireball at the ground. She flew over them and burned a circle around them, keeping the fiery jail intact while all three of them yelled.
The men were yelling for help. She was yelling for Superman.
Clark stretched and stood from his desk. He hadn't been able to go home yet, he had a midnight deadline for the Metallo story. He walked to the window and looked out over Metropolis. He really should fly at least one patrol before he went home. Well, first he had to finish the story.
That's when he heard it. Faint yells for help, and a more distinct call for Superman.
He sped out the window, ripping off his suit to reveal his costume underneath. He flew towards the sound. It was near the edge of the city.
He saw the scene before he got to it. Fire stretched up into the skyline. It looked to be staying in one place. He flew faster. When he got to the scene he saw a fiery figure flying over a circle of fire.
"What's going on here?" he asked, thinking at first that the figure was Volcana. But then the figure descended and landed on the pavement. The fire around her body stopped, revealing a little girl. She couldn't have been older than 12.
"Superman?" she said, like she couldn't quite believe her eyes. "Yes, now will you please tell me what's going on?" Superman asked, adjusting his tone to be gentler.
"These men attacked a lady, and when I tried to stop them they turned on me, so I had to do something." She smiled at him and added, "I'm glad you heard me. I was getting tired keeping this fire going." She closed her fist and the fire died out on the pavement. The men just sat there, and Clark wasn't sure if it was fear or exhaustion that was keeping them from running away.
"Well, you're quite the little torch, aren't you?" Superman said with a smile. "Why are you out at this hour alone? This is a pretty bad neighborhood. And how can you do that with the fire?"
She gave him another little smile. "Well, it was a nice night for flying," she said. She flamed up and started to push herself off the ground. Clark watched in fascination as she headed out of the city. He turned to the men, grabbed each by an arm, and flew them to the nearest police station before going back to where the girl had been. He flew up, trying to catch sight of her, but she had vanished like a puff of smoke.