Flame Thrower (Blairon)

Bob And John

Years Ago

"Officer, are you sure this guy can help?" Asked Officer Darryl, scratching his deep red beard as he and his tall, blonde superior walked through walls lined with metal cells. The people occupying the cells staring at them with blank indignation and desperation etched in their eyes. Officer Samuel Andrew ignored them. Lakeford Asylum always made him uncomfortable but he was forced to spend most of his time there because of the very person whose cell he was walking to.
"I've only ever heard good things about the kid. He may be young but he's a genius. More than a prodigy. And he's the only doctor who agreed to take the job," Andrew said, licking his lips thoughtfully. They exited the corridor holding all the individual cells and Andrew dug in his pocket and took out a key card. Sliding the card through the card reader besides a thick metal door branded 'The Closed Unit Authorized Personnel Only'. It beeped. Suddenly, a voice spoke somewhere but from experience, he knew where it was coming from. A face scanner opened like a pet door and Andrew put his face in front of it, waiting patiently as it scanned his face. His companion, Officer Darryl continued to ramble on nervously as he too put his face before it. "Acces granted," said the female voice that came from the face scanner and the door opened with a creaking groan. Darryl followed Andrew into a very thin, very eery, poorly lit hallway with no windows and no cells. The absence of life in the Closed Unit of the Asylum chilled his very bones to the point where he knew he wasn't the only one that hated being down here. The atmosphere of the cell he was going to made every single person that walked in sane, never come out the same way after a while of being down here.

"What's the boys name again?" Officer Darryl asked as they walked through the dark corridors. The incessant beeping of their card readers as they passed through multiple highly guarded doors becoming more irritating as they trecked deeper into the Asylum. "Theodore Nott," Andrew replied and Darryl rose an eyebrow. "Not?" He asked and Andrew snorted. "No, mate. Not 'not'. Nott with two T's," he explained and Darryl shrugged, laughing as he scratched his head in frustration. "Names are getting so hard to keep up with lately. What ever happened to the Bob's and John's?" He asked and Andrew laughed stiffly, which was surprisingly shocking due to the fact that with every step he and Darryl took, he got more scared. As a police officer, he was rarely scared by convicts. But this particular one that some idiot had put him in charge of wasn't any normal convict...

There it was.

They had reached the end of the endless maze of corridors and were now stood in a short hallway with a door at the end. Written on the single door were a few words.

KEEP 3FT AWAY FROM GLASS AT ALL TIMES
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
ENTER AT OWN RISK

THE FLAME THROWER

Andrew had read the signs more than once. But he'd be lying if he said that he got used to seeing them. Every time he was down here felt like the first. Petrifying. Triple checking that his gun was safely strapped against his belt, he swiped his card through the card reader for the last time and it beeped before the door opened all the way on its own revealing a room. The room wasn't big, but it gave off the impression that with every minute you were inside it got smaller. Grey concrete covered the walls and a long table sat in the middle of the room with two chairs sitting under it. After the table was a cell. Bigger than the others but more secure. The cell was made up of one sided glass so Andrew, Darryl, and the three other people on their side of the glass could clearly see the figure inside.

"Officer Andrew, Officer Franklin. This is Detective Inspector Crystal Segall," said a short man. Andrew knew he worked for the FBI. The American accent was evident. But he couldn't for the life of him remember the man's name. Looking next to him, Detective Inspector Segall walked towards him and he shook her hand. She was a tall woman with curly blonde hair, hazel eyes, vitiligo and a cold expression. Though she looked slightly scared. And he couldn't blame her. Suddenly, he took notice to the figure in the corner of the room and blinked. "You must be Th-uh, Dr Nott?" He asked and the nineteen year old boy looked up, shocked. As if he hadn't expected anyone to notice him. He took a step under the single light illuminating their side of the glass and shook his hand. To say Andrew and Darryl were shocked was an understatement. The boy looked so young! He could possibly be able to get through to the prisoner they were all here to assess! The boy hand ear-length chocolate coloured hair, a light dusting of freckles across his face. Alight eyes the colour of a dark reef and his figure tall and lanky. However he somehow had an aura that demanded attention and profesionalism.

"The pleasure is all mine, Officers," Nott said, shaking Darryl's hand. "Well, shall we get to business then?" The FBI man asked and Andrew attempted shrugging off his shivers. "Lights, please," Detective Segall said and the lights behind the class switched on the everybody's breaths hitched in their chests.

The Flame Thrower was illuminated. Sitting cross-legged in the center of the empty cell.

Theo blinked, his chest tightening.

Unbeknownst of the consequences of accepting the job of becoming the boy's therapist.