short story with song prompt

Play With Fire - Sam Tinnesz

IVE ALWAYS LIKED TO PLAY WITH FIRE *mic drop*

A foreign pleasure ignited through his body, jolting through his every vein with electricity he had never known. 

Leaning his neck back to crack it before hopping forward, he gazed down at the limp bodies strewn in front of him. 

"Game over!" Someone shouted outside. The sirens were familiar now to him, a lullaby of sorts. "Hands up or we'll blow this place to bits!"

The last threat made him laugh, chuckle uncontrollably until tears stained his cheeks. 

"Now you care!? What about when I was burning alive? Where were you then?" His voice thundered throughout the room. 

Heaving below, he grabbed a canister with a sickly familiar scent.

His milk, what he was weaned off of.

The smell of gasoline. 

Tossing it wildly over the pile of his victims, he grabbed another canister, closing his eyes, and dosed the can over himself, mouth open wildly in an attempt to drink it as well. SHaking his head wildly to remove the excess, he opened his mouth widely and sighed. 

"I'll never get sick of it," he vowed. "Valdez, it is game over." In his pocket, he struck a match, once, against the box. A spark appeared. 

"Don't do this," the voice appeared, and the woman stepped outside of the shadows, frightened. "Don't leave me." 

"I left long ago," he exhaled, a slow hissing noise, and then he caught aflame, along with the explosives next to him.

The explosion was so great it brought thunder and lightning to shame.