Igniting a darkened flame. // SBI

I won't let go of your hand.

"Come on Prometheus." He fell to the floor, his throat dragging in air. "I thought you were stronger than this."

A kick landed at his side flinging him on to his side. Tommy grit his teeth and jumped up, stumbling slightly as he reactivated his power.

"Don't you eights ever learn to give up?" The 'hero' snickered. 

"No." He panted feeling the fire dance across his skin. "We're stubborn like that."

Mask chuckled at his clear signs of struggling 

"I guess I should know this by now." The man sighed. "I've killed plenty of your kind."

"My kind?" It was his turn to laugh." Technically I'm not even from eight, so its not my 'my kind'"

He hurled a ball of fire at Mask which the hero easily dodged by jumping to the side. A dagger was thrown at him, but he shot a blue flame in its direction, making the metal melt right before his eyes.

"Huh." Tommy muttered. "Didn't know I could do that."

"Impressive for a wannabe hero."

"Shut up, people like you don't deserve to be heard."

"Aw, Why? Is it because I killed your little friend." Mask said it in a way that made his blood boil. He was familiar with people mocking him, people under estimating him.

He was really on better than heroes, but people still looked up to him like he was so much more than that. Like he was some sort of role model or whta heroes should be.

But Tommy wasn't that. He would never be that. Prometheus was what people wanted.

Not Tommy.

No one ever wanted Tommy.

Deep down he knew Tubbo didn't want him.

Quackity didn't want him, he was just another burden.

And even Ranboo, in his final moments hadn't wanted Tommy.

Wilbur, he carried the name with bitterness now.

Wilbur wanted Tommy, but not in a kind or affectionate way, he saw him as a trophy.

An object, a pet. He wasn't a human to Wilbur he was just something more for him to add to his collection. Phil and Techno were no better than him either.

He shouldn't be bitter about it however, was just to stupid to realize the warning signs.

A part of him still yearns for Wilbur, his warm touch, his honey voice.

That part lurks deep within him. Like a darkened flame, just waiting to bee ignited.

The only person who truly wanted him, was the first to die.

And Mask was the one to kill him.

And Mask had just mocked his brother.

"DON'T SPEAK ABOUT HIM!" He screeched feeling flames engulf his body as fire bled from his veins.

"Its disappointing really, That Vulcan couldn't get rid of you quickly, but no matter." Tommy decided he hated everything about this vermin. The way he talked like some stuck up prick, and he spoke as if everyone was beneath him.

"But then again you can't expect that fool to get anything done right." Mask tossed the knife in his hands effortlessly into the air. "I'll snuff you're flame out quickly."

He didn't want to give the hero the satisfaction of seeing him visibly angry, but the flames that ran across his arms seemed to betray him by growing larger and more wild.