The Chase

Fighting Memories (Ash)

I dashed down the hallways following the sound of Peter's cries. Only one guard had responded to me breaking out of my cage so far, and he lay a few feet away on the ground. He was unconscious or dead, I didn't know and didn't care. I never checked. There was a large burn wound directly in the middle of his charred chest. I was getting better at using my powers. Being so full of emotion at the moment I just had to simply extend my hand outwards and sparks of red shot from my palm hitting any target. In the process it would also leave the red lighting longer on my skin the more I used it, but I never let it get close to my head, fearing what would happen if it did. It was addicting as well. Feeling the power surging through my hands, having control over someone's life, it was amazing, and that's what scared me most.

          As I continued my journey, using my hearing a guide, I finally found the door of which the screams came from. I grabbed the doorknob. The anger was so powerful that I managed to melt of the knob. I shouted in frustration. I had just prevented the door from being able to be opened. I rammed the side of my body into it. It didn't budge. I wasn't the strongest person either. No, I was good with a gun, but hand to hand combat was never that great with me. That was more of Peter's thing.

Peter

I smashed the door with my shoulder about three more times. It still didn't budge. I banged my fists against it while screaming.

Deciding that I wasn't going to open the door any time soon, I examined the objects around the hall. I snatched a gun from a man's belt and shot at the door. I emptied the magazine. It clicked and I threw it at the door. I needed to calm down. There was no way I could get in if I was clouded by emotion. I know that I couldn't help myself. Peter was all that I had left. All that I had left after...I didn't want to say it.  Ten years later, and I still couldn't admit that they were gone.

That's because they can't be

I shook my head and looked at the door. I noticed a weak spot where I had shot it. I aimed my leg and kick it as hard as I physically could. The wood snapped and I pushed my way in.

If you thought I was angry before, now that I could see what was happening to Peter. You could consider me as mad as Satan before his morning coffee.