Torrents of golden flame erupted from his limbs.
They were so bright Phoenix had to shield his eyes. He
hoped the stranger would be consumed, but to no avail.
The flames died down after a minute and the stranger
was left, intact and alive, standing in their midst.
Phoenix tried to gasp for air, but he couldn’t
seem to get enough. He rolled onto his side to cradle his
numb arm. This is what the villains feel when I have
them in the same position.
The stranger squatted down and took Phoenix’s
chin in his hands, forcing him to look into those liquid
gold eyes.
“I told you my identity wouldn’t matter, but I
think you deserve it. Consider it a reward for your
service, which is no longer required.” He leaned down to
whisper in Phoenix’s ear. “You can call me—The
Miser.”
The Miser summoned the golden flames and
made them whirl around the apartment like a hurricane
swell as he took flight with a roar and bout of gleeful
laughter.
The police responded to an apartment fire that
raged the rest of the night and well into the morning.
They recovered a single, charred, body. The only
casualty.
No one in particular.
58