Cold World

[Alik Murphy]

Rain pattered against the black fabric of Alik's hoodie, the smoke from his joint wafting behind him in a wispy, white trail. New sneakers splashed puddles with each step, no thought given to how expensive they were. He had more money than he knew what to do with anyway. Like any of it fucking mattered.

His phone rang. That shitty 16-bit remix of some Biggie Smalls song. Why the fuck didn't he pick a better burner. Or at least a more up-to-date one. He pulled out the old flip-phone and put it to his ear, settling himself for a moment before he answered, not slowing his walk down the empty, darkened street.

"Speak."

There was a pause, Alik's step never slowing as he listened to whoever was talking over the phone. The words went in one ear and out the other, really. He found it harder to listen to business bullshit. Hard to hear it over the rest. That said, something did stick out among the endless rabble. Something that made him stop entirely, his face going pale, grateful nobody was around to see.

He bit his lip as he listened, waiting for a pause, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes for a second as he brought a hand down his face, pacing back and forth for a minute before he suddenly chucked the phone as hard as he could down an alleyway with a grunt.

He let out a roar as he did, his hands immediately lighting up, hot red Hellfire bathing the streets in light. He grunted in frustration, patting his hands and wrists down, rain evaporating into steam, but the fire only spread up his arms. He was frantically trying to put it out, angry at it, angry at his own incompetence, his own inability, his own lack of control, until-

"FUCK!!"

He turned on his heel, extending both arms and letting out a great tongue of fire that shot out across the street, a parked car blocking the flame from incinerating a nearby (and thankfully closed) shoe store. The fire stripped away the paint, melting the rubber tyres which boiled and bubbled on the tarmac, the metal itself sagging and melting, glowing hot red, glass shattering.

After a few moments, Alik stood there, panting, staring at the wreck he'd created and the long, black scorch mark that spread across the road towards it. Pausing to lean against the wall, he looked down at his hands. The flame had gone out, but the rain still failed to catch. It boiled away the second it touched his skin. And his hands were shaking.

He hid them in his hoodie pockets, clenching his eyes and mouth shut, fighting his watering eyes. Deep breaths, his body trembling ever so slightly... until he settled.

Silently, he walked over to the phone and picked it up. He couldn't help but scoff a little. Thing was indestructible. Goddamn fossil. He put it to his ear, and winced at the obvious sign that they were still on the line. He steeled himself, and spoke as calmly as he could.

"I'll handle it."